private I GET COLD IN YOUR EXCESS CLOTHES || chilledstar

[betonyfrost]

The tangled roots of the leader's den are a familiar sight. Betonyfrost's eyes find it often and without permission; she has never known how to look away, when Chilledstar was involved. It brings a comfort to Betonyfrost to know that Chilledstar is in there—that Chilledstar is safe, a spider perched at the centermost point of a web. Comfort isn't enough to stop the deluge of other emotions that follow: a hollow-gutted and encompassing want, a battered rage, a jealousy so thick that Betonyfrost could choke on it, if she were to allow such a thing.

The leader's den is a familiar sight; it looks different when Betonyfrost stands near to it.

This is a threshold Betonyfrost hasn't allowed herself to cross. It had felt too large of a thing, then. Now, Betonyfrost needlessly ducks her head as she passes beneath the roots—her wilted ears wouldn't catch on them, even if she hadn't ducked. The inside of the den is as Betonyfrost would expect it to be: the floors well-trodden and packed, the nest is occupied. A small collection of stones catches Betonyfrost's attention for just long enough to leave her feeling endeared—she hadn't known. She knows now.

"Chilledstar," Betonyfrost breathes, and her voice holds everything in it, "I've never kept anything from you. I never have. I just—was it that you wanted to spend time with me? Before? On the patrol?" There is a terrible belief in her that, despite or because of her terrible luck, that she was due for something. Betonyfrost has earned it. She's earned it a thousand times over, "You asked me to go with you."​

shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | 28 moons | tags​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

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they didn't expect company. not really. it's not like others come to visit unless something is wrong. why would they? chilledstar has made it clear they want their space when in their den. time to relax, to forget for a while that they're leader... even that proves to be impossible. the cold chill of the air still catches them, and they are to think about how many times they've died in this place. twice now. laying cold in their own den, soul hovering and desperately trying to get back. they don't think it ever fully does. bits and pieces get left behind in starclan to pick up when they finally and fully die. they know when that would be. they fear its sooner than they would know. briarstar and pitchstar didn't last this long. why did they?

they're brought out of the downward spiral of their inner thoughts by betonyfrost of all cats. time away from the cat has done them good. they're not nearly as uncomfortable around her as they had been before. they don't feel much of anything regarding betonyfrost, except some sense of understanding when it comes to grief and loss. but... it seems she still has this weird obsession with them. they don't get it. they don't see themself in the way she sees them. it wasn't like chilledstar was this miraculous cat. they weren't cicadastar, or blazestar. certainly not howlingstar. and never would be anywhere close to sootstar. those cats were... by far better. so why did she like them so much? what was it that she saw when she looks at them?

"betonyfrost."

they greet, pushing themself to sit up in the nest, ears twitching back and forth.

"i did ask you to go with me, yes. you are a good warrior, even when you cannot convince yourself otherwise. and besides i figured you could use the time to distract yourself. i think when tornadopaw first died, I went on every single patrol i could. without breaks. it... helped in a way."

their ears flattened against their head.

"is that the answer you were looking for, hm? in some way, i suppose, i did want to spend time with you. to make sure you're doing okay."
​

 

[betonyfrost]

Everything about Chilledstar—their reaction, milder than Betonyfrost was expecting, their gentle words, even the way they rise in their nest—feels like cool poultice to a fevered wound. It doesn’t heal her, but it soothes her more than she thought it would. She takes a step closer and finds it easy to forget how angry she had been in the wake of Chilledstar’s previous rejections. She remembers the ease of fizzy-hearted, dry-mouthed wanting like it was once again that very first day of the rest of her life. Hope has never been kind to Betonyfrost; it blooms in her chest, regardless.

“I’m not,” Betonyfrost replies in a soft voice—not a good warrior, not doing okay—and sits as if she’s still expecting to ordered away, “But I’ve always wanted to be.”

She used to try. She imagines what she could be, were she to try again. Betonyfrost had been born reaching. It was an easy thing to confuse for hunger.

“Comfreypaw had been good. Better than me, certainly. Everyone loved her. I couldn’t believe someone like that could be my blood. I still can’t,” Betonyfrost blinks as if attempting to dispel the past from her eyes. It sticks like sleep crust, “I had the doubt of every ShadowClanner on my shoulders—but she had been good, despite that. Jitterbug too. But…but that isn’t from me. A better mother wouldn’t have seen her kit buried—and no amount of distraction will ever amend that knowledge.”

It hurts to say. Betonyfrost’s pelt jumps like a wave, neck to haunches, “But you, you, I look at you and I think—” Betonyfrost stops herself, mouth cut into a frown. She’s so full of emotion that she is liable to burst, a bloated corpse beneath the sun, “You know what I think.”​

shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | 28 moons | tags​