Post by bones on Nov 22, 2023 15:22:59 GMT -6
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flickerheart
basic information
NAME: Flickerheart
→ Flickerkit, Flickerpaw
AGE: 25 moons
CLAN: Mistclan
→ formerly Ridgeclan
RANK: Warrior
GENDER: She-cat [she/her]
INTERESTED IN: Toms, mostly - sometimes she-cats [biromantic, bisexual with male lean]
MATE: Closed
→ Firetongue [ex...]
MENTOR: Piketongue [former]
APPRENTICE: Open
PREFIX: "Flicker-" = for the bright cream part of her face
SUFFIX: "-heart" = her compassionate, strong-willed heart and how it leads her
→ Flickerkit, Flickerpaw
AGE: 25 moons
CLAN: Mistclan
→ formerly Ridgeclan
RANK: Warrior
GENDER: She-cat [she/her]
INTERESTED IN: Toms, mostly - sometimes she-cats [biromantic, bisexual with male lean]
MATE: Closed
→ Firetongue [ex...]
MENTOR: Piketongue [former]
APPRENTICE: Open
PREFIX: "Flicker-" = for the bright cream part of her face
SUFFIX: "-heart" = her compassionate, strong-willed heart and how it leads her
appearance
"a longhaired blue silver torbie molly with white, very few patches of cream and olive-green eyes"
Despite a lot her personality reflecting her mother, Flickerheart is very much her father's kit in looks; while she will never reach his imposing size and height, said stature very likely kept her from being wiry and lithe like Spottefang. Instead, Flickerheart is muscled and strong, with longhaired pelt that - like her father - gives her a deceptively soft appearance. She's small for her age, but had high hopes of someday becoming a Guardian like Foghawk and proving herself a strong protector of those that needed her. With her mother's eyes and her father's smile, Flickerheart is, admittedly, a beauty; from her dainty paws to her longhaired pelt that's thick and luscious, flowing about her when she moves, she has managed to avoid serious disfigurement throughout most of her life as a warrior.
description
[CW: canon-typical violence, healthy family dynamics, age-appropriate discussions of stillbirth and grief, rationalizing red flags cuz love is rose-colored glasses, fastburn leaves scars]
"All the pretty madness
And the complicated status
'Cause the moon don't pick sides
And the sun won't reside"
[...]
And the complicated status
'Cause the moon don't pick sides
And the sun won't reside"
[...]
"Stars, I...I th-hought I lost you... Don't scare me like that-"
"Ugh," a hiss of pain, "Don't be a bee-brain, Foghawk - like I'd just leave you like that... Like I'd leave our family so soon..."
"No, don't move. You need to rest; Sootwhisker says you could still-still..."
"Heh, if you're beloved Starclan wants me so bad, they'll have to come down and beg me to leave your side."
A snort. "I love you, Spottedfang."
"...I love you too, you big softbelly. Now get in this nest and cuddle us."
It's obvious to from an early age that your mother is not well.
Da doesn't like to hear it and normally, when he's around or Ma's awake, the queens don't mutter amongst each other about it; but, well, kits overhear a lot of things adults aught not to.
They say that you're all sickly: you, your brother, and your mother. Both you and Flarekit are small, and not in the sense that your Ma is wiry and petite, but in the way, apparently, that means you're not healthy. And Sootwhisker visits often, checking in on you, and many queens won't let their bigger kits play with the you or your brother just yet - it's because your both so "frail", you've heard them explain to Dandelionkit when he asks why in spite of how much Ma vocally hates when they use that word - so maybe they're all right... Still, you don't appreciate the idea that your less than.
"There's nothing wrong with either of them," she hisses to Da when he comes to visit, "Everyone needs to stop coddling them when they're fine."
Da hushes her gently, butting his big head against her and Ma deflates, starting to purr as she reciprocates and the pair start rubbing cheeks. You're supposed to be asleep, but you're not, so you watch with a tiny smile. Your parents have such a wholesome relationship...
Then, of course, Flarekit kicks you in his slumber - a habit he will, unfortunately, never be rid of - and the jig is up, because you turn to tackle him in return; he wails, being woken up so unexpectedly, and that disturbs not only your parents' tender moment but wakes up several other cats in the nursery.
You'll make it up to Ma in the morning - you'd find out a way to help her and Flarekit.
"Ma?" You cock your head drastically to one side, almost unbalancing yourself.
"Da?" Flarekit tilts his head too, knocking against you; the pair of your brush ears and fall over because you've gotten a bit bigger than your runty brother and Flarekit can't support you both. Giggles follow and, even though Da clears his throat pointedly, you can tell he's amused by the broad smile on his face.
"This conversation was going to happen sooner or later, I suppose." Your mother grumbles sourly, stuck on nest-rest again, medicine cat's orders. Da drapes his tail over her back and the two of you giggle again at how it covers over half of her frame with ease. She cuts her eyes at him, but it lacks any heat.
"Your mother and I," she huffs and your father rolls his eyes good-naturedly, "Want to discuss something that you might have heard--"
"Do you mean the-the..." Flarekit cuts in, then flounders and looks to you. "Flicker?"
"Stillborns?" You offer; the other day, when some of the bigger kits had gotten too rough playing, Flarekit and you had been sent away to keep some elders sunning in the clearing company while the adults sorted everything out. Two of them, a senile old caliby and her mate, had been shaking their heads weirdly at your approach and muttering something about how large "stillborn" litters always produced the weakest kits. Of course, when you'd heard, you had turned your brother around and gone back to the nursery instead to play mossball.
You weren't going to be around cats that talked bad about your brother. Sure, Flarekit wasn't the strongest but he was good--
"Yes." Da turns his head away, looking suddenly pained. Your chest tightens and you start to go to him, but your brother beats you to it, borrowing into his thick pelt first.
"When you two were born," Ma takes over, taking a deep breathe, "You had littermates."
That gets both of your attentions, Flarekit perking up as you shuffle over to join him and Da. If you have littermates, you'd really like to know where they were all this time...
"Six, to be exact." Her face turns a bit sorrowful and wistful at the same time, eyes getting distant, unfocused look: "They all had names, like you...."
"Where are they then?" You pipe up, peeking out of the mass of Da's fur, "I don't see 'em."
"In Starclan." Da's voice sounds hoarse and heavy as his big paw presses into the side of your head, covering all of it with ease, and tucks it close; the air is a bit salty smelling, "They were never meant for us, sweetling, so they joined Silverpelt early. They went so your Ma could stay with me, with us."
"I dun get it." Flarekit huffs nearby, though you can't see him with your face pushed into your father's thick pelt.
"Flarekit, I'm a very small cat," Ma's frank admittance makes you both fall quiet, because even as young as both of you are, everyone knows that Spottedfang hates to talk about her petite frame, "And having eight kits made me very sick."
Starclan... Oh, right: the Starclan. "That's where cats go when they die, right?"
Da tenses, but Ma snorts.
"Flickerkit?" She sounds amused, so your likely not going to get in trouble in spite of your father's reaction.
"Yes?"
"What's death?"
Your father hisses your mother's name, sounding almost scolding, but Flarekit jumps to answer.
"It's when you go to sleep and never wake up! And-and you dream of stars and cats that fell asleep before you!" He sounds proud.
"That's it; isn't it?" You ask, finally pulling free to peer up at Da before looking to Ma and back, and from the look they share, you know: it's not the whole story. But you decide not to press - despite her smile, Ma seems... worn, though she hasn't moved much; and Da looks so abruptly tired too. It was best not too prod, yet - there was always tomorrow to get answers.
"Good enough," Ma chuckles, "now everyone pile in - I'm cold."
As you grow in spurts, you never catch up with your agemates; and, while Flarekit manages to start gaining height, he just can't seem to put on a "healthy" weight, according to Sootwhisker. You roll your eyes at the idea, even to the medicine cat's face, because there's nothing wrong with your brother - you even voice this aloud, often, to drive the point home. Your mother's health, sadly, does not blossom like her kits - she is fatigued easily, often stuck in the nest. Thankfully, from what Da says, she is not getting worse...
But you wish, for her sake, she'd get better.
You try to help her as much as you can, but Ma is the fiercely independent sort. Whenever you try to help the apprentices with changing the moss out and clean the nest, she always shoos you off; Da does the same, when you try to help him drag in prey for Ma to eat. They praise your efforts but don't let you do anything - which is a bit annoying.
Later, they always soothe, just keep an eye on Flarekit and you can help when you're older. So you do.
The nice thing, though, about all this is that you and Flarekit can play with other kits in the nursery now without the looming worry of the other queens. Sure, Firekit and Needlekit easily win any scuffles with you for mossballs during games but you know, confidently, that someday you could be faster than both of them. And you don't let loosing a few times keep you from trying again, not when your brother is always around to cheer you on. Flarekit prefers less physical games and, sometimes when you can convince other kits to come race with you two, he proves to be far faster than anyone gives him credit for; you always make a point to race him, though, so he's never left out.
However, the best thing of all to come of this, is it makes Ma happy - and a touch visibly proud - to see you both having a normal kithood; in turn, that makes you feel better about your failed efforts to be helpful. And if her reaction makes you drag Flarekit out to play all the more, then that's no one else's business! Besides, physical play is good for you both - Sootwhisker says so.
One night, as you tell Firekit and Dandelionkit goodnight, you can tell Ma looks... less than pleased, from where she lays in the nest. You after a moment of worry, that maybe her pain is getting worse and whether to call Da or Sootwhisker - but, she's not looking at you...
Glancing over your shoulder, you see Firekit's dad at the den entrance: Russetfoot (you think). There's obvious tension and displeasure in his posture as he glowers inside, but as soon as you spot him, he's gone.
Weird.
"Flickerkit."
"Yes'am?" You yawn and stretching, allowing the motion to carry you down into the nest - your muscles ache in a good way, the kind you're getting used to after a fun day playing.
"Be careful around those kits." Flarekit is already flopped over on his back and he purrs drowsily as you sprawl over top of him; blinking, you peer up at your mother as she settles down for the night as well.
"Waspkit and her littermates?" Ma can't mean Dandelionkit, because it was her who gave him permission half a moon ago to play with you and Flarekit for the first time. It was he who introduced both of you to his friends and got the two of you involved in playing, properly - Ma liked him a lot, though most queens did, because he was an easy kit to manage.
"The whole family." She sniffs, warping her tail about the two of you tightly, "Their father is bad news."
That didn't seem a good reason to not be friends with Firekit and his sisters, but you decide to shelf the conversation for later; your eyelids are too heavy to keep open, so you just murmur nonsense and stuff your face into Flarekit's soft underbelly.
"You're distracted, little Flickerpaw."
"Sorry, Piketongue." You snap back to attention, to the sparring session at hand. Flarepaw is out in the territory, exploring - where Hollyspot had seen it fortuitous to take your brother out on a tour of the territory, Piketongue had thought it better to spend the first few days after of your apprenticeship training.
He huffs, swiping at you - likely to give you a cuff about the ears - but you've gotten quicker and so you dance out of reach reflexively. That draws a smile from his toothy muzzle, and you feel a dash of pride.
"I enjoyed many a hunt with your mother watching over us." He struck out and you dodged with ease, fur ruffling with the wind your speed stirs up. The pines overhead are the only audience about. "No one deserves to retire to the elders' den more than her."
That had come as shock; shortly after your ceremony, Wolfstar had lingered on his perch over camp and, instead of dismissing the gathered clan, had simply waited until chatter died down to make yet another announcement. Ma, with a honorary overview of her time as a Guardian, was retiring to the elders' den - she hadn't looked happy, but, when Flarepaw pressed the issue, said it was for the best. I'd only be a liability out there now, Spottedfang had begrudgingly admitted; it won't change anything for our family, Da had promised. You had jumped to agree, to reassure her that you would visit her everyday in the elders' den - both you and Flarepaw - because it had dawned on you like a swooping eagle, that your birth had cost your mother everything short of her own life; that she'd given her good health and future in the clan to bring you and your brother into the world.
You barely duck another strike, distracted by your memories; you flush in embarrassment. Focus.
"I'd hate to report back to Spottedfang that her daughter is slacking in her training." Your mentor sounds amused, but the idea strikes a nerve, "Do you know how old Bearstrike trained her?"
"No." You grumble, debating darting in for a swipe; your mentor is not a big tom, but he's bigger than you, and you know it'd be a bad idea to try but you want to impress him more again.
"He prodded and poked and aggravated her--" he lunged as you slid in, slamming your into the ground. Only the pine needles cushioned you, "until she made mistakes. Little Spottedfang had to learned you can't brute force your way around the size and build you're born with."
He gets off, paces away, and then turns to face you as you roll over; you spit out some pine needles, hurt pride festering. That was so stupid, you chafed a bit at the affront as you got to your paws - your tail lashes and your scowl at the older tom as he sets up again.
"Now, again."
Yes, you understand: you'd have to figure this out yourself too; which shouldn't be hard - you were your mother's daughter.
"It's just... odd, y'know?" Your brother mutters the night of Wasppaw's vigil, the two of you huddled up in the apprentice's den; your brother had been part of the patrol that found her at the bottom of the ridge. He's still shaking from it all.
"What is, Flarepaw?" Lathing your tongue through his short fur, you twitch an ear in acknowledgement that you're giving him your full attention.
"Wasppaw... she mentioned Russetfoot," he's thinking, because his claws are kneading vigorous into the moss bedding. Flarepaw is far more observant than most in the clan give him credit for - everyone tends to see the frail-built tom that visits Sootwhisker more often than any other apprentice - he just lacks the initiative to do something with it alone.
His gaze narrows and his kneading grows in strength, so you wait for his revelations; you recall, distantly, that night in the nursery Ma told you Russetfoot was trouble. And he's always been... rougher, with his younger kits than even the biggest, bumbling parent in the nursery or the strictest mentor. And when he's not running unpleasantly hot about everything the trio do, he's downright frigid in their presence. You can only imagine the emotional whiplash that causes the whole family.
Da used to comment about the oddness of it, especially when Russetfoot had been so intensely involved with Lionflight... at least, until that one evening Russetfoot snapped at him to shut his trap. That it was no one's business how he treated his late mate's kits...
"I think I saw Russetfoot follow Wasppaw out earlier." Your brother intones lowly, suddenly secretive, and you blink wide eyes at the implications of that statement. "Lionflight was out with Firepaw, so I thought maybe the two were going to join them."
But, instead, Wasppaw had died...
The rest of the night, both of you set up camp in a nest nearest to the den entrance, and watch the vigil quietly. The the vast majority of the clan is asleep, so only Wasppaw's family attends to her now; your eyes are drawn to Firepaw and his tension, as subtle as it is, and how he not only makes sure himself and Needlepaw are on the other side of Lionflight from their father, but how he sits next to Needlepaw... You glance at Flarepaw, who watches Russetfoot pointedly. The way Firepaw sits next to his sister reminds you when you'd put yourself between Flarepaw and the other, bigger kits when everyone was playing rough.
Russetfoot looks up, as if sensing your gazes on his pelt, and the pair of you duck out of sight. The way your heart races is less with the thrill of avoiding being caught doing some prank and more the heavy feeling that you and Flarepaw just avoided a great peril instead.
It's that imagery that stays on your mind in the days to come. And it's that feeling, when Flarepaw tells you of spotting Firepaw and Dandelionpaw sneak out of camp, that has you following behind.
I believe you too. The words are true, even if they slip past your teeth unbidden.
Planning means that you and Firepaw start to spend a lot of time together; you see more of Needlepaw and Dandelionpaw, too, because they're going to be needed too for this to work, but more often than not its you and Firepaw alone. You hear a lot more things about Russetfoot and his nefarious ways all around...
But we'll have to bid your time. Firepaw had not been overjoyed about that, understandably, but you'd managed to coax him around to your line of thinking. Russetfoot would be keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, waiting and seeing if he actually got away with Wasppaw's murder or not. His guard would be up, he might even be a bit paranoid and the key for nwo was to wait. Anything too soon would have him on high alert, acting on his best behavior, and then he'd be harder to catch with his next plans.
No, he had to be lulled into a false sense of security, like a fish to the surface of the water, unaware of the cat looming overhead, ready to strike.
Honestly, the whole thing has you feeling heady - the spying, the strategizing, and the late night meetings. You're being helpful. You're doing good, even if you have to do some bad to serve justice. You feel in your element: you are not the biggest or the strongest, but you are smart and fast. Barely avoiding getting caught, putting your mind to work... it all comes so, so naturally to you.
And Firepaw seems to realize it.
He's always been a charmer, silver-tongued; you aren't deaf (or blind). You've overhead his clever back and forth with his mentor Rookjaw on multiple occasions and you've seen him flirt his way into winning several sparring matches by flustering his opponents. But now, as he turns it on you, as he compliments you on your bravery and smarts... well, it only adds to that potent feelings swimming around in your gut.
His green eyes dance as you both duck out of sight, and a thrill goes through you too as the shadows hide you from Russetfoot's sight.
"Who knew you were such a rule-breaker, Flickerpaw?" He's teasing, but your ears feel warm nonetheless.
"Sometimes, playing by the rules doesn't serve justice." You throw back, feeling equally witty and proud that you don't stutter. He likes the answer, if the growing genuineness of his grin is anything to go by (and what a time to be alive, to know when Firepaw is being genuine). "Nothing wrong with bending them here or there."
"Flickerpaw."
"Da!" You perk up, breaking away from the group to skip over to him; between your training and... other activities, you haven't seen much of your Guardian father. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Russetfoot slink off, probably having been paired with your Da on the returned hunting patrol.
"Come." He smiles and the two of you butt heads and tap noses, "We can share some prey."
You hesitate, for a moment, to glance back at Firepaw and his sister - you've been eating with them more and more often as time passes and it feels a bit odd not to do so now. You chuckle at the pout Firepaw sends your way when your gazes meet, but, after a breathe, wave the group off to follow your father. Nothing would happen to either of the siblings in camp, together - which had taken you a bit to convince Dandelionpaw of - because Russetfoot valued his reputation too much.
"Piketongue says you remind him more and more like your mother each day he trains you," you beam with pride as your father digs through the fresh-kill pile, "Says you'll be ready for Guardian training soon."
That's your hope, your goal. Someday, despite your size, you'll follow in your parents' footsteps and become a Guardian. Flarepaw would be a warrior and you'd watch over him, your friends, and your clanmates as they hunted. No raptor would be fast enough to hurt anyone with you on the job. And, if Piketongue says so, you feel like half the battle is over; your mentor could talk anyone into anything and walk away making them think it was their idea to start with. Between him and your Da, you'd get another mentor in no time - after becoming a warrior with your brother and friends, of course (you'd promised Flarepaw and Firepaw so).
Da picks a fish out of the pile and the two of you settle out of the way; you burrow happily, contentedly into his massive frame and thick fur, watching as he licks what scales he can off the prey. You get a couple bites in before he says anything more...
"Your brother is feeling neglected, though." You tense at the look Foghawk levels you, nearly choking on a mouthful as his disappointment: "He mentioned he hardly sees you at all, even at night - something about you and Firepaw always together...
Your whole pelt burns hot at the implication and you're honestly surprised your fur doesn't just melt right off off. Ears pinning back, you look away and spot Flarepaw watching anxiously; when you gazes meet, he ducks his head and hurriedly carries his small mouse into the elders' den. Firepaw then catches your eyes and he looks worried, but you shrug with a wobbly, flustered smile. You can't believe your dad is trying to hate this talk with you, now. But you don't blame your brother: Flarepaw can't keep a secret to save his life - that's why you haven't told him anything your planning, but you suppose you should've seen this exclusion has led to him to worry and talk to your parents. There was no way he could foresee what Da wanted to chat with you about...
"Flickerpaw." Da uses a gentle paw to steer your gaze back to him. He smiles soothingly, "You have your mother's eyes and her heart; to us, you and Flarepaw are our whole world. All I ask is you come to me, if you need help. You can come to us about anything."
Stars, doesn't that make you feel lower than dirt? He's clearing the path, ready to have this uncomfortable conversation with his only daughter and the situation isn't even what he thinks. Still, as you see Firepaw and his lot moving towards the apprentice den in the corner of your eye, you know how you'll answer.
"I will Da," you press closer, happy when his bushy tail curls about you, "When I need you, I'll be clambering all over you no matter the time of day." Thankfully, you have things well in hand. The idea of you climbing into his nest in the warriors den in the dead of night isn't lost on either of you and you share a short laugh.
He stares at you and you at him for a long while, fish untouched. Then, finally, he sighs and rubs his cheek against the top of your head.
"Part of me wants you to always need me, sweetling," you giggle, "But that's not the way life is."
"Ah, Da - you'll always be my Da and I'll always need you in my life; you and Ma and Flarepaw. I'll always need family." But, first, you need to help Firepaw save what's left of his.
When Firepaw vanishes out of the camp, you realize that the jig is up.
Dandelionpaw starts after him, but you step in his way. Then, without further comment, you turn to Lionflight, to his confusion, and despite Dandelionpaw's trepid confusion, you tell him everything. How you'd studied Russetfoot's daily schedule and knew it like the back of your paws; and how you'd worked hard to study Rookjaw and Needlepaw's mentor's routines, to pick a day where they'd both be off doing something else for the clan while Russetfoot would be around. You were quick to tact on how you and Dandelionpaw'd spent the last three quarter moons cutting him off at every other chance to get alone with either Firepaw or Needlepaw, all without tipping him off. That Needlepaw was to join up with Firepaw and both then go to where Russetfoot could casually overhear them complaining that they could not go on patrol with their mentors and give the rat-faced Guardian a chance to take them out, together with just him. And once he took the bait, because you'd all known the opportunity to get rid of two birds with one pounce would be too good of a chance to pass up, you and Dandelionpaw would follow behind with your unsuspecting mentors after the trio; the four of you would stumble upon Russetfoot trying to kill his kits and he would be finally be unable to deny the murderous cat he was. Then he'd be brought to trial before Wolfstar and exiled (and, hopefully, perish out in the wilds on his own... or so Firepaw hoped). But the important thing would have been that your friends would have been safe from their homicidal father and free to live their lives.
It doesn't matter that you lied to others, that you were going to trick your mentor and other adults, that you and your friends had snuck around, or even that your glorious plan has failed. You would suffer the consequences of your actions - punishments, chores, anything - as long as Firepaw and Needlepaw survived.
You can tell Firepaw's older brother isn't sure what to do with all this information and you feel your frustration mounting with each wasted moment. Angrily, you emphasized to Lionflight that the last time someone, namely you brother, had seen his father go off with on of Firepaw's littermates, Wasppaw had died. That seems to stir the Guardian to action and he takes off; you're a step behind him-
"Flickerpaw?" Rookjaw steps into your path, and Dandelionpaw hesitates at your side.
"Rookjaw!" Your heart is trying to claw out of your chest, to race to after your-your crush's big brother, "I'll explain later, but we have to go - now!"
He sees something in you - you're not sure what - but it makes him nod and call two others from his returning patrol; as they assemble, you leave Dandelionpaw to do the explaining this time - if he wants too - darting off without any further ado. You easily outpace the whole lot of them, having grown faster and faster as the moons flew by, and following the trail of scents as it the lead up and up...
To the ridgeline. To Lionflight and an injured Firepaw and Needlepaw... To Russetfoot's body.
Your paws carry you past it, though, past the body and its pulsating, growing pool of blood and a slightly stunned Lionfight. Your eyes glance to Needlepaw, worried, but you find yourself at Firepaw's side instead. Stars, you have a crush on a tom that almost died--
You press your head to his and reach a paw out to his sister, so, so happy that they're both okay. They'll survive and Russetfoot...
Well, he wouldn't be hurting anyone anymore.
"Ma and Da aren't happy."
Flareflight catches up to you the morning after his vigil - his came two days after you impromptu warrior ceremony alongside Firetongue, Needlestorm and Dandelionleap - and you let the dawn patrol go on without you. Your brother, himself, doesn't sound too pleased, so even though Firetongue stops in his trek to the medicine den to get his wound checked on and frowns at the pair of you, you wave him on.
The two of you move off, leaving camp behind; eventually, when Flareflight stops, the you've reached the rapids. You stay quite, watching your brother pace about, obviously working something over his mind. He's gotten better, as time passed, about not just blurting things out - of thinking before he speaks and you're proud of his progress.
"You lied to me and Da." He sounds hurt and part of you wishes he sounded angry instead, but you hold your tongue and try not to squirm at how his tone strikes at your heart. "Ma and Da think Firetongue made you do it; they think he's a bad influence on you..."
"You hang out with him sometimes," You reason gently, "What do you think?"
"I think you don't spend time with me anymore." He sits with you and leans his head on your shoulder, which gives you hope, "You're always with them - you have been for moons."
"You could join us, now." Firetongue has tried to include your brother on a pawful of occasions: sparring sessions, races, or just on patrols he and some of the others went on with their mentors before... before.
"I don't like him." Flareflight shakes his head, staring at his paws; tentatively, you place a paw on his, which only prompts him to talk: "I don't know what it is, Flicker, but... but he makes my skin crawl; maybe it's the way he hovers over all of you, how he's just... possessive and jealous of all of you but- it's not normal or healthy-"
You frown, but decide to let him keep going: your brother needed to get this off his chest. And, well, as much as it hurts to think not only do Da and Ma not like Firetongue but that Flareflight is spooked by him, you aren't going to minimize what your brother is feeling...
"-and I know it's silly but after... after Russetfoot's death, I just..."
"I'm sorry, Flareflight; I'll do better now. You don't have to hang out with any of them." You finally intervene, pressing your nose to Flareflight's cheek reassuringly, "We can just hang out together, without them; I'll make time if you will?"
He nods and the pair of you spend the rest of the day together. And if Firetongue notices how you and your brother hang out, away from the rest of the group, in the days to follow, then he's smart enough to keep it to himself... And, thankfully, to stop inviting your brother around.
You and Firetongue take to stargazing, outside of camp.
The physical affection between you - starting from the night of your warrior vigil and continuing on - kindles a warmth in your heart, the kind you keep telling yourself is just a silly crush. The pair of you touch noses, share tongues, butt heads and twine tails...
As the nights pass, sneaking out gets easier and easier; you ignore the looks you get from Ma in the evenings and your Da in the mornings, because at least Flareflight seems to have settled down. During the daylight hours, you fulfill your duties to Ridgeclan, spend time with your family, and maybe get in a nap or two... and, at night, you or Firetongue wake one another and slip off into the territory. He's genuinely charming and supportive and its impossible to deny the pair of you bonded over the Plan and his father, as much as the red tom would like to deny the latter.
You curl up together and you talk, despite what others might think you're doing; you talk about your families. You reminisce, talk of plans for the future, and many other nonsensical things. He's definitely earned the "-tongue" part of his warrior name, with the way he uses those pretty words and clever turns of phrase to delight you and get you to laugh...
Crush is likely the wrong word now, you think as the two of you climb up to the edge of the territory one night; it's slow going tonight, the two of you distracted by touching noses and slowing down to twine tails and lean into each other like a pair of love doves. It definitely feels like something bigger now...
"Darling," he starts as the two of you settle down, sitting leaned into one another. His tongue lathing against your ear distracts you for a moment, but he continues when you purr, "Are you listening?"
"Yes." You snicker, pulling away to meet his gaze, "What is it?"
"I've been thinking-"
"Terribly dangerous," he wraps a paw around you, yanking you close in retaliation, your proud chuckle muffled in his shoulder. "Wouldn't want to hurt your pretty head."
"Hush." There's a few heartbeats of silence, where you consider suggesting the pair of you laying down and getting comfortable, but then he seems to settle on something, a finality to: "We own each other."
That gives you pause... "What?"
"I am yours," He murmurs, pressing his muzzle into the top of your head and wrapping his tail about you, "and, don't break my heart now, hopefully you're mine?"
Your tongue has vanished, fleeing down your throat like a heavy stone, but you find yourself nodding eagerly anyway. There's butterflies in your belly, a storm of them flittering around restlessly. After a fortifying breathe, you pull back to say it out loud--but something catches your eye as you look up at him.
A star... gliding across the sky.
"Fire," you call and he huffs, but then your turning his head with a white paw, "look. The stars are flying across the sky."
After the first one, more and more start to move along Silverpelt; Firetongue seems to come to life under the show and the sight dazzles you just as assuredly. He pulls you closer, but you're already as close as you can get, so that only causes the pair of you to fall over. You let out a low sound of surprise and laughter, fairly certain he did that on purpose, and end up resting on top of him; your eyes are dancing as you look up from your paws pressed into the fur of his chest to him.
He's beautiful. And not just his pretty eyes and pelt or the way his silver tongue shines... No, Firetongue is beautiful because you know him. He's witty and shrewd, a soul that is devoted to his clan and family and friends and... and you. He sees you as you are and welcomes you as you come; he makes you feel free of responsibility and challenges you in ways that are wonderful.
"I'm yours," the words fall free of your tongue, the sky overhead bright with the light of shooting stars, dancing in the absence of the moon. "You're mine."
"It was meant to be," He purrs, eyes distant, "Even the gods of Starclan celebrate us; I can feel the stars in my blood."
You blink, smiling bemusedly.
"Look at them all," his voice is dropping lower and lower, making your fur prickle (though you can't tell if its pleasantly or not), "they're celebrating me and you and us, together. We're meant to be each others, why else would this happen tonight, of all nights? Such glittering paths they trace on your silvery fur - like they've anointed you a goddess already."
"Your eyes make them look green, ethereal." You decide to return the compliment quickly, latching onto it in order to ignore the odd swooping sensation the butterflies cause and snickering at his other ramblings; you are admittedly a little surprised at his fanatical statements, because you'd thought he wasn't the most religious sort, but his mother was training to be Oracle, so it made some sense he believed.
Da believes, too, so that is probably they could bond over...
But for you, you'd listen to him wax poetic about the lightshow overhead.
"I'm worried."
"I know you are-"
"-you don't understand rat-shit!"
The sound of Ma and Da arguing leads you to pause in your journey to find your friends and Firetongue; on the eve of battle, there would be planning to do and measures to take to make sure everyone returned home safely. As much as you've grown to distain Wolfstar and his zealotry and the frenzy he and the Oracle have stirred amongst your clanmates, you aren't going to let your family or friends go into battle unprepared.
You should move on, let your parents have this private moment... but something compels you to stay and listen, dropping into a crouch.
"You don't know what it's like, day in and day out, stuck in this cursed den in this infernal camp, unsure if today will finally be the day someone brings home your loved one's body." Your heart clenches, because you've never heard Ma so close to tears.
"That is the warrior life, Spottedfang, you know this..." Da doesn't sound any better.
"No," she hisses, "what I do know is that Stars-damned Wolfstar is going to get you all killed over a stupid puddle of water. Tomorrow will be the day that someone returns with your corpses to bury and there's nothing I can do to stop it."
"Hush, hush, my heart. I'll be there, nothing will happen to our kits."
"You can't promise me that, Foghawk, you can't."
"I can sure try..."
The sound of quiet weeping follows you the rest of the night. Ma has a point... Flareflight is not strong, has never been, and you can't believe Wolfstar wanted him to come to the main fight, instead of staying at home. With each step you take, even as you spot Firetongue pacing about before Needlestorm and Lionflight, you become more and more assured that your mother is right: your brother could die. Likely, he would die.
Dandelionleap comes up alongside of you, distracting you from the crippling vice forming about your heart. You smile at him, but your trepidation grows.
This battle can't be avoided at this point: the most of the clan has put their support behind it... Besides, the clan leader's word is law. Still, you cannot avoid how pointless this battle feels; the coming bloodshed seems pointless. Starclan is made up of your ancestors, from all three clans, so how could they smile down upon the coming violence on the horizon.
Firetongue tries to mollify you, but his religious rhetoric makes your skin crawl underneath your pelt. You let him have his say, your arguments falling on deaf ears, before nudging him away from the group.
The two of you could return to the godliness of Starclan later, you have something more urgent on your mind.
"Firetongue, I need you to promise me something."
"I hope you're not going to be so silly as to make me promise to survive, darling." He snorts at the thought, smiling as he nuzzles his head against yours with a steady purr, "Because that you be insulting both of us."
"No," you roll your eyes and glance away, searching and finding Flareflight, sitting with Ma and Da near the elders' den; you would go to them, later - surely everyone would allow the four of you to share a nest tonight, to be together once as a family, given what was to come. "I need to you to keep an eye on my brother - to protect Flareflight."
He pulls away to look at you and you press on: "I'm scared for him, Firetongue; he shouldn't be anywhere near this fight. Da and I can manage just fine, but he... he might die on his own."
"Yes, I understand." Your tom murmurs - it still makes you giddy, thinking of Firetongue as yours, and him likewise - and presses his head to yours, "I promise."
"Then I'll keep an eye on Needlestorm and the rest, too." You swear in return, feeling like half of a weight has lifted off your shoulders. You close your eyes and send a pray to your ancestors, "Thank you."
"...all this useless bloodshed..." Da had sighed, blood welding up past his teeth as his eyes grew distant. "...stars..."
"...no one... deserves th-his..." Flareflight had wept, smearing blood all over your pelt as you desperately, desperately, try to keep him from slipping away.
You almost live at Cairn Peak now; the guilt of it all keeps you from sleeping. There's a lot of things to feel guilty about: that you failed your Ma by letting Da and your brother die, that you killed a Prairieclan warrior in a misguided attempt to save your brother as he drowned in his own blood, and that you kept a one-sided promise. Firetongue lied to you... He was so eager to fight, so battle-hungry, your brother was not even a thought in his mind.
Your father and brother are dead and buried and you've been sharing a nest with a monster.
"Thought I'd find you up here again," Ma huffs, likely winded from the climb up here; you jerk in a delayed manner and move to give her space, raising to your paws to help her even as she settles on the warm patch of dirt your vacated. "Sit, Flicker, sit."
She's been your rock since this all happened; part of you wonders how she can forgive you, another is just happy she's here. She runs interference between you and Firetongue as well as his posse, she reminds you to eat, to sleep, and if you're going to miss any patrols assigned to you.
As you sit, Ma sighs and stares at the two graves, no longer new looking but forever fresh in your heart. Staring at them vividly brings their last moments - both of which you'd witnessed, one after the other, because finding your dad had sent you into a frenzy to find your brother - and you close your eyes against tears.
"All that bloodshed," you echo your memories in a croak, "no one deserved it..."
"And for what?" Your Ma tacts on, soundly properly outraged, "We broke the code, Wolfstar died, and our deputy abandoned his post. Load of foxdung and crowfood, the lot of if."
You want to give into the urge to break down, to curl up into your mother's belly and cry until you pass out, but you don't: your a warrior now. If anything, you should be offering Ma comfort...
"You can't stay here any longer," she declares after a shroud of silence fell over the two of you, time passing by unnoticed; distantly, you realize she waited until the other mourners left, even though that took half the day.
"Sure, Ma, we can head back-"
"Playing stupid isn't a good look for you, Flickerheart." She snags your shoulder with a paw as you start to rise, using the entirety of her frail frame to pull you back into a sitting position; she puffs for air, wavering for quiet before continuing: "You need to leave Ridgeclan."
"Ma?" Your heart feels abruptly fragile in your chest, unsure of what her real meaning is.
"It's killing you, being here," Ma goes on like you weren't look at her teary-eyed, staring resolutely forward at Da's grave, "And I can't keep your so-called mate at bay forever."
You swallow, unsure what to say, though you do know what she means. You haven't been able to look at Firetongue the same way since the day after the battle... Not once, during that time, had he apologized for breaking his promise; he never asked about Da or Flareflight in the heart of the retreat. And, the worst part? How he came to you, as you were mentally steeling yourself for their vigil, spouting off about his godly Starclan and trying again.
That wasn't the tom you feel in love with, charming and clever and kind... And maybe he'd never been that way. Maybe you'd been the blind one.
"Wh-here..." Pausing, you take a shuddering breathe, "where would I go? Ridgeclan needs--"
"Mistclan." She says it without missing a beat, cutting off a speech that, you realize belatedly, you did not have your heart in making
"But," you flounder, "but, Ma, you-"
"Neither your Da nor I would want you sticking around where you're not happy anymore." Her tail slowly twines with yours, "In fact, I'd be offended - might kick you out myself if you dared."
"Why....?" But you already now why Mistclan. Flareflight always believed in doing the right thing, in not letting bad feelings fester, and helping those in need; he was a lot nobler than most knew, if only because he didn't have the stomach to lead. If you had died or even if he had just lived, you know Flareflight would have been the first to abandon Ridgeclan in favor of joining Mistclan, eager to help them rebuild and to right the wrongs your clanmates caused. He was such a good soul...
He didn't deserve to die. Of all the rotten sorts in Ridgeclan and two of the best, best cats had to have their light snuffled out in a worthless, meaningless show of violent zealotry...
"Besides," Ma's paws wraps around your shoulders as they start to quake, heart cracking at the understanding of what you must do, "It's not like I won't see you at gatherings."
This part of the river is shallow. You were supposed to be an solo border patrol, so no one would come looking for a while. The water laps at your ankles, submerging your white toes and you pause...
The point of no return.
Flareflight would have already done this by now, you think, and your fractured heart easily conjures the image of him standing on the other shore in your mind's eye. This is the right thing to do. Nothing holding you back-
"Flickerheart."
Except Firetongue, standing a few tail lengths away. You haven't gotten a proper look at him in what feels like ages; the sight of him makes your heart twist into knots and plunge down into your belly like a sodden rock.
"What are you doing here?" He's supposed to be asleep, in camp, in your shared nest. You couldn't tell him good-bye: it would hurt too much and you didn't think you could survive it...
But it looks like it was unavoidable: "I'd ask you the same thing, darling; you said you were visiting your family graves."
The flinch shakes you to your bones: you told him you were doing up to Cairn Peak to grieve some more - and when haven't you been grieving, lately? - and told one of the camp guard's you were going out to patrol the border alone. You've been lying a lot lately: to him, to your clanmates... to yourself.
"Go back to camp," you plead, fighting back tears, because you don't think you'll follow through on this decision if he's here. Stars, you still love him, even if you can now see him for the monster he is.
"I can't sleep without you in the nest, you know that," He beckons you away from the waters with his very presence as well as a tilt of his head; how easy would it be, to turn back around and act like this never happened? There's a flash of white fur in the trees and the idea of being caught by anyone else snaps you out of that train of thought. "Come back, darling. We'll talk about whatever's on your mind on the return home."
Darling. Darling. How often has he used that endearment to change your mind? To make you agree with him and his ideas? To get his way? Has he been playing you this entire time...? You swallow your pride and steel yourself - did you ever know Firetongue, half-clan son of Ripplefur? You're not sure...
"Darling." Don't cry.
Under the water, your claws unsheathe, and you lift your chin. Your voice cracks as you defy him, probably for the first time in a long time: "I'm not going back."
"Hah!" He doesn't believe you; you've always folded to him. He's been as much the exception to your rules as you were for his... "Enough, Flicker. You’re coming home."
"I'm not." Your stand resolute.
"You'll feel better once we've gotten some sleep. I'll take your dawn patrol and I'll bring you breakfast, just--"a
For each step forward he takes, you move further back into the river; the water is lapping at your belly by the time he has a mind to stop - by the time he decides to listen to you. Stars, was it always like this?
"Stop," please, my heart can't take it, "Firetongue. I'm leaving Ridgeclan."
He's angry - you know this side of Firetongue well, though it's been a while since a hint of it has been tossed your way (maybe, perhaps, when you'd discovered Dandelionpaw and he discussing his murderous father in the fog?).
"Some filthy Mistclanner caught your eye?" That was low, and though a part of you knows he's striking first to protect himself, the majority of you is shocked he'd dare.
"Of course not!" Because as much as you'd like to blame Firetongue for it all, for drawing you in and keeping you by his side, you know it'd be a complete lie; you came willingly. You, stupid romantic you, fell for him all on your own, despite what Ma might think. You liked being his exception, because you liked the idea of being special and recognized as such; never mind that it all blinded you in the end...
"No? So why in the fucking name of Starclan would you ever think—" he's better than this, your heart whispers, as he gives a humorless smile: "If you’re not hopping borders as my traitorous mother did, then why are you?”
If only he'd realize it, your mind counters.
"Ridgeclan is plagued with rot." And its infected you, Firetongue, don't you see? "Whatever Starclan you hold dear led our clan to ruin, and they ate it up." His Starclan ate the lives of your brother and father as well as countless other clanmates. How could he worship such a horrid group that needed such sacrifices? "That is not a Starclan I believe in, and it's not a clan I can believe in."
"Starclan is an immortal collection of souls that exist beyond our realm; Wolfstar was too hasty in trying to interpret their signs, that’s all. We will rebuild and do bet—"
How can't he see it? Why? How could he be so blind? "My family is dead, Firetongue! Only my mother remains. You were supposed to protect them! And all you care about is how much blood you can shed before you've satiated your ancestors."
He had promised you, promised you, he would keep an eye out for Flareflight if nothing else. You needed him to do that - maybe if he had, the two of you wouldn't be having this conversation, because your brother would already be in Mistclan, trying to make amends.
"Careful, darling."
No, you think despondently, if I'd been a better sister, I'd be back in our nest with the love of my life right now, trying to convince him that Flareflight wasn't a treacherous coward for hopping borders. You would think he didn't mean anything serious by insulting your brother and he would placate any annoyance his cutting words caused. You'd be trying to convince Da and Ma that Firetongue deserved a chance, that you loved him and...
"How much clan blood do you need to spill before they forget half your own blood is claness?" And you wouldn't be looking at a monster.
"I never took you for a mewling fucking coward. You would turn your back on your clan and kin? On Starclan? On everything your brother and father gave their lives to defend? You kick dirt on their memories!"
It hits you, then, that he never really knew your family... Because they hadn't been his exception.
"I am turning my back on senseless violence and cruelty," you can't stop yourself from trying, trying to use the genius he always claimed you had, to make your mate see reason. "Firetongue, you have to see this is wrong."
"The only things wrong I’ve ever done were to be born of faithless rogue… and to trust you." He sees your face fall, sees it as surely as you can distantly see your reflection in his gaze, but he can't seem to help himself: your Firetongue has always been one to get the last word in. "I let that pretty face dupe me. Those pretty little eyes shining with the dreams of a kit thinking the world could be a kind place. It’s pathetic, Flickerheart! Starclan isn't some feather-down story to tickle the kits with, it is the collective might of every ancestor before us, and we strive to be worthy by any means necessary. Your father and your brother knew the price charging into that battle. You knew the price. It’s time to grow the fuck up. We live and die by tooth and claw."
By any means necessary... So your Da and Flareflight were a means to an end. What about Dandelionleap? You? Were you all simply a means to an end, necessary sacrifices on the altar to his godly Starclan? You swallow, hard, against the urge to cry. No, you won't give him your tears or your hurt. It's better that you know how he feels now, than later, when it was too late...
Your chest is empty; he's torn out your heart and thrown on the ground between you. You wonder, dully, if he will deign to keep it as a trophy when this is over... or if he'll leave it on the altar of his Starclan, another necessary sacrifice to gain their favor and power. You're not really sure you want to know.
"It is time to grow up, Fire," I'll miss this thing we had, you decide despite your broken heart, this flame that was fueled by the foolishness of blind youth. It was nice while it lasted... "You grew into a monster. I'm growing into someone that will slay them."
Because it's clear now, as you stand face to face, that monsters like this - like Wolfstar, like Firetongue - are the reason the clans can never know peace. And, if you want to restore peace to Mistclan, in honor of those you lost, you'll have to stop him. Kill him, probably.
Maybe even now, as his face contorts with a rage that even you are unfamiliar with. You tense, claws still unsheathed and ready; this was never going to end peacefully, you understand that now. You were running from the inevitability of confrontation, to spare your tender heart, but that was impossible. It is time to grow up, perhaps more than you realized...
Who were you without Firetongue?
"Will you now, darling? Will you slay this one?" If I must. It'd be better, if you did it... or died trying. Maybe then you could have some solace...
Another flash of fur and Ma puts herself between you two; your heart, still on the ground, lurches and even at a distance makes your chest tighten to the point you can't breathe.
"You will be letting my daughter leave now, boy," she's putting on a brave front, hackles raised and teeth bared, but you can see how hard she's trying to control her breathing, to not let it's raggedness show through. If it came down to a fight between the two... she'd be as dead as Russetfoot all those moons ago.
"No. Of course you won’t. You don’t have the stomach to be a monster slayer, darling." The monster wearing Firetongue's face gives you a cruel, mocking smile. Ma glances at you past her shoulder so fast that he doesn't notice.
Go, sweetling. Don't look back, she'd told you earlier. I love you so.
You're a mess as you ford through the rest of the river, soaking yourself thoroughly as you do so. You're shivering as you move into the foreign treeline and not just from the cold.
A monster slayer, you'd called yourself; the title sits oddly on your shoulders... But you hope you can grow into it, for everyone's sake.
personality
Positives
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appearance
PRE-PLOTTING
The Smoldering Embers of a Broken Heart: Flickerheart is Firetongue's ex-mate and fills the spot in his backstory. She loves- no, she loved him. He's charming and fierce and the two of them burned hot and fast, getting on like kindling and spark... It was so, so wonderful, for however short it lasted. She thought she knew him, thought him a good sort despite the way he went about everything - thought the two of them were similar like that, because she'd do what ever was necessary, too, in order to do what was right. They both valued family, would do whatever it took to protect and care for their kin and kith... But maybe she was just being naïve, like he claimed that last night: maybe that was why she didn't see the monster he was becoming. If she made... if and if and if - none of changed what had happened. She was wrong, especially about him, and he'd surely torn her heart out as painfully as she'd hurt his pride. And all the while he was right, that no matter how broken-hearted Flicerkheart was, she would never be able to slay monsters... Not when one of them was Firetongue.Helpful Sapling, Returned to Earth: It is not in Flickerheart's nature to leave a hurt untended - and the hurt Ridgeclan has caused Mistclan is no different. It can't be left to fester... And, well, she can no longer look at her place of birth the same way again. It turned the love her life into a hedonistic monster and took her father and brother from her in a wash of needless bloodshed; staying was never an option, even with Wolfstar dead. She was lucky, in all honestly, that Hailstar allowed her in - but she will prove herself. She can help the Mistclan rebuild, help them heal (it's what Lightningflight would want her to do), and help her fellow refugees find a new home here. She will find a way to grow in Mistclan and aid the clan's in restoration...
FAMILY
[family tree link here]Family is... was, very important to Flickerheart, once upon a time. But then Wolfstar attacked Mistclan and tore her lovely little family apart... And for what? Needless bloodshed? His ego? His fanatical lust for territory? Her father and brother are gone. Dead and buried - but she knows they'd want her to be in Mistclan, trying to mend the wrongs Ridgeclan caused.
Spottedfang [RC elder, mother] - the true spitfire of the family, it's easy to see that Spottedfang is where the bolder parts of Flickerheart's come from. She was an unlikely match with Foghawk, but her loyalty and love for her family could never be questioned - after all, she gave up her good health and future as a Guardian for her first and only litter. Flickerheart always looked up to her mother, with her strong convictions and how Spottedfang never failed to follow her heart. She misses her mother terribly... But Spottedfang did not want her daughter to be somewhere she was unhappy.
✝ Foghawk [RC, father] - a big and easy fellow, he rubbed off more so on his son than his daughter, though Spottedfang always claimed his softer tendencies did rub off on their daughter. He was a true Guardian, in the sense that he wanted to keep his clan safe, whether physically, emotionally, or mentally; he was a well known opponent to Wolfstar and his fanatical clan-superiority, believing that Starclan would not have favorites amongst the clans (like any good parent wouldn't). His death in the war with Mistclan was a big factor in Flickerheart leaving Ridgeclan, in the end.
✝ Flareflight [RC, brother] - her sweet, gentle brother; she was his staunch protector, the one he could always lean on, because he was as gentle and soft as their father. She wanted to persevere his optimistic outlook on life and his empathy towards others... But she failed in the end to stop Wolfstar from getting him killed. She'll never be rid of the guilt.
FRIENDS
Back in Ridgeclan, Flickerheart had quite the collection of friends and acquantices - there was hardly a soul in the camp she didn't know the name of and she always tried to make sure everyone knew she was there to be help them if they needed. Now, though... She's trying to have some restraint, to not shove her need to be helpfulness down the throats of the cats in Mistclan, because she understand it will take time for most to trust her. But, it's okay... she can wait; her good intentions will shine though, eventually.Dawnclaw [fellow refugee] - it's nice to have Dawnclaw around; even if the two were not close in Ridgeclan, being displaced refugees in Mistclan has brought them together. It's nice to have someone that understands her own, new struggles with their home. She can tell he's making a genuine effort to prove himself to the clan and thinks, between the two of them, they can find a new home here.
Family
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