it's quiet uptown ;; green.

[Fireflyglow]

WE'VE BEEN DOIN' ALL THIS LATE NIGHT TALKIN' ✧​

Green is a deadly color.

A mantra, repeated to comfort Fireflypaw and remind him of reality. Dawnglare said it to him once, and it stuck in his mind ever since. Twisted its true meaning, formed itself into something ugly. But it remains, and haunts Firefly even as he runs from it. His face is buried into his paws, eyes shut tightly against the harsh light outside of the apprentice den. He didn't want to get up, and it wasn't like he had a mentor in the first place. This was it, he was going to stay an apprentice forever- die in the apprentice den an Elder. His eyes sagged as he hears a sniffle in the back of the den, lifting his ragged head to look over towards the source.

Greenpaw was crying to himself; had he stopped, since Morningpaw had died? Fireflypaw shakily stands, clearing his sore throat before he taps his paw on the ground. One, two- no. One, two, three, four. Good. A step, and he avoids the cracks in the snow in favor of reaching Greenpaw first before his demise. It's going to be okay, He was tempted to say, but he's unsure if that was true at this point. He couldn't promise that. Nobody could. "Can we cuddle?" He asks softly, sheepishly- wanting to give the other apprentice comfort. Even if only with a tight snuggle, a shoulder to lean on. That was good enough, wasn't it?​

 

[GREENEYES]

His dreams are plagued with his namesake. Waves of viridian crashing into the forest. Emerald toxins spilling out of wounds. Deadly contagion, SkyClan falling, one by one by one.

Greenpaw jolts awake, rips himself out of his nightmares. Panicked tears fill up his eyes as he looks around, scans the apprentice den he wakes up in. In his corner; the corner where he isolated himself in - moved his nest with the guise of needing more room, but in truth was due to his fears of cursing those who also inhabit the den.

Nightmares, he reminds himself. They weren't real, despite what festers. But still, Greenpaw cries, shaken by the images that plague his mind, the loss that lingers over the forest.

Morningpaw should still be here. Snowpaw shouldn't have to hide. Figpaw should be able to climb.

He sniffles, paws attempting to rub at his eyes and dry stray tears. Greenpaw thinks he's alone, but a voice makes itself known.

"Can we cuddle?"

The ginger tabby backs away, sinks further in his nest. Infection. No, he can't risk that. Shouldn't risk looking at the one that speaks either, but finds himself doing so anyway. He expects to meet his namesake, but meets blue eyes instead. Fireflypaw. He drops his gaze, looks away with flattened ears.

He wishes for comfort, but can't curse the apprentice that stands before him. He can't lose his friend. He can't blind Blazestar with further grief.

"I... I can't," he tells him finally, voice cracking at the end of his short sentence.
​

 

[Fireflyglow]

WE'VE BEEN DOIN' ALL THIS LATE NIGHT TALKIN' ✧​

I... I can't, It's soft, shaken- Fireflypaw is watching his friend suffer in agony from his own namesake, and he can't help but to stare numbly towards him. Empathy, something he was cursed with- even though Snowpaw killed his sister, he couldn't blame him like Howlpaw did. As much as he wanted to be angry, to tear into him and make him suffer the same way Morningpaw suffered her slow and agonizing death, he couldn't.

You are no saint, little bug. Death always comes to collect her children.

He recalls his conversations with a religious molly, a fanatic who tried her best to quell his anxieties, his worries- to fix him of this strange behavior he'd began after his baby sister's death. But no relief came, not in the eyes of Death nor of StarClan, or the Mother herself. He wasn't a saint, couldn't bring cats back from the dead even if he wished for it. Fireflypaw blinks sadly as he settles down a short distance away from Greenpaw. His paws tuck beneath himself, face aching.

Green is a deadly color.

A reminder, once again. But he does not see Greenpaw as poison. He didn't bubble with Death-smell, didn't harm those who were innocent. He helped, aided, supported. "You're a good person." He murmurs softly towards the other tom, tail flicking once, twice, thrice, four times. Settling. Good. "Do you see yourself as illness?" He asks, blue eyes shifting towards the blurry form of his friend. Patience. He needed patience. "You aren't. Sickness doesn't come from the one cat who brings good to the color Green. Bad things don't happen just because you're Green." He lays his head on the ground, serenity in his movement. Calm came from loss, from acceptance that things would be okay soon. Dawnglare taught him many things in his quiet den, just the two of them- only hearing the soft breathing of Figpaw and others whom needed a healing paw. But Fireflypaw watched, found comfort in the chewing of teeth and grinding of stone beneath paw. Of strong catmint, intense against the tongue. "Catmint is green, you know.. And it heals. Cures deadly illnesses. That's.. That's what you remind me of."

His eyes shift to a leaf buried into Greenpaw's nest, an urge to swat it away. "You're a gift, Greenpaw. To me. To SkyClan. You aren't cursed. Morningpaw would have agreed with me. I'm sure she still does, from up there."​

 

[GREENEYES]

Good, Fireflypaw calls him. Good. Good. Good. The word repeats in his head again and again, until it no longer sounds like a word, but still leaves him mulling over its use.

How can that be? How can Greenpaw be good when Figpaw is stuck in the medicine den? When Morningpaw is stuck in the stars? When Snowpaw can barely step foot into camp?

Perhaps Greenpaw doesn't quite get it. Perhaps his friend doesn't either.

Illness. That sounded more like it. Curse, poison, infection. Illness. Another sort of negative connotation to add to the growing list of definitions to his namesake. Good couldn't be one of them.

"Bad things keep happening everyone I care about," he says quietly, gaze lowered to his focus on the white of his paws. "Churro. Fig. Morning. Snow... It... It keeps happening. It keeps happening, and it keeps getting worse, and I... I'm at the root of it all. I.. I cursed them. I'll curse you too." The ginger-furred apprentice can't be good, if he keeps cursing those he cares for. He can't.

"I don't want to hurt you," he admits with a squeak. He doesn't want to hurt his friend more. He's already done enough, hasn't he? Already cursed Fireflypaw's own sister with Snowpaw's claws. Already cursed her to an early eternity in the stars. His friend didn't deserve more pain. He was too good for such a cruel fate.

Six. The number still looms over Greenpaw, waits to claim a victim in his curse.

But, Fireflypaw brings up a point - catmint heals. Catmint heals, and it's green.

He thinks for a moment on this shared fact, paws shifting in his nest. He reminds Firefly of catmint. He's a gift, his friend continues forth with. The pointed apprentice thinks his sister would agree. Wherever she is, in the night's sky.

"Do you really think so?" Greenpaw isn't sure if he believes him, but it makes him feel a little better - gives his head a needed break from his fears. He isn't quite sure how, but, maybe this is what he must do instead, to keep his friends and family safe. Heal, instead of curse.

Starting with his friend before him, whose words he finds safety in - a shelter from his deadly omen. The apprentice shifts over in his nest, leaving an empty space beside him. An open invitation to answer Fireflypaw's initial question, a question of his own lingering - does Fireflypaw really trust Greenpaw enough to not curse him with green?

"Are you okay?" he asks him, because... because he thinks that's what he's supposed to ask. Grief was still so new, and Fireflypaw had been hit with the worst of it.
​

 

[Fireflyglow]

WE'VE BEEN DOIN' ALL THIS LATE NIGHT TALKIN' ✧​

Bad things happened when Greenpaw got close to someone, he says. Fireflypaw frowns at the idea of this revelation; how could that be? A cat can't bring bad luck or illness on others unless they intended to, right? "Someone once told me that fate can be cruel sometimes. Think of our lives like a story; everything must come to an end eventually. A few injuries, illness, mistakes- it's additions to our stories. You aren't cursed, Minty." He worries about cursing Fireflypaw, and there's something in the back of his head that reminds him that he was already cursed- tainted with sin. He was no saint. Just a child who wanted to believe in the good of everyone, even if he was hurt by it in the end. At least then, they'd be given a chance.

"You won't hurt me." He reassures his friend, eyes shining with emotion- for the first time since Morningpaw's death, he felt nothing but affection in his heart. Truth, the power of belief in another, friendship. Things always turned out alright when you believed in people, just as his Clan had believed in him. Do you really think so? "I know so. You callin' me a liar?" Firefly huffs playfully, giving the tom a small little grin in response. He watches as Greenpaw shifts over, leaving some space; Fireflypaw is all too eager to warm it with his own body. He carefully stands, slowly making his way over to close the short space between them in favor of sprawling out in the bed. Long legs cracked at the joints, Fireflypaw stretching out next to his friend.

Once he's satisfied with the relaxing stretch, he leans his body against Greenpaw's own, stocky paws hanging from the side of the nest. Obviously too big for this, it seemed. Are you okay? He asks, and Fireflypaw halts as he begins to groom his own paws. They lower then, deep blue eyes swimming with emotion. "No," He answers honestly, a sad smile on his face. "But I will be. Healing comes with time, after all." He hums to himself, tone sing-song and light. "What happened was an accident. A terrible, horrible accident. I.. Can understand my siblings' anger. Their sadness. But Snowpaw is innocent. Morningpaw, she.. I saw her. She leaped right in front of Snowpaw, tried to stop him from fighting-" His voice croaks, cracking from the intense sadness that swallows him. But he continues. "..She wasn't a fighter, my baby sister. She was always the one who kept to the side, watched from afar. She asked us not to cry when she died. She didn't.. She didn't blame anyone for her death, not even herself."

Fireflypaw smiles down at his paws, before he turned to begin grooming Greenpaw's shoulder. Comforting, to be able to take care of other, to soothe them. Talking about his problems made him feel better, but being in the company of those he cared about would always be his first choice. "My life is falling apart and all I can do is protect my siblings. Smile for them, so they can smile again one day themselves. Everyone loved Morningpaw. Especially me."​

 

[GREENEYES]

The ginger tom blinks, looking over at his pointed friend. "Minty?" Greenpaw asks with a tilt of the head. It might not be the most important part of what the slightly younger apprentice tells him, but, Greenpaw can't help the relief he feels in the word; the brief moment of being called something that doesn't find a negative connotation in death.

He'll have to think of a good nickname for Fireflypaw, he supposes. One that matches him perfectly.

"I'm not calling you a liar," he quickly responds with a flick of a tail, sticking his tongue out at his friend. Fireflypaw's not a liar, but Greenpaw still feels a bit of unease as the stocky tom settles in beside him - fear that what truth he speaks may be out of his paws, an unbeknownst lie spoken between them. Fate may be cruel, but Greenpaw will try his best not to hurt him.

Shifting over a bit more, he realizes then how much his friend has grown. How much they've both grown, but Greenpaw wonders if Fireflypaw grows twice as fast as he does - dark paws capping limbs longer than what Greenpaw's light paws do, a struggle to fit both of them in Greenpaw's nest.

"I think you used to be smaller than me," he comments, setting his head against his own paws. He thinks back to the day they'd first arrived in SkyClan, the five of them, how excited he was to meet them - to be friends with all of them - pine cone in tow as he greeted Blazestar's children. A simpler time, one that Greenpaw finds himself wishing they were back in - a world of happiness and wonder. Oh, how things had changed.

He's not okay, Fireflypaw says, and Greenpaw looks back up at him. Of course, he's not okay. Of course not. What a silly question. Greenpaw feels like he's drowning within viridian waves in the wake of Figpaw's injury and Snowpaw's place in the skirmish. If he's drowning, then what is Fireflypaw doing?

He speaks of Snowpaw's innocence and puts on a smile, as if trying to keep his head above water.

"You... don't hate Snowpaw...?" he asks slowly. In the midst of his own curse, Greenpaw had wondered if he should hate his brother for what he'd done; if that's something he was supposed to do - tackle him to the ground and shout at him like Howlpaw did, rather than show any sort of compassion for the grey tom. Morningpaw should still be here, and Fireflypaw's apparent lack of hatred towards Snowpaw was confusing - unfair, almost. Unfair that Fireflypaw has to remain strong, while his siblings openly mourn.

"But, you're allowed to be sad too, you know," he tells him, nudging his shoulder as he shifts to press closer to his friend. "Because, it is sad. It's sad, and you shouldn't have to pretend it's not. It's sad, and confusing, and unfair. She should be here too. You... You don't have to pretend to be happy for everyone."
​