private Do You Blame Yourself? // bluepool

TASTED LIGHT BUT FED THE DARK
WAITING FOR THEM ALL TO SEE

periwinklebreeze 18 moons demi-boy he/they windclan moor runner

65159467_tnf87OqnTSUrkxO.png
Everytime peri sees bluepool, he cannot help but let his mind wander. Cannot help but wonder every time he spots the scar across her chest, the way she's crossed it out in a mimicry of the one that had lined his mothers throat. It leaves him uncomfortable, throat tightening and chest aching. And so when he spots her today, he cant help it - paws carry him swiftly in near silence before he even knows he's moving, mouse set down before her in some half-hearted attempt at a peace offering.

At first he's not even sure what to do next, what to say - there is far too much he wants to ask. A moment of silence - a heartbeat, then two. At last jaws part, but the words that leave his lips aren't the ones he means to say - the ones he means to speak. " Do you... regret it? " he says slowly, eyes blinking as he turns his head to her, trying to get his damaged vision to focus upon the she-cat before him. He doesn't know what he's asking, what he even expects to hear. Does she regret following her sister? Does she regret turning traitor? Becoming his mentor? Becoming lead warrior? Any of it - all of it. Tail tip flicks, and he waits, uncertain.

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@Bluepool
 



Bluepool pats sprawled out in a corner of the barn, tucked away so that she does not get into anyone's way but still in the prime spot to watch the comings and goings of her clan. WindClan, despite what anyone else may say, was here, in this barn. Not the group of rogues whom they had cleaved themselves from. Without StarClan how could Sootstar ever claim the name she held? She was nothing without them and Bluepool had once thought that she knew that. Her lives, her clan, it had all been given to them by their ancestors.

She is broken from her thoughts by a mouse softly thudding to the floor in front of her, and when she looks up, she is greeted by the familiar face of her prior apprentice. She smiles in greeting and moves over to make space next to her, gesturing with one silvered paw for him to join her. "Hey kiddo, how did you know I was hungry?" she huffs. The prey here was not the usual hare diet they thrived off of, but there was enough mice in this barn that, for the first time her clan was well-fed in leaf bare. It was too bad that it wouldn't last but cats like them were not meant for the kind of life the rest of these barn cats led. She missed sleeping under the stars, racing across the moors. There was no challenge or honor in hunting like this.

A comfortable silence stretches between them and she uses this time to dig in, taking a bite and then passing it to the cat next to her. Finally though, he breaks the silence. Does she regret it? He asks. "No" the answer is immediate, it comes without much thought but "there is not a lot in my life that I regret because it has all led me to here, to now. Sure, there are things that I wish I had done differently but…" and here she shrugs. "Do you?" she asks, turning the question around on him.

 
TASTED LIGHT BUT FED THE DARK
WAITING FOR THEM ALL TO SEE

periwinklebreeze 18 moons demi-boy he/they windclan moor runner

65159467_tnf87OqnTSUrkxO.png
His presence is met with a warm smile and friendly words - soothing something in him he hadn't realized was hurting until it stopped. Paws come to rest where she gestures, tucked neatly beneath his lithe frame and tail hugging tightly as he hunches over. There is no harsh reaction - whatever abstract fears he'd held clearly unfounded. For a moment he just listens - head nodding along. He can... understand that, he thinks. The feeling of the path your paws have taken, of knowing that while perhaps everything hadn't been perfect, you'd made your way in the end. " Sometimes, " he says - and it's an easy answer. He has many regrets - many secrets that he buries in his ribcage like bodies in a grave. " But... I d-don't think I'd ch-chose d-differently, even if I c-could, " it's a kit's dream - do overs, changing the past. To go back, knowing what awaited you in the end - to choose the better path. The kind of absent minded wishes he once made from the nursery, familiar forms pressed comfortingly against his side. " There was... a l-lot of t-time to think during the j-journey, " he says quietly, head turning way once more to stare into the distance. " A -lot of questions I w-wanted to ask - but it's t-too late for answers now, " There's no one left to ask - he'd been far too late. The dead are silent.

actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes'

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