sensitive topics DID YOU GET ENOUGH LOVE? ◜♡◞ SHARPPAW

[BLACKKIT]

| CW : Dissociative symptoms + distressful thoughts / @SHARPPAW

RiverClan have been holding a deep tension that can break itself at any moment. It frightens her— how a home can rapture entirely in just a few strikes before the shattering will befall in the end. Many troubling events passed in between what feels only a minute. There is no rhyme or reason for RiverClan to endure this many trouble within a small delicate span of time, but instead only the spilled salt tears and shed sick iron exists, and she can't do much for anything. She realizes that she should be becoming an apprentice in a few more weeks, though, Blackkit feels small and smaller each time RiverClan would face a form of dwelling pain from discrimination to death.

Insignificant.

It should be foolish; for her to be deeply concerned for RiverClan's state like this when she should be just a kit, as unheld by the grief and guilt that follows her from the darkest place over the infinite sea and land. But what does it mean to be young when kindness does not exist in her kithood? When was the last time she could have such a moment of feeling light? Of being free? These dreams and memories, they are everywhere and nowhere to her all at once. How she keeps forgetting to breathe. Why can't she remember that she still have so much to do and say without feeling as though she will only be left behind so soon by all those who she cares for?

She doesn't feel alive.

Day quickly bleeds into a lonely night. It leaves Blackkit alone to a dark corner of the camp where she doesn't want to be perceived or especially spoken to. It was near the same area where she first interacted with Sharppaw under the starry sky. What does he think about all of this? Part of her thinks he doesn't care much about anything and anyone but himself with his dream, but she's curious nevertheless. He seems to understand life a lot more than his age suggests, like herself. Remnants of recent events linger, slowly added with the hauntings from her past. Everything feels famillar, though, so is nothing; an echo in an echo in an endless echo, but she can't name any of them.

Blackkit grits her teeth out of forming frustration.

She's only a kit, so she can't do more, yet, she feels beyond useless.

Her gaze meets a reflection that's violently rippled into surface of empty sky.

I'm nothing.
​

 

[SHARPPAW]

| CW : Death mention.

It have been rough for RiverClan on a rather emotional state for the past several days Sharppaw finds, though, he doesn't ever expect the Clan life to be remotely kinder than the outsider kind. Where life comes to exist, death always follow behind. In a wild type of life like this where the exposure to the bodies and spirits are constantly open for the world to see— slaughter, there will always something leaving the horizon that can strike upon anyone at any time. Even, no kits can escape and neither can the saints from their inevitable point of demise. One's death is still a death nevertheless. It is only for the best to build as much preparation as possible to endure any upcoming hardships.

Sharppaw had to learn that in the worst way.

Blackkit is taking their Clan's recent events too close to the heart, they find. The discrimination towards Drypaws, sudden deaths of their own clanmates, with strange unsettling occurrences in the making between these heavy moments. Sharppaw can't imagine how she must be feeling about all of the latest events that had happened so far in this moon. They saw she had recently made a shrine for an apprentice known as Magpiepaw, someone who they didn't get to know beyond just a name. Especially with their stiff attitude, Sharppaw doubts Blackkit knew much about Magpiepaw either to consider them as a friend, however, she reacted to their death as if they were close.

It's almost concerning how strong Blackkit can feel.

Sharppaw notices Blackkit at a side when he reaches to his training corner. This is where he usually builds his skills at night to avoid disturbing his clanmates' slumbers, though, it seems she's been taking the tradition of being at this particular area often during the dead times, with or without him. Sharppaw doesn't flinch when he catches her hitting against the river surface, caught under her intense frustration about something... well, everything, really. He doesn't offer any word to her. Hell, he doesn't even know what to say to someone who can undergo infinite emotions in a single breath taken. Sharppaw practices his combat movements, part of his focus on Blackkit still.

If she wants something, he's here now.
​