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Post by tor on Mar 8, 2024 14:25:05 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/qM12Kqf/rain~png Rainshade settled in a respectful distance from a group of warriors speaking under moonlight, unsure of where else to sit at this gathering, but not wanting to be awkwardly positioned on the edge of the clearing. She'd spent so many moons offering to stay back at camp, guarding it and the more vulnerable cats - kits, young apprentices, aging elders - while her clan attended gatherings, that she'd forgotten how to behave surrounded by so many warriors. Tonight, though, her sons had both insisted she go, taking her place as camp guards so she couldn't use the position as an excuse. It was strange being here again. Rainshade went once after RidgeClan attacked last leaf-bare, in the immediate gathering that followed the violence. She wanted to see RidgeClan's new leader. She wanted to gloat over MistClan and PrairieClan's combined victory. Desperately, she wanted to find the cat that killed Mintsong, and scream at them until her throat was hoarse and her voice was red with blood. "They had children," she would say. "And now they'll never see them grow up. The kits won't know their other parent."Of course, she hadn't found the cat that killed her mate. She didn't know where to begin to look. And she never went to a gathering again. It pleased her, the number of cats she still recognized. Certainly, both PrairieClan and RidgeClan had new faces - apprentices, young warriors, old warriors she'd never had a chance to cross paths with. But many of the cats that wandered through social groups and called out to old friends were familiar to her. She could even remember a few of their names. There was a cluster of tortoiseshell PrairieClan cats that she'd shared conversation with once or twice, and a pair of handsome silver tabbies from RidgeClan she once admired from afar. Mushroomstar and Toadfeather looked well. PrairieClan's new leader and her deputy did, too. Rainshade kept glancing around like that - from face to face, registering who was new to her and who wasn't, until her gaze settled on a very familiar one. A familiar one coming right toward her. Oh, goodness. Her ears went back just a little, and she wore an awkward smile as her old friend - could she still call Snowlight that? - approached. "Good evening, Snowlight." |
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Post by Erose on Mar 12, 2024 17:02:31 GMT -6
#s://i~imgur~com/NRElgU2~png Was it you I saw last night, standing in the red light while all the world was aflame?
Snowlight woke late for the gathering patrol, their murmurs buzzing outside like insects while she blinked the last dregs of dream out of her eyes. Already it was slipping from her, ephemeral as the dusk dipping into night; all she could recall was a deep loneliness yawning inside her chest. When she joined the patrol, she was met by snickers of amusement; it was Gingerfang who finally helped her fix the cowlick on her head and told the others to stop teasing her. Snowlight purred gratefully, but she couldn't help but miss Silverheart more than ever. That feeling stayed with her all the way across the river and to the gathering. Missing. She missed so much: her brother, her friends, and who they all used to be. She missed lazy summer days splashing in the river, or slipping behind the waterfall to wile hours away with painted paws.... As lost as Snowlight was in the past, even among the humming throng of cats, she thought the familiar green eyes staring back at her were nothing more than memories. She wasn't even aware she was approaching until Rainshade gave her an awkward smile. "Good evening, Snowlight."
Like a splash of cold water. Snowlight halted a mere fox-length from her old friend, stomach dancing with butterflies and waterfalls. Slowly, her head tilted, gaze tracing a visage she hadn't seen in seasons. Her cheeks looked sharper, but the roundness had never really left her face; Snowlight wondered how much of it was fur, and when those white hairs had started appearing. Her fur was just as thick as she remembered, but drier, and a little frizzy. Her eyes looked tired. Where had the light gone? Had it died last winter? "You look older." The words popped out before she could think. Her ears felt hot. "Not in a bad way! You look... like a warrior." Rainshade's ears were still back. Why were her ears back? They were friends. Even though... even though they hadn't seen each other since before the war. All at once, Snowlight was acutely aware of the scar on her front leg. It hadn't been a particularly terrible injury, but now it discomforted her; it had come from a MistClan warrior. Would it always be like this? Would she always feel shame when she thought of MistClan, of RidgeClan's inevitable rise to violence (had it been inevitable? Or was she too afraid to think she could have had a paw in stopping it?), and all the bloodshed that followed? "It feels like I haven't seen you in forever," she said, a little quieter. "I'm glad you're here, Rainshade. Have you been alright?" |
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Post by tor on Mar 17, 2024 8:33:27 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/qM12Kqf/rain~png Of all the things Snowlight could have said for their first meeting in moons, Rainshade hadn't expected an insult. Her ears continued to lie back, confused by her old friend's approach, even after Snowlight rushed to clarify what she meant. "Not in a bad way! You look... like a warrior."Reluctantly, Rainshade told herself there was nothing wrong with aging, nor looking older. And, if what Snowlight really meant was that she looked like a warrior, then she would force herself to accept the words as a compliment, even if they still made her feel strange. Or maybe that was the way Snowlight was looking at her - like she was a ghost, or something to be afraid of. "Thank you?"
"It feels like I haven't seen you in forever." The softer way Snowlight spoke settled the odd churning in Rainshade's stomach. She wasn't really sure how she should approach the RidgeClan warrior. It wasn't that they were on bad terms - they simply weren't on terms at all. The last time Rainshade saw her... Blood, the scent of it drowning the camp. Her ears full with the wail of dying warriors. Religious fervor made the air thick, almost impossible to move through. Thousands of warring bodies - Ancestors, it couldn't have been thousands, but it felt like it.
"I'm glad you're here, Rainshade. Have you been alright?"
"As 'alright' as to be expected." Snowlight may have once been a friend, but she also was once an enemy. Rainshade wasn't sure which of those labels still applied. "And yourself?" Be kinder, she said, the voice sounding like Lichenflight's in her mind. "You look well. Also like a warrior. I've spent so many moons guarding the camp, I didn't realize how long it'd really been until now." |
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Post by Erose on Apr 10, 2024 18:02:25 GMT -6
#s://i~imgur~com/NRElgU2~png It felt strange now. That green-leaf spent playing together glowed at the edges of her memory like a mirage of sunlight, prickling red behind her eyelids. She knew she could see it if she closed her eyes, but she didn't want to; she wasn't talking to Rainpaw. Rainshade was someone else.
Snowpaw was gone too.
They'd both grown up, hadn't they? It was breaking her heart.
"As 'alright' as to be expected." It took her breath away, to hear it and know exactly what horror lurked behind the words—the same horror that she'd hoped to avoid speaking of. But she couldn't ignore it forever.
Snowlight couldn't avert her eyes again.
"Your clanmates must feel safe with you guarding them," she said with a soft purr, trying to extend an olive branch. "You always were more fierce than me; I can't handle much more than a trout!"
Talking to her felt like talking to Shadow or Juni... or Silverheart. It was the same thorn that stuck into everything: Wolfstar. Wolfstar, and everything he'd unleashed in the valley. Sure, MistClan and RidgeClan had always had disagreements, but... Wolfstar had left scars.
Would this ever heal?
"I really missed you, Rain," she admitted. Was it still okay to call her that? They'd been so young, before, so quick to trust and be trusted. "I visited our spot the other day and there's still paint on some of the rocks. Do you still paint for fun, or is it all ceremonies now?" Snowlight teased.
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Post by tor on Apr 12, 2024 12:36:00 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/qM12Kqf/rain~png Safe - Rainshade wasn't sure about that. If anything, they probably just felt relieved that she always volunteered, giving more of them an opportunity to experience the gathering. She wouldn't consider herself fierce in the slightest. She would, however, agree with Snowlight's joke about the trout, granting the RidgeClan warrior a soft smile. Snowlight always was a sweetheart. The smile fell away at the oddly tender confession. "I really missed you, Rain." The nickname was jarring, like most things of the past were, especially when Rainshade was reminded of any fondness she once had for the clan that wreak havoc on her own. How? She wondered. How can I miss her, when she ruined everything?It was foolish to blame Snowlight alone, of course, and so Rainshade left her accusations as nothing more than unspoken, bitter words on her tongue. "Do you still paint for fun, or is it all ceremonies now?"
"Just ceremonies," she said, trying not to thick of one green-leaf day in particular, when the two were sun-soft from an afternoon spent playing along the border, both covered in rudimentary paint as Rainpaw tried to show Snowpaw some of MistClan's creative tradition. If she thought too hard, she could feel the paint still baked into her fur, like dried clay on the river's bank. "It's unbecoming of a warrior to waste paint." Cultivating the plants that made colorful pigments was hard enough, and the historian was always in need of such things. "Speaking of which, I would think, as warriors, we would do better to honor ourselves with our full names, Snowlight." I can't hear you call me Rain again, she was really saying. It hurts. "We've both worked hard for them. Tell me, how is life treating you? Do you have an apprentice?" |
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Post by Erose on Apr 29, 2024 17:44:32 GMT -6
#s://i~imgur~com/NRElgU2~png She didn't realize how easy it would be for Rainshade to gut her.
Snowlight, too, was lost in a sun-softened afternoon, plastered in paint up to her elbows and laughing about her silly brother and his silly political games... Back when it was funny. Before she realized he was pulling away, before she realized those political games would spill blood, before before before...
"It's unbecoming of a warrior to waste paint."
How could she tell her, then, that the rock wall next to her nest was covered in it? Layers of smeared paint, in every color she could acquire in the mountains and along the riverbank, in every shape her deft paws could imagine. When it was hard to sleep, or she was waiting for Shadowgaze to creep back into the den in the wan hours, Snowlight could find comfort in it.
What a waste of paint.
But then it got worse. Stupid Snow, she scolded herself, looking away to stare at the mill of cats around them so she could focus on keeping her eyes from watering. It was a stupid mistake; they weren't apprentices anymore.
"You have such a pretty name, Rainshade," she said brightly, turning back to her friend with clear eyes even as her heart fell into the river. "You're right; it'd be a shame not to use it."
Life's been treating me terribly, I've never felt more alone, she wanted to say. Instead, she laughed.
"No, I don't have an apprentice. There's just been a lot... Well, it never seems like the right time, I guess!" That, or she wasn't the right kind of cat for it; Snowlight knew she wasn't the most mature or reliable clanmate. Maybe she wasn't the best choice of teacher.
"Surely you've had one, though!" she pressed. "And Mintpaw! They must have their warrior name by now; is it 'song like you thought? I bet they're a great teacher."
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Post by tor on May 4, 2024 10:45:30 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/qM12Kqf/rain~png It was a relief that Snowlight did not press further about their names, or the paint, or any past connection they might've had. Rainshade would prefer to forget all of that existed. A polite acquaintanceship, no different from her connection to any of the other warriors she spoke to at gatherings, was all she needed from Snowlight. And yet, she saw the sorrow in her eyes, not broken by the laughter. Rainshade thought she often looked like that, too. Smiling when she needed to. Laughing when it was expected. But still sad, always so sad. The emotion was heavy on the eyes. "No, I don't have an apprentice." How surprising. Was Snowlight not older than her? "Surely you've had one, though!""Yes," she said. She didn't get a chance to speak further before Snowlight continued. "And Mintpaw! They must have their warrior name by now; is it 'song like you thought? I bet they're a great teacher."It was impossible to feel her heart breaking, as it already lay in pieces in her chest. The seasons had cycled, letting the forest crumble under leaf-bare's weight and rebuild under green-leaf's warmth, and yet none of it had brought her heart back together. None of it ever would. This wasn't Snowlight's fault. Rainshade hated her for it, anyway. "I wouldn't know," she said, cold. "They died when you attacked us." Yes, she wish she could say instead. Their name is Mintsong. They're just over there, with their friends. Do you see them? "But yes, they were given the name Mintsong before the war." |
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Post by Erose on May 7, 2024 12:28:57 GMT -6
#s://i~imgur~com/NRElgU2~png How could she not have known? Mintsong's ghost was right there behind Rainshade, draped like frost over every word she had spoken.
So that was what it felt like. All this time she'd avoided gatherings, terrified to look into the faces of her MistClan neighbors, terrified to notice the absences... and terrified to face those who remained. The breath that caught in her throat stuck there, building like a scream; could she scream? Could she make that much noise? After the battle, it'd felt like she could never speak above a whisper again.
It wasn't me! she wanted to scream at her. At everyone. I didn't kill them! I didn't kill anyone!
But that didn't absolve her of blame. Nothing ever would.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, "for your loss. None of it should have happened. They should be here still."
In RidgeClan, it was customary to bring up StarClan when discussing a loss; it was supposed to be comforting. Snowlight should have gone on to say how they were still here, still looking down on them all from the stars, that they weren't really gone...
But how was being in the stars different than being in the dirt? Dead cats were still dead. Mintsong was dead and it was still her fault; even if she hadn't dealt the final blow herself, she'd been complicit in all of it. She'd said nothing and hoped the silver light in her leader's eyes was devotion instead of madness.
"When Mintsong graduated, what color was their paint?" How had all her energy left her? Suddenly Snowlight was a shell again, the same shell that rested in her nest at night, without the light that had been tacked on to her name. She smiled, but it was faint, and even her request sounded like a plea.
As if she had any right to ask.
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Post by tor on May 11, 2024 9:32:54 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/qM12Kqf/rain~png They should still be here.Despite all the grief that lurked inside her, like a pond of trapped water with nowhere to go, Rainshade felt a trickle of relief when Snowlight spoke. She'd never heard a RidgeClan warrior express regret over the war before. That was her own doing - since Mintsong's death, she'd never put herself in a position where she could speak to one, let alone hear their apology. And here Snowlight was, apologizing, voice soft with sorrow for a cat she hardly knew. It's not your fault, part of her, the part of her still rolling around in soft patches of sun-soaked moss with Snowpaw at her side, wanted to say. But that wasn't fair to either of them. Instead she said, "Thank you," just as softly as Snowlight spoke, and bowed her head in a moment of reflective grief. "When Mintsong graduated, what color was their paint?"
Despite it all, a thin smile curled across Rainshade's face. "You always did enjoy my clan's traditions," she murmured approvingly. Snowlight seemed tired now. A lesser cat would have walked away, after hearing the news Rainshade delivered. But despite her exhaustion, she still stood nearby. Still asked a respectful question. Rainshade closed her eyes and thought back to her early days as a warrior, when Mintsong was still Mintpaw, pacing back and forth as they mulled over what color might look best on their white fur. "It's not about what looks best," she said to them. "But what represents you as a warrior.""It can be both things!"The memory nearly made her laugh. "They wanted marigold dye. It's a soft yellow, not quite as bright as the petals." It would've suited them, she thought. "Instead, they were adorned in a mix of tart berries and rosemary. It makes pink." She'd thought they were adorable, decked out in the colors of early new-leaf. Mintsong had been a little embarrassed, but they always had good humor about these things. "How are your siblings doing?" |
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