IT'S A DIFFERENT ME . open, emotional

[SETEKH.]

[align=center]

TELL ME HOW TO BREATHE

[div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 460px; min-height: 9px; font-family: georgia; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; color: black; padding: 20px"]Setekh's sleep was peaceful, to the naked eye. Nestled amongst his clanmates at the edge of the warriors' den, the Egyptian canine slept quietly, his breathing slow and soft while his eyelashes fluttered slightly. Despite being nearly three years old, the sha creature looked almost innocent in that moment, as if all of the pain that he had suffered through in his few years of living had been wiped, as if he was nothing but a simple child again. The bags and shadows that hung starkly under his eyes were less noticeable in his quiet slumber, and his thin body had relaxed entirely, his muscles no longer tense and the frown he constantly wore having left his face, replaced by jaws that hung slightly ajar. He seemed so relaxed, so calm. His dreams were filled with nothingness. It had to have been a blessing; after all, nothingness was comforting. Nothingness was calm. Right?

Wrong.

To Setekh, nothingness was a nightmare. With nothing to focus on to divert the painful thoughts that he buried in the back of his mind while awake, silence sent his unconscious mind into a whirlwind of thought. He was in a deep sleep, and yet he was reflecting again, unable to get away from his own memories in his unconsciousness, where he was faced with no one but himself. He was reflecting on his old life, on his death, on his children; most of all, though, he was reflecting on his husband. Radio was gone, and he knew that. He knew that he was dead, that he was never coming back. He knew that he was a widow. He was a father without a family, a husband without a mate, and yet he held onto the thought that everything would suddenly go back. That everything would be the way it once was again. He still wore his collar and his tag, he still wore his engagement bracelet, but it was not because he was sad. It was because he was holding onto a false hope. He was holding onto a false hope that this was all just a dream.

But he knew that it wasn't a dream.

The sha creature had suddenly come to that unconscious conclusion as he lie in his nest, odd eyes then opening wide as he stared forward into the darkness of the den he called home. His heart was beating fast, and he felt his eyes beginning to sting. His thin form shuddered, and he heaved himself up, standing on silent paws; he had to go somewhere else. Anywhere but here. Stepping carefully over the sleeping forms of those he knew, he ducked out of the den, his paws carrying him in a random direction that he didn't bother to think about. His head was down, his pawsteps fast; he could feel his throat beginning to close up, his face beginning to flush, and a pressure behind his eyes. It had been a long time since he had cried, and he didn't want to. He was done with crying. He was done with being sad.

As he pressed himself to the trunk of a charred tree, he realized that he couldn't hold it back. His chest hitched, and he felt the tears rolling down his muzzle, dripping down into the blackened leaf litter. He felt so defeated. He had worked so hard to keep back these sort of feelings, to never let them get the best of them again, and yet here he was again, reduced to a crying mess in the middle of the night. Once he started, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. He was filled with so much hurt that he had refused to let out, and now he was paying the price. He wanted to let go of these things. He didn't want to hurt anymore. Breathing in a shuddering breath, he lifted his right paw, his teeth wrapping around his bracelet. If he wanted to forget, he needed to stop holding onto these things. He needed to stop holding onto something that was never going to come back. With one fluid motion, he jerked his head back, breaking the string of the bracelet. He watched it fall to the ground, his sobs only becoming more painful, stuttering in his throat, choking him. And yet he pressed on, sliding his collar off of his neck, allowing it to fall to the dirt. This was for the best. He knew that this was for the best.

It didn't feel that way.

[DARKPAW]

[align=center][div style="width: 517px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.3;"][color=black]&& YOU'VE GOT A WARM HEART, YOU'VE GOT A BEAUTIFUL BRAIN → SHC / LION
/ he's so bad at this whoops alsdkjfhadf

Sometimes, when people weren't staring at him, the world Darkpaw has built for himself seems to crumble. There are a million layers of protection, false identities that he allows other people to see instead of who he really is. It's not because he has some misplaced fear of intimacy; he's not worried that someone will see him and reject him. Perhaps it's just that he wants them to, that he wishes they would. Everything about him seems so icy all the time, a cold reflection of someone else's warmth, but if you can wind your way through the dead concrete jungle of his defenses, he's really something to see. His eyes drift shut when he's safe, shoulders no longer holding all of the world's weight. If only it was that simple, though. If only he could keep his eyes closed as he relearns this world, one without some of the people he cared for the most. Oh, he had almost everyone, sure. His entire ragtag family is here, and Lonepaw too. But like Setekh, Win is choking on hope.

Even if he's only ten months old, death follows him like a plague. It had already beat him once, but before that it had taken everyone that he ever loved. Yeah, that's a little... Maudlin of him; it makes him seem as if he's something to be pitied. All he has left to hope for is the arrival of his parents here, or the arrival of Rob's, or B's. The others have people they're waiting for. If only everyone could see that. They're all missing someone.

It's dark out, yet the lion finds himself curled up on a section of scorched ground instead of the safety of the few trees ShadowClan had left. The summer warmth doesn't leave him wanting for anything else, so he's had trouble falling asleep instead. When he does, it's fitful — even the illusion of peace has been taken from him, not that pretending to be something he isn't has gotten him anywhere this far. It was here that he found some peace instead, his pale eyes wide open as he stares at the sky from where his head is settled on his paws. There was no way to wipe away all the scars, both inside and out, yet he might as well have been liquid until a noise from some distance away startles him. All as well, with the line of thought it had stolen him from, the tracks artfully twisting until the train tips and curls in on itself. Yet another thing to be sorted out later — heavy paws are already heading towards the sounds of sobs even though Darkpaw knows that he's one of ShadowClan's least qualified emotional supports. He'd never been good at talking about it.

Each step brings a stiffness back to his spine, his shoulders set professionally high, and his eyes narrowed back to an inscrutable stare. He tries to soften after a moment, his eyes focused mainly on the belongings between the older creature's paws. It looks like a goodbye. (He was never much good at those either.) "Are you —" Voice cracking, the lion simply lets the rest of his sentence melt into the ground and tries not to scoff at himself. No, of course he wasn't alright. Nothing good was easy. Nothing worth it felt good. "I mean — do you want to talk about it?" The world was filled with unhappy endings; all he could hope was that Setekh's goodbye would lead him somewhere good.

[CanzetYote]

[align=center]

TELL ME HOW TO BREATHE

[div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 460px; min-height: 9px; font-family: georgia; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; color: black; padding: 20px"]Setekh's sleep was peaceful, to the naked eye. Nestled amongst his clanmates at the edge of the warriors' den, the Egyptian canine slept quietly, his breathing slow and soft while his eyelashes fluttered slightly. Despite being nearly three years old, the sha creature looked almost innocent in that moment, as if all of the pain that he had suffered through in his few years of living had been wiped, as if he was nothing but a simple child again. The bags and shadows that hung starkly under his eyes were less noticeable in his quiet slumber, and his thin body had relaxed entirely, his muscles no longer tense and the frown he constantly wore having left his face, replaced by jaws that hung slightly ajar. He seemed so relaxed, so calm. His dreams were filled with nothingness. It had to have been a blessing; after all, nothingness was comforting. Nothingness was calm. Right?

Wrong.

To Setekh, nothingness was a nightmare. With nothing to focus on to divert the painful thoughts that he buried in the back of his mind while awake, silence sent his unconscious mind into a whirlwind of thought. He was in a deep sleep, and yet he was reflecting again, unable to get away from his own memories in his unconsciousness, where he was faced with no one but himself. He was reflecting on his old life, on his death, on his children; most of all, though, he was reflecting on his husband. Radio was gone, and he knew that. He knew that he was dead, that he was never coming back. He knew that he was a widow. He was a father without a family, a husband without a mate, and yet he held onto the thought that everything would suddenly go back. That everything would be the way it once was again. He still wore his collar and his tag, he still wore his engagement bracelet, but it was not because he was sad. It was because he was holding onto a false hope. He was holding onto a false hope that this was all just a dream.

But he knew that it wasn't a dream.

The sha creature had suddenly come to that unconscious conclusion as he lie in his nest, odd eyes then opening wide as he stared forward into the darkness of the den he called home. His heart was beating fast, and he felt his eyes beginning to sting. His thin form shuddered, and he heaved himself up, standing on silent paws; he had to go somewhere else. Anywhere but here. Stepping carefully over the sleeping forms of those he knew, he ducked out of the den, his paws carrying him in a random direction that he didn't bother to think about. His head was down, his pawsteps fast; he could feel his throat beginning to close up, his face beginning to flush, and a pressure behind his eyes. It had been a long time since he had cried, and he didn't want to. He was done with crying. He was done with being sad.

As he pressed himself to the trunk of a charred tree, he realized that he couldn't hold it back. His chest hitched, and he felt the tears rolling down his muzzle, dripping down into the blackened leaf litter. He felt so defeated. He had worked so hard to keep back these sort of feelings, to never let them get the best of them again, and yet here he was again, reduced to a crying mess in the middle of the night. Once he started, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. He was filled with so much hurt that he had refused to let out, and now he was paying the price. He wanted to let go of these things. He didn't want to hurt anymore. Breathing in a shuddering breath, he lifted his right paw, his teeth wrapping around his bracelet. If he wanted to forget, he needed to stop holding onto these things. He needed to stop holding onto something that was never going to come back. With one fluid motion, he jerked his head back, breaking the string of the bracelet. He watched it fall to the ground, his sobs only becoming more painful, stuttering in his throat, choking him. And yet he pressed on, sliding his collar off of his neck, allowing it to fall to the dirt. This was for the best. He knew that this was for the best.

It didn't feel that way.

Canzet slowly approached the crying Egyptian dog until he was inches from him. Tenderly, he began lapping at the tears rolling down Setekh's muzzle with his tongue in an attempt to soothe him as he wept.