Private SPOONFUL OF SUGAR // rowan

[serpentberry]

"You're shaking like a leaf, girl," Serpent remarks as she pauses beside Rowan, peering from the entranceway at what would become a new little home. It seems that the hovel she's chosen has been occupied prior - there's a dip in the ground where a body likely rested once or twice. However beyond that, the den is hardly worked - the supposed "walls" have breeze-broken holes in them. Serpent grimaces as she paces forth, deciding that in the very least, its a start. She works through the tenseness in her midsection with hardly more than a frown, her claws reaching to tear moss from the corners of the new den. The blanket of soft greenery is pulled apart and rebound into a softer bedding, created by skillful paws.

Green eyes flick back to the young cat, "Rest here. I'll -" a wince, as another slow wave of discomfort takes her by surprise. She presses on, trying her best to not acknowledge it, "- I'll have someone bring me a stick and some cobwebs, and we'll bind your paw again. Hopefully..." a drawn out wheeze as she releases a sigh, "... hopefully, your paw still sets right." Serpent reclines into a seated position, ears turning back as she looks out into the clearing, at her friend and partner likely dolling out duties between the cats still eager to help. Her gaze does not find Rowan again, however she uses the molly as a distraction.

"What happened to you, during that mess? Did anyone brandish their claws against you?" a pause, and still she doesn't look away from Hawthorne. "Did you fight back?"

[ @rowanpaw ]

 

[rowanpaw]

Rowan tries to settle into the makeshift nest, but the obvious discomfort hiding behind Serpent's words makes her paws itch with a want to help out. The older she cat is looking off into the clearing, and Rowan has no doubt her discerning eyes are looking for her mate. If not for her paw, Rowan would go and get the cobwebs and a stick herself, but... she sticks her leg out behind her, trying to keep it still.

"What happened to you, during that mess? Did anyone brandish their claws against you? Did you fight back?"

Rowan winces at the memory returning, looking away from Serpent and out of a gap in the den's wall.

"A cat... a cat tried to stop us from leaving," Rowan says quietly. She is not eager to recount the event, but if it might help to distract Serpent from her pain... "He tried to get me, but Maple... Maple stopped him," a beat. She squeezes her eyes shut as she sees it again, sees the cat dying, hears her own screaming. "He killed him. Maple killed... he killed someone. And it was... it was my fault. If I hadn't been so stupid, if I'd just been... if I'd been better, and if I hadn't fallen, then I... that cat would..." her voice cracks, and she lets the rest of the sentence die on her tongue.

 

[serpentberry]

She doesn't notice right away. Her question stirs something awful in the she-cat, and though she starts quiet, put together - she almost immediately falls apart. Her words stumble over themselves as if they're racing to jump off of a cliff. Serpent rips her gaze away from Hawthorne to look at Rowan, a subtle sense of alarm ruffling the fur on her shoulders. She stands to her paws again and closes the gap between them, her tail raised high. Her nose touches the top of Rowan's head and she murmurs a soft, "Hey, hey," cooing noise to try and calm her.

"I... understand," she says definitively. She thinks of Snake, of Needle and Flint - and her own thoughts want to ramble and fumble like the girl's words do. She tenses her jaw and only says, "Maple is a good brother," shortly after. The world between them is quiet as Serpent uses her tail to gently caress the spine of the molly, hoping to keep her settled.

"Many cats passed tonight - but none were... stupid, Rowan. Most of them thought they were doing the right thing. Sometimes to do the right thing -" she blinks the image of Fray, knowingly eating those berries, watching her, holding her paw... out of her mind, "- starts with doing something horribly wrong. Do you understand?"

 

[rowanpaw]

Rowan starts to shake even worse at being offered such tender comfort, Serpent's words pouring over her like ice cold water. The gentle touch of Serpent's nose, the soft fur of her tail; it's almost too much. Rowan does not mean to, doesn't want to, really, really, tries to hold it in, but the tears escape her nonetheless, as what happened in the clearing comes back to her in full, like a ravine down a mountain.

The grey tom that had tried to kill her, to kill Lovebug– the fact that it was Rowan's own fault that they were in the situation, because she'd been stupid enough to fall out of a tree, and Maple… and she hadn't been able to stop Maple, to save him– to save him from himself. She sees Maple looking at her after he'd killed the other cat, his bloodied muzzle, the anger in his eyes.

But he's her brother, her only brother– but he'd killed someone–

"I don't," Rowan sobs, voice as weak as when she was a kit. "I don't understand, Serpent, I don't– I'm sorry–" she chokes on her words and lies down, covering her face with her paws.

She does not want Serpent to see her like this, to see her so… so weak. What if she thought less of her because of it? Rowan was the fault of all this, if she hadn't fallen while trying to climb the tree– if she hadn't failed to meet Serpent's expectations– maybe that grey cat would still be alive.

She feels like a kit, small and alone– so alone. Even her brother could not comfort her now, for he was the cause of at least part of her pain. What she really needed– what she'd needed, really, since the day she was born, and had never gotten– was the comfort of her mother. But her mother had died moons ago now, and even when she was alive, she had been too ill and too angry at the world to comfort Rowan when she'd needed it.

No, Rowan was alone with her grief now, with her pain and her confusion. She was all alone. She did not understand what Serpent meant– how could the wrong thing lead to the right thing? How could something that made her feel so sick be right? How could any of this be right?

 

[serpentberry]

The girl before her crumbles. Her words do nothing to comfort and only work to confuse, as if each syllable is deliberate in its attack. Tears crest russet furred cheeks, and Serpent is almost sure she can hear the unsettled whirring that spins carelessly in the youth's mind. It's frustration that holds to her own thoughts, then - even if it is brief, Serpent dwells in the broken moments of the other with furrowed brows. Just say you understand. She wills the girl to lie to her instead of be entirely, wholeheartedly honest. She envies that vulnerability, the bravery that undoubtedly comes with it.

"Maybe," she settles her own tumultous emotions with a low toned sigh, "one day you will." The apologies are not accepted, instead left to fall against the ruddy ground with the other's tears. Serpent pulls herself closer, finding that herbs will not do well for Rowan right now. Only the comfort of another - perhaps the comfort of her.

Serpent tenses her jaw as she rests it atop Rowan's head. The thought does not flutter away, trapped by necessity and greed, but she does not dig her claws into the soft flesh of the girl's emotions right then. She bandages them with a soothing purr, presses her warmth to the other in hopes that it will heal something. Unsurprisingly, even Serpent still has much to learn.

"You'll stay in here with me tonight," she says quietly, a demand by all intents and purposes, but said with a softer tone. "Your brother will be busy elsewhere, but he will not see this den until he is clean, both body and mind. Until you are ready, Ro..." Strange, it is. Serpent would rather her murderer of a brother stand sentry by her, a mere threat by existence; yet the cinnamon furred youth chatters at the mere idea of her own sibling. Circumstances are different, she supposes. Rowan is far from anything like her, after all; she's selfless, hopeful, curious... Serpent holds her nose to the other's ear for a long moment. "I'll be here all night. I'm not leaving you."

 

[rowanpaw]

Serpent comes closer still, warm body pressing to Rowan's in an effort to soothe, while Rowan shakes and shakes. Once more, she feels like a kit, trembling with cold and fear. She curses herself for being so weak, for breaking so easily. There is no strength for her to find inside herself, nothing to pull on, she feels empty and barren. Serpent mentions her brother, and Rowan trembles terribly, eyes squeezed shut as if trying to keep him out of her head. Serpent's words are so soft, so unlike anything Rowan's ever heard, and Serpent is so warm.

Images flash in her head, her littermates, Maple, her mother. That cold look in her eyes when she looked at her, like it was Rowan's fault, like she should've died with her siblings.

"I'm not leaving you," Serpent murmurs, soft and gentle.

Rowan sobs, and finally, finally, she gives in to Serpent's touch, lets herself be comforted– the sobs continue, each one pulled out of her throat more painful than the last, her throat going raw with it– suddenly she's a kit again, sobbing at her mother's side as her body grows cold– "mom," Rowan chokes out, and she can almost feel her there, can almost see her shallow grave– "mom, don't leave me again."

 

[serpentberry]

The other resists, and Serpent doesn't press. She waits and waits and waits some more, vibrant green eyes dimmed by the circumstance. She can understand where Maple had gone wrong, if wrong could be an additional title to this disaster of a night. But she can also understand what sort of fury and anger must've flooded his veins to push him to such a painful decision. He wanders the territory now, far from his trembling, traumatized sister. For her, Serpent notes in her silence. She'll understand one day...

Suddenly, as if a dam was broken, Rowan pushes against her. The waves of sadness crash into her pelt in all of their salty-teared and potentially snot-nosed glory. Almost any other child would've garnered a visceral reaction, even if Serpent had gone this far to comfort them. But Rowan... she feels responsible for the girl, in more ways than one. Comfort to the other is second nature, unthought of and untroubling. She hopes she has this much care for her blood born litter, if not even more. It's that moment - where she makes the connection, where the russet molly cries, "Mom... mom..." that the tortoiseshell recognizes the connection.

"I won't, Ro," and yet, it is so easy. The realization is startling at best, how closely bonded she is to the girl and by extent her brother. She treasures Rowan's happiness and safety, just as any parent would their child. Ro... although older, is no different than her unborn litter, Serpent decides. The molly would be a fantastic older sister; she's already amazing as a daughter and a youth to her struggling brother. A soft breath as she presses her muzzle to Rowan's temple, "I won't." Like a dragon guarding its treasure, she curls her tail around the girl's smaller frame, eyes sharpening in the darkness.