Bittersweet Goodbyes (White) | GOSSAMER ; a literate warriors rpg

shadowclan

9 pawprints

played by: Sketch

Bittersweet Goodbyes (White) Jan 22, 2014 14:28:11 GMT -8

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Jan 22, 2014 14:28:11 GMT -8

He waited here after the 'meeting' had occurred, just a few hours after. No statements, no goodbyes were exchanged with many of his ex clanmates, save for those close to him. No excuses were given for his choices, no voice from his throat was raised when he watched his home tear itself apart. He was a silent observer, face composed and neutral where as his soul and heart screamed in agony. The past few weeks had seemed like an eternal nightmare that had made the veteran warrior numb to the outside world. Fires, sickness, starvation, and now this. In Shadowclan's greatest test, not only did they fail, they failed spectacularly. Ashstrike could only watch in horror as the original warrior code was trampled, passions were ignited, and family struck against family. He felt like he had failed somehow. What would his mentor think? What would their ANCESTORS think?

He personally reached the conclusion that that they failed their ancestors... How disappointed they must be in them.

Currently, the muscular tom stared out at the scorched expanse that was once the hunting grounds of his youth. Memories of stalking frogs, lizards, snakes, and even the occasional mouse or bird played in his mind over and over almost as if he was desperate to solidify it to memory. More than anything, he remembered coming here with his mentor and fellow clanmates to spar and patrol...

He tried to remember things like that. Tried to remember when everything was relatively fine, when Shadowclan was large and prosperous and the territories they had were wet and green. He tried to recall the bog ponds, the leafy pines, and the lush ferns. However, the only thing his icy-blue eyes saw or could easily recall was what was right in front of him... Dry, cracked ground with scant mud puddles filled with ash, scorched skeletons of once mighty evergreens, and crumbling thistles. What perturbed him the most was that he had trouble recalling warmth and connection with his clanmates as well. Ashstrike had trouble remembering those days and it SCARED him. It challenged everything that he grew up with, every problem he had as an apprentice and a kit, and it left a heavy pit in his gut and throat.

Maybe if he could scent the air a little more he could pick up the faintest scent of the swamp underneath the fire and ash. However, only the acidic, choking stench of burnt life greeted him. Before he could reflect more on this though, the faint sound of someone's approach was made clear. Ears perking, he could tell it was one cat, and yes, it was one cat. Whoever they were, they were an excellent stalker. Expecting anyone, either from the remnants of Shadowclan or a clan mate turned stranger, the actual individual herself shocked him in his entirety. Out of all the people it could have been, it had been her. Blue eyes initially widened, Ashstrike quickly composed himself and gave a subtle dip of his head.

"Whitesmoke." His voice was clear, and carefully maintained with a neutral tone. His face betrayed nothing, save for guarded attentiveness.

Deleted

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Bittersweet Goodbyes (White) Jan 22, 2014 15:20:10 GMT -8

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Jan 22, 2014 15:20:10 GMT -8

it was a gradual decline, like jogging slowly down a hill and getting more and more tired with every single pawstep that she traveled. she would have rather preferred the immediate occurrence-- like speeding up and going into a full run on and coming to a dead stop. but it didn't feel like that. she doesn't feel normal, it doesn't feel normal, and all of these dark thoughts are slowly creeping up on her. the shock from the meeting was numbing. she was numbing.
her normal was shattered, disappeared, beyond normal repair.

she needed to find a new normal instead. and that involved lying in her den for a good couple of hours straight, unwilling to face what had happened. she had driven them apart-- broken the one thing she loved so much into two. and she had to embrace that normal. she had to get through it for the sake of the clan-- but yet the depression hit, like a low-level wave. but as she drank in littlestar's scent and the resentment she felt for her former leader for abandoning her former clan, it start to hit like a tsunami.

her normal no longer excited anymore. it became a part of the past. and it would never be part of the future. and so she walked, walked along the edges until she met familiar ice blue eyes, which she met with her own colder ones. her lips curled up into a half smirk, half smile, as she dipped her head in greeting as a sign of respect-- but then stopped herself. respect for someone who had abandoned starclan? her clan? her? she had none. he deserved none, the long moons of forged friendship was shattered by his silence. and his words announcing his departure. the tom would leave, and she would stay. it was another end of a sad tale.

"hello ashstrike," the she-cat said, her tone a layer of monotoned formality. her face as stale, her eyes reflecting nothing and hiding everything. she was beating herself up about this. she was being left empty and exhausted, a shell of her former self, battered and bleeding, wishing she was dead.

this would be her new normal now. it would become familiar, like the broken territory around them. and yet, she would not let herself break and decay into nothingness. she would rise back up with the regrowth during new leaf. she knew it. she had to. but she would never get out of this cycle of endless blaming-- it was her fault for everything that had occurred. if only if she had kept her head down and ignored the threats. ran shadowclan like they always had been-- prideful, stubborn. waited until littlestar's return and not rush into decision making. into anything.

all she did was try her best.

what more did they want from her?

Ashstrike

shadowclan

9 pawprints

played by: Sketch

Bittersweet Goodbyes (White) Jan 22, 2014 17:15:34 GMT -8

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Jan 22, 2014 17:15:34 GMT -8

The silence permeated the air around them. It was a tense, uncomfortable presence that almost felt physical like a weight had descended upon the clearing. A cold, winter blew, lightly ruffling the Shadowclan tom's gray pelt and he resisted a shudder. The whole situation felt wrong. It was familiar, of course, but the circumstances and the situation that surrounded his meeting with an old friend felt bitter and hallow. The imaginary lines that have been drawn into the sand was very much apparent. It showed too. She stopped herself with the dip of her head. Her greeting was the same as his, strained and desperately detached.

Yet... Regret seemed to be present on his old friend's face. Then again, there was a lot of things to regret as well. Ashstrike himself had numerous examples he could count off of the top of his head. Her personal regret probably didn't mean much to him individually. The regret of a fragmented clan weighed heavier than anything else. It was not one regret or lost connection it was many that was the result of... Her decisions? Their decisions? Whoever's decision it was if blame could indeed be placed, the muscular tom had no way of knowing. It didn't matter. The consequences were what mattered. Thats what had to be dealt with.

Many were going to suffer for this.

Dark days were ahead and a grim determination settled in the Shadowclan warrior's heart. Regardless of what happened, he had to see them through. He had to ensure the clan he was born into and taken as his own survived. He took an oath. They all did. Damned if he would forget that himself.

The silence still persisted, tom and she cat staring each other down as both tried to read the other. Eventually, it was Ashstrike who spoke.

"You were looking for me." It was more of a statement than a question. The purpose behind that choice was fairly obvious. He knew she was looking for him. Otherwise, why would she be here? To say goodbye? To send him off? To curse him? He looked at her expectantly, brow raised.