BY IRE EVER GROWING, HARDENING INTO STONE

[BELPHEGOR]

Afternoons in the house of the kittypet were rarely anything but quiet. Despite the hectic week, as the sun started to finish its cycle, his Twoleg's home did not dare make an exception to what was expected of it. Belphegor was curled up in his bed, just shy of the light's glare, his black-and-orange coat smoothed down by an unnecessarily excessive brushing from his owner. He would've been completely at peace, free to sleep away the hours until the hour of the wolf, had it not been for the creature that his Twoleg had brought home. It sat opposite him, unconscious, almost. It was difficult to nap when accompanied by a stranger, no matter how non-threatening they were... no matter how much he owed them. He stretched out a limb and was sorely reminded of the aches that trailed up and down it, a quiet groan escaping him.

That would be the last time he went to explore by himself - well, probably not. The world outside his home may not have been worth fully participating in, but it was still worth studying, to try and understand it before writing it off entirely. Perhaps the stranger would give him insight, if he ever stirred from his own beauty sleep. A grateful look was offered to the other before he turned his head away - it was within that moment that he heard something bump against the glass. Calmly, he turned his head once more, green eyes lazily tracing over the figure stirring by the south window. Before him was a large spotted tabby, scars running down the side of his face and new wounds freshly stitched upon his back. It would have been a more intimidating sight for the housecat, had a pale cone not been wrapped around his thick-furred neck.

Besides, he had defended a complete stranger - there was little for Belphegor to fear, except for maybe getting his mandatory snoozing time interrupted. When the creature found his eyes, he blinked until they were half-lidded. "Hey, you. You're finally awake."


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[SILVERSMOKE]

Second chances rarely existed in the silver tabby's world. For cats that had learned to do anything to survive, one wrong move could cost them their life, be that trusting a cat that had already betrayed them, or slipping in battle and falling onto one's back. Even in SkyClan, he felt the pull of finality in everything he did. Leaders got second chances, but warriors? They were stuck with just one. One chance to save a clanmate from death, one chance to be the best warrior they could be... one chance to do the right thing. Silversmoke's chance had passed him, he had failed. He had been strong enough to do his duty to his own code but failed to uphold his one to SkyClan, now, he feared he would never see them again. In his haze, guilt pulled at long strands of fur like tendrils, submerging him into a mire where only negativity bothered to bubble.

For the first time in over a day, his odd eyes opened, and the world stood bleary before him. Oranges and browns blurred together like the colours of leaf-fall, but more egregiously was his first inhale awake. The smell of Twolegs was prominent, overwhelming, and a heavy stone fell in Silversmoke's stomach. He tried to get up but his limbs did not allow it, so weighed down by the fog of whatever his captor had given him that all he could do was lightly bump his body against the window and hope, by some heavenly miracle, it would budge. Of course, it didn't. He tried to move again but his legs were weak, terribly so, and within the effort, Silversmoke could not help but feel as if he had discovered a new fear - the ability to have one's consciousness, but not their body. It had been terrifying seeing Johnnyflame like that, to experience it was worse, all sense of agency taken away. Yet, he almost longed for it to continue, feeling as if it would bring him more despair to try and try and never escape the room.

'I've lost my chance...' Something in his numbed heart stabbed, knowing he had done the same thing he had always accused Daylight Warriors of doing. He'd left without saying goodbye. He did not feel the wounds upon his spine nor the cone around his head, deeper down than that, a pain was forming that would never go away. Silversmoke blinked, groggy, his gaze finding a long-haired tortoiseshell within the room. Recognition caused his ear to twitch. White claws unsheathed. "What am I doing here?" A heavy rasp entered his voice. "This isn't my home."

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[BELPHEGOR]

Each limb was methodically stretched as the stranger got used to his surroundings, either oblivious to the claws that chipped his owner's paint, or indifferent to them. As if it were a great effort, Belphegor stood up and moved closer to the SkyClanner, pairing the naturally aggressive look of the other with a naturally bored look of his own. The questions were... cliche, almost, though, the kittypet wasn't sure what he'd expected from a wildcat. His expectations before had been low, but he hadn't expected one to throw themselves in harm's way for one that wasn't their own... and a trespasser, nonetheless. His ears twitched as the other protested, voice weary from fatigue and medicine. That was perhaps for the best, seeing what he'd seen from the other before. "My Twoleg let you rest here after you almost clawed his paw off. Quite generous of him, really." Sarcasm dripped in his tone, slow-blinking in appreciation all the same. "He took you to the vets too, by the looks of things." His brows flashed as the other seemed to grow stiff under his gaze. "Relax. You still smell as wild and feral as ever, they didn't change you. Well, they gave you a lovely little collar, but that's beside the point."

He'd seen Twolegplace rogues walk about with notches in their ear after they'd been captured by humans, but Silversmoke's ears, tufted and large, were remarkably unscathed. With strong facial features and a deceptively feathery plumage, he almost looked like a kittypet himself, if not for the expression only a mother could love. "You saved my life, he saved yours. I'd say that makes us even, doesn't it?" It didn't, if Silversmoke's face was anything to go by, but Belphegor cared little for the sanctity of debts. He cared little for many things that didn't make him happy, be it snow or a late dinner or even a belly scritch instead of a head one. He doubted he would care for the other's home either, though, a part of him remained curious - what had attracted dozens of strays to the forest? Why did they stay together? What on earth was StarClan? They were all things he wanted answered, almost immediately, but the other seemed too out of it to give him results. Perhaps he could start slowly. "My name's Belphegor, by the way. Yours is?"
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