private LOST ALL SENSE OF CONTROL // branchpaw

[splashdance]

Splashdance arrives at the gathering just as she had done moons prior; in a thrall of RiverClan warriors. Fatigue wears on her figure, however, and trepidation in her eyes. It seems that ThunderClan wears smaller numbers, no doubt due to the battle conducted between them. The warrior eyes some of the vaguely familiar faces, not wondering if they hurt from the territory loss, but instead if they struggle from the same mutiny. Are you damning her? She thinks of the blue tabby who announced her sin in order to save her lineage; brave a foolish and absolutely something her own mother would've done if needed to. But she cannot ask them. She doesn't even allow her gaze to linger for too long, not so eager to instigate any argument.

Lazily, her gaze floats away from the masses and into the nothingness of the shadows. And in the nothingness... Oh. She thought if she was to see her little siblings again any time soon, she'd recognize them in an instant; and yet the hardened glare of the tom reflects nothing to her memory. Instead it's his familiar pelt - his build, too, though it's broadened and strengthened over the moons, no doubt.

Eager for a warm reprieve, she approaches Branchpaw.

"Hey...!" she greets, her excitement certainly misplaced in the morose gathering. "I... uh, long time no see, Branch," her voice softens as she closes the distance, allowing them a sense of peace in the ensuing and unavoidable chaos. Her tail scoops around her form and she glances through the shadows, searching for her littermates, his littermates, their mothers, before turning her gaze back to him. "How's... training?"

Awkward. It's so awkward.

@BRANCHPAW
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[BRANCHPAW]

𓆱 Branchpaw doesn't want to be here. His mama is buried, and his family is fractured. Broken. Again. His life feels the same as when his older kin broke the news to him that his beloved sister was gone. Except this time, Needledrift is actually gone. She hasn't run off to a different clan without a word, living a happier life and not thinking about the cold empty space she left behind. The space that his mama had once filled is empty and cold, yes—but she is truly gone. She hadn't chosen to leave.

His mind races, and the voices of those around him are muffled as he stalks through the clearing. He doesn't know, exactly, what he's planning to do. Maybe he'll just hide in a shadowed corner and pretend he can't talk, and then no one would question why the fire that blazes in amber eyes has been diminished to embers. He lost Flintwish at some point, left the older feline behind, but that's probably for the best as he spots a familiar black and white pelt moving toward him. Once, he would have been glad to see her, but now, she is a curse. If she had stayed, would Needledrift still be alive? Was she the one who cursed their family, by crossing clan lines and abandoning her home? "You-!" He hisses the word, spits it from his mouth like poison, as Snowy—Splashdance—dares to approach him with a familiar feathersoft voice.

His voice is the flicker of a dying fire, grief and hurt dousing what little strength had carried him this far. Scrambled thoughts come out with little intelligent input, mouth always moving faster than mind as the boy speaks. She asks about his training, and he rips apart any idea of giving her a reasonable response. "Long time—ha—no see," he echoes bitterly. "That's your fault. You left us. You abandoned us. You didn't even say goodbye!" He allows himself to feel the hurt all over again, of losing his sister and then of discovering that she had never truly been lost at all.

"I thought you were… HA!" his throat catches on the next word, a horrible laugh managing to wrench itself from his maw. "Dead! I thought… I searched for you for months! And you just left! and you don't even care that… that MOM IS DEAD!" He bares his teeth, feeling tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. He wants to lash out, but he could never. Not at Snowy—not at her, even if the cat who stands before him is not his sister. Even if she never will be his sister again. He can't hurt her, not physically.

archers never make good kings 𖠰𖠰 fly headfirst into everything

• ooc: —
• 
• BRANCHPAW ❯❯ he/him, apprentice of shadowclan
  𖠰 fluffy lilac tabby with white spotting and amber eyes. quiet and seething, but a natural storyteller.
  𖠰 son of ferndance and needledrift ; brother to bonechill, bloodwing, shadewhisker, splashdance, gigglepaw, morelpaw
  𖠰 mentored by flintwish
  𖠰 peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  𖠰 penned by foxlore

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[splashdance]

There's a flinch in her frame when he narrows his gaze upon her. He hisses the first word, incredulous that she's even approached him, even offered him a modicum of conversation - after all she's done... He's quicker to lash out at her than allow her reprieve and a chance to explain. Splashdance feels as frigid as the nighttime air as she watches him, the way his jaw clicks and his tongue tangles itself with disbelieving laughter. "... I thought you were dead!" Branchpaw nearly snarls and the black furred molly can only shake her head slowly, gently, but still struggle with the right words. Are there any right words?

"... Mom is dead!"

Again, she flinches, but this time her blood runs cold, and everything in her stomach threatens to leave her. There is no moments to pass and wait while she collects herself - he does not give her time to correct whatever wrongs he'd declared of her. The news is dropped like a corpse atop her shoulders and her legs wobble beneath the weight.

"I... I didn't..." She tries to pull back, to give him what he wants - answers, admission of guilt, anything. Tears prick in her eyes, just as they do his, and Splashdance concedes. She does not encroach on his personal space and try to sweep him into an embrace. Frankly put, she does not know the tom before her anymore... She ensured as much when she left without a word to him. She can cry that she did it for his benefit, so that he didn't need to worry about her - but evidently, he did. They all did, maybe.

There's a blip of hatred in her chest for Lichenstar, for hiding her for so long. The disgust is swallowed by understanding, then grief and guilt, and then a wallowing pit of nothingness.

"Branchpaw..." her voice wobbles. Her teeth clench as she tries to find words, any words that may placate him again. She needs to know now - please don't leave me in the dark. "How... How did it happen?" she asks with a painful rasp in her throat.

If he tells you, what will you do?

I don't know.
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[BRANCHPAW]

𓆱 His words catch her off guard. He was right—she doesn't know. She doesn't even deserve to know, does she? She's the one who decided to abandon them (to abandon him). She's the one who decided to go to RiverClan, so far away, and not even bother to say goodbye. She's the one who broke everything and left her entire family shattered on the ground. There's no sympathy in the tabby tom's expression as he faces her, flanks heaving, rage bared in the same frame as his teeth. The flinch that she gives is enough to satisfy him—he should feel bad about that, shouldn't he?—but at the same time it could never be enough. Nothing will ever be enough to fully soothe the wildfire that burns in his chest, eating away at Branchpaw from the inside.

(It's poetic, a corner of his mind chimes in. He's a log, rotting from the inside. He's hollowed out, and eventually his outsides will crumble to match the inside. But that won't be tonight.)

"How did it happen?" his estranged sister asks, and it only serves to make his temper flare once again. Flames lick at his ribs, curling there and tugging at the threads of his anger. How did it happen? Needledrift had finally started to be happy again, he'd thought. She had gathered the entire family for a nap and joked about all of them having a den to themselves. She would have been peacefully tucked away in that same nest, but instead she was dragged away to fight for another clan's territory.

Mirestar had announced it, as though it would be simple: "RiverClan and ShadowClan shall enjoy an alliance," the leader had said. They are at fault… but so is RiverClan. So is Splashdance. Had she helped her clan fight ThunderClan? Had she been celebrating a victory while their mother laid bleeding, dying? "ThunderClan killed her," he forces out, and it's just as much bitten as it is spoken. He doesn't want to let go of it, doesn't want to offer any solace to the stranger in front of him.

His voice dips, and it becomes icy as the ground had been when he'd woken up in the morning. "Because RiverClan wanted to attack them. Did you win, Splashdance? Did it make you happy, to live in ignorance, to not care how what you do hurts everyone else?" He should stop. He should really stop. But she's still—she's still standing there, looking hurt, sounding on the verge of tears, and she hasn't retreated yet. "Aren't you happy, now that you have everything you wanted?"

archers never make good kings 𖠰𖠰 fly headfirst into everything

• ooc: —
• 
• BRANCHPAW ❯❯ he/him, apprentice of shadowclan
  𖠰 fluffy lilac tabby with white spotting and amber eyes. quiet and seething, but a natural storyteller.
  𖠰 son of ferndance and needledrift ; brother to bonechill, bloodwing, shadewhisker, splashdance, gigglepaw, morelpaw
  𖠰 mentored by flintwish
  𖠰 peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  𖠰 penned by foxlore

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