ROEFLAME — break the air to feel the fall. // TW for mentions of death, grief & implications of an anxiety attack. This is overall a fairly heavy thread!
The shift from the medicine den to being back to the warriors was a welcome one, she much preferred the scent of sap and oak compared to the stinging herbs, the strong scent of the leaves causing an anxiety-inducing tickle in her throat.
Yet, despite it all, she was still a shell. There were good moments, mostly surrounding her interactions with Burnstorm, but he was her only real friend at the moment, when he wasn’t by her side Roeflame was left to face the abyss of herself once more.
She couldn’t bring herself to tie her stick behind her ear this morning, after having to drag herself from her nest the thought of doing just a strenuous task was too much, so she simply left her sentimental possession tucked under her nest where it lay the night before, poking at her face and maw.
By the time sunhigh rolled around, Roeflame wanted nothing more than to crawl into her nest and stare at the den wall, mulling over the shoulda-coulda-woulda’s, the regrets she could never tell another soul.
She bumps into something-someone on her way in, barely registering the clash of ash and cloud of Stormywing- or what the warrior was carrying in her mouth.
No, it isn’t until she is about to tear her nest apart looking for her stick that her subconscious kicks the realization her way.
She darts out of the den, her vision tunneling around Stormywing from where the warrior is still walking away.
"Hey! Put that down! Put that down!" Roeflame’s voice is booming as she races to close the gap between the two, the thought of losing her last piece of Snowpath sending her spiraling down an even darker path- a hole.
She couldn’t lose anything else.
snap.
The sound is tiny, like a mouses footsteps in a rainstorm- but it’s there.
Whether it was from the fall or Stormywings surprise, by the time Roeflame could grab her gift back, the top of the highest stem had now cracked.
Where the resemblance of an antler once shone, there was now a jagged line across it, cut abruptly.
"What.. what did you do? What did you do?!" Roeflame is yelling now, seething as she’d attempt to shove Stormywing back, as though she could protect the inanimate object from anymore harm.
She takes it in her forepaw, head shaking to and fro in denial. She was going to break if she stayed where she was, in front of everyone- over a stick.
Over Snowpath’s stick.
Her grief is crashing down on her now, she is no longer hollow but overfilling, Ragwortpaw is laying dead on the blackened rock, Graystorm is screaming, the truth of her adoptive mother is whispering from somewhere in her mind- repeated in Roeflames own voice as she has to reveal it all to her younger siblings.
It’s all too much, and the loud-mouthed, stubborn, prideful warrior is left to quietly sniffle over a stick.
// please wait for @Stormywing.
"speech"
The shift from the medicine den to being back to the warriors was a welcome one, she much preferred the scent of sap and oak compared to the stinging herbs, the strong scent of the leaves causing an anxiety-inducing tickle in her throat.
Yet, despite it all, she was still a shell. There were good moments, mostly surrounding her interactions with Burnstorm, but he was her only real friend at the moment, when he wasn’t by her side Roeflame was left to face the abyss of herself once more.
She couldn’t bring herself to tie her stick behind her ear this morning, after having to drag herself from her nest the thought of doing just a strenuous task was too much, so she simply left her sentimental possession tucked under her nest where it lay the night before, poking at her face and maw.
By the time sunhigh rolled around, Roeflame wanted nothing more than to crawl into her nest and stare at the den wall, mulling over the shoulda-coulda-woulda’s, the regrets she could never tell another soul.
She bumps into something-someone on her way in, barely registering the clash of ash and cloud of Stormywing- or what the warrior was carrying in her mouth.
No, it isn’t until she is about to tear her nest apart looking for her stick that her subconscious kicks the realization her way.
She darts out of the den, her vision tunneling around Stormywing from where the warrior is still walking away.
"Hey! Put that down! Put that down!" Roeflame’s voice is booming as she races to close the gap between the two, the thought of losing her last piece of Snowpath sending her spiraling down an even darker path- a hole.
She couldn’t lose anything else.
snap.
The sound is tiny, like a mouses footsteps in a rainstorm- but it’s there.
Whether it was from the fall or Stormywings surprise, by the time Roeflame could grab her gift back, the top of the highest stem had now cracked.
Where the resemblance of an antler once shone, there was now a jagged line across it, cut abruptly.
"What.. what did you do? What did you do?!" Roeflame is yelling now, seething as she’d attempt to shove Stormywing back, as though she could protect the inanimate object from anymore harm.
She takes it in her forepaw, head shaking to and fro in denial. She was going to break if she stayed where she was, in front of everyone- over a stick.
Over Snowpath’s stick.
Her grief is crashing down on her now, she is no longer hollow but overfilling, Ragwortpaw is laying dead on the blackened rock, Graystorm is screaming, the truth of her adoptive mother is whispering from somewhere in her mind- repeated in Roeflames own voice as she has to reveal it all to her younger siblings.
It’s all too much, and the loud-mouthed, stubborn, prideful warrior is left to quietly sniffle over a stick.
// please wait for @Stormywing.
"speech"
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