Lead Sails and a Paper Anchor (Acro)

[ℓυиαя]

A white paw, claws unsheathed

Mismatched eyes, cruel and cunning

Pain so much pain, until that's all she could feel

Golden eyes burst open, the tabby behind them reeling back, her feathered tail flung out behind her for balance. She gasped, filling her lungs with fresh air as she struggled to latch onto reality and shut the nightmare away, out of sight out of mind right? She frantically looked around her. No white cat, not shredding claws, no cruel gaze like before, but the pain, it was still there -  muted yes, but a dull consistent thrum in the background. Forcing herself to take deep breaths, Vineheart slowly lowered her body down, curling her feathered tail around herself softly. A dream. Or a nightmare. Each deep breath she took her, her pelt lay a little flatter, her muscles became a little more relaxed until the room was silent and she was calm enough to determine where she was. The Medicine cat den. Herbs lined the place and a tendril of moonlight teased at the entrance to the den. It was a unusual occurrence for Vineheart, the Sunsetclan warrior was not normally a patient but had often been inside the den to visit her injured clan mates. It was so different on the other side. 

Her face felt uncomfortably tight and as she went to stand, she winced at the pain coming from her left shoulder. Sharp claws, strong white teeth. The memory was almost as bad as the pain yet she pushed it from her mind as well as moving to her feet. Sandstrike, where was he? Having been too wounded at the time, she hadn't been able to ask if he was ok. Was he ok? Taking it slowly as to not further aggravate her shoulder, Vineheart inched her way bit by bit until she stood just outside the den, relishing as the soft night air teased her coat. Please let him be ok, she thought over and over to himself. Golden eyes scanned around the Sunsetclan camp and even though it seemed stupid and she knew he would probably be asleep, she wanted to look anyway. She didn't know quite what she looked like, she could only feel it, and she counted her blessings on that one.


[Acro.]

[[Acro.]]

He was never good at following directions.

After trudging back into camp, his legs quivering and his expression tight with strain, Sandstrike had made a beeline for the Medicine Cats' Den and called out to the two professionals using whatever remained of his energy. With as much care as he could manage, the warrior had let the limp Vineheart slip from his shoulders into one of the newly made "patient nests" within the den before he, himself, rolled (more like collapsed) onto his side. The trip back wouldn't have been quite as brutal... if it hadn't taken place right after he'd torn up all four of his paws during his final attack against the white loner. His weathered pads were bloody and raw, the wounds swollen beneath layers of dirt and grime. After only a short distance, every step of their return trip had ignited a fresh flame beneath his paws. And let's not even get started on the part when he had to walk over dry sand...

He had relished in every lingering puddle of cool slush still clinging to the earth from Leaf Bare.

However, his pain hadn't mattered once Vineheart was home and safe and being looked after. He'd hung around the den until it had been confirmed that his Clanmate would recover, and then, after applying his own rustic treatment to his injuries (a crude grooming), the tom had tried to leave... but then he had been told no, he needed to choose a nest and recover, too.

He was never good at following directions.

Sandstrike had spent the remainder of the day and early evening coming up with elaborate excuses to get up and leave his nest, only coming back periodically to check in on the sleeping (read: passed out) Vineheart. And it was while he had been out on one of these vagrant excursions, avoiding his nest and the Medicine Cats (he "had to go to the dirt place" for the seventh time... hah) that Vineheart had re-entered the waking world.

So, no, he hadn't been asleep.

The cinnamon warrior had been lounging at the edge of SunsetClan's camp, hanging back in the shadows, unseen, when he saw a small form tentatively emerge from the Medicine Cats' Den. His eyes lit up and, ignoring his own aches and pains, he got to his paws and strode quietly toward Vineheart, hoping to catch her by surprise. Grinning in his easy way, the tom's low voice slipped into the quiet of the night. "Finally decided to join us? You certainly took your time," he teased, feigning offense. "It isn't polite to keep a cat waiting." Eyes gleaming with mischief, the long-legged warrior swept his gaze over his Clanmate. If she looked like a complete mess... his steady expression did not show it.

And she did look to be quite a mess.

Reigning in a bit of his... attitude, the tom's voice took on a light ring of sincerity as he asked, "How are you feeling?"

[ℓυиαя]

At the sound of her fellow clan mates teasing remarks, a marred tabby face rotated slowly. It was like a vase had been shattered and the owner had done their best to fix it, occasionally getting a bit in the wrong place. A jagged scar which started above her left eye, cut across her nose before slicing the skin of her cheek. Another followed almost parallel narrowly missing the underside of her left eye and lying across her muzzle. Both were no longer bleeding but were in the process of scabbing, causing her face to deform slightly with the tightness. but those golden eyes were the same, still full of hope and concern for her friend. Confusion caused her face to furrow slightly and a hiss indicated that that was the wrong move. "How long was I out for?" It could have been any amount of time as far as she was concerned and judging by her injuries at least a half a day and no longer than a couple. "I'm sorry, next time I get a few scratches I'll be sure to be up and about to ensure you're not bored." Her voice trailed off and she tried to smile gently but it came out looking painful. Lowering her eyes she shuffled her good paw in the dirt. "I..could be better. At least.. I still have my sight right?" Golden eyes slowly moved back up to him.

The was the picture of someone trying to look at the bright side where all there were to see were negatives.

        She stayed silent for a while and then seemed to pull herself up out of it. Just like that her eyes changed from despair to concern for him, pushing her own insecurities aside. "What about you? Are you ok?" Looking him over, Vineheart knew her worry wouldn't ease up until he told her himself. There were always injuries 

you couldn't see. Ears twitched in concern as she waited for the tom that had saved her skin to tell her he was ok.

[[Acro.]]

When he saw that familiar light in her eyes... that was when Sandstrike knew for certain that she really was going to be okay. A lazy purr of laughter rumbled low in his chest after Vineheart returned his teasing with some sass of her own. That's what he liked to see in a patient! Sharp wit, right out of the gate. He watched the she-cat closely, noticing the different emotions fade in and out of her expression as she tried to navigate her current reality.

Was she deformed?

Was she hideous?

Would others stare?

Was her life different forever?

Sandstrike could only imagine the doubts and concerns creeping into her brain in those quiet moments before she managed to regain that positive light. He smirked, remaining quiet for a moment to let Vineheart gather herself and figure out exactly how she wanted to feel about... everything. And then her question came, and the tom blinked as though having forgotten he'd sustained injuries at all. Oh, right, that was that awful pain he was feeling. "Me? Oh, I'm right as rain," he commented with a sly grin. "And hungry," he continued, furrowing his brow thoughtfully. "I am right as very hungry rain." He didn't need to tell her about how every step was like walking on angry wasps, or how his legs ached deep in their bones, or how his neck twinged and gashes tore open whenever he turned his head too quickly to the right...

She did not need his problems added on top of her own.

"Fancy anything from the pile?" he asked with an inviting, mischievous grin, inclining his head toward the pile of freshkill across camp. "You were only out for half a day and the beginning of this night, but I know you must be hungry." In a very obvious gesture, his eyes glowing with playful light, Sandstrike gave Vineheart another complete once-over before adding, casually, "You're going to need your strength for what comes next." So she might as well eat something while she had the chance.

[ℓυиαя]

Vineheart eyed him as quizzically as she could with her deformed face and didn't say anything for a few moments, trying to work out if she really believed him. From the small amount of time she had spent with him, she knew he wouldn't tell her everything. She had witnessed the blows that mongrel had dished out on the tom and it was very unlikely that he had sustained no injuries. However, confronting him about it meant he would probably just deny it again. The smooth change of topic though was smart on his behalf and Vineheart's round tabby ears pricked up delicately as her gaze sought out the fresh-kill pile, all talk about injuries forgotten. Her pricked ears and bright eyes would have been commonplace on a kit but everything else about her showed she was far from it. Straining to see the freshkill pile she spotted a fresh fish, probably from the last hunting patrol of the day.

"Right.. Food. " she said quietly, nodding her head at him in a ginger fashion before heading off at her slow pace.

Taking each step one breath at a time, the little tabby made her way towards her much needed sustenance. She didn't expect Sandstrike to go get it for her, injured or not. Her normally upright feathered tail dragged on the ground, collecting all sorts of debris and her coat was still matted with blood but all she could think about was her food. With each step, her shoulder screamed in pain but the food was just too enticing to resist. Reaching down tentitively to grab the fish with her mouth, Vineheart paused as she heard whispers from cats hidden around the clan, hidden by the evening shadows. She knew they were negative comments she didn't need to think about but they dragged her down nonetheless, tearing and shredding her pelt until her normally bright eyes were dull and her face reserved. How had she thought she could ever return to being normal when she was a reminder to herself that she wasn't. It was bad, she knew that and she didn't need her reflection a puddle to prove that to herself. All of a sudden she didn't seem so hungry anymore.

[[Acro.]]

Stepping as lightly as possible, Sandstrike followed after Vineheart, his pace no longer so easily crossing the distance. His body twanged with pain in every step, and he was glad the she-cat had walked ahead of him so she couldn't see him fumble or limp. but the tom kept his expression sly and easy, in spite of this pain, and his eyes continued to burn with their usual, confident flare. He watched the brown tabby ahead of him with a touch of wonder--he would have been happy (and had fully intended) to fetch something for her so she didn't have to move so far, but she seemed bent on showing everybody that she could handle this on her own.

Good for her.

Lifting his head, the seasoned warrior swept his gaze around the clearing, now noticing for himself the cats that were watching him--watching Vineheart. Staring. His tail lashed and his eyes darkened with challenge, dead-locking onto any curious face they came across. He wanted to make a scene--call out to this "audience" and tell them to mind their business, to feel free to come back and stare only after they'd proven themselves to be half as worthy as Vineheart. but he stayed quiet, knowing Vineheart would not appreciate the attention that came with such a scene, and instead sent his message through his eyes, burning any onlooker unfortunate enough to glance in the pair's direction. They were younger cats, mostly.

They hadn't been through enough to know any better.

Gaze returning to Vineheart as they reached the pile, Sandstrike came up beside her and tilted his head curiously while he watched her make her selection. 'Fresh fish...' Good choice. As he watched, he also noticed how her demeanor, again, had shifted. Vineheart appeared... defeated. After everything that had happened--after being pummeled into unconsciousness and then having to deal with the pain of recovery--it was only now that Vineheart seemed to deflate.

And he wouldn't be having any of that.

Unfurrowing his brow, Sandstrike smirked and crouched down. "Hey, hey now," he scolded playfully, stepping back and then turning to duck his head beneath the brown tabby's dragging, debris-ridden tail. His intention was to nose under it and slither beneath it so that it rested on his shoulders instead of against the ground. "Let's not make more work for ourselves," he commented. "It's already going to take ages to clean you up--try not to add to the mess, all right, Kitten? Don't make me have to carry you again."

[ℓυиαя]

No matter what she did, whether she looked at them or not, she could still feel and hear their thoughts and they branded her like iron. Her large golden eyes ran along the ground in her decision on whether to stay or run and hide, get away from the heated stares. It wasn't just that she was uncomfortable but this was a stark reminder of what life would be for her now. She didn't have the energy to oppose them all and so eventually she would be worn down. It was only when she looked up slowly at Sandstrike's sly humor that she noted the staring gazes lessen and the whispers fade. Those golden pools looked confused for a second before realizing he was the one that had made the voices stop, her features flooding with relief. Could he never do anything wrong? At the mention of her tail that he now held off the ground with his lean body, those round orbs shifted from his face to the debris ridden mess on auto pilot. It looked terrible she thought yet no doubt it matched with the rest of her.

Seeming to gather herself once more, that familiar determination flowing through her, Ivyheart turned her head gingerly and scooped up the fish before waiting on him to select his own meal. Watching him she was assailed with thoughts. She didn't feel weak or deformed around him, and the sandy warrior had the ability to lift her up whenever she stumbled, whenever she gave up. Who looked out for him? Moving slowly over to the side of the camp, the tabby thumped down, glad to be off her aching paws and not in the center of everyone's curiosity. Her tail was thick with dirt not to mention the rest of her . He'd been right, what a job they had ahead of them.

[[Acro.]]

ooc:// She is precious :3
Also... you called her "Ivy"heart... haha ;D

Letting her tail slip from his shoulders, Sandstrike grabbed the first thing he saw on the pile, put it back because he wasn't a fan of birds, chose a chipmunk instead, and then followed after Vineheart across the clearing. He let slip a wince with one step, but quickly regained himself and reformed his grin behind the fur of his evening meal before settling down beside the delicate tabby at the edge of camp. The relief to be off of his paws was worth a dozen sleepless nights.

Ravenous, the tom sank his teeth greedily into his chipmunk, swallowing before he'd hardly finished chewing, and then let out a content sigh, easing into a state of rest. With that first taste out of the way to quell the worst of his hunger, Sandstrike didn't need to put all of his attention toward eating. And, so, his attention made its way to Vineheart. He watched her easily, having nothing in mind to say and simply content to look her way. He was a social tom, and it was in his nature to stare. but this stare wasn't of scrutiny--it hardly even seemed very focused. It was more of a gesture to show that he was attentive to his companion.

Absently, the warrior's fiery eyes traced Vineheart's injuries, noting how the loner's claws had only barely missed taking out his Clanmate's eye. "At least... I still have my sight, right?" Her words echoed from before, and Sandstrike's ears perked forwards curiously. At least she still had her sight...

but didn't she still have so much more than that?

Didn't she still have everything she had ever had?

With a thoughtful flick of his tail, the tom broke through his state of quiet, voice taking on an... atypical ring of gentle concern. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop her sooner," he commented quietly, his apology flashing behind his proud eyes for only a brief moment in time. Sandstrike did, on some basic level, hold himself responsible for Vineheart's pain. He had been leading the patrol. He was the more experienced warrior. It should have been him who suffered, not this delicate young thing who hadn't known that morning how different her life would feel by that night.

She was too young for the world to be taking her down so soon.

[ℓυиαя]

OOC: Haha oops!

Dipping her head, Vineheart's sharp teeth sunk smoothly into the soft flesh of the fish she clutched between her two paws. Relishing in the taste of the sweet meat, she briefly closed her eyes as the delicious bite slid down her throat and quenched the fire in her belly. She hadn't quite realized how hungry she was until that first bite had been taken and she quickly took another. Looking over at the sandy tom, she thought she saw a glimpse of relief but perhaps she was mistaken. Without really realizing he did it, Vineheart turned ever so slightly so that she faced the tom a smidgen more. As she did, she noticed him staring at her, but it was different. Different because she didn't feel uncomfortable as she did when others stared at her, with their wondering eyes and wary whispers. No, Sandstrike's gaze wasn't like that, it was understanding and the way he had looked at her before the run in with the loner, like she was normal.

About to take another bite from the half eaten fish in her paws, she stopped as his words flowed to her ears, rather quiet for the confident tom. "I'm sorry couldn't stop her sooner." From the short length of time she had known him, she knew this wasn't normal for the tom and she shook her head as much as her wounds would allow, speaking in her soft, caring voice. "You did the best you could. Please try not to feel responsible, yes I'm young but I'm a trained warrior and it could have happened to anyone. Just... forget what she said... She was trying to get to you. It's not your fault." Gold eyes met with his, silently asking him not let it burden him. "For what it's worth, if it was meant to happen I'm glad I had you at my back, not because I wanted you to go through it but because you, in my opinion, are the most capable and trustworthy. It could have gone much worse. but you didn't let it." She didn't want him to focus on the negatives as without him, she wouldn't be here alive. Setting the fish down, thinking she would go to it later, Vineheart moved her tail around so she could begin detangling the poor thing.

[[Acro.]]

Vineheart's words rolled over the tom like a swell from their sea--fluid, cool, and all-encompassing. He breathed them in, meeting her eyes as steadily as she met his, wondering how she could possibly sound so wise. 'An old soul,' his thoughts whispered, and he smiled.

"...because you, in my opinion, are the most capable and trustworthy. It could have gone much worse. but you didn't let it."

It almost would have been better if she were at least a little upset with him. Then he would know better how to respond. Her fathomless capacity to forgive only made him feel worse for dragging such a gentle creature across the coals. He'd make it up to her, but, for now, he just let himself smile in his casual way as that mischievous glint returned to his eyes. Tone laced with laughter, the warrior lifted his chin and responded playfully. "Oh, please, go on--tell me more about how great I am." His ego would always welcome a nice stroking. Purring low in his chest, the sound muffled and lazy, Sandstrike gave Vineheart his signature smirk, knowing that, in spite of everything, this she-cat would never blame him for what happened--not even if he told her to.

What concerned him more than her injuries--even, perhaps, more than the dreadful encounter itself--was how he knew she would feel about her scars. About what she thought others would think and say about her. Not for many moons would these marks be something she could hide from the world, if she could ever hide them, at all. She'd be different. They'd draw attention. If Sandstrike had met her for the first time after she'd already received these injuries, then he would stare, too. but not because they deformed her.

Not because they were ugly.

He would see the scars as a tell of what she had lived through, and then he would look beyond them, to the face they tried to conceal, into the eyes they could not touch, and he would see triumph.

He would see a warrior.

but how could he convince her to regard herself in the same light? How could he stop the outside noise from pressing her down, diminishing her until she could do nothing but hide herself away in shame? The short answer was... he couldn't. This was on her, to see herself for what she was--no words from the tom would ever reach deep enough to change her mind for her. All he could do was be there to help her recover...

And then claw the ears off of any cat who even thought about looking at her the wrong way.

Laughing quietly to himself, his eyes alight with their usual fire, the tom came out of his thoughts, realizing he had only been watching while Vineheart began to groom herself. How rude of him. With a false sigh, the cinnamon warrior stretched himself closer to his Clanmate, gaze sweeping along her mess of a pelt. "If we start now, you might be clean just in time for Leaf Fall," he teased before moving to join in with an easy, steady rhythm on the task of un-messing Vineheart's tail.

[ℓυиαя]

Vineheart's face was furrowed deep in concentration as she methodically cleaned her tail but she spared him a sideways glance before giving him a shadowy smile of her own. "Oh I'm sure you would enjoy that but I'd be afraid after I was done, you wouldn't be able to fit through the entrance to the warriors den." It was strange, as while she was self conscious about her scars, with Sandstrike she could almost forget they were there, engage in light banter even. However there was no doubt in her mind that if she was to be alone or with anyone else, she wouldn't be anywhere near as brave. She didn't like an outcast with him which only made her scared for how she would feel where she was left alone. Pushing those thoughts aside at the sight of his smirk, Vineheart's smile moved up to her eyes, causing them to brighten in her humor.  

The small she cat knew that she should treat her scars as a badge of what she had endured, a badge of her strength but when you were on the other side of those scars it wasn't so easy to see it like that. Vineheart had often helped and kept company with injured cats in the clan but it was oh so different to her position now. Yes, she had felt deeply for those cats but at the end of the day she had been able to get up and carry about her life as it was. At least Sandstrike was making that hurdle a little bit easier. He would never know how much that meant to her. She could tell him all she wanted but she knew he would never truly believe it.

And that was ok she guessed, he just had to keep doing what he was doing. 

By the time she shook herself from her thoughts, it was to Sandstrike helping her groom out her tail. Hopefully she would feel a bit better once she was cleaned, maybe the scars wouldn't look so bad with a clean, groomed coat. Hopefully. "Oh I don't think we will be done by then," she said, pretending to look exhausted by the work to go. "You might have to put up with my company until the next leafbare, after all, you did promise." Smiling softly, the lower scar seemed to pull at her upper lip but she didn't notice. If she had, she probably would have stopped. For now it was probably best she didn't see the damage as she could still feel like everything was normal, she could still forget for brief, blissful seconds.

[[Acro.]]

There she was!

Catching sight of her smile, a small weight lifted out of Sandstrike's chest. Good. This was good. If she could still smile (an actual smile, not one she just plastered on because she was supposed to), then she wasn't defeated. Not yet. 'Keep on being fearless,' he thought to himself with a smirk working dutifully on the delicate plumes of Vineheart's tail. He paused for a moment after her comment about Leaf Bare, looking down to examine the progress they'd made so far (if any at all).

She was right. Leaf Bare it was.

"I did promise," he admitted with cool look of surrender. "but, StarClan, if only I had known." In his moment of drama, Sandstrike slumped his shoulders and let his head drop so that his chin rested on the one freshly groomed patch of tail-fur in front of him. He lowered his ears, looking entirely pitiful as he stared up at Vineheart. He held this position for only a moment for the affect of it all before straightening up again with a sly smile and moving to another patch of... mess. Before setting to work, he let his eyes move along the rest of the tabby's pelt. Maybe she had been right earlier to say that short-furred cats were lucky... Sandstrike couldn't imagine having to devote so much time to maintaining his pelt on a steady basis. "How many cats does it take to keep you regularly groomed?" he asked playfully, purring in quiet laughter as he imagined Vineheart needing to recruit the entire Clan to assist her with the tedious task.

[ℓυиαя]

Vineheart laughed at his dramatic moment, a true laugh that managed to almost right her face to what it had once been. "I warned you about the costs of being a long haired cat," she said on a playful purr, watching him before her golden gaze slid down to her tail. As she did so her bright gaze turned into one of mock annoyance and she flicked her tail softly, watching it tick tock back and forth between the two of them. "More trouble than it's worth sometimes, I have stepped on it many a time. Not great when you are trying to impress your mentor, I wouldn't recommend it." Letting her tail lie still once more, Vineheart stretched out her bad forepaw and began licking the dirty fur with long strokes from shoulder to mid leg and then lifting it up slightly to focus on her paw. At his joking comment, her eyes slid to him and she paused mid lick, taking time to think about what to say. Was he making fun of her? Did he ever not, in his own sly way? Meeting his eyes she saw that yes, he was indeed having a good old time. She couldn't stop the smile that slowly grew but she tried to hide it, assuming a serious look to her scarred yet delicate features. "I get the naughty apprentices in to help me, worst punishment out there, their words, not mine." Her voice was serious but her eyes held a soft laughter.

[[Acro.]]

Sandstrike met Vineheart's eyes with the same gravity which he'd heard in her words. This was obviously all serious, intellectual conversation. "I'll keep that in mind, the next time an apprentice of mine acts up." but when had been the last time Sandstrike had had an apprentice? A few moons ago, at least... Softpaw must have been the last one. What a sweet little thing she had been... Sandstrike almost felt bad for having to put her through training.

Almost.

With a quiet laugh, Sandstrike came out of his "serious face" and tilted his head curiously at Vineheart. He regarded her for a moment, his eyes inquisitive, before flicking his tail and sweeping his gaze thoughtfully out over the darkening camp. "And where's your apprentice, then?" he asked plainly, before continuing to groom his Clanmate's plumed tail. The question itself was simple, but the warrior's playful tone changed its meaning from "What is the location of your apprentice?" to "StarClan, haven't you got an apprentice yet?" Vineheart was a young warrior, but certainly she was old enough to be a mentor. Or, maybe she was already a mentor, and Sandstrike just hadn't been paying enough attention. but then, if that were the case... where was the apprentice? They could have been recruited to do some of this grooming!

ooc:// Sorry for the delay! Break is starting and I had to travel back home =)
Also... serious face >

[ℓυиαя]

OOC: No worries, mine was delayed too. Family catch up for xmas as I wont be seeing them!

IC: Vineheart had busied herself again with the grooming of her foreleg when the sandy tom spoke. An apprentice? She hadn't had one, not really. Occasionally she had helped out other warriors with theirs as she was often small enough to spar with them fairly but she herself had never been a mentor. How embarrassing. Vineheart didn't really want to answer the question, especially to a warrior with the reputation of Sandstrike who had mentored probably quite a few of his own. It was going to be so embarrassing to seem so inexperienced, especially as he was such an amazing warrior - quite the rolemodel.

How was it that she was more embarrassed about this little question than she was about the scars marring her face or the blood and dirt lacing her coat?

What would be the best way to go about answering? Deciding to try a blasé approach, Vineheart shrugged her good shoulder and paused between licks of her fur. "Oh, I've never had one but that's ok." She smiled, hoping she was not giving away her embarrassment. "I kind of wish.." she stopped herself just in time, her mind asking how she had even strayed so far from being 'blasé'. "I mean - it's cool, I don't mind." Ugh - there was no way he didn't notice something now. Those golden eyes looked at him sheepishly. "It's kind of embarrassing...." she muttered slowly, trailing off.