pafp if i'm so smart and i'm so pretty || acting strange

[betonyfrost]

Rain falls in a gentle drizzle; polite, as if it doesn't want to harm the ground it strikes. ShadowClan eases further into Newleaf which each passing day, and in time as short as a half moon the marsh will unfurl into being lush and green and completely unrecognizable from the barren, mudsoaked thing it had been over Leafbare.

Days slink on, one into the next, and Betonyfrost has come to understand that hers are finite.

At first Betonyfrost had wallowed, precious days spent curled over herself and snappish at anyone who so much as walked too near. Now, Betonyfrost has found a much better way to cope: a resolute denial that anything has changed. She pretends to be herself with a mixed accuracy, pining and keeping to herself, going on hunting patrols and occasionally even making a catch. She sits on edge — but isn't she always? — and prays out loud every night.

Betonyfrost ducks into camp, polite rain and muddied paws, with a juveniles rat dangling from her mouth by its tail. She drops it off in the fresh-kill pile and with a furtive glance about camp, trades it for a plump frog. Nothing has changed, nothing needs to change, Betonyfrost reminds herself as she settles down to eat in a covered spot not any dryer than the rest of camp.

@smogmaw​

shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | 18 moons | tags​

 

[smogstar]

Smogmaw's line of vision skims across the sodden, pitter-pattered soil. He rests on a patch of earth which is rather solid comparatively speaking, front paws curled under his chest tufts, and his quibbling gaze finding fault in just about every detail. From the hanging scent of mildew in the air, to the very fact it was raining in the first place, nothing can escape the tom's sharp scrutiny—especially not the high-strung bundle of nerves oft referred to as "Betonyfrost", who walks with a stride so uncomfortable that her paws might not have been her own.

The smoky she-cat has a reputation for her unsound mind, of course, but on this day she struck him as leagues more erratic than usual. What might be causing it, he wonders. Hormones? Or was she yet another of ShadowClan's population to harbour a dirty little secret? It's also possible that he's simply overanalyzing people's behaviour again. Regardless, the tom rises in a stretch, before setting off for the maladjusted warrior in a pursuit to learn more.

"Season got you in a tizzy already, eh Betony?" croaks Smogmaw, drawing near on prying limbs. The she-cat in question sits hunched over a frog, a glint of vulnerability in her emerald eyes. He could hardly care less if his query comes off as insensitive, or worse; for all he knows, she can't even hear him with those pathetic nubs crowning her skull. ​

 

[betonyfrost]

Betonyfrost's head shoots up, a hunk of pale frog meat hanging half out of her clenched jaws. The skin of her mouth pulls back in an attempt to show Smogmaw her teeth, still hidden by her meal — the most amicable greeting Betonyfrost can manage. She can't recall a single conversation with Smogmaw that has been anything better than deeply unpleasant at the very best and cannot help but hope that the impression is mutual. When Betonyfrost manages to swallow the meat scrap, it is graceless and hungry.

"There isn't any tizzy here. StarClan, you sound like my mother, talking like that," Betonyfrost places her paw over her remaining frog, "And it's Betonyfrost now, in case you've finally gotten so old that you've gone senile."

That should be the end of it. Betonyfrost leans to take another bite of her frog, but then it bothers her — tizzy — and she finds herself paused before her teeth have broken skin.

"And who even said anything about me being in a tizzy?" Betonyfrost asks as if the very notion of it is ridiculous, but then she's looking at Smogmaw as if he'll give her an honest answer, nervous and prying. Was it just Smogmaw? Were her clanmates talking about her? "Whoever said that must have had a leech crawl into their ear and — and eat whatever was left of their sorry brain," She's overthinking herself, Betonyfrost realizes only as she is speaking, and finds herself wondering if she would say something like this.​

shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | 18 moons | tags​

 

[Rainecho]

Rainecho does not particularly like Betonyfrost, she can’t really think of many cats who do, to be honest. It’s not like she had made much of a good name for herself here among the pines and often she finds herself wondering why she stays. What was still here for her other than misery? Perhaps Betonyfrost likes misery though, she must, Rainecho thinks.

"Whatever you say, Betonykit!" she quips quickly, her sharp wit drawing an equally sharp response from her mouth. To say she also had not noticed the change in her fellow warrior would be a lie, but she cannot bring herself to care.
​

 

[Magpiepaw]

"What is a tizzy and why do you have it?"
He does not often pay mind to the older cats, their struggles and woes have no interest to him nor does it affect him. The black and white tom could go his entire life without needing to know what a tizzy was or why Betonyfrost had it and why Smogmaw could see it and he couldn't like it was a trained skill. Tizzy-detection. Was it like his fortune-telling? Could you learn it? The apprentice wandered over, bumping into Rainecho's hindlegs as he came to a stop and he hears her decree the other Betonykit. Was calling someone a kit meant to be mean? He rather liked being a kit, so it was bad insult. He wished he could be a kitten again really. If Magpiepaw had a choice, he'd be back in that nursery with Bramblesong and Wolfpaw would be with him and they would continue not caring about this other stuff everyone seemed concerned over.

Magpiepaw stares hard at Betonyfrost, taking in her words and his mouth moves to repeat the strange remark without making a sound; simply mimicking her: leech crawl into their ear. Did they do that? Was that something he would need to be wary of now that he could leave the camp and go on patrols and such? Leeches getting on him? Taking his brain? The black and white apprentice's nose wrinkled but he said nothing further to it. He didn't want to know. Maybe if he kept his head emptier they would be less inclined to take his. Stop thinking. Simple as that.
"Are leeches what ate your ears?"
​

 

[smogstar]

The manner Betonyfrost latches onto his offhand remark is quite quaint. She does not contest it with throwaway barbs of a similar caliber, but rather a defensive tirade, complemented by insult after insult about his mental state. How rich of the silver-speckled molly to do so, he wagers, when her nerves are so plainly aflutter. He grapples with her wary eyes, narrowing his own as she continues to dispute the word he'd used. Tizzy. Well, if she isn't in a tizzy, then she's doing a damn poor job of proving otherwise.

"Are you okay?" he asks frankly. A sidelong glance is flung at Rainecho on her approach, a silent chuckle at her comment, though his focus on the antsy she-cat holds steady. She might have gotten herself concussed for all he knows. "Look at me," he demands curtly, putting her face under his full scrutiny. "What's got your willies all scuzzed up? Did'ja hurt yourself? Find yourself a nice ThunderClan tom?" Something's the matter, that much is clear. But having lived in the swamp for several seasons, he knows how mental this neck of the woods makes people.

A couple of daft questions fill the air, and he cranes his noggin to glimpse an apprentice. One he wishes he'd just ignored. "Leeches didn't eat her ears," he accedes, contricting his nose for a moment. "Frostbite did. You ought'a go ask him why."​

 

[betonyfrost]

Rainecho joins Smogmaw, because it would seem that ShadowClan has always been vultures, watching where someone else is circling. She seems to have assumed that it's being called by the wrong name that had bothered Betonyfrost, and Betonyfrost doesn't have the heart to explain that it's that she enjoys the name Betony too much to let someone like Smogmaw use it. Her clanmates don't actually care beyond finding a new or better foothold to hurt her, Betonyfrost knows, and she isn't about to give them something to use without a fight.

She huffs at Rainecho, rolls her eyes and looks away.

"And what I'm saying is that there isn't — there isn't any tizzy here. I'm coming to hate that word, and it would do you good to — just fucking shut up about it, okay?" She waves at Magpiepaw with flippant paw, a vague go away gesture that Betonyfrost uses to mean go off a ravine, but the intricacies between the two are lost in the smallness of the motion.

Smogmaw cutting in stops Betonyfrost from saying more. Asks if she's okay, like that's something that Smogmaw needs to know. Or, more concerningly, as if he cares to know the answer. He tells her to look at him and, despite herself, Betonyfrost does.

"When have I ever been okay?" Betonyfrost bites out, as if she doesn't know what Smogmaw is talking about, "I'm not hurt and no matter how many times you or anyone else suggest otherwise, I'm loyal to this mudpit. There isn't any ThunderClan tom — there isn't any tom." She considers bringing up Chilledstar as a deflection. The whole clan must know by now; Betonyfrost has never been subtle, but they've rejected Betonyfrost and she still hasn't found a way to convince them to change their mind.

"I'm the same lovelorn idiot I've always been, making new mistakes," Betonyfrost settles on, with the hope that if Smogmaw has something he'll be satisfied and let her alone, "Is that what you wanted to hear? Or are you going to sit there and watch me eat this frog?"​

shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | 18 moons | tags​