Territory ShadowClan you were always gold to me // flea

[Tickpaw]

TICK

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?

" Flea? " Tickpaw's voice was soft as he padded forward, a frown settling onto his face. She hadn't been avoiding him, not outright. At least, that's what he wanted to believe. But deep down, he knew. Ever since the fiasco, since he took a claw to the face, something had been off between them. The wound had healed, but the scar remained, an ugly reminder of that moment. He hated it. Not because it messed up his looks, he already thought he looked like shit. One more scar didn't make a difference. But because now, every time Flea looked at him, she had to see it. Had to remember. And maybe… maybe she felt awful about it.

A sigh left him as he stepped closer, bumping lightly against her. His orange eyes flickered over her form, searching, gauging. " Are you okay? How''e you been? Is Possum still a shitty mentor? " The words came out quick, brisk... Small talk, a safe distraction. But it gnawed at him. The real reason he was here, the words he wanted to say.

Don't feel bad about this.

It wasn't your fault.

It doesn't even hurt anymore.

I look pretty cool with another scar.

A deep breath. His torn ear flicked once as he glanced to the side. Nobody was around. Just them. There was no need to pretend. No need for small talk. Just them. " Flea... " His voice was quieter now, more hesitant. He rubbed a paw over his nose, stealing a glance at her before finally meeting her gaze. " I don't want you to feel bad about what happened. " A pause.

" I don't blame you. "

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[F l e a p a w]

-

Since returning to camp, things had been… awkward. Plenty of cats had something to say about what went down with Snake and Pepperpaw—but fuck them. Fleapaw couldn't care less what they thought. The list of cats whose opinions she gave a damn about was real short.

She kept to herself, spending as much time out of camp as she could. No one questioned it. Everyone knew about her situation with Cicadabuzz. And the state that outsider returned in seemed to earn her a little respect. They probably didn't think she had it in her, but now they knew.

She'd left camp planning to patrol alone when Tickpaw approached her. She mustered a smile, but her eyes avoided him as much as possible. She barely got a greeting as he rattled off a bunch of questions before she even had the chance to greet him.

Shit…

She wasn't dumb. Flea knew something was up the moment he opened his mouth. But instead of addressing it, she brushed past it. "Yeah, I'm fine!" She snorted, "You don't gotta worry anymore. I know I got weird, but I'm better now." The ruddy apprentice gave him a light bump before resuming her path, keeping her pace slow so he could follow.

Moving to the topic of her 'mentor', Fleapaw's expression soured. "And yeah he still sucks, but whatever. I don't need him anyway." Not anymore. Her tail curled over her back with a sharp, irritated flick.

"Possumgrin can choke on a frog."

A lot had happened since she'd ran off. More than anyone knew and even if she told Tick, he probably would have a hard time believing her. She still wasn't sure what to make of that… dream. Except it wasn't a dream. Froststorm was real. Ghosts were real or… at least hers was. He was everything that Possumgrin wasn't. In a pawful of nights he taught her more than Possumgrin had in moons.

If it were up to her, she'd shove him off a cliff. But Froststorm said that he was a good cover for her training and that she needed to build trust with her clanmates. That meant keeping her temper on a leash. That was easier said than done so she stayed busy. Besides, if she had to see Pepperpaw's smug face again, she was going to lose it.

She could feel Tick watching her as they walked, could feel the words brewing behind his silence. And when he finally started to speak, dread churned in her belly. She already knew where this was going.

Flamerunner had told her that Tick wasn't mad at her for what happened. That he would forgive her. She always knew he would and it was exactly that which bothered her most. Especially now, with a permanent reminder of what she did engraved onto his face. She couldn't stand to look at him—not anymore. She tried to pretend things were the same, but it was hard. The scar she left stared back at her every time they talked. A permanent reminder of how much she'd failed as his sister.

It hurt. So she didn't. She just... didn't. No matter how much she worked herself or tried to act like everything was fine, one look at him was enough to take her back to that day at the border. To remind her of the scent of blood and sight of it trickling down his face. Fleapaw couldn't forget if she tried, and maybe she didn't want to. No punishment that Cicadabuzz stuck her with would feel like enough either. It was something that she would have to live with, like everything else.

When he spoke, a heavy sigh seeped through her nostrils. Slowly, she stopped and turned to face him—staring hard into the marsh. "Where did this even come from?" She asked flatly. She'd known this talk was coming. She just… hoped they could avoid it. Skip past and go about their lives even if their new normal was fake. The chances of her ever forgetting were zero, but she hoped with enough time it would get easier, and maybe one day she could make things even again.

I don't wanna burn you, you should leave me.

FLEAPAW

7 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

I'm no good for you, so leave me now.

 

[Tickpaw]

TICK

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?

Tickpaw stayed silent, listening as Fleapaw spoke, his frown deepening. He was uncertain... Not of his feelings, but of her. She wasn't fine. Not for a second did he believe that. It was in the way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she looked, or rather... The way she refused to look at him. Small, subtle things that betrayed her, even if she would never admit it aloud. But Tickpaw saw. Tickpaw knew his sister. Or at least… he hoped he still did. He hoped they hadn't grown apart.

" You refuse to look at me. " His voice was steady, yet his tail lashed behind him, betraying the storm inside. " Don't think I don't notice. Every time. " He stepped forward. A bold move. Where did that even come from? " Where do you think? " he muttered before shaking his head. " I notice everything, sis. And when I see you tear your gaze away from me… it hurts. " His voice cracked slightly. " It hurts more than this stupid little scratch you gave me. "

With a huff, he stomped a paw against the ground. " I don't care about this! I've had worse! Have you seen me?! I've got enough scars already... What's one more? What does it matter?! " His words tumbled out in a rush, desperate and unfiltered. " I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I know your anger wasn't at me. I know that! " His ears flattened as his voice wavered, raw with emotion. " So please… Please, Flea… " His breath hitched. " Stop tearing yourself away from me… Stop refusing to look at me…! I'm still me. "

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[F l e a p a w]

-

He saw through her so easily. Fleapaw supposed she just wasn't as good at hiding it as she thought. Or maybe her brother just knew her too well to be fooled. Fleapaw clenched her jaw, eyes narrowing as she listened to him speak. A stab of guilt wedged itself between her ribs, but even then, she couldn't bring herself to look at him.

Maybe it was about more than just the scar. She was afraid of what else he would see. Especially hearing him pour his heart out like that—she couldn't take it. He had always been there for her, even when she wasn't for him. Tick was good. He deserved better than her… better than what she did to him. Even now, she continued to hurt him just because she was too much of a coward to face what happened, or to move past it.

Fleapaw wished she could, for her Tick especially, but something wouldn't give.

Tickpaw wanted her to look at him, and he got his wish. Fleapaw's head snapped around in an instant, amber eyes hardened into slits. "And what the fuck would you have me do, Tick?" She hissed sharply, "It might not matter to you, but it matters to me. Whether I meant to or not, I hurt you. I can't look at you because it kills me." Her breath quivers as she exhales. Suddenly her throat feels tight like something's caught there, and she has to force the words to come out. "Hell, if anyone else did that to you I'd fucking kill them. I'd slit their throats while they slept and dump their body in the pit or spend every day trying. But it was me. I was the one to hurt you, not someone else, and I have to live with that now." Flea never expected it would be. The many times they tussled as kits, she never let herself get worked up enough to hurt. But that was then and now...

"You think it makes it any better knowing you're okay with that scar I gave you? It fucking doesn't!" Flea couldn't help but be angry too, at him, for him. Because why the fuck wasn't he angry. Why couldn't he get mad—scream—cry—throw things—hit her—anything! She would've preferred that. It would've been easier than him telling her he didn't care about what happened, that he was okay with what she did to him.

She tried so hard to keep it together, but here she was again, coming unraveled. Before Flea knew it, she spilled everything that was in her head. "You didn't blame me when I left you all behind, and you won't now. I wish you would. Or at least get angry or—ignore me or just… something, shit! I'd even let you give me a scar too if that's what you wanted, but you won't, will you?" The small apprentice scoffed sharply, tearing her gaze away again as her sight began to blur. "So I guess I just have to hold myself accountable every time, right?"

If not me... then who else will?

I don't wanna burn you, you should leave me.

FLEAPAW

7 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

I'm no good for you, so leave me now.