- Aug 31, 2024
- 40
- 10
- 8
| 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.
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.
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