- Jul 3, 2023
- 127
- 15
- 18
BRIARPAW — hello, my old heart.
While the little raven kept her poise when placed under the watchful eyes of her peers and clanmates, Briarpaw has found that there is something so deliciously freeing in solidarity, when the only eyes around were her own- and they weren’t even focused on herself.
As frost-encrusted heels slide across iced marshland terrain, if one were to stumble upon the scene they would be the first to catch a glimpse of the Briarpaw she wished she could be- where muscles could relax in the presence of others.
While the adolescent is not frog-brained enough to be caught out on the territory by herself, she figured Skunktail wouldn’t mind waiting an extra heartbeat or two for her to meet up with him this morning.
Claws unsheathe, slicing through thickened layers of ice to finally force the ebony youth to a smooth stopping point, staggering with her chin adjacent to what could be the rare clear-faced pool. A rain born puddle that never got the chance to become soiled with the mud.
Briarpaw doesn’t know why she pauses to look at her reflection then, doesn’t know why she leans back on her haunches as she stares.
When had her brow become so furrowed? Had hazel hues always been so… scathing, sharped even at the pupil?
An ebony paw reaches for her brow bone and tugs, down the arches of her eyes, and pressing especially hard at angular cheekbones.
Of course.
There is no difference, the girl still looks as cold and callous as ever- even in the moments she isn’t supposed to.
A blossoming frown is quick to sour into a scowl- why couldn’t she look more relaxed and eccentric like Screechpaw? Soft and kind like Sweetpaw?
Why do I have to burden all the bitterness?
The reasonable part of her mind whispers that she is simply being irrational.
The voice she cannot ignore is the one who screams,
Well, who burdens all the responsibility?
With a shaking head and vision beginning to blur with foreign tears, she moves like adder, a forepaw shooting forward and slamming against the frozen surface with a sudden
Crack!
Wiping the moisture from her waterline with a spare forepaw, Briarpaw is quick to get back on her paws and stomp away from that forsaken reflection, brushing her revelation off just as her mother had taught her.
Perhaps she’d be proud of that.
The thought is venomously spoken, even in the apprentices storming mind.
"speech"
While the little raven kept her poise when placed under the watchful eyes of her peers and clanmates, Briarpaw has found that there is something so deliciously freeing in solidarity, when the only eyes around were her own- and they weren’t even focused on herself.
As frost-encrusted heels slide across iced marshland terrain, if one were to stumble upon the scene they would be the first to catch a glimpse of the Briarpaw she wished she could be- where muscles could relax in the presence of others.
While the adolescent is not frog-brained enough to be caught out on the territory by herself, she figured Skunktail wouldn’t mind waiting an extra heartbeat or two for her to meet up with him this morning.
Claws unsheathe, slicing through thickened layers of ice to finally force the ebony youth to a smooth stopping point, staggering with her chin adjacent to what could be the rare clear-faced pool. A rain born puddle that never got the chance to become soiled with the mud.
Briarpaw doesn’t know why she pauses to look at her reflection then, doesn’t know why she leans back on her haunches as she stares.
When had her brow become so furrowed? Had hazel hues always been so… scathing, sharped even at the pupil?
An ebony paw reaches for her brow bone and tugs, down the arches of her eyes, and pressing especially hard at angular cheekbones.
Of course.
There is no difference, the girl still looks as cold and callous as ever- even in the moments she isn’t supposed to.
A blossoming frown is quick to sour into a scowl- why couldn’t she look more relaxed and eccentric like Screechpaw? Soft and kind like Sweetpaw?
Why do I have to burden all the bitterness?
The reasonable part of her mind whispers that she is simply being irrational.
The voice she cannot ignore is the one who screams,
Well, who burdens all the responsibility?
With a shaking head and vision beginning to blur with foreign tears, she moves like adder, a forepaw shooting forward and slamming against the frozen surface with a sudden
Crack!
Wiping the moisture from her waterline with a spare forepaw, Briarpaw is quick to get back on her paws and stomp away from that forsaken reflection, brushing her revelation off just as her mother had taught her.
Perhaps she’d be proud of that.
The thought is venomously spoken, even in the apprentices storming mind.
"speech"