BORN IN A CENTURY LOST TO MEMORIES ⊹₊° bobbie+drowsy

[LUPINESONG]

❀‿ Lupinepaw is so often reminded of being a kit. She sat within the nursery—it was so much bigger back then, to her—and wept. She wept over a mother, who left camp only briefly to return to pull them into a bloody embrace, her first reminder of the indiscriminate violence the world wrought upon the unsuspecting. And she wept for herself, crumpled beneath the weight of realization of the extent of her powerlessness. Lupinepw remembered feeling more dread than excitement at the dawn before her apprentice ceremony, imagining all the awful possibilities awaiting them all as they took their fledgling flights out of the nursery. She would have cried then, too, if there weren't so many other cats around. So often has she been reminded that she was right all along.

Lupinepaw did not cry today.

She parted the branched entrance of the hazel bush with a neat pelt and prey for both of the patients she came to visit. She would look upon them with two clear green eyes and an unmarked portrait face and she would wonder (again, for perhaps the hundredth or thousandth time) why she was spared from the violence. She would keep her thoughts on her concern for the well-being and healing of her most beloved kin and would not touch the subject of how statistically speaking, she should have been in one of these nests for similar reasons by now, and since it has not happened yet, that it would in all likelihood happen soon. Very soon.

Oh stars, she was thinking all about herself ... again. Lupinepaw dropped her hunt to the floor with a small sigh and carefully pulled a small, sympathetic smile to her face. She hoped that they would forgive her for which she did not apologize for.

"The snowflakes have been looking quite pretty these past few days," Lupinepaw hummed quietly and delivered the gentle mundanities of recent news, daring to lean over first toward Bobbie's nest to groom at patch of fur upon her shoulder and then moving to nuzzle at the side of Drowsypaw's face, "The sun came out yesterday, in the evening. And the frosted pine needles sparkled orange and... pink when the sunset hit. It was quite a sight." They were not red. Nothing was red, not today.

'I'm sorry', 'I miss you', and 'I am so glad you're alive' remain unspoken. Surely they've been said too many times by now, right?

"Alright. Who would like the shrew and who would like the sparrow? I only caught one of each so..."

CHANGE. LIKE THE SKY. ⊹₊°❀‿ LIKE THE LEAVES. LIKE A BUTTERFLY.

• OOC: @bobbie @DROWSYPAW
• 
• 
  — lupinekit . lupinepaw
  — trans she/her. 10mo apprentice of skyclan. mentored by dandelionwish, padding after falconpaw
  — bobbie x duke. littermate to crowpaw & drowsypaw
  — a tall, pretty, long-haired black smoke with low white and green eyes
  — smells like sweet lupine flowers and young pine needles
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — fullbody by pikaihao and chibi by rae
  — penned by eezy

​

 

[DROWSYNOSE]

STILL DON'T KNOW MY NAME​

---

//cw for paranoid thoughts

okay okay. go throught it again, drowsypaw. in camp. surrounding by cats who care and cats who would protect those within it, especially injured, at all costs. around who would never want to see an apprentice dead, and that extended to him. he's an apprentice. a hurt one. that makes him safer than most... kind of. unless the threat was in camp. stars, what if she was in camp? she was a cat, too. just like everyone else here. she could slip right in. rub her roguishly terrible scent off on trees, and find herself inside the confinement of camp. come back to finish the job– the job she only left unfinished because she was so sure that he wouldn't tell. he won't tell. he can't. he still hasn't even said what's happened. not uttered a word of possibility. and still...

the sheep that once lulled him to sleep have now turned into anxious messes. tripping over the fence they once hopped over, eyes red with dire need for rest. but they can't. they're worse off than he is, and he's pretty bad. he's hardly gotten much sleep. the scent of herbs is too much. the scent of his own blood is a lot. his mother's scent used to bring him comfort, but right now? all it brings is fear. not fear of her, but fear for her. he couldn't possible sleep when that rogue was around. he could hear her, still hissing into his ears that he could die at her paws. his paw holds his neck where her claws had briefly pierced, and he's trying to calm himself. be calm, drowsypaw. you're alright... for now.

but what if he wasn't? his sister is here now, but what of crowpaw? what if he's out there, where no one could get to him, and she was killing him? oh, stars, it would be his fault. his stomach hurts. he doesn't like this. he doesn't like this at all. he needed everyone he loved in one place! he can't do this, he just can't! he needed–

he is pulled out of his racing thoughts, by lupinepaw's voice. she's talking of the weather, and the brief touch is enough to make him flinch until he remembers that it's his sister. she couldn't hurt him. she wouldn't hurt him... he could hope. he would hope. you'd better hope so. otherwise, shencould just as easily kill you. rip your throat out, right in front of your mother. not comforting at all. blinking, he tries to refocus. the sheep need to focus.

"uhm... the shrew is okay. thank you lulu. are you okay? you aren't hurting right? n-no one has come to hurt you?"

real subtle, little lamb.
​