#breakingwave

[jacknoeldavis]

Took this photo then immediately tripped over a parking barrier. Who says it's safer on land? #BreakingWave #BreakingLeg (at Austinmer, New South Wales, Australia)

[cloudyclangen]

Moon 1

The three have returned and brought others with them. They've settled into the sandy place between the rocks, where there are crevices in the stone for them to shelter. All of them—all seven of them—are so very young. The two youngest of them are daring nonetheless, having chosen to make their den just above my resting place. The others are far more wary, and I cannot blame them for keeping the sand between us.

These cats follow the old ways well; they call Swanstar their leader, and she has chosen Sparkback as her deputy. He, in turn, has taken it upon himself to mentor one of the young cats—Brackenpaw—while elder Rimepaw is educated by a golden-furred tom called Moonsight, who has often come to swim in my waters. Some of the others are far less comfortable in the water, so I am glad that he has seemed to encourage them.

There is some kind of commotion, today. The cats often leave in twos or threes at a time, sometimes returning with prey or herbs, or sometimes returning with empty paws. Today, though, Sparkback and Brackenpaw are agitated when they return. Neither of them were seem very injured, and once Sparkback has become distracted speaking to the other adults, Brackenpaw slinks over here, joining Rimepaw on the rocks above me.

"What happened?" Rimepaw demands. "Was it a fox? Another dog?"

"Worse," Brackenpaw sighs, slumping down onto the stone. "It was BillowClan."

"BillowClan?" Rimepaw echoes incredulously. "What do you mean? I thought they agreed to let us settle here."

"Sure," Brackenpaw says, "but only if we follow the code and respect their borders and all that. I heard them shouting about the markers before they attacked us, so I bet they'll say we moved them or something next gathering. It's stupid."

Rimepaw sits up, peering over his shoulder. "You don't think we'll go to war?"

"I sure hope not." Brackenpaw looks over at Rimepaw and then adds, "It's not too late for you to head back to that twolegplace, huh?"

"Hey!" Rimepaw exclaims, batting at Brackenpaw's ears; they tussle, coming dangerously close to the edge of the rocks, and I can't help but reach up towards them. "Stop talking about that- It was a joke- Furbrain!"

I hear Frozencurrent calling from down on the sand: "What are you two doing up there?" The apprentices break apart from each other, still laughing as they leap down to join their clanmates. I recede, listening to the sound of their voices from afar.

It's so nice to have company.

Navigation: Moon 0 | Moon 0 Allegiances | Next

[cloudyclangen]

Moon 0

These waves have worn down the shore for so long. They ebb and recede, leaving the stone and sand. This crashing has lulled me to rest for so long. I have been here for so, so long.

There are newcomers here. They whisper amongst themselves, casting glances over their shoulders. As they come closer, I can see that they are all so very new. They walk with caution in the darkness of the new moon.

The eldest is a pale golden cat, her eyes darting here and there even though she leads the way. She brings them closer, stopping at the edge of the rocks. "It should be here," she says. "The rocks, the sea... It all matches."

One of them is a golden brown cat, who comes so close to the edge that his paws are at the precipice. His ears flick back, and he says, "Lot of water. Where would they even be, in the rocks?"

"In the water," the third cat replies, her fur bright and silvery even in the darkness. She looks down into the waves, eyes as blue as the sea. "Hello?" she called out. "Can you hear me?"

They wait, and then the golden brown cat scoffs. "Nothing," he says. He steps away, saying, "C'mon, Swanvine. Yellowspeck, are you sure it's here? Maybe it's further down the shoreline."

"No, it's here," the silvery one (Swanvine?) insists. She leaps down onto one of the lower surfaces—the ones slippery and shadowed even in the dark—despite both her companions crying out. "I saw them," she says. "They came out from the waters here. Hello?"

The other two exchange glances, and Yellowspeck says, "Sparkback, wait here." She picks her way down to Swanvine's side and reaches out to brush the water. Her paw is warm.

"We don't have that much time," Sparkback warns. "There's been a dog nosing around, and I don't like the others' chances against it. If we get separated now..."

"It's almost moonhigh," Swanvine replies. "Just a little longer."

"You can't see the moon," Sparkback protests, but he lies down to watch them.

Swanvine leans forward, peering down. "Please come out," she says. "We'd like to speak to you. We've been told to come speak to you."

"I see them," Yellowspeck says, but there's no one else here.

Are they talking to me? It's been so long since I've woken up. I feel sluggish as I reach up and break the surface of the water. I hear them all gasp, and see Sparkback jump to his paws; weren't they calling to me?

They are all so, so small.

It is Yellowspeck who says, "Honored ancestor, we've come to beg a favor from you."

I haven't spoken in so long, the words aren't quite coming to my tongue. I lower my head, looking into Yellowspeck's eyes. She swallows, and Sparkback walks up behind her, scowling at me. How sweet. I turn my attention to Swanvine, who only looks back at me.

"We've been cast out of our home," Swanvine explains. "We've been traveling for moons now, and we've come to your shores. We need a guide, and a home within these lands. Will you provide for us?"

A guide, a home... I flick my tail against the shore. "I will take your dead," I warn. "They will join me here in the waves, and not in the stars."

"We understand," Swanvine says. "We will give them to you, and you will keep them for us."

Well. If they're sure.

I still remember the old ways, even if everything else has been lost to time. "Then take this gift," I say, and I lean forward to touch my nose to her forehead. I call to mind the waves, ebbing and flowing; there is a time to break, and a time to fall back.

"A time to fight and a time for peace," Swanvine breathes, and yes. That's exactly it.

There is only one of me, but I have kept many spirits with me all this time. They have all fared far worse, over time, losing themselves as they've tried to pull away from my reach. Now, I dredge them up from the waves and offer their gifts, too. One by one, Swanvine accepts our blessings, and the spirits slip away, when they're done. I was so lonely, when I took them all. Now, I can let them go.

"Swanstar," I say, when the last of them has gone. "Use these lives well, with my blessing."

Swanstar only pants, stumbling back and into Sparkback's side; it is Yellowspeck who watches as I slip back down into the water, and she who calls out, "Thank you."

I watch Swanstar stagger to her paws, both of the others supporting her on either side. Carefully, they climb back up and over the rocks, disappearing into the night. I'm not concerned. They'll return here soon enough.

"All the foam kicked up looks a lot like the sky," I hear Swanstar say. "Stars in the water and clouds in the waves... What do you two think about CloudyClan?"

"It works," Sparkback replies, and then they're too far away for me to hear them at all.

Navigation: Moon 0 Allegiances | Moon 1

[noellewrxtes]

Shisui doesn’t believe in ghosts; not in a traditional sense, anyway.

Shisui doesn’t believe in ghosts; not in a traditional sense, anyway. He doesn’t believe in the kind of ghosts that haunt the lonely mansions where they once resided, unknowing or uncaring of the eyes that might gaze upon them, or in ones that wander aimlessly through dark corridors in the dead of night. He doesn’t believe that ghosts throw trinkets from shelves, shattering glass and porcelain and peace in their rage. They don’t sit on people’s chests as they sleep, choking the life and the air out of their lungs, don’t carve desperate claw marks down chests and backs and arms to make their presence known.

Ghosts don’t do these things, Shisui thinks, because they don’t need to. They have better ways to keep people up at night.

He’s only a child when he witnesses this for the first time, when his mother finally succumbs to the cancer in her bones and his father doesn’t eat for three days. It’s not the spirit of his mother that creaks the stairs in the late nights that follow, but the haunted form of his father, making the trek to the couch because he can’t bring himself to sleep in his (her) room anymore. Shisui doesn’t see flashes of specters in the corner of his vision, but he sees his mother’s ghost nonetheless in the dark shadows under Kagami’s eyes. He hears her in the heavy silence that begins to substitute for dinner conversation; he feels her in the air that tries to suffocate him when he steps in the house after school.

Shisui bears witness to all of this at eight years of age, but he doesn’t really understand it until he’s seventeen, when his brother meets his own untimely demise in a car crash. It’s then, standing in a cold hospital room, staring at a lifeless form that had once been his brother, that he really begins to understand:

Ghosts in their most wretched form haunt minds, not houses.

[anna-lemos]

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[isurfit]

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[isurfit]

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[isurfit]

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