private FAMILY, DUTY, HONOR ✧ Fernpaw

[iciclefang]

Pale morning light skims over the white-capped river waves. Iciclefang hangs just over the lip of the riverbank, letting ivory toes just rest in the water. It’s beginning to heat up already, and there’s a scent of storm in the air. The atmosphere is swollen with possibility, with static. She peers into the water’s surface to see a distorted marbled reflection, but it’s her brother’s she looks for first.

It’s eerie, how she’d done this same thing with Lilybloom only moons ago. Fernpaw still has his eye, which is a blessing, but it’s mostly useless now. It’s sunken, filled with scarlet, and to hear him talk it has almost no use at all. The unscarred half of his face is still resplendent with beauty long-fought for, but she stares at the gift left by the fox he’d attempted to fight on his own rather than the handsome side. “Are you getting used to it yet?” She flicks a bit of river at him with a quick-drawn paw. “Smokethroat and Lilybloom could give you pointers, I’m sure.”

Iciclefang sinks her foot back into the waves, closing her eyes as they pulse around her pads. She sheathes and unsheathes her claws, flexing them as they are each suspended in weightless coolness. Something swims by, disturbing the current, but she does not pay it any mind. Their fresh-kill pile is full, and she will be sure to bring something home before their outing. She would not dream of letting even a leisurely morning get in the way of feeding RiverClan.

After a heartbeat, she says, “What do you think—about Ashpaw coming home?” She does not look in her brother’s direction as she says it. Fernpaw had tried to tell her to have hope—that it was wrong to give up on Ashpaw being alive. Is he gloating now? Is he telling the rest of their Clanmates about her callous attitude, how quickly she’d lost hope that she’d ever see the ginger-pelted girl again?

Perhaps…

But perhaps he is right, which is both annoying and astonishing. Perhaps she’d been cruel to close her heart to a girl she’d have died for, if StarClan had let her rise again.

Finally, she murmurs, “I have not spoken to her since she’s returned to camp.” She fixes him with her glacial stare. “Have you?”

@FERNPAW sorry this took forever but I’m satisfied with it so far lol

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white markings and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​

 

[FERNGILL]

He met his own eyes in the mirror of the river, a deep sigh spanning through him. A mismatched gaze glided shut for a few moments, a heavy heave. Was he ever going to have time to get used to what he looked like? Through early apprenticeship he had been an ever-shifting scrap, bug-eyed and balding, growing into a bigger but clumsier form, and then blooming from blending dusk to fiery sunset, defined in its golden hour. He still held some of that beauty, at least- even if it was marred by fox-claws and stupidity, now.

His useless eye twitched at the spray of water, a muscle-memory reaction- and the flesh wasn't numb, at least. A small snort of laughter left him, a sound that spread into a comfortable smile. He did not think for very long about her question- for once, it wasn't something he found particularly difficult to answer. "Yeah." It was strange for sure, but... that uncertainty that had plagued him, the claustrophobic feeling of having his world narrowed... it was disappearing. His world would not be the same, but... it didn't seem a hopeless task to get used to it, anymore. "I asked Smokethroat. But... I think Lilybloom just feels sorry for me." Maybe it was a baseless thing to think- and mean, to imply his sister being concerned was a bad thing. He didn't want to lie to Iciclefang, though.

His tail curled, tip jostled slightly by the soft flow of the river. He met his sister's gaze in the water, the image of her eyes meeting his. He could tell she was doing the same. Her gaze did not linger for long, however, moving elsewhere as she spoke- not looking at him at all as she mentioned Ashpaw. He pulled in a soft breath, wondering for a moment what she might be expecting him to say. The idea of being happy he was right barely occurred to him- the happiness merely stemmed from Ashpaw being safe.

"Well- I've said hello to her. But I haven't, like... talked to her, talked to her." Ashpaw was his friend- wold always be his friend, but he knew there were people who had been more eager to seek her first. He'd thought Iciclefang might be one such cat, but... equally he could imagine, "Is it... weird for you?" An unspecific question, but... Fernpaw knew not how else to phrase it. He'd gotten the message pretty clearly before that Iciclefang had steeled herself away from the possibility of Ashpaw returning. To convince yourself something wasn't happening- the someone was gone, as good as dead, only for them to return- it had to be jarring. Had to be weird.​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[iciclefang]

The tortoiseshell tilts her head. “Do you think she does?” She supposes she hadn’t considered such a thing—that Lilybloom feels pity for Fernpaw, rather than any desire to help him through his ordeal. She pauses, withdrawing a wet white paw from the river to clean it. “If she does, it’s only because she feels sorry for herself, I’m sure.” Narrow blue eyes tighten. “Her Sunningrocks battle certainly ended worse than she’d anticipated.” She remembers the tabby who’d cleaved their older sibling’s face with his claws, the hiss of animosity Lakemoon had thrown into his shellshocked face.

Iciclefang gives a muted sigh. “I certainly don’t pity you. You know what you did was foolish, but you’re learning from it, and you’re working on being a good warrior regardless.” She idly twitches her flank. “When Smokethroat lost his eye, we trained each other. Any cat who is foolish enough to think going for his blind side is a good move soon learns otherwise.” She remembers learning from the experience herself.

On the topic of Ashpaw. Yes, she’d brought it up, but it’s out of a strange desire to pretend the situation is not happening… and yet, Fernpaw seems to know she feels strange with the girl back in their camp. “It’s… it’s weird, yes.” She exhales. “I don’t know how to act around her anymore. Half the Clan thinks I’m some monster for not running to her side and bathing her face with licks… and I don’t know if she thinks that, too.” A sullen irritation blooms in her voice. “I don’t know if I should just continue like I was when she was gone… or what.”

And the awful truth is… “She hasn’t exactly tried to talk to me, either.” Her voice is flat. “Perhaps she blames me still.”

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white markings and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​

 

[FERNGILL]

He nodded at her question, jaw tightening; he couldn't deny that she might be right, that it might be borne of the shared experience he and his sister now had... and he was luckier than her, on the topic of Sunningrocks. He'd been faced against an apprentice who'd been vicious in demeanour, but not as much in battle- she'd had him beat, and he was in hindsight lucky that she hadn't wanted to hurt him any more than she had.

I certainly don't pity you. "Thanks." If there was one thing he was always certain of, it was that Iciclefang was telling the truth. A grateful blink fell over his now-mismatched gaze; another nod moved his head. "Yeah. Mudpelt said... we'll get through it. So I hope I'll learn all of that stuff too." Though it had slumbered for a while, crushed beneath the emotions of losing vision, the willpower that had brought him face-to-face with that fox was still there. Now, perhaps... a little bit more tempered.

Ashpaw's return was strange, even for Fernpaw- for someone who had not been as close to her, who had refused to let an assumption that she was dead rule his outlook. He could hardly fathom how she felt- but even hardly was still something. Half the Clan thinks I'm some monster. "You thought she was gone," he said, simply. Iciclefang surely knew what she had thought- and maybe it was unnecessary to repeat it. But the assurance, his tone, was steely nonetheless. It was all he could tell her to ensure she knew, at least to some extent, that he understood. "Maybe she does." It was rather clear from his tone that he didn't believe that was the truth. "But, y'know- maybe she just doesn't know where to start, just like you."

A small smile occupied his maw. "It's- probably easier said than done. It definitely is, actually. But you could ask her." Fangs knitted together for a moment, thoughtfully. "You don't have to go straight into it all. You could... start small, and just ask her how she is." He wouldn't pretend to know the ins and outs of their relationship, nor Iciclefang's feelings about the whole thing... he didn't even know if she wanted advice, especially not from him. But it was all he could think to do to help her, something he genuinely wanted to do.​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[iciclefang]

“Mudpelt said we’ll get through it.” Iciclefang gives her brother a curt nod. “And so you will.” She flicks an ear at his wish—that he’ll learn what Smokethroat had. “I have a little experience with that. If you want to spar with me someday, let me know.” The offer is given without hesitation or grandiosity. She shrugs after a moment. “I have no apprentice of my own yet, after all.” And how funny, she thinks dryly, that she could be given one while Fernpaw still struggles with his own apprenticeship.

Funny is one word for it, anyway.

Fernpaw’s a little more forthcoming this time, about Ashpaw. Iciclefang appreciates that. “I’m glad I can talk to someone who doesn’t tiptoe around it.” She ponders his suggestion. Start small. Ask her how she is.

Even that leaves her belly feeling strange—and she has never been afraid to speak to Ashpaw before. Is fear what she’s really struggling with now? It’s so difficult to parse through, these meaningless emotions. “Maybe.” The tortoiseshell’s icy gaze takes on a dreamlike quality, if only briefly. “But everything’s different now. She’s different now.”

A little voice whispers in her ear, and she finds herself giving it power aloud: “…and I’m different, too.” She says this with certainty, finality. She had laid the girl to rest in her head, had placed flowers at her grave and hardened her heart to the possibility of love returning. She thoughtfully turns her face to the water again, and this time, she rises and impulsively flings herself into it. It’s barely cooler than the air—but suspended, weightless, she can let the tension dissolve from her muscles and lift away on birdlike wings.

// we can end this here if you’d like, or if you have one more response in you I’m cool with that too >:)

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white markings and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​