- Dec 1, 2022
- 15
- 2
- 3
❝ SOMETHING NEEDED ME ONCE ✿°.✧ ————————————
Pacifism is not a popular philosophy among their kind . Their lives are brutal ones, balanced on the edge of survival, and non-violence is a risk few can afford. It's also a little foolish: violence hasn't disappeared from Bramblesong's life just because she turned her back on it. Her vow to never unsheath her claws against another cat ever again is pointless in the face of a violent world, impacting no one but herself, and she knows she would break it in a heartbeat to save the kits under her protection. At best, she is an idealist; at worst a hypocrite. All that for something that isn't even an easy way out of a fight: she must make that choice over and over again, every time she's in danger or the clan is threatened, weighing her own beliefs against the greater good. She knows she could be an asset in a fight; she was one, once, as her scars will attest. But would that strength serve her clan better than her softness? That's not a question she can answer yet, and maybe she never will.
It's... Isolating. Life as a loner was lonely, long spans of solitude intercut by brief dalliances or fights, but Bramblesong always had something in common with those she met: they were all fighting the same battle for survival. The knowledge of the way cat blood tastes in your mouth, the give of flesh under your claws, bound them together more surely than clan loyalties ever could. Even apart, they were the same. She doesn't have that same intrinsic connection to her clanmates in Shadowclan. There is a gap between their lives and hers, between the sharpness of their claws and the paws she tries so desperately to keep soft.
Actually, that's not true. There is one cat like her, with a dark pelt and battle scars, who towers over others and tries to choose peace over violence. Boarjaw is a striking figure in camp, but it's his gentleness that she notices first and foremost. She feels like they are alike enough to be kin – and Bramblesong would like them to be, because she doesn't think either of them deserve to feel lonely in their decision.
It takes some time – Boarjaw is not overly sociable, and she is so busy – but she finally manages to track him down some time after the kits have been sent to sleep, leaving her with some time to herself. Bramblesong approaches him with a genial smile and soft-narrowed eyes, projecting friendliness in the hope of soothing what seems to her like a very anxious tom.
”Hi, Boarjaw!” She coos, attempting to nose the tom's shoulder companionably before she sits next to him. It's how she greets kittens in the morning – meaning that, out of habit, it's how she greets pretty much everyone. ”Do you mind if I sit with you? I could use some adult company.”
Pacifism is not a popular philosophy among their kind . Their lives are brutal ones, balanced on the edge of survival, and non-violence is a risk few can afford. It's also a little foolish: violence hasn't disappeared from Bramblesong's life just because she turned her back on it. Her vow to never unsheath her claws against another cat ever again is pointless in the face of a violent world, impacting no one but herself, and she knows she would break it in a heartbeat to save the kits under her protection. At best, she is an idealist; at worst a hypocrite. All that for something that isn't even an easy way out of a fight: she must make that choice over and over again, every time she's in danger or the clan is threatened, weighing her own beliefs against the greater good. She knows she could be an asset in a fight; she was one, once, as her scars will attest. But would that strength serve her clan better than her softness? That's not a question she can answer yet, and maybe she never will.
It's... Isolating. Life as a loner was lonely, long spans of solitude intercut by brief dalliances or fights, but Bramblesong always had something in common with those she met: they were all fighting the same battle for survival. The knowledge of the way cat blood tastes in your mouth, the give of flesh under your claws, bound them together more surely than clan loyalties ever could. Even apart, they were the same. She doesn't have that same intrinsic connection to her clanmates in Shadowclan. There is a gap between their lives and hers, between the sharpness of their claws and the paws she tries so desperately to keep soft.
Actually, that's not true. There is one cat like her, with a dark pelt and battle scars, who towers over others and tries to choose peace over violence. Boarjaw is a striking figure in camp, but it's his gentleness that she notices first and foremost. She feels like they are alike enough to be kin – and Bramblesong would like them to be, because she doesn't think either of them deserve to feel lonely in their decision.
It takes some time – Boarjaw is not overly sociable, and she is so busy – but she finally manages to track him down some time after the kits have been sent to sleep, leaving her with some time to herself. Bramblesong approaches him with a genial smile and soft-narrowed eyes, projecting friendliness in the hope of soothing what seems to her like a very anxious tom.
”Hi, Boarjaw!” She coos, attempting to nose the tom's shoulder companionably before she sits next to him. It's how she greets kittens in the morning – meaning that, out of habit, it's how she greets pretty much everyone. ”Do you mind if I sit with you? I could use some adult company.”
———————————— ✧.°✿ AND I KNOW SOMETHING WILL NEED ME AGAIN ❞