everything left undone 🕷 forestshade

[Briarthorn]

.·:*¨༺🕷༻¨*:·. The air feels sticky today, thick as the clouds that swatch ominous gray across the sky above. Damp. Briarpaw recalls one of the elders complaining, rambling on about the moisture that clings to a new-leaf breeze. Rain was bound to come soon, if not thunder- the odd discordant song that the apprentice had used to soothe her burning grief not long ago. A lizard lays between mud-freckled forepaws, laid down for her by some concerned clanmate who’s face she cannot recall. Briarpaw blinks at the realization- that she cannot remember something so simple, so easy. There was a time where her mind was sharper than her own adroit claws, and now she has been dumbed down to nothing but something the apprentice herself couldn’t recognize.
In the wake of Sweetpaws death, something bitter had poured into the hole in her chest that his loss and punched through, she could feel the wary glances her denmates shot in her direction- the criticism of her attitude. Briarpaw doesn’t care, not really, all that mattered to her was keeping Screechpaw close, and to nurse the gaping wound that had begun to fester somewhere inside- so that she could be whole again, be Briarpaw again.
Distant hazel optics don’t spare a blink when she can feel the presence of someone nearby, prominent pitch ears subconsciously moving in the direction of oncoming pawsteps.
It’s the scent that finally calls Briarpaw’s attention forth, life blinking back into caramel-scorched hues. They linger on familiar patchwork fur, move to heavy blind eyes. For a moment, thorny features harden as the adolescent thinks of what to do- move? … pretend she isn’t here?
Exchanging words was not an option, Briarpaw decided long before Sweetpaws death, before the owl nearly ripped her in two- she would not be the one to break the silence- no, this was a responsibility that Forestshade wouldn’t be able to slip away from, even in the face of their family’s tragedy.
Yet, no words fill the heavy air, and it makes Briarpaw question if the other even knows she’s right next to her. Eventually, pupils drift forward, and her head drifts to lay atop of inky forepaws, sinking into the deafening quiet.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ALL YOU HAVE IS YOUR FIRE ⋅ ࿏ ⋅ AND THE PLACE YOU NEED TO REACH ──┐‎

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  @FORESTSHADE
  
  

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  BRIARPAW ꔫ she/her, apprentice of shadowclan, 9 moons.
  ⭃ slender, lean-muscled black she-cat with sharp hazel eyes & large ears.
  ⭃ daughter of Forestshade && Vulturemask ࿏ sister to Screechpaw && Sweetpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[FORESTSHADE]

Forestshade knows she's there, even if she does not show it. Her daughter's familiar, leaf-bare crisp scent is hard for the warrior to miss. But like Briarpaw, she does not speak for several long moments while she settles down on her haunches. Her mind is a whirlwind, her heart a grave. She feels empty, choked. Without her son, what purpose does she have on every hunt? Who is she supposed to teach and instruct? She spent every waking moment with Sweetpaw, and now without him...her purpose feels missing. Her mind then wanders, leading her to imagine a timeline where it had been Briarpaw who met this fate. How would she feel, then, to know she did not speak to her daughter the last moons of her life?

She decides to change that now. "You know who you were named after, don't you?" The torbie mews, tipping her chin skyward as thoughts fly through her head. In many ways, Briarpaw reminds her a lot of her late mentor. She'd been very aptly named, she thinks.​

 

[Briarthorn]

.·:*¨༺🕷༻¨*:·. When a once comforting velvet voice breaks the silence, Briarpaw feels a spark of surprise ripple down her spine, forcing the molly to lift her head up from her paws and stare for a moment. Her namesake? "Briarstar." The raven apprentice replies after a heartbeat, confident in her answer, the leader she had been compared to all her life, whom she had no ties to… no love for. "They say I look like her." With a flick of her tail, Briarpaw fixes her gaze forward, jaw clenching with every other heartbeat. There was no significant reasoning behind the sentiment- it’s not like her mother would ever be able to see her, confirm any likeness. Still, in a strange way there is almost a weight rolled from ebony shoulders, not only had the first words with her mother been exchanged, but the thoughts Briarpaw had never verbalized before, in her chase to keep the feeling of relief flowing, keep the silence at bay, the next thing she says takes even herself by surprise. "I don't like being somebody’s shadow." Though, given the choice Briarpaw wouldn’t choose any other ghost to reflect, being compared to someone so legendary… Well, there were ups and downs. Two sides of the bone.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ALL YOU HAVE IS YOUR FIRE ⋅ ࿏ ⋅ AND THE PLACE YOU NEED TO REACH ──┐‎

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  BRIARTHORN ꔫ she/her, warrior of shadowclan, 12 moons.
  ⭃ slender, lean-muscled black she-cat with sharp hazel eyes & large ears.
  ⭃ daughter of Forestshade && Vulturemask ࿏ sister to Screechpaw && Sweetpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[FORESTSHADE]

She nods slowly, body unmoving. Named after ShadowClan's founding leader. She's heard the same - that her daughter shares an uncanny resemblance with Briarstar. An amused breath leaves her maw, the corner of her mouth slightly ticked upward. "Well, I wouldn't kow about that. I guess I'm just lucky like that." She recalls the day her kits were born, how as soon as she'd heard one of them was a she-kit, she'd known immediately what she was going to name her. She never would have imagined the weight it put on her daughter.

Eyes narrow slightly and she tilts her head, a bit of casualness seeping into her body language. "Briarpaw, you couldn't be anyone's shadow if you tried." It's the truth. Her daughter is a force to be reckoned with, a voice that demands to be heard when it does speak up. In many ways, she is much like her namesake. They share their determination, their will, their desire to protect their clan and loved ones. But Briarpaw has earned her reputation all on her own, without any help from memories from the past. "You're more special than you realize. No name changes that." The words of compassion feel metallic on her tongue, but she'll be damned before she lets any child of hers feel unworthy in their own pelt.​

 

[Briarthorn]

.·:*¨༺🕷༻¨*:·. Her mothers light-heartedness is not lost on Briarpaw, but her reply is only an unseen slight tilt of her head, a slow and wary blink.
Briarpaw, you couldn’t be anyone’s shadow if you tried.
The sentiment catches the apprentice off-guard, and for a moment the words churn uneasily behind flickering hazel hues, unsure how to take the remark. A compliment? There was no other way to take it. Forestshade, for all her flaws, being a cruel mother was not one of them, not even when Briarpaw had practically spat in her face.
A feathered midnight tail sweeps towards her, something to hold close to soothe the uneasiness that had begun to bubble up in her chest cavity- to no fault of Forestshade, Briarpaw simply did not do well in conversations that she wasn’t ready for, have a calculated and cool response to.
Before Briarpaw can part her maw to try and formulate a proper response, her mother confirms the praise by deeming her special. More than she could realize.
The apprentice knew she was skilled, intelligent… ready for warriorhood. Special, however? The compliment makes her ear twitch, the fact that it had come from her mothers tongue making it even more difficult to choose how to reply, to choose how to feel. For a moment, Briarpaw contemplates saying nothing at all.
”… thank you." For someone who held so much criticism for how others often fell flat, Briarpaw is almost disappointed in herself. Her pupils burn into her mothers, so much so the molly cannot help but wonder if the torbie could feel such a thing. Finally, Briarpaw makes a tentative choice, one she prays not to regret. "What I said, before, I meant a lot of it-" air sucks between her teeth, "but I was cruel, and I’m sorry for that." Forestshade was warranted an apology to some extent, Briarpaw knows she had stepped far out of line, but the hurt and burden spilled into her young paws would not be pushed aside, even though most of the raw anger had waned in the face of Sweetpaws passing. "Sweetpaw’s gone." She moves her eyes away, unable to say what more needs to be said, her words sticking to the roof of her mouth. If it’s emotion that makes her words thick, it would be hard to distinguish which one. "I can’t mourn him and be angry, too. I don’t want to." Finally, the words fall into place, spoken in a slightly higher pitch than her usual monotone as she extended the only branch Briarpaw had to offer.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ALL YOU HAVE IS YOUR FIRE ⋅ ࿏ ⋅ AND THE PLACE YOU NEED TO REACH ──┐‎

• 
  
  
  

• 

• 
  BRIARTHORN ꔫ she/her, warrior of shadowclan, 12 moons.
  ⭃ slender, lean-muscled black she-cat with sharp hazel eyes & large ears.
  ⭃ daughter of Forestshade && Vulturemask ࿏ sister to Screechpaw && Sweetpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[FORESTSHADE]

Thank you, She says, and Forestshade faces down again, licking at her chest fur. She hadn't really expected gratitude, but it feels...nice, from her daughter. After everything, after all of the hurtful words exchanged both ways, it's just nice. But she keeps listening in silence, even nodding along in understanding as Briarpaw speaks. She apologizes, and soon enough Forestshade can't take it. "You don't have anything to apologize for, kid." She sighs and leans back on her haunches, angling her muzzle skyward. Her eyes, blind and milky as they are, don't often show much expression. But in this moment, they almost seem...remorseful. I wasn't the best mother, She wants to say, but she's tongue-tied, frustratingly so.

Her daughter gives her an out, though, and her ears droop. Her head lowers again as she wraps her tail tighter around herself. Sweetpaw's gone. "Yeah," She says plainly, a softness to her tone that isn't usually there. Truthfully, she doesn't want there to be anymore anger, either. "I know." It isn't much, but she does scoot closer. She hopes the gesture shows everything she won't say. That she cares.​