private burning grief ღ addervenom

[whitedawn]

Weaselclaw was dead, taken by Yellowcough. Sootstar's mate for likely longer than Whitepaw herself has lived, and the father of Addervenom and his siblings. It was a loss Whitepaw couldn't even imagine. Addervenom had left camp, storming off in an understandable fit of grief, and she followed without thinking about it. She didn't even know what words she could begin to say as comfort but she couldn't leave him to storm off. "Adder! Addervenom wait!" She called after him, bounding after the tabby as quickly as possible to catch up to him. ​

// @Addervenom

[I'M BREATHING]​

 

[Addervenom]

Life doesn't discriminate

His limbs were a blur in the midst of his silent escape, pelt prickling with anguish and grief piercing his heart. The tom's fangs were clenched so tight he swore they would fracture at any moment. How could this have happened? Weaselclaw was amongst one of the strongest cats windclan has ever known. A true symbol of tenacity, loyalty, and resilience. He told them he would get better, but he didn't. Instead his father continued to wither away until starclan saw fit to take him. But why? As Sootstar's mate, a chosen vessel of the very stars above, why wouldn't they grant him the strength to hold on a little longer? After all of his silent prayers, Weaselclaw was still taken from them.

"He says we're cursed." Cottonpaw's voice rings throughout his mind as he grinds to a halt. The words echoed by his sibling still brought about an eerie chill whilst stoking the flames of his heated sorrow. He didn't want to believe it. Yet he found it hard to ignore the signs slowly beginning to piece themselves together. Tufted ears pin against the side of his helm. An ivory paw lifts, swatting brutally at a bush of heather. Battered petals and broken stems litter the ground but the floral carnage hardly did anything to satiate the warrior's ire. Even after he swings again, and again, and again. It wasn't fair. It will never be fair, and deep down he doesn't feel selfish for thinking that it should have been someone else.

The bush is little more than a stub by the time a gentle voice coaxes its way through the jumbled inferno of his thoughts. The briefest sheen of tears glitters in his amber eyes, threatening to gather and pool at the corners. With heaving sides he wrestles to compose himself, quickly shoving away the misty eyed feeling as he turns to face the alabaster tunneler. When did she follow him? How long was she standing there? Heavy breath flutters from his nose as he averts his gaze, seering the moorelands off to the side before inevitably facing her again. "What is it?" His tone is gruff and laced with finely restrained sorrow, but he still finds a way to keep it soft enough in her presence. ​

Between the sinners and the saints​

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[whitedawn]

She watched as the tom came to a halt, though her words fell on deaf ears. In a blind fury of grief, she could only watch her close friend tear into a heather bush, glossy-eyed and face contorted almost into a snarl from grief. Whitepaw, in her times of grief, wore her heart in the open. She never really hid her emotions when she felt loss in the clan. Yet this was where she and Addervenom differed. Even when they both became apprentices, the tom was always stronger, more composed, and far, far braver than her. And yet, now he was hurting. Her dear friend was hurting, and she wasn't sure what to do. Would he even let her comfort him? It was an option and one she'd begrudgingly accept if need be. "Addervenom?" She called softly and watched with a small amount of relief as her call seemed to reach him this time. The ivory femme watched him with soft eyes for a moment before approaching with tentative steps. Coming to his side, she settled beside him, her rose-colored hues focused on the fallen heather as she lightly rolled the stem beneath a paw. With a soft exhale, she raised her head, tentatively bumping her head under his chin, her ears pinned down. "I'm sorry Addervenom. I'm so sorry." Came the soft words. She did not pity her friend, it was easy to assume it'd be the last thing he wanted. But grief dug in like claws, and she could only imagine how it felt for the tom. She felt sorry for so many things, that Weaselclaw hadn't recovered, that it happened so soon after her friend earned his name, even that she wasn't doing enough to comfort him. "I'm here... I'm here if you need me to be." She added a few moments later, raising her head to meet his eyes. For a brief moment, the moment shared a resemblance to when her friend had been marked by the two legs and she had gone to see him then. She was able to listen then, and she was here to listen now. Even if it was all she could do. ​

[I'M BREATHING]​

 

[Addervenom]

Silence drags on between them, a pregnant pause filling the space until he finds it necessary to look away from her again. There was a new feeling manifesting itself throughout the flurry of raw emotion already coursing through his body. The sickening feeling of embarrassment. She watched him fracture and break under pressure; nearly witnessed tears shed in the midst of his rage. Such things were unacceptable as a child of both a leader and the late lead warrior. Inconceivable.

Whitepaw's voice once again speaks up, stirring the atmosphere to steal his attention. He didn't want her sympathy, if that is what she was attempting to offer. Addervenom turns his head, preparing to tell the molly to leave him be. But the crown of her head meets the underside of his chin and he stiffens, body growing rigid. "I'm sorry Addervenom, I'm so sorry." Sorry. He didn't want his friend to feel sorry for him and yet he failed to locate the will to push her away. That dreaded misty eyed feeling dared to return again as a hardened lump solidified within his throat. Although his claws remain firmly rooted into the ground below, ever so slowly the tabby melts. Everything within him yearns to relinquish some form of cry but he forbids it. Continuing to bottle up what attempts to leak out.

Instead he closes his eyes and leans into the comfort he didn't know he was lacking. "...I know." He grumbles after she pulls away. She was a wonderful friend and there were times when he wondered why she chose him to befriend. His ears remain plastered against the side of his head as he sits. A pause overtakes him before looking down at her. "Thank you." It was a rare word he seldom tossed around. But at this moment he meant it. ​

»»———- windclan warrior / nine moons old / he/him ———-««​