sensitive topics love made me crazy | blazestar

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Lionsnarl

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"LIFE DOESN'T DISCRIMINATE BETWEEN THE SINNERS AND THE SAINTS"​
Morningbird had given him a lot to think about... almost too much to think about. Damn that man, damn his words, damn his coat, damn him, damn him, damn him. He had sent him... spiralling... thinking... he didn't want to be Crimsonbite anymore. He didn't want to be the monster cat that hated apprentices, chewed them up and spit them out. He didn't like the little brats - especially that little Snowpaw, what did Daisyflight nurse him with, snake venom? - but he wasn't some demon that hid under their nests, just waiting to eat their toes. He didn't want to be known as... as...

Murderer, his brain supplied, filthy rotten disgusting murderer. Killer. Psychopath, crazy, crazy cra- "Stop." He grumbled a-loud, startling a nearby warrior. Moon-eyed, the warrior stared at him, waiting for him with bated breath. The ginger king rolled his eyes and turned away from them with a 'tch', his paws taking him away from the warriors' den and to... the leader's den? His nose registered Blazestar's scent before his mind recognized what he was doing. Oh, stars. This wasn't the right time - would it ever be the right time - and yet he here was -

- wasn't there a hunting patrol he needed to be on? -

- his tongue clashing against his brain. His mouth betrayed him. "Blaise - hm - Blazestar? You in?" @BLAZESTAR​
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He's polishing off the scrawniest mouse he's ever eaten, brought to him by a tired apprentice, when a voice interrupts his whirlpool thoughts. "Blaise--hm--Blazestar? You in?" He lifts his head to stare at the mouth of the den, the shadow hulking outside of the elderberry bush. Blazestar swipes his tongue around his mouth. "Yes. Come in, Crimsonbite."

He pushes the bones away and begins to wash himself, licking enormous golden paws thoroughly. "What is it?" His tone is mild, eyes glimmering with curiosity -- and wariness. He knows the volatile tomcat has had a difficult time adjusting after the Great Battle, after losing Rain and Honeytwist and his kits -- he does. But the incident with Butterflypaw sticks in his mind.

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"LIFE DOESN'T DISCRIMINATE BETWEEN THE SINNERS AND THE SAINTS"​
He clears his throat as he enters, not quite knowing why he was even here, standing in front of his leader like an anxious kit. He should turn around, let Blazestar rest, get back to what he was doing, he should probably be doing anything else, but:

"I hate my name." He blurts out. "I hate it, you named me for skill in battle but you weren't there. I... I tore a man's throat out in front of his mate and I watched him die and I swallowed his blood like bile and it meant nothing because then I had to watch my brothers die just the same and then I come home and I get named Crimsonbite, like that man's blood was still on my face. Everyday, I'm reminded of him and what I did and I'm supposed to wear it like a badge of honor but how can I when it just means murderer?"

The word tumble out of his mouth as harsh as hail and he can feel the anger and the desperation in every syllable he speaks and he winces at his own tone, but he can't stop. It was too much, it had been too much for some time. His ears flatten against his head as he runs out of things to say, and he waits for the impending explosion, thinking of when he spilled his guts like this to Honey all those weeks ago at the SkyClan border. The same anger, the same neediness had run through him then... but now he had turned it on his leader, and Blazestar had the ability to toss him out on his ass if he wasn't careful... and he hadn't been careful, now had he?​
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Blazestar visibly flinches from Crimsonbite's bitter, anger-laced tirade. It's as though the wind from the ginger tom's breath has battered his face, a storm.

"I hate my name." He sits, still as stone, as Crimsonbite contines to speak. "You named me for skill in battle but you weren't there."

Blazestar flinches again, this time closing his eyes against the words. No, he hadn't been there in time to fight. He hadn't seen the claws tearing into flesh and fur, the fire in the pine cats' eyes boring into the ice of the marshes'. He had run to get Rain, to tell him his patrol had been attacked -- and he's been resented for it ever since, both by his Clanmates and himself.

And when Rain had marched to the battle, had he followed? No. No, he'd stayed behind, the kittypet camping in the forest, still learning how to tell a mouse scent from a cat's. Useless, he'd have been, but perhaps if he'd died in this battle his Clanmates would respect his courage and honor his name, rather than look at him as Sootstar still does. The Kittypet King.

He fixes helpless, hapless blue eyes on Crimsonbite, his expression stark. "I tore a man's throat out in front of his mate and I watched him die." A horror he had not experienced. A horror he could not imagine, not really -- oh, he could say it, but even now Blazestar has not once raised his claws against another cat. Not once.

He stands, shaking scraps of moss from long pale fur. His eyes drop to the earth, tail drooping.

"I'm supposed to wear it like a badge of honor but how can I when it just means murderer?"

"I never intended your name to be that for you," he says, his voice quiet and choked. He shifts his gaze to the wall of his den, subdued, demure. "I thought... I..."

You weren't there. You weren't there. It just means murderer. You weren't there.

"You're right. I wasn't there. I had no right to name you for a skill I'd yet to see myself." Anguish creeps into his bones, his voice. "Stars... how presumptuous you all thought I was, then... you were all right."

It's cold here, even in his den. He can see the gray sky through the leaf-stripped bush covering the entrance of his den. "I made a mistake. Many mistakes. Your name... I never meant..." He trails off, unsure. What does he want, then? For Blazestar to change his name? He waits, the air stagnant between them, for the other to tell him.

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"LIFE DOESN'T DISCRIMINATE BETWEEN THE SINNERS AND THE SAINTS"​
"It's all I see in myself, Blaise." Blaise. The name he had before the war, before everything. A name for the silly kittypet he met in the gardens that one day, the name for a friend he could've had if he weren't so.... himself. "It's all I see. I see them dead. My family. Rain, Everest, Haze. I went into battle, ripped out a man's life, and still lost everything. Every single time somebody calls me ..... that ...... I see them. I see him. I can't live like this, I need something else. Please. Please. Anything else."

His dark eyes, usually narrowed and guarded, are wide and pleading. Please. Please. Anything, anything, anything else. "I know I've been an awful warrior, I know I don't deserve anything more than to suffer with what I've done. Call me Nosnout, or Cruelgaze, or Foxheart, fuck, your son calls me Maggot-man, I'll take it, just anything that doesn't haunt me like that damn cat haunts me every time I close my eyes."​
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Blazestar has never killed another cat. His claws have remained free from enemy blood, enemy fur and flesh, even after six moons of leadership. He does not intimately know the haunted look in Crimsonbite's eyes, the shadows in his brain that hearken back to Fourtrees.

"Very well." He dips his head to the other cat. "At the next meeting, I will rename you to something more suitable." He hopes this is enough to satisfy the ginger warrior.

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