The familiarity of it doesn't fade. Moons ago, Serpentberry had done this very thing - she sequestered herself away from the Clan at night, stolen to a nest that belonged to another. Then it had been beneath the guise of, "I'll help you." She was freshly, too, a mother without a second to help raise the kits. The early mornings and late nights were the hardest, she knew first hand, and perhaps either with her rare selflessness or a sense of self importance, offered the help that she had. They clustered their kittens, six total, into the same nest for a moon or so before Serpentberry moved back to her own cavern once more. She supposes, thinking back, that the longing never left.
Today marks the umpteenth morning she finds herself tucked into chocolate fur, eyes half lidded with the streaming sunlight, simply watching the other's chest rise and fall. It's too easy, in a way that makes her feel pathetic. She should've seen this attachment from miles away, should've predicted that the molly most alike her deceased lover would be next to capture her heart. It hurts, something dull, something slow and aching, to have anyone secure in her heart at all. Perhaps it's a saving grace that thus far her affections are unspoken and lack a fathomable return. Sure, Juniperstar smiles at her at night - they tuck their paws in close and dare the quiet tangle of their tails... but it can't be just that. Comfort where they both need it; love shrouded in the depths of the evening.
Many phases of the moon later, and only now has the tiptoeing has bothered her some. The rumors that flutter about are often spoken by cats who do not care if Serpentberry hears them or not. She half wonders if they speak them boldly, simply waiting for a reaction at all from the medicine cat. If she were any more sour, any more terse, they'd have earned a tongue lashing. But it is not only her business, but Juniperstar's. The honor and humility that Serpentberry harbors for her friend (?) leash her to a post and keeps her standing, a torture befit of a convict, not a molly drowning in unspoken affections.
She leaves. Without a word to Juniperstar, without rousing the other with a rasp of her tongue or a tight hug, she leaves. It is as if she is angry or disappointed, crossing the gorge towards her medicine den to continue discussing new parameters with her daughter. The day goes on and Serpentberry says nothing to her leader, no matter how many times the tabby attempts to address her. It continues to hurt but only in ways that spur her paws on and glue her lips shut. The sun sets and before long, the medicine cat is standing in the dimly lit entrance of her friend's den once more.
Only when the other sees her, acknowledges her, does she speak: "I didn't like doing that." It is simply spoken, factual and clipped. Venom eyes do not dim with the lack of light, as if StarClan's life imbues them to glow even in the darkest recesses. "Not speaking to you... all day. It made me feel childish, you know." She sits before the other, curling her tail atop her forepaws and allowing the tip to rattle like her namesake. "But that... is what this feels like, Juniper. It feels like you're... hiding me away. What - what are we doing?" Serpentberry laughs then, incredulously barks sharply into the air. Her hurt rings in the syllables. "We're full grown mollies with children, Juni. Not useless, dumb adolescents who need to hide from their overbearing mothers...!"
She finds that the emotion in her tone is too full-bodied. It scares her, more and more, as she treads ever closer to what she wants of the molly. Serpentberry bites her tongue, "I'd like to continue this, but I don't know what this is. And if this -" she gestures to the inset cavern, to the nest made slightly bigger to accommodate to bodies, somehow even to the scent that wreathes around the den, herbal and spice, nearly identical to the medicine den, "- is nothing, then I need to know. I can watch my leader throw away her lives with reckless abandon, but I can't watch my Haw-" a cough. Her paw finds her throat and the panic in her eyes is all but a morsel, drowning thereafter in the depths of her grief, "I can't watch someone I care about do the same. Not without the time in between being well spent."
Today marks the umpteenth morning she finds herself tucked into chocolate fur, eyes half lidded with the streaming sunlight, simply watching the other's chest rise and fall. It's too easy, in a way that makes her feel pathetic. She should've seen this attachment from miles away, should've predicted that the molly most alike her deceased lover would be next to capture her heart. It hurts, something dull, something slow and aching, to have anyone secure in her heart at all. Perhaps it's a saving grace that thus far her affections are unspoken and lack a fathomable return. Sure, Juniperstar smiles at her at night - they tuck their paws in close and dare the quiet tangle of their tails... but it can't be just that. Comfort where they both need it; love shrouded in the depths of the evening.
Many phases of the moon later, and only now has the tiptoeing has bothered her some. The rumors that flutter about are often spoken by cats who do not care if Serpentberry hears them or not. She half wonders if they speak them boldly, simply waiting for a reaction at all from the medicine cat. If she were any more sour, any more terse, they'd have earned a tongue lashing. But it is not only her business, but Juniperstar's. The honor and humility that Serpentberry harbors for her friend (?) leash her to a post and keeps her standing, a torture befit of a convict, not a molly drowning in unspoken affections.
She leaves. Without a word to Juniperstar, without rousing the other with a rasp of her tongue or a tight hug, she leaves. It is as if she is angry or disappointed, crossing the gorge towards her medicine den to continue discussing new parameters with her daughter. The day goes on and Serpentberry says nothing to her leader, no matter how many times the tabby attempts to address her. It continues to hurt but only in ways that spur her paws on and glue her lips shut. The sun sets and before long, the medicine cat is standing in the dimly lit entrance of her friend's den once more.
Only when the other sees her, acknowledges her, does she speak: "I didn't like doing that." It is simply spoken, factual and clipped. Venom eyes do not dim with the lack of light, as if StarClan's life imbues them to glow even in the darkest recesses. "Not speaking to you... all day. It made me feel childish, you know." She sits before the other, curling her tail atop her forepaws and allowing the tip to rattle like her namesake. "But that... is what this feels like, Juniper. It feels like you're... hiding me away. What - what are we doing?" Serpentberry laughs then, incredulously barks sharply into the air. Her hurt rings in the syllables. "We're full grown mollies with children, Juni. Not useless, dumb adolescents who need to hide from their overbearing mothers...!"
She finds that the emotion in her tone is too full-bodied. It scares her, more and more, as she treads ever closer to what she wants of the molly. Serpentberry bites her tongue, "I'd like to continue this, but I don't know what this is. And if this -" she gestures to the inset cavern, to the nest made slightly bigger to accommodate to bodies, somehow even to the scent that wreathes around the den, herbal and spice, nearly identical to the medicine den, "- is nothing, then I need to know. I can watch my leader throw away her lives with reckless abandon, but I can't watch my Haw-" a cough. Her paw finds her throat and the panic in her eyes is all but a morsel, drowning thereafter in the depths of her grief, "I can't watch someone I care about do the same. Not without the time in between being well spent."