I CAN'T FORGET IT (all of the love) ✘ cricketpaw

[SMOKESTAR]

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He dipped his head into the medicine cat den, lone orange eye finding his injured daughter easily through the reeds and he was thankfully Ravensong and Moonpaw had stepped out for the time being. When he'd found out Cricketpaw was hurt his mind went to the worst possible scenarios, missing limbs, too badly injured to move, even the possibility of finding them limp and lifeless in a moss nest alone; but thankfully the fears were quelled at the distinct sight of black smoke fur rising and falling and a wound that looked more uncomfortable than serious given the plaster of herbs and cobweb upon it. Smokestar tried not to exhale audibly, didn't want to look like a harried and overbearing parent as he stepped in but his instinctively leaned forward to touch their star-spotted forehead with his nose in gentle greeting. "How are you feeling, Cricketpaw?"
Even as he says the name it feels awkward, he knows it, he hates that it had to be done but he could not bare the thought of the stars clinging fast to any other cat he loved and pulling them away - it was not a blessing, but an honor bordering on a curse. It Smokestar had not drowned in that river moments ago he might have come sooner to see them but he had to sit in the willow tree alone in silence for a moment longer than he meant to as he came to terms with it. You would think after the second death you'd get used to the horrifying feeling but it never seemed to ease, it almost felt worse - as if his body was bracing for a slowly approaching impact, the dread building each time.
"I want to talk if you're okay to. I want to.." Apologize? He did, in a way, he had no intentions of taking it back but he did feel bad, "...I know you're upset with me. I'm sorry. I just needed you down here, I needed you away from the stars." Part of him wants to swallow back the vulnerability, the weakness raw and exposing him, but if he can't show it to his own kits then who can he show it to?

✘ I've got a reputation and a name to uphold. ✘ Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.

• - @Cricketpaw ]
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  Smokestar
  —⊰⋅ Leader of RiverClan
  —⊰⋅ He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ Black tom w/vitiligo & one orange eye.
  

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[Cricketchirp]

⋆｡°✩ Cricketpaw curls up in their medicine den nest and feels smaller than they ever have before. Cobwebs plaster her aching throat, a ringed necklace adorning the thin fur. The wounds across her belly have all but healed, clawmarked flesh exposed yet again to open air. It's humiliating.

Cloudy blues cast up to meet the burning single-eyed gaze of Smokestar. There is a tiredness, a weariness to them, as though the pain of seasons has finally begun to catch up to the apprentice. Lacking the joy that should be there in seeing her papa, in noticing the similarity they now bear in scarred pelts. On the backs of his eyelids sits the image of Smokestar's drowning body alongside the rogue who tore the voice from his neck, sullying the pristine flesh the stars have granted him. What is he to cling to, divinity tattered in both flesh and name? All that is left is the thrumming chorus of purpose within him, a drive he cannot act on while stuck in the stuffy company of herbs and medicine cats.

Still, the cold touch of Smokestar's nose upon the holy crest of their forehead is soothing. Cricketpaw closes their eyes, clears their injured throat and does not wince at the feeling. It is still raw, still carrying the memory of sinking rogues-teeth. So too scrapes the rawness of the wound left by that name, the one that is not hers. Her mouth twists at the sound. "Fine," he starts, voice hoarse and strained. "...Could be... better." A wry smile accompanies the words, tinged with a dry sort of humor.

A breath then, a soft exhale, as Smokestar continues. An apology, far too late. I needed you away from the stars. Like lancing pricks of ice in his skin. Now, his face contorts with pain. He doesn't understand. Why should his parents be afforded such closeness, and not him? Do they regret the gift they gave their children?

The words escape her throat, and not merely due to the strain. She searches Smokestar's face for something she cannot comprehend. Her mouth works soundlessly for a moment. "I'm here," is what she settles on, whispered and confused. It doesn't quite feel true. "Can't I... still be close to the stars? Like you... and father." He can't pull them away, not so easily. They just don't understand why he'd want to.

‎‎┌── I PICK AN AGE WHEN IM GONNA DISAPPEAR ⋆｡°✩ UNTIL THEN I CAN TRY AGAIN ──┐‎

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  "SPEECH"
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  CRICKETPAW ✩ he / she / they, apprentice of riverclan, nine moons.
  ⭃ a wiry, curly-furred black smoke with clouded blue eyes.
  ⭃ intelligent, egotistical, and strange, with an eye always turned to the stars.
  ⭃ smokestar xx cicadastar, littermate to beepaw & cicadapaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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