Private you happened to swindle me [ thistlepaw ]

[serpentberry serpentberry]

"Did you see much of it, little thorn?"

Serpentberry is not the most emotional mother. She cares over her children with ease, loves them with strength, and finds pride and strength in each of their capabilities. But empathy? It's not that she draws a line, but rather that she struggles with it entirely. More specifically, seeing death for the first time. One would think that she'd be able to relate, given the death-streak her family had in her youth. Unfortunately for her little ones, she can't exactly recall those days. Anything before the colony, and most definitely before the Clans, is nearly a blur. It's heartbreaking, almost; she can remember the names of her deceased siblings, but not quite their faces. She doesn't like to think about it.

"I'm here if you want to talk, Thistlepaw. It can be hard..." The medicine cat curls her tail around their torso, ignoring just how much they've grown.

 

[thistlepaw thistlepaw]

they curl in close to their mother, just as they had done as a mewling newborn deaf and blind to the cruelties of the world. thistlepaw closes bright blue eyes and imagines the chaos of the gathering once again, letting serpentberry's words guide their memory. "i didn't see much, mother... but i could hear it. and scent it." they recount, eyes flickering open at the affectionate nickname of little thorn. their heart glows at such acknowledgement and it brings back to the forefront of memory the shining figure who appeared over the crowd. "was that him who addressed the gathering after juniperstar....?" the blue rosetted tabby trails off with a swallow. "thornstar?"

 

[serpentberry serpentberry]

"I didn't see much." She isn't sure whether to be disappointed, or relieved. The commonsense that she nearly lacks tells her that it's for the better they hadn't seen it all, but pieces of her almost wishes they had. Thistlepaw is of the more fragile of her three kits, and she thinks that seeing something like that would either irreversibly break them... or harden their skin, their heart. Serpentberry doesn't wish for them to get hurt, ever, yet it seems that the world is waiting for them to pause, even if only for a moment, before lashing out at their slate-and-silver fur.

They saw nothing, no, but they heard enough. Scented enough. And perhaps... they'll learn from this experience still.

"Yes, love," she chirps softly to their inquiry. She recalls his visage clearly, having locked the image in her mind the moment she could see clearly. The blood, the tears... they would never erase the fountain of love she has for the apprentice's father. She could spot him from miles away and never forget the way he looks. Her tail remains swept around Thistlepaw's torso, and she hums, "It's a little disorienting, no? To see the dead..." she sees them far too often for her liking, but it's the gift of the heavens, and she doesn't wish to come across ungrateful. Not right then, anyways.