- Aug 1, 2022
- 115
- 10
- 18
IM SCARED TO GET CLOSE AND I HATE BEING ALONE
I LONG FOR THE FEELING TO NOT FEEL AT ALL
THE HIGHER I GET, THE LOWER I SINK
I CAN'T DROWN MY DEMONS, THEY KNOW HOW TO SWIM
OOC- this is just a brief trigger warning for sensitive topics. Colds going to be reflecting on everything thats been happening in Windclan and there WILL be angst, violence, mentions of death, depression, accidental self-harm, etc. On the timeline this takes place after Rosepaws been buried. Its open for replies but I wont feel offended if it doesn't get any since its more for his development than anything (though im happy to have him interact with whomever).
It'd been a while since Cold had longed for numbness. He hadn't even realized he'd stopped wanting it, but somewhere between Hyacinth and Rosepaw and Dandelionpaw he'd forgotten that was his goal: to never feel this way again. They'd found the chinks in his armour and worked their way through it, and now he was paying the price.
He found himself out on the moors, alone, just as he liked it. Night had fallen hours ago leaving the territory wrapped in shadows that were cut through with the pale light of the moon and stars overhead. Not a fucking cloud in the sky, and Coldsnap couldn't help the bitterness that rose up in him at the realization. Starclan didn't even have the decency to share in their grief. The skies should have been pouring.
Instead, the stars looked down at him cold and glittering, unfeeling.
It wasn't just Rosepaw that had him so out of sorts that night though. No, they were just the catalyst to a long-approaching wave of emotions that Coldsnap had been pushing down ever since the death of his parents and the split of the moor cats. It was the frustration of not being able to help Dandelion as they struggled to maintain their integrity and hope in the clan. The self-hatred he felt for not doing more to make Rosepaws life a bit better while they were still here. His crippling indecision over what weather he'd rather be cold and alone or vulnerable and together. He missed the friends he used to have but was too afraid to make new ones when loss and disappointment were all that were waiting for him.
He just... He didn't know what to do with himself.
Sometimes he thought he wanted to become the cat he'd spoken to Dandelion about. Someone who cared, who stood for something. He could be the kind of cat who did the right things for the right reasons regardless of the sacrifice it asked of him, because in his heart he knew there were cats out there who deserved kindness and patience, cats like Rosepaw that he'd consistently failed because he was too caught up in his own bullshit. He should have done more for them, should have given them more than just half-hearted bits and pieces of himself. All he'd ever done for Rose was fight with his brothers and parents on their behalf, even when he knew Rose hated it. Selfish. Cold was selfish and he didn't know if he knew how to not be.
And so the other half of the time he wanted to just forget he'd ever said anything to the medicine cat apprentice at all, because even if Coldsnap wanted to be those things, he couldn't. He was too broken to try and fix anyone else, everything all twisted up and ugly. He was ice and steel and broken glass wrapped in shadows, a darkness so thick you were almost guaranteed to hurt yourself on the things lurking within. How could he open his heart and let anyone he cared about walk into it knowing thats what was waiting for them?
His thoughts circled him like sharks, and at some point during his pointless wandering he realized he was having a hard time breathing. Despite the fact that his lungs were working perfectly fine as they pulled air in and out of them, he felt unusually breathless, as if the oxygen wasn't quite reaching him. His heart was out of control too, thundering in his chest as if it wanted to tear itself a way out- and quite frankly Coldsnap hoped it did. It could take all its fucking feelings with it and leave him with some peace of mind finally.
"Fuck.." he groaned as his haunches sunk to the ground so he could sit, but the second he stopped moving it all seemed to get worse. He needed to move, needed to do something with himself, but no matter what out he tried to give himself his brain shut it down almost immediately. He wasn't in the mood to hunt. He didn't have the energy to socialize. Training was pointless. But he couldn't breath and his body needed to do something.
Before he could decide on whether it would be a good idea or not, the large tomcat suddenly broke into a blind sprint.
He had no route mapped out in his head as he ran, was barely even aware of his surroundings. He just ran as fast and as far as he could, pushed himself to his limit and let his brain sit in the blissful emptiness of burning lungs, raw pawpads, and muscles on fire, his mind finally quietting itself as his own physical discomfort became the centerpoint of his focus. He didn't even notice the treeline coming up until he was already in it, broad shoulders bulldozing through brush despite the scraping of thorns against his body. It was only when his paw caught on a tree root and he went tumbling to the ground that he was finally brought to a stop.
And finally, he feelings caught up to him.
"FUCK YOU!" he snarled as he clawed his way to his feet and lashed out at the offending tree. Again and again claws scored heavy marks into its surface, tearing off bark and splintering wood, but somewhere in his mind he knew it was either this or another cat, and so he let it happen. "USELESS PIECE OF SHIT! I FUCKING HATE YOU!"
To any random bystander maybe it would have seemed a little comical to see a tomcat screaming and clawing at a tree like it was a fox whose throat he was trying to tear out, but for those who knew him, this was far from funny. Breathing heavily, broad shoulders trembling,and yellow eyes glistening with something he refused to let spill over, Coldsnap was about to stumble over the edge of a line he'd been walking for too long. Because he hadn't really been yelling or clawing at that tree, not in his heart.
It was him. It was always just him, holding himself back, too afraid to move forward. He'd stepped onto a path that night with Dandelionpaw but he hadn't moved forward at all, had he? He was still the same guarded, cynical, self-isolated asshole he'd been when he first came to Windclan and he wasn't sure he could change it even though it was killing him being this way.
This time when his haunches sunk to the ground, he didn't feel like he was suffocating. His lungs burned from the exertion but he could feel the oxygen filling them now, just like he could feel the ache in his paws from running his paws raw and then clawing the shit out of a tree.
"Whats wrong with me?" he asked as he sunk down and buried his head in his paws, ignoring the pinpricks of pain that came from his unsheathed, splintered claws and the uncharacteristic break in his voice. He was so tired of feeling this way, torn between what he wanted and what he was. Why couldn't he stay that night to comfort Leech and Dandelion? He'd wanted too, might have even wanted the comfort, too. And why did he push Hyacinth to choose between the clan and her family the night of Moonrabbits kitting? It shouldn't have mattered what was 'more important' to her when they were all supposed to be family. And why, why hadn't he told Rosepaw that they were friends? Cold had cared and he'd pretended not to- and for what? Pride? Because he was afraid?
What the fuck was wrong with him?
windclan warrior - male - 9 months - a large, dark grey tabby with yellow eyes
I LONG FOR THE FEELING TO NOT FEEL AT ALL
THE HIGHER I GET, THE LOWER I SINK
I CAN'T DROWN MY DEMONS, THEY KNOW HOW TO SWIM
OOC- this is just a brief trigger warning for sensitive topics. Colds going to be reflecting on everything thats been happening in Windclan and there WILL be angst, violence, mentions of death, depression, accidental self-harm, etc. On the timeline this takes place after Rosepaws been buried. Its open for replies but I wont feel offended if it doesn't get any since its more for his development than anything (though im happy to have him interact with whomever).
It'd been a while since Cold had longed for numbness. He hadn't even realized he'd stopped wanting it, but somewhere between Hyacinth and Rosepaw and Dandelionpaw he'd forgotten that was his goal: to never feel this way again. They'd found the chinks in his armour and worked their way through it, and now he was paying the price.
He found himself out on the moors, alone, just as he liked it. Night had fallen hours ago leaving the territory wrapped in shadows that were cut through with the pale light of the moon and stars overhead. Not a fucking cloud in the sky, and Coldsnap couldn't help the bitterness that rose up in him at the realization. Starclan didn't even have the decency to share in their grief. The skies should have been pouring.
Instead, the stars looked down at him cold and glittering, unfeeling.
It wasn't just Rosepaw that had him so out of sorts that night though. No, they were just the catalyst to a long-approaching wave of emotions that Coldsnap had been pushing down ever since the death of his parents and the split of the moor cats. It was the frustration of not being able to help Dandelion as they struggled to maintain their integrity and hope in the clan. The self-hatred he felt for not doing more to make Rosepaws life a bit better while they were still here. His crippling indecision over what weather he'd rather be cold and alone or vulnerable and together. He missed the friends he used to have but was too afraid to make new ones when loss and disappointment were all that were waiting for him.
He just... He didn't know what to do with himself.
Sometimes he thought he wanted to become the cat he'd spoken to Dandelion about. Someone who cared, who stood for something. He could be the kind of cat who did the right things for the right reasons regardless of the sacrifice it asked of him, because in his heart he knew there were cats out there who deserved kindness and patience, cats like Rosepaw that he'd consistently failed because he was too caught up in his own bullshit. He should have done more for them, should have given them more than just half-hearted bits and pieces of himself. All he'd ever done for Rose was fight with his brothers and parents on their behalf, even when he knew Rose hated it. Selfish. Cold was selfish and he didn't know if he knew how to not be.
And so the other half of the time he wanted to just forget he'd ever said anything to the medicine cat apprentice at all, because even if Coldsnap wanted to be those things, he couldn't. He was too broken to try and fix anyone else, everything all twisted up and ugly. He was ice and steel and broken glass wrapped in shadows, a darkness so thick you were almost guaranteed to hurt yourself on the things lurking within. How could he open his heart and let anyone he cared about walk into it knowing thats what was waiting for them?
His thoughts circled him like sharks, and at some point during his pointless wandering he realized he was having a hard time breathing. Despite the fact that his lungs were working perfectly fine as they pulled air in and out of them, he felt unusually breathless, as if the oxygen wasn't quite reaching him. His heart was out of control too, thundering in his chest as if it wanted to tear itself a way out- and quite frankly Coldsnap hoped it did. It could take all its fucking feelings with it and leave him with some peace of mind finally.
"Fuck.." he groaned as his haunches sunk to the ground so he could sit, but the second he stopped moving it all seemed to get worse. He needed to move, needed to do something with himself, but no matter what out he tried to give himself his brain shut it down almost immediately. He wasn't in the mood to hunt. He didn't have the energy to socialize. Training was pointless. But he couldn't breath and his body needed to do something.
Before he could decide on whether it would be a good idea or not, the large tomcat suddenly broke into a blind sprint.
He had no route mapped out in his head as he ran, was barely even aware of his surroundings. He just ran as fast and as far as he could, pushed himself to his limit and let his brain sit in the blissful emptiness of burning lungs, raw pawpads, and muscles on fire, his mind finally quietting itself as his own physical discomfort became the centerpoint of his focus. He didn't even notice the treeline coming up until he was already in it, broad shoulders bulldozing through brush despite the scraping of thorns against his body. It was only when his paw caught on a tree root and he went tumbling to the ground that he was finally brought to a stop.
And finally, he feelings caught up to him.
"FUCK YOU!" he snarled as he clawed his way to his feet and lashed out at the offending tree. Again and again claws scored heavy marks into its surface, tearing off bark and splintering wood, but somewhere in his mind he knew it was either this or another cat, and so he let it happen. "USELESS PIECE OF SHIT! I FUCKING HATE YOU!"
To any random bystander maybe it would have seemed a little comical to see a tomcat screaming and clawing at a tree like it was a fox whose throat he was trying to tear out, but for those who knew him, this was far from funny. Breathing heavily, broad shoulders trembling,and yellow eyes glistening with something he refused to let spill over, Coldsnap was about to stumble over the edge of a line he'd been walking for too long. Because he hadn't really been yelling or clawing at that tree, not in his heart.
It was him. It was always just him, holding himself back, too afraid to move forward. He'd stepped onto a path that night with Dandelionpaw but he hadn't moved forward at all, had he? He was still the same guarded, cynical, self-isolated asshole he'd been when he first came to Windclan and he wasn't sure he could change it even though it was killing him being this way.
This time when his haunches sunk to the ground, he didn't feel like he was suffocating. His lungs burned from the exertion but he could feel the oxygen filling them now, just like he could feel the ache in his paws from running his paws raw and then clawing the shit out of a tree.
"Whats wrong with me?" he asked as he sunk down and buried his head in his paws, ignoring the pinpricks of pain that came from his unsheathed, splintered claws and the uncharacteristic break in his voice. He was so tired of feeling this way, torn between what he wanted and what he was. Why couldn't he stay that night to comfort Leech and Dandelion? He'd wanted too, might have even wanted the comfort, too. And why did he push Hyacinth to choose between the clan and her family the night of Moonrabbits kitting? It shouldn't have mattered what was 'more important' to her when they were all supposed to be family. And why, why hadn't he told Rosepaw that they were friends? Cold had cared and he'd pretended not to- and for what? Pride? Because he was afraid?
What the fuck was wrong with him?
windclan warrior - male - 9 months - a large, dark grey tabby with yellow eyes
