private NOTHING BUT SAND & berryheart

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

( ☄. *. ⋆ ) He'd certainly had worse wounds. Memories of the Great Battle, of a cat half his age defending the mother he'd nearly clawed to pieces, a cat with tortoiseshell fur and eyes like lightning -- and he'd seen his reflection in those eyes, a terrifying visage splattered with the blood of innocents --

But his pride bears deep scores. His mother lies half-dead, cobwebs clotting with her blood, and her would-be murderer stalks the forest. Trufflepelt has escaped his vengeance, and he is bitter, bitter. Why had he stopped? Raccoonstripe has killed before, knows he can kill again for the right reasons -- so why --

Why had the old fool turned into that pine-dweller right before his eyes? Why had he turned to stone? Trufflepelt could have given him a death blow if he'd thought twice about it.

Instead, he bears stinging claw marks across the thinning expanse of his white belly. They sting when he walks, though it's a pale imitation of the gaping red wounds his mother wears.

"I shouldn't be in here," he grouches at Berryheart. Howling Wind would be sleeping nearby, twitching with sleep, as his brother's herbs and StarClan's watchful eyes work to heal her body.

He stares in her direction, his eyes nearly obsidian, shiny with flint-hard anger. His next comment is a murmur: "You should be worrying about her. Not me." He winces as he shifts, feeling a shallow slip of blood dampen his stomach fur. He's endured worse, he thinks. He should be out doing patrols. He should be...

Hunting him down.​

( I CAN SEE THE SKY LIGHT UP , AND THE GROUND EXPLODE )

 

[BERRYHEART]

Through his herbs he sorted, spotting orange petals, a roll of cobwebs and a certain sort of leaf. The latter of the lot he was unsure of effect in this particular circumstance. All he knew was that daisy leaves soothed aches, and who was to say that did not mean they acted as a pain killer without the drowsy properties of poppy seeds? There was only one way to find out, really, and it was to try it. Blood smogged the air- kin's blood, no less- and despite the nausea it brought, it was also an opportunity.

Wonky eyes looked blankly at his littermate as his words prickled like electric shock from his maw. Well... more like a dull static buzz, grumpy in property but not all too harmful. Briefly did Berryheart's attention slip to their mother, before he set his attention back upon his wounded brother. "I can worry about you both." Moons ago he might have shooed away the idea that he could worry at all, but it was a fact he could not deny now. Big Mama was- was alright, she was alive, and she seemed to be on the up. As always with this new duty, however, he could never be certain. He'd not felt uncertain since he was a kit. Since before he was... himself.

It was an ugly feeling, one he pushed away, trying to affirm in his mind that Mama would be alright. Stripes, too- it was a shallow wound, but if he got infected...

That was what the marigold was for. What the other medics had told him marigold was for. If they were wrong... well, it was not worth considering. They could not be wrong, or else they would not have told him such a thing.

"Let me know if this soothes the pain at all." Straight to business, for he wanted this wound out of his face- Berryheart did not hide the twinge of a grimace that twisted his lopsided features. Such a statement would all he would give as warning before he applied the poultice, one that would likely sting upon application. He'd had such complaints before... but maybe the daisy leaves would negate it.​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

"I can worry about you both." Despite himself, Raccoonstripe grins up at his brother. Stoic and staid. Convicted. He supposes it must be nice to be so self-assured. The poultice Berryheart applies to his wound causes an immediate sting, and the tabby's smile crinkles into a scowl.

"Thought this was supposed to relieve pain," he complains to his littermate. The expression on his face softens as he studies the tortoiseshell, coal-dark eyes finding pale blue. "How are you... coping?"

Berryheart is a tom of few words, few feelings, but Raccoonstripe has always felt at least somewhat in tune with him. He's so unlike Graystorm, fierce and loud, so unlike Jackdawflight, sweet and unassuming, that Raccoonstripe is drawn to him for that layer of mystery. He doesn't expect his brother to open up, but he has to admit he's felt so far away from him since he began to walk with StarClan.

Moments pass, and he adds, hushed, "I never got to ask you, and I didn't want Howling Wind to hear, but..." He studies his paws. "When StarClan comes to you. Do you see our father?"​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[BERRYHEART]

How nice it had been to see the smallest shimmer of a smile, even as it as immediately soured by what was likely his stomach-wound stinging. A little too late Berryheart returned the gesture, tiniest curves of the crooked lip creasing his uneven gaze. A complaint reached his ears soon enough- flattened them. The look upon his face wavered not, but his whiskers twitched in what could only be contemplation. "It didn't work, then," he hummed simply, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he took mental note of the fact. Daisy leaves seemed only to aid internal aches, not the sting of a wound.

Business steadied at more incoming inquiries, though. Difficult ones. Settling to a seat, a sigh lowered his shoulders, and silence lay a veil over his maw for a few long moments. "Well enough." As honest as he could get, that was how well he was coping whipped into as few words as possible. Succinct, precise. It was not great, not perfect, but well enough. No-one had died yet. No-one that he had failed. Time marched ceaselessly, as did fate- he was sure the event would come.

Every time the question of Father was brought up, Berryheart grew more statuesque than ever. Stillness engulfed him. He could not lie, could not bear the thought of attempting it, and yet... the truth was a painful one to admit. To admit he did not know something was difficult enough- and to admit he knew not why Father would not show his face?

It was the uncertainty that scared him, of course, but what disturbed him the most was the aching possibility. "No." The admittance came low from his maw, in volume and spirit. Despite the rising ache, he kept his tone level. "Only one cat has visited me, and it wasn't him." Either Father did not dwell there or he wished not to see Berryheart in particular, unwilling to make a special case for a kitten never agreed upon. Of course, there existed within him the smallest ember of hope that Father simply could not visit, though he wanted to... never had he wished for one fragment of knowledge more than the answer to this riddle.​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

Berryheart's smile is slight, delayed, but seeing it brings Raccoonstripe a modicum of relief. Even as the tortoiseshell sighs, "It didn't work, then." "Can you not experiment on your favorite brother?" Teasing, the edge to his voice is born of familiarity, of a bond not easily tested.

He's stoic, though, and answers Raccoonstripe's questions as he answers everyone's -- succinctly. "That's good." He tucks his paws beneath him, wincing only slightly at the movement.

When the tabby asks about Gray Wolf, their mythical sire, Berryheart stills, all warmth between them scraped away. "No." Raccoonstripe's eyes narrow. "Only one cat has visited me, and it wasn't him." He can't imagine what his littermate is thinking, and Raccoonstripe doesn't walk with the stars as his brother does. He blinks at him, expression softened somewhat. "He will. Of course he will. Maybe he can't just choose to come... maybe StarClan doesn't work like that." Said lamely, without conviction. Coming from an average warrior with no knowledge of how StarClan works, he supposes he isn't the one who could assuage any of Berryheart's worries.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​