on repeat || swansong

[betonyfrost]

“You don’t look so much like her.”

Betonyfrost’s green eyes flick left, right—nervous for prying ears. She sits coiled atop a jagged-peaked stump and, before her, is Swansong. Betonyfrost doesn’t see a strong resemblance to either of Swansong’s parents in her—something not unusual, but noteworthy to Betonyfrost regardless. Her paws fold beneath her chest as she continues.

“But perhaps that isn’t correct… Halfshade always had this thin, long fur, as yours is.” It’s easier to start with the physical, but it isn’t what Swansong wants to know, and it isn’t what Betonyfrost wants to speak about, “But the spat that was between us—it was before your birth. I believe I had lost my temper over something or another, and Halfshade had saw fit to scratch me for it. Everything I did seemed to bother her, after that, and we butted heads on everything.”

She pauses and tips her head in thought before continuing, “But even before that, she was always so…” Darling, Betonyfrost thinks. Her mouth curls enough to show teeth, “So condescending. No one else wants to say it now that she’s gone, but that was the truth of her.” ​

@Swansong
​

shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | 31 moons | tags​

 

[Swansong]

⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ 　"Don't I...?" they breathe, head tilted just so with a sort of detached interest. They've always been told that they look so much like her - in their fur, their form. They suppose their siblings bear the colors, but they bear the silhouette. Even Betonyfrost allows for some soft kind of admittance of this.

Of course, that is the less interesting part. That is not what she had asked. Tales of her mother, from one her mother distrusted. Warned her of, even. The superficial is far less interesting. What she finds more intriguing than shallow appearance comparisons is the form of the molly before her, two jagged lines dashed across her muzzle. "I... never knew her to be temperamental... Or violent, but for the bears. Perhaps she saw fit... to remain composed among her children." Their response is halting, considering. If Halfshade saw fit to tear the flesh upon Betonyfrost's muzzle, she must certainly have deserved it. She does not press, though. She waits.

And she is rewarded. "Condescending..." A soft echo. Distant eyes draw slowly to a flash of white fangs, and she snags on the sight of it like thread between teeth. She blinks. "...In what manner?" A bit more interest seeps into her momotone voice, though she remains little more than a vessel for questions. Here, a touch of venom in Betonyfrost's voice, a press upon an old bruise. Condescending. It is a side of her mother she had never seen, never thought to look for.

She hungers for the knowledge, the ghost of her mother turned faded and warped with time. Perhaps it is desperate, to ask Betonyfrost - or perhaps she wants to know that part of Halfshade that no one dares talk about. The part that leaves slashes across clanmate's noses and whispers names to watch out for in the ears of her children, all the things she was too blind to see in youth.

‎‎┌── WE FOUND TWO DEAD SWANS ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ AND FILLED THEIR BODIES WITH FLOWERS ──┐‎

• 
  
• 
  
  

  "SPEECH"

• 
  SWANSONG　⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆　she / they, warrior of shadowclan, fourteen moons.
  ➳ a pale, silky-furred cream tabby with tired blue eyes.
  ➳ dreamy and detached, known for her perpetual sleepiness.
  ➳ halfshade x smogmaw, littermate to applejaw, garlicheart, & ashenfall.
  ➳ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ➳ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[betonyfrost]

Conversations flit through Betonyfrost’s mind, as numerous and unpleasant as flocking sparrows. She will never speak to Halfshade again, not in this life, and it leaves her with a strange feeling. The grimace she wears dissolves into a more thoughtful frown. Distantly, she wonders if her memory is correct—does the voice in her mind match that which was heard? Hadn’t Halfshade a scar like Betonyfrost’s own?

“In what way?” She’s still in her thoughts and, with a forcible blink, returns to the now, “Why, are you looking for pointers? Condescending in your way, Swansong. Had a habit of assuming things about me—my intentions, my meanings—and then trying to mock or threaten me with such things. Every word she spoke made it clear to me that she thought she was so much better than me in all possible ways, when I was simply trying to get by as everyone else was at the time.” Her reedy voice remains neutral as she explains, still curled and folded as she is.

“You may find it hard to swallow, but I used to be such a meek thing. Everyone knew they could say anything to me and that I would just—” Annoyance flashes in her, directed towards herself, “—take it. After our spats started, I learned to stand for myself, but she hadn’t liked that. Even before, it was obvious to me that she thought I was some… some stupid little kit, who couldn’t get it right.”

Her eyes track back to Swansong’s face, and for a moment she does nothing but watch them. Remembering—searching her mind for something more tangible, and instead settles on how young Swansong looks. “I was about your age when she scratched me. Maybe a little older or younger—nothing more than a few moons. It’s about when I found my temper, and I’d venture to say it’s about when you are finding yours.” It isn’t warning that creeps into her voice—awareness, perhaps.
​

shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | 31 moons | tags​

 

[Swansong]

⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ 　The poison that spills from Betonyfrost's teeth slides like water from Swansong's back. They sift through her words quietly, face impassive. "In my way..." They cannot help but smile, though they know it inappropriate. There, she grasps this lost part of Halfshade between her teeth. She has passed it to her daughter in death, this misshapen thing which slips between the cracks of mourning praise. "How interesting...!" she breathes reverentially.

But is such a thing truly so terrible? Their eyes focus upon the cat before them, mind drifting from some imagined past to now. Those matching scars, blow for blow... She has no doubt that it was deserved for the cat still lives to bear it. Halfshade was a better cat than Betonyfrost. Swansong's mother was kind, brought a gentle touch to her children with a kindness that the bitter warrior could never wield. She feels more sure of that now than ever.

She feels little pity for the cat before her. "Hah... I can imagine you meek far less than I can my mother violent..." Her head tilts thoughtfully for a moment, trying to fit that image into the scarred form of Betonyfrost. It feels ill-fitting. She has only ever known the molly as an angry thing, a mother with wounded children. Never an object for anything more than inherited disdain; but it is interesting to peer into such a cat's perspective. A reflection of herself and her mother, refracted through broken-mirror eyes.

"I think you are mistaken, Betonyfrost. I was a timid thing, I am sure you saw me..." In her youth, hazy and drifting. "The deputy's lazy child, sleeping their life away... I have found my voice now, not my temper." A clarity similar to that which Betonyfrost speaks. She wields her anger with restrained, pinpoint precision, with minimal casualty. Betonyfrost's feelings are nothing to mourn. This distasteful feeling the tabby brings is is a new one, but she is far more graceful in harnessing it. There is some slight hint of dry mirth as she continues. "Though, ah... I can see how you might confuse the two..."

‎‎┌── WE FOUND TWO DEAD SWANS ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ AND FILLED THEIR BODIES WITH FLOWERS ──┐‎

• 
  
• 
  
  

  "SPEECH"

• 
  SWANSONG　⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆　she / they, warrior of shadowclan, fourteen moons.
  ➳ a pale, silky-furred cream tabby with tired blue eyes.
  ➳ dreamy and detached, known for her perpetual sleepiness.
  ➳ halfshade x smogmaw, littermate to applejaw, garlicheart, & ashenfall.
  ➳ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ➳ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[betonyfrost]

Swansong gives the expected response. Betonyfrost moves—a full-body twitch that tracks from the start of her spine to the end—regardless. She breathes through her nose and reminds herself twice not to narrow her eyes into a glare before failing; expectation doesn’t soften the blow of reality. She doesn’t speak immediately. It feels easy in the moment to let the silence stretch, her round head canted in open consideration.

When Betonyfrost does move, it is to slink out of her perch to stand properly before Swansong—level. Betonyfrost can lean into Swansong’s space and mean it, like this. Instead, she keeps to herself, paws together in proper pairs beneath her. To know that physical intimidation is an option—even untaken—is enough, for now.

“And if that is what I think of you?” It isn’t a challenge, despite the glare that hasn’t completely left her expression, “Would it matter? I’ve never gone out of my way to share it with you or anyone else. You haven’t done anything deserving of that treatment.” The yet isn’t said—Betonyfrost assumes it to be unneeded, “Voice or temper—whatever it is you’ve stumbled on is tetchy and… and yes, condescending.”

Betonyfrost steps beyond Swansong and sits no more than a foxlength away, then gestures for Swansong to follow.

“As soon as you get a reputation as angry it won’t take long for your peers to forget the word timid when it comes to you. Keep at this and you won’t be treated gently, anymore. All it takes is the wrong target, one time,” It feels uncomfortably like advice; mentally, Betonyfrost pulls back, “There isn’t a thing about you that I envy—losing a parent young isn’t the life I would wish upon another—so you really should stop playing at being Halfshade, here. There isn’t anyone to impress but me, and trying is making you look ridiculous.” ​

shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | 32 moons | tags​