he’d heard enough. he’d heard more than enough, more than he’d like to.
the woman still called willowroot caraway, still moped, still whined about him in passing — his temper rises with the thought of it, mulls it around in his head until it eats away at him. paranoia rampant, walls building high to account for the petulant molly sitting comfortably in his deputy position. what sort of game was she playing? bitter eyes and mouth in a straight line, the scars she bore from ripping the sharp, twoleg - made wire from around his neck stark against the dusty brown of her fur. he remembers that day, remembers it well. she’d nearly left him there. as the days went on through the horrors of leafbare, his suspicions only rose, battered at his chest like a caged animal until.. thunderclan. howlingstar. buckgait. he didn’t trust her — he didn’t like her. combative and full of empty, pathetic threats, brooding and pitiful. did she deserve to sit here, reaping the rewards of his clan and offering nothing but attitude, aloofness in return?
enough.
“ buckgait, come here. gleich. “ it’s said flippantly, as strict as it sounded. the man stands rigid in his den, stands with his claws unsheathed and blue fire dancing around the dark slit of his eyes. strong as she liked to present herself, she was meek in the face of his clan, his supporters. she was nothing to him, however much she snarled and growled in her defense. he was not forgiving, and she was a risk he was no longer willing to entertain. so he sits, stiff, the fur along his shoulders bristling and oh — it is clear he’s been stewing for quite some time, mane of curls jutting from the thin length of his neck. outside showers rain, leaves the entrance to his den dripping, murky with a low haze of coiling fog into the darkness of his temporary den. paranoia. agitation. his mind was stretched thin, ready to snap. hyacinthbreath, windclan trained had shown more promise than his second in line, and it would stop now. no longer would he allow her to huddle in their ranks and so openly despite them — him.
“ you seemed awfully nice at thunderclan’s border. chatty, even. tell me,” his head snaps towards her, angling large ears down towards the wedge of his skull, “ when howlingstar comes for my rocks, why should i trust you to defend them? what reason should i have to believe you would defend this clan when it came to it? “ selfish. greedy. she’d come to him with biting words, hissing and growling for taking her river, the miles of land that came with it — and now raccoonpaw is gone, vanished, and willowroot strong amongst his council despite boarpaw being long gone. he trusted willowroot, admired her, except.. for one glaring issue. the clans must think them weak for the spats they have before their eyes. the forest was shrinking and here he was, entertaining the axe, for she convinced them all that because her handle was made of wood, she was one of them, “ it was because of my generosity you aren’t freezing to death in the loner lands and i have doubted my actions ever since — so what reason do i have to keep you now? “
˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers. m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
ᨒ gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss. ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
when buck is called to join him, she knows it will come of nothing good. both deputy and leader had given up on each other long ago, pleasantries dropped (if, of course, they even had any pleasantries in the first place} and resentment growing in the place of it. she watches him carefully, a tom wracked with paranoia and a lack of empathy. a dangerous combination. the tips of her furs are soaked, the rain having been playful with the earthen pelt. a stark difference between his dry and curled furs.
her posture is straight, rigid. the only movement from her is wicked eyes. and what comes from his is an accusatation. he did not need to speak the words specifically, she can gather enough from his tone. she tries, of course, to keep her cool. a loose temper at this stage would not help her. an ear flicks at his words, nose crinkling. "howling and i were on good terms. i expressed my empathy for her situation and wished things didn't have to end up as they did. but i still put my clan first," unlike you. is what she wished to say. to remind him of who had to starve when he had accepted boneripple and her mate into their ranks. along as her kits, and some apprentice-aged tom. when he accepted hyacinth. when he had gone against his own rules. he did not care to listen to the lands and to grow. he took, and he took, and he learnt nothing.
"but my clan knows the sacrifices i would make for them. it houses my family, my friends." she would continue to save each and every arrogant life of cicada's if it had meant an improved spirit among her clanmates. she had taught many of them weaving, excellent tips for fishing and spots that are often rich in prey. and this was the thanks she had gotten? she can't help but scoff at his mention of generosity. "this land is stained with my family's blood. generations. i can show you where i was born, where my mother was born, and where her father was born. you think you are generous for not running me out of my home." she simply can't help the tilted voice that comes out, a vocal cord lifted in what would be humor if it weren't the situation they were currently in.
"i apologize for my actions as a loner, cicadastar. i was scared. i made up for it with the wire. but you have never once tried to learn me. you never tried to see me as anything else besides an angry loner." and it is the truth. cicada had never looked upon buck when she was with kits. when she had talks with clayfur. he did not see her playful and curious just as any other creature. had he watched her with lightning or her sister? the gentleness that would coat her tongue? or had he been too busy eyeing up his own lead warrior to notice anything about buck? no. she was markedfor damnation the moment he had placed her as the enemy in his mind. he never tried to see her as anything else. it was apparent to everyone, she was sure. he had made her lose her home, her name, and for many a moon, her own freedoms. was he expecting her to see him as some saint for this? not a tormentor, not a constant antagonist?
he sits, and he listens — and she merely digs herself a deeper hole. he knew she would. he’d little belief in her to release the greed she held over him, but as she speaks, he can hardly believe his ears. he is silent. still, unnervingly unmoving. wide, staring pallid eyes never move from her as she speaks. accusing. inflammatory. she was still sticking to her story — one of moons and moons ago, something bitter and all slitted eyes. she seemed to believe he’d some vendetta against her, glared at him as if he worked to keep her so firmly in the past where she moped. he didn’t so much as think of her, had even thanked her, had been gracious beyond reason for saving his life — only to have been thwarted, given attitude in return. she acted as if he pried the stars from her paws intentionally, acted as though he had damned her. she had only damned herself, even more so now ; standing before him, spitting nearly the same words she had growled that day. a lost cause.
“ you.. “ he begins, stands slowly, and his voice is hollow. almost stunned, almost regretful. he’d allowed this in his clan walls. he’d allowed her to rest amongst them, to play pretend, to eat his prey.. for nothing. suddenly, his lips pull back, rioting pain searing up his face at the intensity of it, “ must be out of YOUR DAMNED MIND TO LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND LIE, LIE TO MY FACE! IN SELF-PITY! “
it’s so sudden. his head is nearly hazy with it, blood rushing. offense lights him from within, the disrespect, the blaming, “ i have never once been interested in the generations you claim have lived before now! plenty of loners milled this land since i ran with hare whiskers! you are NOT the only one raised here — mudpelt, icesparkle had even claimed this land before riverclan, birthed kits able to live safely within my walls. and you use your heritage as an excuse to whine at me for providing a home, a community, for more than YOU. “ he’s a snarling mess , stepping forward until he’s sure she can feel the spit from his words, his hissing trill, “ even houndstride had traversed these lands, these fox - lengths and fox - lengths of river that has kept my warriors, my apprentices, my kits fed. and you sit here — “ his tail lashes, head straightening to look down the wedge of his nose at her, judgmental. angry, “ and have the gall to say i’ve run you out of your home. to claim the river, the land that has sustained generations more already. land that you wanted for YOURSELF. “ selfish. selfish!
she was still here. he had taken nothing, had done nothing to her, had done nothing but provide a place to sleep, clanmates, friends. to sit here and claim the entirety of his territory, of those who had lived here before? his pelt is bottlebrush, pushing him to twice his already - unusual size, “you’ve made up for NOT A DAMNED THING — “ he is screaming now, claws digging into the ground underfoot to keep his paws from lifting to strike her already - scarred features, “ NOTHING! should i recall correctly, you didn’t do that for ME. you’ve taken my appreciation, my kindness, and raked it through the mud. you’ve done nothing but act a spoiled, entitled BRAT in the name of your family. a family that has LEFT YOU. “ where had the point apprentice gone? the young one that willowroot had taken in, had sworn her loyalty on? he’d thought about it time and time again, lain awake in his nest thinking of the secrets they must have. was buck in on it? has she sent them somewhere, sent them with intimate knowledge of their clan, their weaknesses?
“ and you say it’s because i don’t know you? i don’t care to know you, i should not have to GROVEL for you to quit acting like a kit who’s mossball was taken away. “ it’s loud, increasingly louder as he continues. his throat aches. his maw, the frostbite that had eaten at his skin stretching open even further. she was upset he didn’t know her? she was not the only former loner here, and he got along with them just fine. what a petulant fool! he’s breathing heavy, ears snapping down, “ you are GROWN. i am YOUR leader, you are not mine. i will not nurse you into behaving as you should, you were lucky you were not treated as the rogue you so desperately want to be. you are lucky you weren’t dragged from this territory the moment you entered my home and threatened me to my face! I SHOULD NOT HAVE TO GET TO KNOW THE ONE THAT THREATENED ME. “ he’s furious. the sound of his shouting could be heard beyond the rickety walls of his temporary den, “ but i took pity on you anyway! welcomed you, promoted you! i took you into my ranks when i should have left you to ROT alone, as you so wished to. “
he laughs — barks loud in her face before whipping around, long tail lashing behind him, “ since you seem so attached to your life as buck, you’re more than welcome to return to it. in fact, you can even join your family again — where ever they may be, as raccoonpaw and boarpaw certainly seemed happy enough to depart. “ his head twists over his shoulder, “we’ll see how scared you are when you’re without the home, the CLAN i’ve made for you. “ his teeth grit hard enough for something to pop in his jaw, a migraine forming at the base of his skull. suddenly, a paw lifts — only to roughly smack a pebble, sending it rocketing from the lower wicker weaving of his den. he wanted to go home, “i have wasted moons on you. WASTED, and for what? for THIS! “
he whirls back around and his eyes are slits. his mouth damp from the snarling, the spitting, the screeching, “ a molly who claims i do not KNOW HER WELL ENOUGH — “ a deep breath, “ for her to ACT RIGHT. “ he wants to hurt her. he wants to rake his claws across her muzzle, those eyes that glare at him with such accusation, like he’d ruined her life. she’d ruined her own, was doing so even now, “i called you to give me a reason i should not drag you by the neck like a child in front of MY CLAN to the border, and you have only proven me RIGHT. “ oh, he was going to. he wanted her gone, as he should have all those moons ago. he’s in her face again, close enough to nearly touch, close enough to latch his teeth in, “ you’ve worked so hard to vilify me, BUCK. — and i will finally give you a REASON TO. “ get out. get OUT!ungrateful, mooching PARASITE!
˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers. m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
ᨒ gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss. ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
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