- Jan 12, 2023
- 172
- 62
- 28
leadbare is quiet.
she feels the cold like a prickling dread, a slow spider crawl up the back of her neck that curls freezing paws beneath her. the water is frozen still, bitten at the edges with frothy snow yet to melt in the blizzards awful wake. her lung push - pull against brittle ribcage with each condensaed breath, nose grown ruby red with the wind and aching still from the persistent sickness that kept her at a constant in - out of moonbeams den throughout its rampage. the rotsweet scent of herbs and disease cling to alabaster curls in a way she cannot purge, not without running water, and the thought of asking for help sours her stomach more than the odor itself.
velveteen ears incline on a sigh, chin dropping to her paws to stare further into rheumy eyes, chasing that spark of wonder that had frozen with the weather. it there, somewhere beneath the layers of snow, the layers of scorn and humiliation that keeps her head down and mouth shut. despite the chilling winds, her ears still burn with it ; she feels decayed, browned at the edges like wilted petals, curdling in towards a drooping stem. she watches her reflection as if the mouth could open, whisper affirmations through brackish water and algae — as if it could lick at her bruised heart, bruised ego, and find her anew.
it offers no answers. the whispers of babbling waters do not reach her beneath this icy glass . . it only sludges on, a dark and slow churn beneath frosted top.
she thinks of her mother. a quiet, sudden thought that burns in the shape of features that stare back at her. she does not share her colors, her likeness, not like her brother did. she doesn't think he knows, and perhaps that was a blessing. he knew only lichenstar as his mother, really, beneath it all ; named for her and his mentor, promoted within the first moons into his name, alongside the molly who had abandoned him while still a -paw. rosen eyes close against a persistent burn, a familiar ache, a rotten spite that kindles a measly misery over righteous anger . . a horrible mix of pride and jealousy and betrayal that curdles her guts like old milk.
what made him so different? what made splashface different? perhaps she was destined for something other than this, some hallowed role beyond the river where her mother posted any cat that followed her hypocritic word on a gilded pedestal, where they had humiliated her best friend and mother for nothing but public scrutiny — put her own son and a deserter in her place. the revelation stings, still . . for pinepaw, for her brothers. starclan does not whisper through these rivers anymore . . the frost can attest to that.
when her eyes open, her mother stares from over her shoulder.
shellpaw jumps, half - rolling onto lilac woven side to fix her brother with a wide - eyed stare. what? she wants to say first, swallowing hard against the bitterness that razors her tongue, what are you looking at me like that for? a broken bird, sacrificial lamb, a tatter - finned minnow struggling upstream — pity in faces she refuses look at, a chorus of sideways glances and forgotten training. a lifetime of passing - by, of watching those around her thrive where she cannot. a selfish, pouting anger born of her own blaring faults. pebbletail was never disheartened, never thwarted, a favorite in a way she failed to be . . never a moment of suffering or sickness that plagued her. she cannot look at him without a desperate frustration beginning a slow crawl up her throat.
so she looks away, " hi pebblepaw. " she says, because what can she say? features stone - still as ever, shellpaw sniffs into the ruff of her chest fur, " -tail, i mean. " it feels sharp, dripping from her tongue like clusters of ice, " i'm kind of, kind of in the middle of something. " as if it weren't an outright and visible lie, shellpaw concentrates on rolling a layer of pebbles beneath her paw, fixed as if it were suddenly the most interesting thing in the forest.
she feels the cold like a prickling dread, a slow spider crawl up the back of her neck that curls freezing paws beneath her. the water is frozen still, bitten at the edges with frothy snow yet to melt in the blizzards awful wake. her lung push - pull against brittle ribcage with each condensaed breath, nose grown ruby red with the wind and aching still from the persistent sickness that kept her at a constant in - out of moonbeams den throughout its rampage. the rotsweet scent of herbs and disease cling to alabaster curls in a way she cannot purge, not without running water, and the thought of asking for help sours her stomach more than the odor itself.
velveteen ears incline on a sigh, chin dropping to her paws to stare further into rheumy eyes, chasing that spark of wonder that had frozen with the weather. it there, somewhere beneath the layers of snow, the layers of scorn and humiliation that keeps her head down and mouth shut. despite the chilling winds, her ears still burn with it ; she feels decayed, browned at the edges like wilted petals, curdling in towards a drooping stem. she watches her reflection as if the mouth could open, whisper affirmations through brackish water and algae — as if it could lick at her bruised heart, bruised ego, and find her anew.
it offers no answers. the whispers of babbling waters do not reach her beneath this icy glass . . it only sludges on, a dark and slow churn beneath frosted top.
she thinks of her mother. a quiet, sudden thought that burns in the shape of features that stare back at her. she does not share her colors, her likeness, not like her brother did. she doesn't think he knows, and perhaps that was a blessing. he knew only lichenstar as his mother, really, beneath it all ; named for her and his mentor, promoted within the first moons into his name, alongside the molly who had abandoned him while still a -paw. rosen eyes close against a persistent burn, a familiar ache, a rotten spite that kindles a measly misery over righteous anger . . a horrible mix of pride and jealousy and betrayal that curdles her guts like old milk.
what made him so different? what made splashface different? perhaps she was destined for something other than this, some hallowed role beyond the river where her mother posted any cat that followed her hypocritic word on a gilded pedestal, where they had humiliated her best friend and mother for nothing but public scrutiny — put her own son and a deserter in her place. the revelation stings, still . . for pinepaw, for her brothers. starclan does not whisper through these rivers anymore . . the frost can attest to that.
when her eyes open, her mother stares from over her shoulder.
shellpaw jumps, half - rolling onto lilac woven side to fix her brother with a wide - eyed stare. what? she wants to say first, swallowing hard against the bitterness that razors her tongue, what are you looking at me like that for? a broken bird, sacrificial lamb, a tatter - finned minnow struggling upstream — pity in faces she refuses look at, a chorus of sideways glances and forgotten training. a lifetime of passing - by, of watching those around her thrive where she cannot. a selfish, pouting anger born of her own blaring faults. pebbletail was never disheartened, never thwarted, a favorite in a way she failed to be . . never a moment of suffering or sickness that plagued her. she cannot look at him without a desperate frustration beginning a slow crawl up her throat.
so she looks away, " hi pebblepaw. " she says, because what can she say? features stone - still as ever, shellpaw sniffs into the ruff of her chest fur, " -tail, i mean. " it feels sharp, dripping from her tongue like clusters of ice, " i'm kind of, kind of in the middle of something. " as if it weren't an outright and visible lie, shellpaw concentrates on rolling a layer of pebbles beneath her paw, fixed as if it were suddenly the most interesting thing in the forest.
- i. @pebbletail
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frail alabaster molly with lilac striping and watery amber eyes.SHELLPAW 𓆉 SHE / HER. TEN MOONS OLD, APPRENTICE OF RIVERCLAN, MENTORED BY LICHENSTAR ; SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. HAZECLOUD xx LICHENSTAR, NIECE TO
SMOKESTAR. PENNED BY ANTLERS-----------------° ❀ ⋆she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of dovey lilac curls, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore and plush enough to conceal the juts of malnutrition beneath. tufted elderdown fur conceals a body worn fragile by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with stubborn baby fat in others. her face is short - muzzled, framed half mast by eyes coined rheumy, rosen amber. the anemic cold pink - purple at tender paws and nose tell a lifetime of sickness, further made obvious by the feathering weakness in half - whispered tones.
