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
  

 

[Galepaw Galepaw]

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

Despite the ragged state of the leader, there was a particular sort of strength to his tired voice. A sort of vitriol, a sort of bitterness that the apprentice was far too familiar with. Still, it was not a comforting familiarity, and it could not help but tense for just a moment. The words, sharp as they usually are, seemed to dissipate just as easily as they came. There was a heaviness in his chest, something that snaked up through his throat, as though something had crawled into his mouth, made a home in the backmost parts of it, and died there. Sharp blue eyes followed the other's striking green ones, taking special note as the others narrowed sharply, flippantly rolling back into the other's head.

It couldn't bare to keep that stare it had so easily held onto just moments before, and thus Galepaw dropped his gaze to his own paws. Silence had always been something he was accustomed to, something he expected, and something he often wore in pride... or perhaps he wore it so confidently because it had no other choice, biting its own tongue in times when his words would fail him. It hardly mattered why the quiet that had suddenly befell him was so, so gut-wrenchingly familiar, but his chest ached all the same. At least it had grown to understand being small when it was younger—for times like these, it was more like greeting an old friend than a cold stranger. Still, he tried to not show how he recoiled, how the tom folded in on himself, and it was only just a moment that he did so. Those moments of weakness... they were few, they were far between, and yet they gnawed at him all the same.

In times like these, he wish he spoke his own language as fluently as the birds spoke theirs... but that hardly mattered, he shouldn't let it matter, and so the tom cleared that terrible feeling from his throat. "...And I am not here to debate that." It muttered quietly, eyes still cast away. He could see the life given to the leader—he witnessed the murder, and it would not deny that fatal blood was spilled. "But still, the curiosity... it eats through the chest. Tears through the mind." Once more, a gentle throat clearing, his eyes still avoidant but wandering. "It... It can be a fickle thing, ignorance. The unknown is... hardly comforting, hardly palpable."

A bold movement, a gentle step towards the leader, was another attempt in fighting that strange feeling in his chest. The calls for him to turn away, to find some shallow hide to curl up in, to lay forgotten until the turn of the day... they were strong, yes, but material. Something he could hold onto and disregard, but still he couldn't raise his eyes to meet Pikestar. "But..." It started weakly, eyes growing more fervent in their movements, as though searching for something just out of view. "But it doesn't have to be. There are... there are some realities that can be felt, that can be held in one's pawpad... and if you'll have me—" With a shake in his limbs, a sort of trembling in his movements, his eyes finally slid back to the ghastly wound upon the other's neck... but paused just below it. He focused upon the parting of the other's fur, the knowledge that a cage laid just behind such silken strands... he couldn't say it didn't call to him. Once more, the apprentice gently cleared his throat, paws trembling with the effort of it, and his brows furrowed for just a moment. "...Please, if only you'll have me." A plea, perhaps one that was not understood, but one all the same—and something that felt foreign to him, something he had not grown used to, and something he may never grow to use again.

And if there were to be no argument, no turning away the young apprentice, yet another bold movement would be taken. A gentle duck of the head, a reaching of the paw—until it settled, kind and tender, upon the chest of the other. And perhaps he was a vassal, perhaps the apprentice had touched the heart of something no longer familiar to him, but the gentle beating... it was a comfort, a fleeting, rustling one, but a comfort all the same. Galepaw paused there for a moment, a small paw on the silvery tom's chest, and his blue eyes studied the place where they touched in silence. It couldn't be said what he was looking for, if he was looking for anything, but it must have brought him some sort of peace... and some sense of boldness. This sense empowered him, drew him gently closer to the other in silence, until the young cat's ear was pressed solidly against the other's chest. The closest he had ever been to the leader, to the stars, to a sense of understanding. The little thing fluttered in response, cawed a song unfamiliar to him, but it was desperately alive. Perhaps changed, perhaps battered, perhaps even needlessly, but it was assuredly alive. The tense feeling he had carried in his body, as though the silvery tom was about to rip him to shreds, suddenly dispelled.

"...Astoundingly, undeniably alive." The apprentice whispered to himself, a sense of awe within those words. "And the bird... it flutters as though nothing has changed. As though it has never known death... and perhaps... perhaps it never shall." He still laid there as he whispered these words, gentle as a newborn babe, nestled against the chest of the older cat. It was... unfamiliar to him, a sense of comfort that he had never known for long, and the apprentice did not want to let it go. As such things usually went, the tom would bury his claws into such fleeting comforts, as though he was afraid they would fly away... but he knew Pike had nowhere to be, nothing to attend to, and so that sense of desperation had not grasped him, and he relished in it.

—————Whether truth or just a story

It's not up to you—————

• 
  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]

Good. He was in no mood to debate. Even if a debate would distract him from his woes, he had little control of his tongue. It was hard enough to follow Galepaw's words without rising to his paws and chasing the apprentice out of the medicine cat den. However, Galepaw takes his silence as a cue to place a paw on a fragile rope. It groans due to strain, but doesn't snap. No, not yet. For once, the child before him is afraid. A boy who always trailed behind him. A boy who took no care in his discomfort. A boy who would always stare at him with those deep blue eyes. Eyes that forever reminded him of the abyss.

The very abyss that he flailed about uselessly. An abyss that wouldn't allow him to scream. Not without punishment that is. He recalled opening his maw to yowl for anyone or anything to hear his cries, but his reward? Water filling his lungs. An ache in his throat. There he was in the darkness. All alone. No matter how much he flailed the abyss pulled him deeper.

What was salvation then?

It eats through the chest. Tears through the mind. As his gaze deepens to the child that averts his eyes from him… He can't help but agree. That abyss ate through his chest. Was the water filling it a replacement? Did they need to carve him from the inside out to create a cavity in which the others could burrow themselves into? What came after pain was comfort. That he can recall vividly. Even as he was pulled further into the abyss, he was unafraid. He could feel their limbs embracing him. That warmth was salvation. Or was it?

Perhaps it was a reward for allowing them to tear through his mind. After all, many would deem this as insanity. Why would one go through such agony and despair for nine more lives? Just one life carried many sorrows. Having nine lives? It ensured many more sorrows to come. However, there wasn't just sorrow in life. There was joy. To have nine lives meant more joys as well.

He can say with confidence even though his first life met a brutal end… He was content.

It is a clearing of a throat that draws him away from his thoughts. The child behind such a sound still refuses to look at him. Instead, the boy speaks of ignorance and the unknown. This time, he decides to break the silence. "You are afraid." It is not said as an accusation. It is merely a fact. One that drowns. He does not extend a paw for salvation. "I am ignorant. I know nothing of leadership, and yet… I still took the crown. I believed the stars would guide me, but they have remained silent since. In their silence I have been nothing but a terrified lamb, who has only made irresolute decisions."

He asks not for pity nor rage or even of mercy. It was too late. His sins led to the deaths of many within their ranks. Strawberrykit had lost their mother due to his foolishness. If she wanted to haunt him for his faults, then he would accept it willingly. Those who haunted him had reason to. A pawstep alerts him. His head snaps in its direction, before looking up at Galepaw.
Why was he looking at himself?

The Pike that died the first time. When he was still a kittypet with his twoleg. Jumping onto a bed, slowly approaching the cold body with trembling limbs. Nudging at their paw, pleading for them to say anything. Whether it was a shout or gentle whisper didn't matter. Those cries went unanswered. His desperate affection? It could not bring back his first love.

He blinks, only to see the Pike that died the second time. One who found happiness with a golden tom during his travels. The pair were happy beyond measure. He was aware of his beloved's greatest fear and still believed in them. In their love. There had been no pleading, but perhaps that was his greatest mistake. If he pleaded earlier then Goldy wouldn't have left him in the middle of the night. He wouldn't have to wake up with dread pooling his gut. Didn't have to wait for a day before desperately searching the area for any trace of his love. Didn't have to yowl to the starry night above, as if it would give him an answer.

The second Pike swiftly becomes the third who died. One who bore a crown given to him by the stars. One who led foolishly. One who believed that a friend wouldn't kill him. Adderfang despite his gruff attitude and their differences was a tom he regarded as a friend. After all, it was he who taught Pikestar how to fight properly. It was he who gifted a shiny stone to Pikestar as an apology. The very same he kept hidden away in his nest despite everything. The two of them bickered toward the end. His pleas were met with hisses, but couldn't say that he hadn't done the same to Adderfang. The brown life guard begged him to fix his mess. Maybe it was only for his own family and no one else, but the fact of the matter is that Adderfang pleaded with him to do something. Their disconnect led to a brutal separation. It was one everyone could see coming, and yet… Pikestar wanted nothing more than to plead for another chance. To make amends. To be better. To have a future in which neither he nor Adderfang were fools in love.

Those realities. Those lives were felt. Only the first could only be held in his dreams. It should bring him despair, but he was content. His most precious love would be remembered and felt the same. Yes, his twoleg had loved him. Even in his dreams that love never went away. That was true love. As for Goldy? There was no way that tom wasn't alive. Even so, whether it was a dream or reality… He knew the moment they embraced, he would feel no love. Adderfang? There never was any love between them. That reality had always been there. He simply refused to hold it.

With a shake of his head, the being before him is none other than Galepaw. It is at that moment he truly looks at the apprentice. Despite the fact that Galepaw has been clinging to him, he has never once taken in the boy. What he sees is not an apprentice. What he sees is a terrified kit asking for comfort. For love. That's right. Your mother died when you were so young. Your father was never around either. Green eyes soften. He knows that agony. Always wanting, but being forced to wait. If not waiting then doing everything in your power to grasp it, only for them to leave. The most devastating was whenever someone left. Regardless of whether it was of their own volition.

Slowly, and with a grimace due solely to pain (their limited herbs could only do so much), his forelimbs reach for Galepaw. An invitation.
It was strange. He'd been touched before by others in this spot, but perhaps it was because it was Gale. The tenderness befuddled the leader. All he could do was remain frozen as the apprentice touched him as if he were something precious. As if there were something more than a leader and a subordinate. It was only when he felt an ear pressed against his chest that he could begin to place a name to what this was. What Gale was doing now was something Iciclepaw had done a few times before.

When the white apprentice had nightmares and could only sleep in Pikestar's embrace. How he would burrow himself into his chest, a white ear pressed against his chest. He never understood why the apprentice did it, nor did he himself understand why he allowed it. It was only when Iciclepaw called him dad, did everything make sense. It was frustrating. How he only realized why when he swiftly met his end.

Pikestar desired a family.

A desire he thought was quashed when Goldy left him all those moons ago. It seemed like he never truly gave up. In all those moments recalling how he treated Iciclepaw once he took the apprentice under his wing. The gaping hole in his heart was forgotten when he spent time with Russetfall and Iciclepaw. He never saw her in a romantic light and never will, but… That was the happiest he had ever been. Just the three of them walking back to camp together, with Iciclepaw proudly showing off the large fish he caught.

Gale was nothing like Icicle, and that was okay. He never needed to be. The leader closed his eyes and embraced the apprentice. A paw is finally extended to grant salvation. I've said and done cruel things to you, haven't I?

An ear flicks. All he can distinguish from Gale is the word 'alive'. The only answer he gives in return is by pulling Gale closer to him. Even if the boy in his arms does not name it properly… He knows. This child was worried for him. All this time thinking their constant presence was meant to annoy and terrify was far from the truth. This boy wanted to be seen. He desired love. Why the boy desired affection from Pikestar himself was a mystery. It was unwise to do so. How could he trust in someone so fickle? So ignorant? So foolish? It would've been wiser to find another. After all, he kept Gale waiting. Never looking at the child with affection nor hatred. The only thing he offered was indifference and still… Gale never gave up.

He couldn't undo his mistakes. All he could do now was move forward. This time, we'll walk forward together. I promised, didn't I?

Gale's words of death and change are met with silence. Only for a short while anyway. "You're wrong. Something has changed." If the boy in his embrace tried to move or escape, it would be to no avail. Pikestar's grip would tighten. Either way, the leader would finally open his eyes. He would draw away ever so slightly so their eyes could meet. "Do… Do you have to go?"

It's selfish to ask the boy and he knows it. After everything he's done, he doesn't deserve it. You should've left. You should've scolded me. You should've looked for someone else. He can't verbalize these thoughts. Was it because of cowardice? Or was it because he knew the truth? That he knew that uttering these words would serve as an escape? To anger the child who entrusted their heart to them? To make them doubt and lose all hope? Is… Is this bravery? It didn't feel like it. He felt like a deadbeat father who was asking his son for forgiveness after purposely abandoning him for moons.

A son?

The thought seared itself into his mind. Iciclepaw and Galepaw could pass as brothers. Somewhat when placed side by side. If anything, he could say that Gale took after his mother the most. There was simply no way anyone would think he and Gale would be related when placed side by side. He lacked the fluffiness the apprentice bore, the white on his pelt, the curled ears, and the brown of his fur. A stretch would be saying that the blue markings on the boy's face was a similar pattern to the leader himself. Their markings maybe a tiny bit similar. Oh, who was he kidding? They didn't look much alike. The only reason why Iciclepaw would pass more as his biological son was because of his timid demeanor.

Still… The thought of Gale being his son didn't unsettle him. They were similar in other ways.

It doesn't occur to the leader that he has already placed a paw atop of the apprentice's head and began smoothing the fur lovingly, as if he were a parent. A father. "I won't stop you from leaving. It's already so late and I know I'm being a little selfish, but I'd like to hear about the bird. If not… Then would it be okay if I see you after sunrise? I'd be happy to listen to anything you want to share."

𝐨𝐨𝐜 𓆩♱𓆪 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭

• SORRY FOR THE WAIT!
• PIKESTAR

  — leader of riverclan, former shipyard cat
  ♱ 42 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
  

 

[Galepaw Galepaw]

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

It had remained silent throughout the other's words, simply taking it in, dissecting his words with steely eyes. He did not agree to his own fear, did not show it, but catalogued the other's analysis all the same. It was terrifying, to be known, and the tom grasped such vivisections with a fervor. Even as the other asked him if he had to leave, if his paws were to find themselves upon the ground once more, Gale remained starkly silent. It was only when the tom spoke a final time, bidding him a quiet, denied farewell, that he spoke.

The tom looked away, a storm within those blue eyes of his. His stare was transfixed, focusing on something far away, something he could not quite grasp. "There is no moment that calls for me, no moment other than now." It whispered, a confession of sorts. "There is nothing that would want me more, that would hold me closer, and..." A nervous swallow, anxiety clawing up through his throat with white hot nails. It was a strange emotion, one that burned on the edges of his eyes and threatened to overtake him, one that sent trembling through his small body. "I do not think I wish there were."

The little thing couldn't help but startle gently as a weight set itself upon his forehead, but the tom didn't shy away. Such gentle pressure was unfamiliar to him, such focus on him... in another sense, he was terrified. Terrified of the possibility that this domestic moment held, the white-hot memories that seared itself into his mind. It would not forget such a moment, and that was a hideous thought to him. There were only such few things he held gently, held in his mind, and he feared that number growing... but he didn't shy away. "...The bird..." It muttered in response, in agreement, and a light seemed to switch on within his mind. Galepaw turned back towards the leader, yet his striking gaze avoided the other. He was afraid to find something gentle there, something foreign, and something unattainable for the likes of him. It had to focus on the solid things, those that lay before him, and not get lost in the frivolities of his mind. Gale placed a steadying paw upon the other's chest once more, sucking a gentle breath of air in.

"The rush in your head. In your heart. Can you feel it?" He whispered, gentle and savage, as though he were some grand crane watching the water. As though he were ready to strike. "It is what defines you, defines the things you believe in, and defines itself. Tell me, did you feel it?" Finally, it raised those sharp eyes up to the familiar green ones. His pupils were nothing but slits, the world nothing but a darkness around him. He welcomed it, that sort of silence of the mind, and perhaps it allowed him to feel more. The stimuli around him was diminished, decreased in the darkness, and thus allowed him to focus. "In death, I feared it quieted its tune... but I see now that it still chirps those quiet songs, still hums those familiar hymnals." Silence fell upon him then, a quiet he considered as he leaned back towards the larger tom. He leaned his ear against the other once more, but this time his eyes closed softly. It was though he were asleep, resting like a babe cradled by a mother.

The silence only lasted for so long, though. "My own..." It muttered, and there was a sense of contempt there. A sort of abhorrence, "It calls for things I do not believe in, and yet it defines me. I abhor what I am, Pikestar." His words were growing quieter, muttered with a deep sense of despair, of futility. "And yet it calls all the same... A bird only sings the song it knows, and I fear..." Just a whisper, "I fear I know nothing else. I fear this is all I will be, this bitter nest I find myself in...." There was a flit under his eyes, a wince of pain even. "That which I was born in, I have been sent to die in. A fledgling never to leave the nest.... Thus is the cruelest fate, and yet... it is mine... mine to hold... mine to bear..."

And perhaps, perhaps the tom found comfort in such cruel words. His words turned discordant, softer still until he was muttering nothing that could be understood, and it sounded strangely of birdsong. And it was beautiful.

—————Whether truth or just a story

It's not up to you—————

• 
  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