Private Backwritten Medicine Cat's Den if i decide to come back to life ✦ pike

[Galepaw Galepaw]

—————————————————— Rocked by an endless motion ✦

The night was heavy, dark, and overwhelmingly humid. The stench of it filled Gale's nose as he patrolled the camp ever so quietly, curled ears raised high as the whispering ever so slowly died. He couldn't blame them—it had been a chaotic day, an interesting day, and an overly bloody day. Such visages of gore stuck in his head, detailed by a mind that was ever raving, ever calling for answers. It had dissected the scene a thousand times over, divvying up the way the leader slumped over, the way the breath died on his lips... and the way he sucked in that first breath, that first breath that was meant only for kits. There was no answers to be found in his memories, simply stark truths that clashed in terrible ways. No, no—if the apprentice wanted to understand this, he would have to delve into the object of his mind. If he wanted to understand death, he had to talk to those who had died... and those who should have stayed dead.

The chattering in his mind only grew louder as the lynxpoint slunk towards the gaping maw of the medicine cat den, and the tom could swear he could smell the rivulets of blood even now. It felt heavy, choking, and yet he opened his maw to drink it in, to remember it, to categorize it. But as soon as the sensation arose, it faded away into the dark night, and the apprentice found himself shaking his head in frustration. He shouldn't focus on such things, on such immaterial sensations as memories. Not when the world was tangible in front of him, when the wind was gentle against his whiskers, and when the night was sickly sweet and heavy with water. It focused on these things, quietly grasping onto the realities of the world around it, as Gale slunk into the den.

Blue eyes locked onto the silvery fur first, the fur that had grown messy with the effort of living. The leader certainly did not command the presence that the other leaders did, neither at the gathering nor now. But how could he, with a beaten and battered frame such as his? How could one ask for strength in such a solemn time? Still, it couldn't help but look at the scrappy thing with a pang of something in his chest, something that tasted strangely like pity.

But this was no time for pity, and certainly no time for mourning the cat that once was. The ragged thing before him spoke as though he were Pikestar, looked as though he were Pikestar, and now breathed as though he were Pikestar, and for now Gale's gaze fell upon him with the same familiarity as though he was. Pikestar seemed awake, and the tom could hardly blame him—such transgressions against the natural state of thing was sure to fill any cat with a particular sort of energy, he supposed. Gale stood in silence for just a moment, taking in the sight before he parted his lips and spoke.

"You died." The tom mused quietly, blue eyes glinting in the dark night. His tone was cool, calm, and thoroughly void of any particularly strong emotion. "...And from such a blow." It added after a moment, eyes tracing down the conglomerate of herb and silken webbing, globbed in desperation to stop the bleeding... he couldn't help but wonder if the wound could kill the leader once more, if the bloody rivulets were nothing but his time ticking away. Quietly, as though rehearsing a well-versed poem, the tom muttered, "Crueler and crueler still...."

With gentle steps, the lynxpoint grew closer to the leader, eyes glinting with a barely supressed, ever-insatiable curiosity. "...Death is not an ailment one simply gets over..." He hummed, tilting his head in interest as he peered at the other's eyes—as sunken in and red-tinted as they were, they glinted with an essence that he had never seen replicated. As savaged as the tom had become, there was a life in his eyes that could not be stifled... and yet the mere presence of it caused something icy hot to run down Gale's spine, fur bristling in fear of the unknown... but as always, he hid those strange, unexplainable emotions within. It would have time for those later. "And yet you have... An awfully curious predicament to find yourself in, Pikestar."

—————Whether truth or just a story

It's not up to you—————

• this is backwritten to the night after the gathering
  @PIKESTAR
• 
  Galepaw
  ✦—Riverclan Apprentice | 8 Moons
  ✦—He/They/It
  ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ✦—A fluffy high white lynx point with curled ears and deep blue eyes
  #87878E #BAB2AC

 

[PIKESTAR PIKESTAR]

Slumber eludes him. Every time he closes his eyes and attempts to fall into its gentle embrace he is met with the snarling face of Adderfang. The former council member then proceeds to ruthlessly claw at him and grins as he does so. Pikestar is left waking up with a gasp, trembling, green eyes darting around the medicine cat den. Wavesong is asleep with the kits curled by her side. He can't bother her. Not after telling her the truth. Allowing her to weep in his embrace for a long time. He can't tell you how long they cried together. All he can say is promptly afterward they both decided to retire for the night. As for Jinglemoon? His best friend looked at him with guilt and sorrow. Sorrow over not having enough resources to spare, even if told that it was okay. It's my fault after all. Of course, he didn't need to say. Jinglemoon had already known and simply nuzzled against his cheek. The side that was free of cobwebs. It was a small comfort that both needed, but now? Now Pikestar was all alone. He couldn't bother them. They've already been through so much. He would simply have to endure.

How would he endure? By staring at the rise and fall of the kits flanks as they curled against their mother. Truthfully, he shouldn't be looking at them. They reminded him of their father. Why he had done the things he did. How he felt like Riverclan, especially Pikestar was sentencing one of the kits to death. That was far from the truth. Wavesong was family to him and so were the kits. Why would he ever give up on them? This whole time he along with the council have tried everything in their power to find herbs to help treat the sick kits and Wavesong. Their efforts meant nothing to Adderfang. He considered empty paws failure, never considering how tirelessly the clan worked to find anything to help while trying to keep their own bellies full. Carrying out patrols, training apprentices, looking after kits, and tending to the elderly took up time and energy. Adderfang refused to consider those facts. Not because he couldn't see, but because none of them mattered. The only reason why he said yes to joining the council was for his family alone. He held no love in his heart for others. It was that very same love that led to both their demises.

Another guest at this hour was unexpected. So much so that the leader didn't even register the faint pawsteps approaching the medicine cat den. Why would he? No one should be up this hour or moving about. Ears flick in the direction of the voice as a head turns slowly to face Galepaw. At the mention of blow, a silver paw lightly grazes his neck. The cobwebs are covering the mark left behind by Adder, but it still aches as if Adder is actively tearing into his flesh. Green eyes narrow for a moment at the mention of cruelty. He shouldn't feel angered by those words, but he can't help but feel as if the apprentice is mocking him. A I told you so. It only bothered him this much because in his heart he knew it was a mistake. A mistake to allow Wavesong to cloud his feelings towards Adderfang. To hold out on a chance that he was good. Russetfall warned him. Galepaw in his own way had warned him too. Even his own gut told him to stay away. I was stupid. My kindness was taken advantage of again.

Its impossible not to look at Galepaw. He steps closer, peering into his eyes. Green eyes are forced to stare into deep blue, but instead of apprehension... There is anger beginning to bubble in his gut. Thankfully, he can't act on it. He may not have the strength to hiss and chase Galepaw out, but he does have the strength to roll his eyes.

"I'm not in the mood for your riddles. I'll answer your questions, but be direct with me in return."

Don't test me. I probably won't be able to hold back. Let this be your only warning.

"I was dead. The reason why I'm alive again is because of the nine lives Starclan gave me. There's nothing peculiar about that."

Oh but it is. There's nothing normal about coming back from death. Granted, he was exhausted in more ways than one. If was in better spirits he would agree that coming back from the dead was not only startling for all of them, but he himself wasn't too sure about it working. After all, Adderfang did quite a number on him. Starclan was able to heal most of it, but was unable to completely get rid of all of the evidence. Jinglemoon had confirmed that the burning he felt on his face and neck would become scars. He was not ungrateful. He understood that those dwelling within him did their best to patch him up. It must have been quite challenging for them. I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused you.

"What is it that you want Galepaw?"

There is no reason to ask why the apprentice is here. If he was wrong, the fluffy tom would have turned away long ago. Instead, they remained. Looking at him as if he was some sort of puzzle meant to be taken apart. Dissected. It was frustrating. Unnerving at times. The boy never knew how to make one feel comforted in a web before being consumed like Sablestar himself. Unfortunately, that made him all the more terrifying.

𝐨𝐨𝐜 𓆩♱𓆪 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭

• PIKESTAR

  — leader of riverclan, former shipyard cat
  ♱ 41 moons — he/him — ages realistically on the 1st — mentoring iciclepaw
  ♱ speech is

  "#36D9AB"

  — thoughts are italics — attacks are underlined
  ♱ short haired silver mackerel tabby with green eyes
  ♱ peaceful & healing powerplay permitted — underline & tag when attacking
  ♱ penned by velou — kasaven on discord — open to plots & dms