pafp bury this beneath my bed ⸸ musings

[Magpiepaw]

"You. Shadow. Abyssal thing." Magpiepaw calls with a light tone as if he was not calling the other apprentice something unkind. In his mind it was pure and simple fact, that he was only pointing out the truth as harsh as it might be. Eeriepaw was not blessed, never had been and never would be. Not a touch of white to be seen on that pelt, a blanket of unsettling night the young tom had always disliked the sight of since he was a kitten telling fortunes. His tail was held low, almost dragging in its binding of cobweb and sticks and he furrowed his brow as he paused a safe distance away from the other to speak without risk of touching what he deemed impurity. "Do you feel pain?" There was a touch of innocence to the question, genuine and thoughtful and his head tilted to the side slightly in response to what he deemed an apt thing to wonder. If Eeriepaw really was a shadow, nothing should hurt. Shadows felt no pain, only the owner did. His tail ached but his shadow's tail did not though it still mimicked his low drag of the appendage as if mockingly. It was all shadows did really, mock others. The blue-violet eyed apprentice's ears flicked as he waited for an answer expectantly, his gaze unblinking and expression drawn back into a neutral and tight stare.
With no ability to leave camp and zero sense of personal comfort, Magpiepaw had been left to his own devices and so he would continue his studies into the star-blessed marked cats and thus he needed to know what happened when they weren't. Essentially: More white was a larger blessing, no white was not necessarily a curse but the absence of color entirely was a horrifying thing. That Eeriepaw existed at all mystified him.

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[Ooc]
-pafp @EERIEPAW
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[EERIENIGHT]

He is called, but not by name. Rather, appearance - shadow, abyssal thing. Yet, Eeriepaw knows the sing-song tone in the prophet's call it towards him. Though this is ShadowClan, there are not many cats here that embody shadows the way he does.

The void-furred feline blinks in response to Magpiepaw's call, night-shaded eyes moving to look at the apprentice. Ragged, he looks, broken tail still strange looking, laden in cobwebs and sticks that only weigh it down. Perhaps in hopes its oddity will be no longer upon its healing. Eeriepaw can't be for sure.

"Do you feel pain?"

The reason for the question is lost upon him, another blink of dark eyes shared. Did he feel pain? He had, when taking part in the hunting patrol on ThunderClan's soil, back ankles stinging from the biting apprentice that had struck him. They itch at the memory now, but no pain remains. Toes stretch, as if to double-check, to make sure no aches spring up upon spindly limbs.

"Not anymore," he eventually answers, a small hum preceding his words. Not anymore, but the prophet must still carry his own. "You?"
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[Magpiepaw]

"Sometimes!" Magpiepaw chirps heartily, amused by the answer given and happy to reply in turn. "Not all the time, but sometimes." His tail certainly still hurt, held in its makeshift splint that he tried not to fuss with in order to avoid Starlingheart's fretting, but sometimes he would stumble or bump and his tail may brush against the ground too hard or get caught as he dragged it beneath the border briars. He raises a dark paw, pats the side of his face in silent contemplation for a moment as if mulling over a particularly heavy thought. He wondered, what made a cat like Eeriepaw, devoid of color with dark eyes like starless pools. To live in a clan with a cat like Ghostpaw had been, startling white and pristine as the very heavens he had been carved from. If only the spirit had left some color, they might have split it and shared. A white paw here and there, maybe he would mimic Starlingheart's spotted chin or the slash across Chilledstar's face. Eeriepaw could have a dipped tail, pale underbelly, something to break him from the shadows where he could be seen. Unfortunate, that you couldn't share spots.
"Do you think...StarClan wanted Ghostpaw back for some reason?" Maybe it was naivity that made him sound somewhat pitiful, but for a cat to just die was absurd to him. Not even a warrior, as Pitchstar had been. Not even killed either, simply found drowned. It was fate, surely, that had a hand.
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[FERNDANCE]

"I eat pain at Sunhigh. It tastes like scorpions." Ghostpaw's death had been sudden and shocking, it was a blessing she had not been closer to the apprentice but her blood ran cold for a day all the same. Life was a futile thing, pointless to some when all thunderpaths led to the same end, joyous to others who chose to take their time on that journey. She felt she could enjoy life whilst recognising its temporary state, even if a drowned youth threatened to topple the very foundation of her beliefs. Ferndance moved closer, her smile simple and sweet as she eyed Magpiepaw and Eeriepaw individually. The Lead Warrior opened her mouth to say more, paused, and then tilted her head like a fake owl. "I don't know what scorpions taste like." She admitted with an unabashed mew, pouting momentarily at the lack of experience. Not for tasting pain, but for tasting scorpions. They were larger bugs, likely crunchy, it was only their overhead sting that left her hesitant to try them when she didn't know the best method of removing it. Perhaps it was something that Dogfur would know, his experience with large bugs far surpassing her. Ferndance made a mental note to ask him later.

She blinked fervently as Magpiepaw mentioned StarClan wanting Ghostpaw back, a concept of their shared religion she found difficult to believe. StarClan were the true forms of all those that crumpled and fell in mortal life, their simmering pelts a symbol of immortality that the forest simply could not offer - why would they've cast Ghostpaw to such a futile existence if they were as nice as the rest of her clanmates seemed to think? It was not a question aimed at her, but as she fell back on her haunches, she still found herself leaning forwards to answer. "Well..." she spoke beneath an exhale. A fondness for the wobbly little apprentice was the only thing that allowed her bluntness to cease. "I'm sure he'll be happy up there. He'll probably get many jokes about being a ghost named Ghostpaw."

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[Swiftclaws]

He prays to starclan things will get better; that he won’t need to bury any more clanmates. That apprentices like Ghostpaw would have the chance to become warriors; but he’d been robbed of his chance sent off to Starclan before ever knowing of his warrior name. It bothers him, makes him want to howl at the stars for their cruelty in not protecting the most vulnerable among them. It was wrong, and it’d never sit right with him. How could anyone kill an apprentice. He just looks at Magpiepaw and Eeriepaw and can’t fathom it, he can only hope Pitchstar and the rest of Shadowclans fallen were with him.

Sparingly does he let his anger or grief show; he smiles as he pads over to the three even with so much on his mind. He was fine truly; Swiftclaws and his unflappable charisma couldn’t fade away. Someone had to help keep spirits high and he can’t just let Ferndance shoulder it all herself, plus he didn’t want to disappoint Magpiepaw not like he did when he was still his mentor. ❝Hard to say kiddo, Starclan can’t be understood easily wish they’d show things in silverpelt sometimes❞ he hums in thought ❝Like imagine if they just spelled out ‘Ghostpaw is happy here’ or❞ to make sure things didn’t get somber ❝’Windclan sucks’ so we all get the memo y’know?❞ he shrugs

★ )[BOX]​

 

[EERIENIGHT]

Sometimes, the prophet says. Eeriepaw can't help but think that if his own rat-thin tail had been placed under the same circumstances as Magpiepaw's, he would be in constant pain. Bent every which way, then wrapped with cobwebs and sticks, it mustn't be comfortable, mustn't feel right.

Would his own tail even survive the fall, without the cushion of fur Magpiepaw has?

The next question that the prophet places before him brings a small frown to Eeriepaw's face - a muzzle usually void of such an emotion. Do you think StarClan wanted Ghostpaw back?

Ghostpaw, the older apprentice, just days from his warrior ceremony. Ghostpaw, the frost-white cat who'd been among the first to be aware of Eeriepaw's presence in the nursery, who'd encouraged him to return to his slumber after being woken into a strange new world. His opposite, fallen too soon. Too... abruptly.

But with an appearance bestowed upon him by the stars, StarClan must have planned for the apprentice to return to the night sky sooner than the rest of them. To shine in the sky, guide ShadowClan from above. A coat marked with a total star-spot eclipse, it must be the case, right? Just as Eeriepaw is void of his own prophecy of death, his opposite's appearance told Ghostpaw's prophecy in total.

Still, too early, Eeriepaw thinks. Part of him wishes he could've traded a patch of his own fur for Ghostpaw's - a piece of Eeriepaw's immortality traded for Ghostpaw's mortality. That way the apprentice could have become a warrior - could've stayed beneath the stars a little longer.

He thinks about it, and yet, he's still uncertain of his answer - shouldn't the prophet know this?

"Maybe," he answers finally. The silence that follows is only a short pause before the shadow-furred apprentice speaks again. "I wish he stayed."

An ear twitches at the sound of others joining their conversation. Ferndance and Swiftclaws, both arriving with jokes. Did they think Ghostpaw's death was a joking matter? He doesn't understand the need to be making jokes over someone's journey to the stars.

Yet, Ferndance says he'll be happy up there, and Eeriepaw can't help but wonder if he is. Was that part of the journey to the night sky? Finding happiness? Perhaps it would be easier if StarClan spelled it out for them as Swiftclaws jokes, if their messages were more forward, rather than in code.
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