fallenpaw
ShadowClan
the pitiful excuse
Posts: 7
Account Type: IC
Age: 10.5 moons
Rank: Apprentice
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Post by fallenpaw on Sept 26, 2018 17:38:37 GMT -6
The crooning of songbirds echoed through her, rocking her body as she drifted aimlessly. Her head was down, body hunched and small as she tried to escape the shadows slowly encroaching on her heels. Silhouettes of her mother, of Slatestorm, of Littlethorn, they hunted her down, whispering insidious words amongst them that began to melt alongside the cries of avians, crowding her mind with growing intensity. Her pace increased, speeding up from a brisk trot to a full-on sprint. However, she skidded to a stop, her form slowing its speed just before barreling into the body of a dead little bird. The apprentice woke up gasping, trying to get a handle on her breathing as her form began to tremble. The young she-cat pressed her mouth against her forelegs, trying to muffle her soft sobs as tears streamed from her eyes in vicious streams. Nightmares weren't unfamiliar for her, but this one was new. The dead bird was a foreign thought, but the whispering shadows and shrieking birds were familiar evils that oft plagued her dreaming realm. The vicious words of her clanmates and her mother were not foreign either, those scathing her both in the waking and sleeping worlds whether she could tolerate or not. Once her tears were dry and the tremors had somewhat subsided, the dark molly tried to calm her breathing. Her chest still heaved, but luckily her breathing wasn't as vigorous as it had been when she had first woken up from the nightmare. She leaned against the walls of the apprentices' den, yellow eyes closed as she let her mind lay stagnant, if only for a moment. Just a moment, a moment of silent peace. Her tail curled tighter into her body as she touched her nose to her flank, sighing into her fur before getting to her paws. She crept past the other sleeping apprentices, nearly tripping over Wolfpaw's tail as she did so. Careful as to not wake anyone, she dipped under the entrance to the den and left the warmth for the chilled night. It was not the autumn cold she had experienced as a newborn kit, but soon, it would be there. When the leaves of ThunderClan's trees began to wilt and turn all shades of orange and gold and began to fall, mimicking the colors that sometimes shown in her eyes, she would turn twelve moons old. If she didn't get into gear, she might not make the deadline. I want to be the youngest and best warrior. I've worked for it, haven't I?She sighed to herself, looking at the clouds that spared her from some of her ancestors' gazes. Still, others gazed down at her from Silverpelt, judging the dark-furred apprentice with distant eyes. She was being greedy and bratty, wasn't she? She had no right to her dreams, as she saw it. She was the unworthy shadow, slinking around the edges of everyone's story with sad eyes and a wilted frame. Or maybe some pitiful mock-up of an antagonist. She wouldn't be surprised if she were both at once. Looking toward the direction of the Burnt Sycamore, wondering if she could possibly sneak away and get some extra training. No one had noticed the bags under her eyes or how her limbs seemed to sag, exhaustion dragging at her. The nightmares were always keeping her up, hounding her at the fringes of her mind if she dared to sleep. Perhaps it would be good to make use of her time awake. She sighed, indecision plaguing her tired features as she gazed at the sky. Eh, she would make a decision eventually. honey stagfoot |
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Post by stagfoot on Sept 26, 2018 20:27:50 GMT -6
Sleep didn't come. It never came easily these days. Not even if he coaxed it with sleeping berries, baited it with darkness, the beast called Sleep still wouldn't budge from its cramped corner in his mind. It nestled there, comfortably out of reach, almost taunting him as he desperately twisted and turned in an effort to force himself to sleep. Closing his eyes never worked either. Behind closed eyelids, the back of his father haunted him, the back of his mother haunted him. And so, he would lie awake in the dark, eyes red from deprivation, staring up at the ceiling of the warrior's den, scornfully listening to the soft rumblings of his clanmates deep asleep.
A noise, sound that wasn't of the night, caught his attention. His ear flicked towards the entrance of the warrior's den as eyes the color of pine and crown gold carefully studied the dark. A small paw stepped into view, just before the figure that blended into the dark so seamlessly. Just by the paw, Stagfoot knew it was Fallenpaw. His eyes widened, questioning, as he watched her stare up at the night sky. It was only then he noticed, noticed the way she held her head as if it weighed a thousand pounds. He took in her exhaust; the bags under her eyes, the fatigue that was draped along her like chains loosely binding her legs together making it so weary to walk. She looked as if she might break at any moment, and fear crept into his normally tightly-bound heart. He didn't want to see her like this, it hurt him as much as it probably hurt her.
He slowly shifted to stand up, not having to duck, standing at his full height at the back of the den. It was rather spacious in the warrior's den, and him standing at full height was no small feat. He had been impressed the first time he entered the warriors' den with the amount of room. Now, it was but a hindrance as he attempted to get to the entrance without a sound. He still hunched down as so not to wake the others, careful steps here and there, pausing every now and then as cats shifted and rustled in their sleep. His breath hitched as one particularly restless cat batted at his paw. He moved on with cautious ease. He approached the entrance, now with ease, the last few steps being warrior-free.
Cold fingers of air softly brushed his face, and he leaned into the touch, the dispiriting caress reminding him why he was awake, for sleep avoided him like the plague. From his spot inside the warriors' den, he could more clearly see how fragile she was without sleep. Sleep avoided her too, it seemed. Another commonality between them.
He stepped out of the den, Silverpelt easily visible overhead the trees. Quietly, he approached her, paws shaking with weariness. He moved until he could feel the slightest brush of her silky fur against his, a calming graze. His low voice, thick with fatigue, rumbled, "couldn't sleep?" He matched her gaze, staring up at Silverpelt, wondering how he got here.
i'm freaking crying, you're so good |
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fallenpaw
ShadowClan
the pitiful excuse
Posts: 7
Account Type: IC
Age: 10.5 moons
Rank: Apprentice
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Post by fallenpaw on Sept 26, 2018 21:40:28 GMT -6
The gentle breeze that meandered through ShadowClan's territory caught on her dark fur, wisping it around with a surprising ease as she gazed at the clouds that pockmarked the night sky. Her eyes followed the curve of the moon, sighing gently as her eyes fluttered with heavy exhaustion. She should be asleep, curled up in her den and dreaming of prey-filled fields and golden rays of warm sunlight. Instead, she was here, alone and gazing up at the sky as she stayed awake for the sole purpose of avoiding the nightmares that beleaguered her.
What did her ancestors think? Were generations of ShadowClanners ashamed that she held RiverClan's blood in her veins at an equal amount to theirs? Did they loathe how her face was not angled and instead slightly rounded? Were they dissatisfied with how her fur was not coarse from the humidity and instead silky and meant for gliding through the water? Were they humiliated by how her body fumbled over land, clumsy and loud, while it glided through the water with a deadly precision? Peering up at the twinkling lights in the sky, she decided that they must be. But, just because she was shamed and humbled, she was determined to refute any doubts. She would prove them wrong, wouldn't she?
She looked over at the arrival of Stagfoot, initially surprised by the warrior's proximity. The tom was one that she tolerated far more than many of her other clanmates, his company far preferable to someone like Goldstorm or whatever clanner tried to get on her good side. She wasn't exactly interested, especially not when she had the possibility to be training. Speaking of which, the tom had helped her a lot. She was heading towards becoming a warrior soon enough, surely, and a lot of that success relied on the deputy. She was thankful but completely struggling with how to express it without seeming awkward or whatever else. For now, she merely left alone. Leave it for another day.
She laughed softly at his soft, sleep-stricken words. Leaning into him just slightly (and mostly subconsciously), the little she-cat muttered, "That's an understatement, trust me." Fallenpaw sighed, eyes shutting for a moment before she re-opened them, looking over at the tom curiously. "What about you?" she drawled softly, voice tender and tired as she paused halfway through the sentence to yawn. She blinked sleepily, her tail shifting to wrap around her paws. |
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Post by stagfoot on Sept 26, 2018 23:16:26 GMT -6
His heart skipped a beat at her soft laugh. Why? He couldn't figure that out. He blamed the skip on his lack of sleep and shifted under the nervousness that suddenly balled up in the pit of his stomach. Although it was but a subtle movement, the way she leaned into him, her scent was stronger now. The scent of Shadowclan thick in her fur, but also mixed with a fresh scent he couldn't quite recollect. Hers was lovely, nonetheless, and intoxicating.
He laughed softly in response to Fallenpaw's answer, deep and calming. He never realized how much he and Fallenpaw could get along. She was easier to get along with, perhaps because they shared some similar experiences. Their personalities were rather similar as well, cold on the outside, and well, maybe soft on the inside. He was more tender towards her than the others, he knew. And perhaps such a sentiment wasn't the perfect ideal for a deputy to have. But, he couldn't explain why. Why he felt to be so more kind and open towards her than the others, why he liked her just a little bit more than the others. Stagfoot would brush it off as simply just the understanding between them that they were common, towards each other.
"I couldn't sleep," he replied, in a near whisper, taking in her fatigue. He didn't know whether to elaborate or not, perhaps it was fine to simply leave it at that. A reminder to not dig deeper, to not press into issues that he couldn't fix or reopen old wounds that have barely healed. It was a constant scratch at his mind: to not get too close to someone before he hurts them, or worse, they hurt him. He's had enough pain and trauma to deal with, he didn't need more. And he certainly didn't want bad past experiences to rise to the surface for Fallenpaw. She was...special to him, to say the least. He wouldn't understand why, but she was. And that was good enough for him.
He studied her, the tired small feline curled her tail around her paws. He assumed she was tired. Perhaps they should each go their separate ways, each go to bed. It was quite late-or early-depending on how you looked at it. For now though, he would simply look at her, his gaze soft and green eyes bright.
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fallenpaw
ShadowClan
the pitiful excuse
Posts: 7
Account Type: IC
Age: 10.5 moons
Rank: Apprentice
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Post by fallenpaw on Sept 30, 2018 0:15:48 GMT -6
Personally, Fallenpaw had no idea what Stagfoot meant to her. He was certainly more than an acquaintance. Their training sessions were been pleasant, the tom aiding her in honing her skills while she helped him keep his sharp. Sometimes, they were serious, but other times, they were playful as they sometimes teased each other while sparring. Much of the time, it invoked Fallenpaw's fiery spirit and inspired her to work harder to best Stagfoot. She liked to think that their relationship was mutually beneficial in a sense, while also pleasant in a social aspect as well.
Besides training, their relationship was a bit... complicated. They were training partners of course, but they were starting to become friends. Enough so that they interacted outside of training sessions. Sometimes they would share a meal or chat while on patrol. Or he would give her a glance after she argued with her mother. Or she would slip him the smallest smile while he doled out patrols. Small things, small things between them that meant a lot for both. Not exactly friends, but not exactly nothing at all. There was something, something that Fallenpaw didn't mind sharing with him.
She purred in response to his laugh, a bit proud of herself. It was a nice sound, soft and calm but with a hint of warmth that drove away some of the night's chill. "That makes two of us," she said softly, flicking the tip of her tail. She knew she probably wouldn't get any sleep, especially considering the disturbing nightmare that still haunted her mind when she let her eyes flutter shut for too long. She flicked her gaze from the stars toward Stagfoot, bumping him gently with her shoulder as she inquired, "Mind indulging me why you're awake?"
She sighed, some of the tightness in her shoulders leaving her as she further leaned on the tom. Had she known what she was doing, she would be far more embarrassed and a lot more awake. However, for now, the apprentice's mind wasn't occupied by such trivial things. Instead, she was just happy to be with one of her few friends, something to ground her and keep her from losing herself amongst the stars and choking on stardust. |
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Post by stagfoot on Oct 1, 2018 1:30:24 GMT -6
The night sky glared at him, its twinkling stars no more than harsh stares that flickered in and out of sight, fixating on him. He turned his own gaze away from those unforgiving glances, disliking the feeling building in his chest. Whether guilt or...something else, he couldn't quite place. Although his heart was heavy, just looking at her, made his burden lighter. Fallenpaw. Her name shivered down his spine. He forgot all his troubles, all his fears, when he was with her. He could get lost in her yellow eyes, eyes the color of the very stars, of gold filigree of delicate jewelry.
Although their relationship was complicated, a bit, to say the least. He had a inkling of a feeling he knew what he felt for her. Instead of expressing that inkling, to prevent it from turning into something larger, something that overflowed, he would contain it. He didn't know how she felt, didn't want to risk it. He didn't want to risk the feeling of rejection, he didn't know how to truly express in words how he felt.
"I couldn't sleep," his own voice echoed back at him. Couldn't sleep? His mouth tasted weird, like sleep and pine needles. He couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty, but it was so laden with exhaustion that it was now a simple pinprick at his skin. His stomach twisted, his head pounded. And as she pressed his small body into his, his breath hitched, his ache went away. He cleared his throat and gulped down the crack in his voice. "I don't sleep very easily, or very well," then added so silently she almost wouldn't hear it, "anymore."
He turned his gaze back up at the sky, not peering in wonder, but rather in idleness. Green gold optics peeked from under long lashes, barely registering the sights above him. Heavy eyelids drooped, blinking multiple times did nothing to solve it. He knew if he went back to sleep he would see those sights again behind closed eyes, sights he didn't wish to see any longer.
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fallenpaw
ShadowClan
the pitiful excuse
Posts: 7
Account Type: IC
Age: 10.5 moons
Rank: Apprentice
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Post by fallenpaw on Oct 9, 2018 20:37:42 GMT -6
Fallenpaw was... so tired. Sleep was elusive, cruel and taunting when she caught it. The nightmares were horrific, haunted by birds and disappointed stars, disapproving ghosts and rotting corpses. Her mind was unforgiving in its tormenting constructs, using them against her during every susceptible moment. It was a cycle. At night, the nightmares would keep her up, depriving her of much-needed rest. When she fell asleep again, they would act as poltergeists to her mind. Then she would wake up, and the cycle continued. Tonight was no different.
She was beginning to fall asleep again, yellow eyes fluttering shut as she began to lean completely against Stagfoot, relying on him to support her weight. She tried to stay awake, listening to him speak, but his gentle voice only had the opposite effect on her. She slipped into unconsciousness, head drifting to the side before it fell against his shoulder. Her face made small movements, nose scrunching after a few moments as her mouth moved slightly.
The moment was not to last, the apprentice jerking awake and away from Stagfoot with a heaving chest and liquid collecting at the edges of her vision. StarClan have mercy, she thought, now fully awake as she gazed wide-eyed at the deputy. "I-I'm sorry, I just-" she paused for a moment, eyes flicking to the left before muttering, "Never mind. I-it doesn't matter." Why should he have to worry about a loathsome apprentice like she? He was deputy after all and she had no right to put her worries on his shoulders alongside his own.
She definitely couldn't get to sleep again after this. Still, visions of mutilated avians flickered in her eyes when she blinked. I hope this isn't some twisted form of StarClan's way to tell me to be a medicine cat. As if in spite of the starry felines that might be telling her to choose a different path, the little molly looked toward her... "friend," and asked, "I don't think I'll be able to sleep anytime soon. Do you want to go to the Burnt Sycamore or... something, I guess? |
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