TW: Sensitive Content TW: Death ThunderClan I WILL DIE YOUR DAUGHTER // serpentberry

[rowanpaw]

☆ The walk back from the Moonstone to Fourtrees is too short. Far too soon, Rowanpaw finds herself back in the clearing, her paws heavy and her heart somewhere in the pit of her stomach, lying there like a stone.

She sneaks a glance at her mother, remembering the first time they met, the words they'd exchanged. Serpentberry told her she could fly, and Rowanpaw believed her– she believed her even as she fell, even as she hit the ground. She believed her. She's not sure she believes her anymore.

Rowanpaw stops halfway across the clearing, eyes flicking towards the old den. Where her mother and father used to sleep. Where she'd waited for Swallowbreeze that first night they met under the half moon. She veers from her mother's side towards it, remembering where she'd tucked the herb mixture between the roots.

"This is where we first met," Rowanpaw says, not even sure if her voice will carry far enough or if her mother is listening. "This is where I saw you for the first time, mother. I thought the world of you, do you know that? That's why when you told me to climb those trees, I did it. I wanted you to be proud of me," she comes to a halt in front of the den, head dropping. "But I don't know what to do for you anymore. Sometimes it's like you don't even need anything from me, but I– I am your daughter, aren't I? Even when you don't need me, and– and no matter what happens?"

☆ ROWANPAW. 14 moons
mentored by serpentberry,
adopted daughter of serpentberry and thornstar
peaceful powerplay allowed
ooc -

 

[serpentberry serpentberry]

There's a new itch festering beneath her skin. Something about Cicadabuzz's empty stare, the all knowing one of Magpiepaw; the distance held by Swallowbreeze and Meadowpaw, yet the curious indignation of Dimmingsun. And that RiverClan duo - always hurting, always needing. She doesn't know why Juniperstar bothers with any of them. It feels as if her lover enjoys this dance of false kindness more than she enjoys the truth.

Her gaze skirts away from her daughter, though their thoughts do not stray far from one another. What is their next step? there's no sense in trusting Swallowbreeze after the recent skirmish, and she's long forsaken the ShadowClan duo. However instead of being allowed to live in her thoughts, Rowanpaw pulls her from them. Serpentine eyes flick and rest on the hollow, once warm and full of life, now likely only a space squirrels hide their feasts. "This is where we first met…"

She smiles in response, "Of course…" Serpentberry does not say much more, ears twitching as her daughter continues instead. Their first encounter was just like this den once was - the memory is hazy at best, warmed with the last of the leaf fall warmth, festered with childish giggles. Does Rowanpaw remember it with more clarity than her mother? Does it matter? Eventually the other's recollection sours into a thread of uncertainties. Serpentberry's fur on her shoulders ruffle in response.

"Do for me? Sapling, I am your mother, not the other way around -" She tries to interrupt the russet furred, but her daughter is steady in her stuttering. Serpentberry tenses her jaw, and instead tries to assuage the girl's worry.

"I'll always need you, sweet thing," she rolls a purr in her throat, her shoulders holding taut for a moment. "I don't know where all this is coming from. Those other cats -" Swallowbreeze, Meadowpaw, Cicadabuzz, her gaze sharpens, "- they are poisoning you, my love. You should be listening to me. You know -" she takes it, and she runs, "- I was going to suggest one final test, and award you your full name - like that Swallowbreeze girl. I thought you old enough, mature enough. But now you're worrying me…!"

 

[rowanpaw]

☆ Rowanpaw, for once, does not recoil at her mother's venom. If anything, it soothes her, does something to quash the doubt clawing at her heart. Although she might be right about the others, at least when it came to Cicadabuzz; Rowanpaw still remembers the warnings from Riverclan about the theft. But Swallowbreeze, Meadowpaw, everyone else... they weren't poisoning her. But the last comment Serpentberry makes does make her heart twist.

She looks over her shoulder at her mother, her mentor. The one she'd clung to for so long, desperately, as if nothing else could keep her afloat. Then images flash behind her eyes, Cicadabuzzs scars, the dead body of those poor kits mother, the threats made so carelessly. And then Coffeestar, clad in stars, her warning echoing dully.

"Those that reject StarClan, or use it's holy name for evil, are not given the eternal hunt.... An herb is not the only cure, Rowanpaw. Serpentberry learned this once, too, that saving someone is more than just healing to live."

"My full name…" she whispers, turning back to the den and staring at the leaf she'd put the mixture in– thyme for anxiety, poppy seeds to ease any pain. Honey to hide the taste. She fishes it out, turning to face her mother again. Even if she doubts herself, she believes in Starclan.

"I'm sorry," Rowanpaw says, placing in between them. "I didn't mean to worry you, mother, I only… I only wanted you to know that I care about you. I…" she pushes the bundle towards Serpentberry. "I prepared this for you– something to help you. Would you indulge me just this once, mother? Please? Let it be my final test…"

☆ ROWANPAW. 14 moons
mentored by serpentberry,
adopted daughter of serpentberry and thornstar
peaceful powerplay allowed
ooc -

 

[serpentberry serpentberry]

There's too long of a pause. Rowanpaw observes her through glassy eyes, as if she's still reminiscing over the day she was told to fly, but fell instead. Serpentberry almost surges towards the vacancy with a killer's strike, almost blooms the words on her tongue - but you came to me, and I held you up once again. Instead, her daughter produces a bundle of herbs. She doesn't even glance at the bundle, her gaze remaining startling still on the russet fur of her daughter. Of her sapling, of her little branch drafted from a different tree, her chosen child. She sees that, right? How special she is in the grand scheme of the world.

Rowanpaw pleads that she meant no harm, practically turns belly up like a misbehaving hound, and offers the gift to her mother. To help you. Those words again. "You imply that I need help, girl," she says, her tone erring colder and colder. "As if I'm a fawn with a lame leg in need of mercy." Sharper and sharper yet, like fangs shredding into the meat of such a wounded creature. But it's trust - pure, unconditional trust - that leads her eyes away from the warmed hues of her daughter and to the gift she offers. A final test. It's not what she intended, and she hates that Rowanpaw has wrenched that control from her...

A short laugh. She taught the youth well, didn't she?

As if her daughter is a snake in the grass herself, unnoticed, silent - launching an attack. The herbs smell familiar, of honey and thyme, of an unending disguise. She can't tell that there's anything wrong in the mix. At most, she sees something pulled together for grief and pain.

"You truly believe I'm hurting?" Serpentberry asks, but her paws gather the bundle closer. Rowanpaw - sweet, gentle, spined and quilled Rowanpaw - offers her a short lived saving grace. And who is she to not reward this development? The smoke tortoiseshell flicks her tail, and the bundle is gone within two bites. She grimaces at the taste, the honey near sapping her lips together.

"Tell me, Rowanpaw; what did you feed me?" something turns in her stomach. Her ear twitches and she ignores it, "And why, my sweet girl - the whys will be your undoing if you're not careful."

 

[rowanpaw]

☆ Rowanpaw watches as her mother eats the herbs with something almost like horror building in her chest. She doesn't dare speak, barely dares to breathe. It's not until the last of it is swallowed that she finally answers her mother's many questions. Serpentberry's trust in her has carried her so far, and now it must be tested one last time. Rowanpaw hopes against hope that her mother will understand– if not now, then later. She moves closer to her, breath catching in her throat as she speaks.

"Not a fawn," she says softly, shaking her head, "you're not a fawn, mother. I'm not a fool. I'm many things, but not that. The body was still warm… you could've saved her– we could've saved her. But you didn't want that. You wanted… I… I don't even know what you wanted, but you got it in the end, like you always do," she grits her teeth, closing her eyes for a moment.

"Yes," she says at length, "yes, I think you're hurting. I have to believe you are, that everything that's happened was because of that, and not…" not because of who you are, she wants to say, but she can't. She has to believe there's still good in Serpentberry– otherwise, what is she doing this for in the first place?

She sits down next to her mother, intertwining their tails, and her head is held high despite the hammering of her heart. If she doesn't believe in what she's doing, if she shows any doubt, if she hesitates– if the surface starts to crack– she is afraid she will fall apart and not recover. This is the path Starclan put her on, the path her mother had put her on, even if she did not know what the end result would be.

"Thyme for anxiety, poppy seeds for pain," she starts, like this is just another lesson. "And honey to hide the taste. I didn't want it to hurt, I didn't... I wanted it to be painless. Like falling asleep. I know you're against sweetening things, mother, but… I thought it would be kinder. I'm not sure what deathberries taste like, but I imagine they're sour."

☆ ROWANPAW. 14 moons
mentored by serpentberry,
adopted daughter of serpentberry and thornstar
peaceful powerplay allowed
ooc -

 

[serpentberry serpentberry]

The body was still warm. Perceptibly her eyes narrow, green slits bore against the red pelt of the other. It's not a challenge that spurs off of her daughter's lips, simply a fact - a plea lingering around it. And Serpentberry doesn't argue. Something could've been done, sure. But nothing was. She needn't excuse her selfish actions to Rowanpaw, to anyone. Her only response lingers after a particular click of her tongue: "I sent her off with a prayer. I gave her an afterlife, and her children a place to thrive." Surely, surely, her guilt is assuaged enough with that.

The turn in her stomach turns into a dull throb. Not painful - far from the strike and sting of something foul. But noticeable. And Serpentberry isn't stupid enough to believe she's been overdosed with thyme enough to upset her stomach. Better yet, she knows her daughter is far better skilled than to dole out improper dosages, even in this fragile state she bears.

"I've got everything I need," she hums quietly, eyes remaining narrow as something crawls into her lungs. An aching feeling without the pain, a constriction that begs for a cough - but Serpentberry has never been one to loose herself to such petty demands. "I have children that love me - adore me. I have Juniperstar, and I like to think I make her happy... Happier, in any case..." A chuff of air that she plays off as a laugh, her tail tightening around the other's subtle embrace. "How can I hurt when everything is finally going right for me...?" And yet, Rowanpaw is insistent. And yet... this scratching is insistent.

Like a dutiful pupil, Rowanpaw continues to list her methods. Empathetic, caring. In this moment, she sees glimmers of Thornstar - star-speckled, moon-shaded... Thornstar. There's a clouding by the edges of her vision, faint and indiscernible, and in that haze she thinks that he may be here, too. May he reap what they have sown in Rowanpaw, a girl of her adopted pedigree, soon to join the warriors in name and medicine cats in rank.

Thyme for anxiety, and a subtle cough, obscured by the blunt of her paw. Poppy seeds for pain, Serpentberry feels a chill creep towards her tail. She supposes it doesn't hurt - but it doesn't feel that great, either. Honey for... She blinks. And it's as if she's fooled herself. Her gaze falls to the hollow, to the space that once held a frail and dying Fray, to the space she occupied for long after, waiting with him, promising that it was for the better.

Honey for... How did she get back here? Does Rowanpaw truly think that this is for the better? What about her little siblings, or Juniperstar? What of the Clan? Does her daughter truly think herself capable of mending every wound and caring for every cough on her own?

Honey for... It's a real sputter this time. Serpentberry tenses her jaw as nothing but mucus splatters against the ground. Yet she knows - she's seen it herself - that soon, she'll tear herself raw from the inside out, desperate to breathe. Blood will paint Fourtrees once again.

... I'm not sure what deathberries taste like, but I imagine they're sour.

She closes her eyes against the world and for a moment, wills herself to wake from this nightmare. When she opens her eyes, the starlit frame of her husband appears for but a moment before vanishing - a promise.

"You," she breathes out. She's on borrowed air, borrowed body, borrowed mind - but Rowanpaw will receive every last drop of what she has. "You've killed me . . ." She sits there, side-by-side to Rowanpaw, soaking in her warmth while the world grows ever steadily colder. She's alive, but they both know not for long. Tears prick her eyes, and she mutters,

"What salvation is this, Rowanpaw?"

Her body feels noticeably heavier, and though she wants to collapse to the side, she ambles to once steady and decisive paws and coils her body around her daughter instead - a snake squeezing out her prey. "Knowing that I will not be breathing when the sun rises . . .? That in due time, I -" she coughs, and coughs, and coughs - and this time, there's blood. "- I will have made another into a widow? I gave those kits - hic - I gave them . . . they said goodbye. I - I . . ." she almost flashes her fangs, almost lunges for the youth's throat, almost secures her forever demise...

Instead, she let's out an ugly half cry, half cough, her body loosening and lounging to the ground in a less than graceful way. She can't feel the tip of her tail anymore, and the numbness spreads all the same. "I get to lie here . . . knowing . . . that I can't give that to anyone . . . anyone but . . ." A deep heave of air, yet when she expels it, it sounds as if it hadn't reached her lungs at all. "You, my little bird . . ."

Her head lolls to the side, heavy for her failing body. She doesn't want to think of Juniperstar, who now must face the hell Serpentberry once slogged through. She even less wants to think who she may run to for comfort. Rattlepaw, Leafpaw, Thistlepaw, too - she's given them space to grow, begrudgingly, yet now they will never know how much she truly loved them. And her younger three, fresh with downy fur and changing blue eyes... Or maybe she never loved at all. Maybe that is the salvation, somehow - that her end solves the true lack of love she's ever had. Obsession, maybe, devotion without cause, perhaps...

And yet...

"You will stay with me . . . ?" her tone is still as sharp, yet errs to plead. "You . . . you won't leave me alone . . . ?"

 

[rowanpaw]

☆ It's more harrowing than anything Rowanpaw could've imagined watching the berries work. She feels Serpentberry's pain as if it's her own, and sitting this close together, she can feel every breath that rattles her ribcage, every stuttering heartbeat. It's horrible.

You've killed me… what salvation is this, Rowanpaw?

Serpentberry uses the last of her strength to coil around her daughter, and Rowanpaw welcomes it– she almost wishes she'd saved some of the berries for herself. This realization knocks the air out of her, and she grits her teeth again, sucking in a deep but shaky breath.

"I'm not dooming them to anything I haven't suffered myself," she says, her own body curling to fit into Serpentberry's, two halves of one toxic thing, mutating and shifting. "And I'll take care of them," she whispers. "I promise, mother. They'll know that they're loved, all of them…"

Her mother collapses, and Rowanpaw shifts and moves them into the hollow of the den, half dragging and half pushing her mother with her. She curls up next to her, her head tucked up the snake's chin, not afraid of its fangs.

You will stay with me . . . ? You . . . you won't leave me alone . . . ?

"Never," Rowanpaw says, "never, mother– I– I'm doing this so we can be together… so that we'll see each other again, so that– so that some day I'll see you starry clad. I love you, I… I can't do this without you… that's why…"

Her voice breaks, and tears finally start to fall as the weight and reality of it all suddenly crashes down around her. She's going to be alone. She might see her mother again in dreams, in hazy visions that end too soon, but she'll never feel the warmth of her body or the rasp of her tongue. Not until she dies too.

"Isn't this what you would've done too…?" Rowanpaw sobs, pleads, "wouldn't you have done the same to keep me with you forever? Am I not your daughter, am I not– no, no, I know I am. I'm your daughter, and I… I am exactly what you made me."

She pushes her face into Serpentberry's fur, breathing in the scent of her, eyes squeezed shut. If she tries, she can almost imagine that they're just going to sleep. That they're back in their den, during a time when Serpentberry still slept there– maybe Rowanpaw had had another one of her bad dreams, and Serpentberry had come to comfort her. Maybe nothing hurts, maybe nobody ever dies.

"I love you," she says again, just to be sure Serpentberry's heard it. "If I could, I– I wouldn't change anything. I'd do everything again, so that you could be my mother one more time. You'll always be… you'll always be my mother… Always."

☆ ROWANPAW. 14 moons
mentored by serpentberry,
adopted daughter of serpentberry and thornstar
peaceful powerplay allowed
ooc -

 

[serpentberry serpentberry]

Is there comfort in shared misery? Serpentberry thinks so, for even when Thornstar passed, the tortoiseshell sought out the company of another hurting in a similar way. To be the cause of such misery in a direct and literal sense summons a new ache however, unable to be dulled by any poppy seed she could be given. Rowanpaw curls tighter with her, yet no longer can she feel the other molly's warmth. It's just... existence, the faint tickle of fur and pressure of skin. Serpentberry would never claim dying to be a fun activity, but she does think it's worth making it swift, or in the least interesting. Yet does she begrudge Rowanpaw for this method...?

Strangely enough, no.

Rowanpaw works to haul her deeper into the hollow, where the moon light cannot reach them as easily. Serpentberry sputters and coughs, but doesn't watch the splatter to see how deep in color its getting. She wheezes, tenses her jaw, and lets her body go. Her mind remains, and in a very her way, her heart still stubbornly beats, even as her organs lose the battle.

Rowanpaw tucks in close to her, her crown settled beneath her mother's throat. I love you, she cries. I love you, and that's why this has to happen. Serpentberry cannot summon whatever she said to Fray as he greeted his end, but she wouldn't be surprised if it was something similar. "I . . ." She tries to reply, eyes pinned to the dirt ceiling of the hovel. Her breath catches and her body desperately fights against her to retain it, as if holding in gulps of air will save her from a dire end. She blinks hard, unsure if she will open her eyes again, and heaves what she can of her arm over Rowanpaw's frame. She half-flexes her claws, gnarling them gently into the thick pelt of her daughter and holding the other as tightly as she can.

"I . . . love you," she replies quietly. She tries to rumble a purr, but all she can summon is the crackling of fading lungs. Her throat constricts. "An-d . . . I . . . am Pr-oud . . ." another wheeze. Her arm, despite all the effort, goes limp. Her gaze lolls shut over and over as she fights, ". . . You- . . Are . . ." Serpentberry trembles from the cold involuntarily. She can feel her lungs struggle to inhale, feel her heart slow to a crawl at best. "- my d-cough . . . d-cough . . . daughter." It's all she can manage.

Serpentberry heaves another breath, letting her eyes close. With this embrace, and the dead weight of her body, the molly finds it perhaps too easy to fall asleep. It's not until minutes later that her heart stops.