private LIFE OF SERPENTS [ ˚❀༉‧₊ ] CHILLEDSTAR, SMOGMAW

[Starlingheart]

Her mind is completely blank as she follows her deputy and her leader into the inner sanctum of Chilledstar's den. A den that was once her mothers, her brothers, but was more familiar to her now as belonging to a black and white figure with icy blue eyes. By now she is certain that Smogmaw and Chilledstar think there is some great secret that was about to tumble from her lips, but Starrlingheart can only feel the crushing weight of a mother defeated as she takes a seat in the dim light, pulling her snow capped tail tight to her body as she waits for the other two to get comfortable. How would they recieve the news, she wonders. Certainly, better than she had.

If she could, she would carry on as if nothing had been told to her at all. Pretend like she thought that Granitepelt's words were nothing more than the incomprehensible murmurings of a cat on their death bed. But it was too specific, too coherent and she knows better. Still, she cannot be the one who tells the clan. "It's- it's about my daughter" she says, finally breaking the silence they have graciously afforded her with her cracking and stuttering voice. She clears her throat, squeezes that lone eye shut and summons the strength to speak out loud the horrible horrible truth which she wants nothing more than to deny. "She's alive." And wouldn't it be a wonderful thing if it was just that? If her news was simply that a piece of her heart had been returned to her and nothing more. "She goes by Ghostmask now. She-she ran away. With Granitepelt." Why she would ever deign to do such a thing was not within the medicine cats mind to think of. Granitepelt had hardly ever paid any attention to her from what she could remember. What did I do wrong?

She leaves her current origins unspoken. With any luck, the two cats before her now could read between the lines, guess she had ended up in the same place as her father. DuskClan, it was called. Borne of the evil that had been purged from WindClan and ShadowClan combined. "She killed Nettlepaw" she breathes out finally, the words coming out choked and strangled and each syllable forced from her mouth like bile. A tear forms in her eye which she reaches up to stubbornly wipe away with the back of her forelimb. "I... fuck she-she killed him" she chokes out again, as if shes really trying to convince herself, as if speaking it out loud has made it somehow more real, more tangible. A claw straight to the heart that spelled out how much she had utterly failed as a mother to her children.

// @smogmaw @CHILLEDSTAR.

( ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. ) fly me up on a silver wing

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  STARLINGHEART SHADOWCLAN MEDICINE CAT; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO PITCHSTAR, CHITTERTONGUE, NIGHTSWARM, SKUNKTAIL, AND LILACFUR. MOTHER TO NETTLEPAW, FLINTWISH AND GHOSTMASK.
  

  A skinny she cat with short black and white fur littered with scars and one singular green eye.

  ✦ Easy in battle + has little to no formal battle training
  

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[smogstar]

Smogmaw, Chilledstar, Starlingheart, and her constant companion, tragedy. All cloistered at an intimate proximity. Near enough to share breaths, as well as words meant to stay confined to these walls.

Shade drapes his features in somber tones. He's sat on his haunches within the ShadowClan leader's den, a preemptive prickle in his posture. Granted, it's clung to him like a leech since Granitepelt's final misfortune was disclosed before all. He's been bereft of the opportunity to rid it from his spine, and for as long as the news continues, it will keep his hold on him.

Steeled for more developments of a similarly bleak variety, Smogmaw's unfeeling stare shadows the medicine cat constantly throughout her continued account. Even hearing her daughter's newfound prerogatives and ambitions, brows remain untroubled by tension or any crease of surprise. As nothing about it is remotely shocking. Ghostpaw vanished at an all-too convenient juncture in time; given the choice between living in a reeling, grieving clan or shunning it entirely, she'd picked the path that relieved her of the greatest strain—as any weak-kneed miscreant would. How she condoned the new life she'd carved for herself, though, it briefly ruffled the deputy with scorn.

Briefly. Only briefly. Because the tom gleans a clear read on the torment which wracks Starlingheart so. It is beyond grief, a potent psychological suffering. His sole foothold from which to relate is his vague understanding as a fellow parent.

One of her children had slaughtered a sibling. Fratricide. Such atrocities had no precedence nor mercy to it, and surpasses all means of emotional interpretation. At least, those available to him. He knows it's a tragedy. He knows it's soul-crushing. And he knows how crippling it is to even see her recount it in a way so overwrought. But his ability to emote, to comprehend her torment, ends at its mere fundamentals.

He decides to refrain from attending to the decisions that must be made. Those may wait for the future. Misery stalks the she-cat as a fox would to a nursery, hungry for its next morsel, a never-ending force. It has overwhelmed her anew, and more than all else at the moment, Starlingheart must receive support.

Paws plod towards the distraught she-cat. Stiff in his gait, Smogmaw circles around her and halts at an adjacent flank. Though reluctant at first, he follows through on his comforting gesture, deigning to give her ear a lick. "You're at fault for none of that." Painfully obvious as the reminder may be, it yet serves a purpose. She should hear it spoken and internalise it. "She was fed the same lies that ruined her father's mind, and in turn, they had ruined hers. It doesn't reflect on you. You're a victim in this, not an instigator. No parent should expect or deserve what has happened to you."

Tactfully, or perhaps just logically, he does not speak on what would become of Ghostmask. There is no justice to be had with her, no amends to make, beyond leaving her body in a pit for the rats to gorge on. Mentioning this simply wouldn't bode well.​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

this was a lot of information to process all at once, sure, but they could only imagine how that felt for starlingheart. at least when chilledstar's dad had killed them they... didn't need to process much of anything. it was simple enough. they had no questions. they didn't need to know why. they didn't have this urge to figure out why someone that they wanted to love them had hurt them so badly... right? they actually don't know the answer to thst question. they're lying to themself, and they know it. they only sigh quietly, gently offering a soft nudge against the medicine cat.

"i'm sorry, starlingheart. i really am."

they wish they could have done more. saved her. been better, so that maybe granitepelt hadn't taken the path that he did. wished that he was a better mate to her. a better father to his kits. but that's not happening. he's dead now, and he dug his grave long ago. it was sad to think that ghostmask was doing the same thing. their heart aches for the poor girl. all she ever wanted was for her father to look at her. to appreciate her. they relate to that more than anything. to want their fathers love, even now, makes them feel pathetic. still, she went missing. they thought that maybe the forest had shown her mercy enough to kill her but she hadn't been so lucky. they can still only hope she's... okay? she was just a kid. she never deserved to become a monster like her father.

"you did what you could and I know that doesn't feel like enough. it never will. but you're a good mother and you've still got a kit to care for. she needs you, too. stay strong, okay? we will be here with you. every step of the way. we won't let you fall. grief for as long as you need. cry as much as you need. but as long as you get up, you will be okay, starls."

———————---***i try to live in black and white***———————---​

but i'm so blue✧ i'd like to mean it when i say i'm over you

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• — black feline with a white marking across their face, a white chin, a white right front paw, and blue eyes. chilledstar is covered in scars, the most prominent ones being the one across their face, and the one across their neck.
  — 47 moons old; ages the 3rd every month
  — they / them pronouns
  — aromantic / homosexual ; currently not looking
  — child of JAGGED and RAVEN
  — shadowclan ; loyal to shadowclan ; other info if applicable
  — mildly difficult to befriend ; trusts barely anyone; trusts no one outside of shadowclan
  — "speech", thoughts, attacking
  — peaceful powerplay allowed

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