private PERSONA NON GRATA ✧ . briarpaw

[SCREECHSTORM]

✧ . When he was a kit, the medicine den had been a source of curiosity. It was a place of exploration he’d never quite had the chance to delve into with watchful gazes upon him, whereas peers near-exact in age would learn to memorize the place they called home. He used to envy them for the shelter above their head, but now?

He wonders how they weren’t counting the days until they would be free from it. Screechpaw has lived in this cave for… stars, he thinks he’s lost count, somewhere between cobweb changes and restless slumber. And while he’s only really seen his corner — where his nest lies, where Briarpaw rests with collateral damage nearby — he thinks he’s seen enough of it.

Screechpaw feels like a kit again, confined in one place with eyes on him. Hazel gaze burns into his fur, as if waiting for him to make a wrong move once more. Even with his eyes closed and his head rested against the edge of his nest does he feel it searing into him, searching to spark guilt-riddled kindling.

Too bad for Briarpaw, and himself, he won’t be moving too far.

He wonders if this is the longest he’s spent time with his sister. It’s no means of bonding of course — his failure almost killed her, and nearly killed him too. There’s no doubt that she’s just itching to scold him, to shout at him for the talon-forged marring at her stomach, for his own littering his rib cage.

Does he deserve it though? Absolutely. The apprentice may do stupid things, may put himself in situations that might have StarClan preparing to greet him, but he never meant for this to happen. Whatever he expected to happen when facing an owl, he never meant to take a sibling down with him.

Not that it matters anyway, does it? The clan praises her so effortlessly. They pray for her to be okay, they thank the stars when she makes her presence known. It doesn’t matter. Of course it doesn’t. Even when the looks are shot at him, grimaces toward the cause of her poultice coated fur. Who was the last to ask him if he was okay? To share gratitude that he’s still standing?

Briarpaw is a hero. Just as Sweetpaw was the other moon on the thunderpath. Saving him, again. And again, and again. Always.

“ You’re staring, “ he mutters from his place to break the silence — with eyes still shut and head still against moss bedding, as if he’s trying to rest. He’s not. Sleep is a point of struggle these days. But if he pretends to try, perhaps she’ll leave him be, maybe stick her head out of the medicine den’s entrance and get more praise, ever-heroic as she is.​

✦ ABOUT

• // @Briarpaw. !
• 
  SCREECHPAW ✦ AMAB. He / Him. Apprentice of ShadowClan.
  ✧ . A black/red tabby chimera tom with mismatched green eyes.
  ✧ . Forestshade x Vulturemask
  ✧ . Mentored by Chilledstar
  ✧ . Peaceful and healing powerplay permitted!
  ✧ . Penned by Abri ‣ @_abri_ on discord, feel free to dm for plots!
  ✧ . " Speech " ; Attack
  

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[Briarthorn]

.·:*¨༺🕷༻¨*:·. Long after she and Screechpaw had been whisked away to the medicine den, the moment her mind had been able to put together a continuous thought, rage had consumed her. White-hot, incredulous anger that she could hardly stand. It had been quick to pass, an isolated storm in the map of her fickle emotions, as she had told Singepaw only days before, even being enraged could not make her love her brother any less- could not bring herself to hate him.
For days on end they had been crammed together in the medicine den, left to do nothing but stare at opposite walls. Now, they were almost healed, and Briarpaw didn’t want to stare at the damned wall. Yet, the idea of going back outside after last time didn’t seem all that appealing either, and evergreen hues have somehow found their way in Screechpaw’s direction.
Ever since she had been awoken by his wailing, Briarpaw had noticed the way fatigue tugged at her brothers eyes, hunched his shoulders- it looks as though he is sleeping, but the ebony molly knows better. His shoulders are far too tense. You’re staring. The grumble is coarse, and Briarpaw rolls her eyes. “I’m your sister. I get to stare.” She finally fires in return, tail whisking to and fro in momentary thought. They had never been all that close, most of their conversations had been made up of Briarpaw chastising and Screechpaw shrugging her off. Still, she missed being his littermate, even with their dysfunction- she feels as though she is only a stranger now, the wariness that radiated from Screechpaw day and night poked needle-thin holes in her heart. Why? He had always been such a burden on her, consumed far too much of her time and attention, there was hardly any familial love on the surface. So why did the distance that had been ripped even further between them make anxiety stir in her stomach? “Why’d you do it? The owl.” Finally, Briarpaw continues, trying her best to keep the natural sharpness from her tone, criticism. She’d save his life a thousand times over, but that does not change her curiosity for his recklessness.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ALL YOU HAVE IS YOUR FIRE ⋅ ࿏ ⋅ AND THE PLACE YOU NEED TO REACH ──┐‎

• 
  
  
  

• 

• 
  BRIARPAW ꔫ she/her, apprentice of shadowclan, 9 moons.
  ⭃ slender, lean-muscled black she-cat with sharp hazel eyes & large ears.
  ⭃ daughter of Forestshade && Vulturemask ࿏ sister to Screechpaw && Sweetpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[SCREECHSTORM]

✧ . He’s right in his assumption. Of course he is. Because she’s his sister, and according to her, she gets to stare. Screechpaw snorts at that, a dark green eye opening to look at his shadow.

“ Not as much as you do, “ he shoots back. She always does, and always will, no doubt. He doesn’t think he can blame her for doing so anymore, doesn’t think he can blame eyes of others boring into him like he’s some sort of beast, something that shouldn’t be here, that needs to be quelled and rid of. “ I don’t need to be watched all the time, Bri. I’m not going anywhere. “ His words are sharp, only dulled by the defeated sigh that trails after his voice.

He can’t go anywhere if he wants to. And he wants to — he wants to get out of this den, wants to get away from Briarpaw’s watchful gaze, the sight of the poultice on her stomach, the scars that mar her, that mar him. He’s done what she’s always feared, and he’s dragged her down with him. Guilt wells up at the thought.

They’ve never really been close in anyway but that — never had a moment of bonding outside of their love of wind against their fur as they ran from one side of the Shadows’ training grounds to the next, and their temporary shelter here. But Briarpaw is his sister all the same, and she shouldn’t be trapped here with him.

Her voice pulls him out of his thoughts, near-foreign without the abrasive edge it usually carries in regards to him. Why did you do it? He hardly knows himself, a moment blurred with talons and feathers and blood. But he lifts his head anyway, eyes fully opened, though directed toward his paws as he thinks.

“ I was going after something else, “ he offers finally, remembering the prey scent he’d wandered toward, the struck down rat he’d found. “ The owl… The owl was just an added bonus. “ It’s a half-hearted joke, one that is pushed out with fear-wavering words.

“ It was there. I was there. I couldn’t… not try. It would’ve made a good catch. A cool story. “ And now this is the story he carries instead — this is the story he’ll carry forever. “ I thought it might… I thought it might make up for… I haven’t been catching much lately, and — “ Screechpaw stalls, a frown pulling at his maw.

What’s the point of this anyway, opening up to her? Of telling her what happened? What were her motives here: to turn it against him, to laugh at his failures — that he wanted to make Forestshade proud of the hunter he’s meant to be? She’ll just tell him that he messed up — he messed up everything. He already knows he did.

“ You shouldn’t have pushed me out of the way, “ he says quickly, tries to rebuild his walls. Maybe Sweetpaw shouldn’t have either, back when he was trying to catch that bird on the thunderpath. “ I could’ve… I could’ve caught it. “​

✦ ABOUT

• 
  SCREECHPAW ✦ AMAB. He / Him. Apprentice of ShadowClan.
  ✧ . A black/red tabby chimera tom with mismatched green eyes.
  ✧ . Forestshade x Vulturemask
  ✧ . Mentored by Chilledstar
  ✧ . Peaceful and healing powerplay permitted!
  ✧ . Penned by Abri ‣ @_abri_ on discord, feel free to dm for plots!
  ✧ . " Speech " ; Attack
  

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[Briarthorn]

.·:*¨༺🕷༻¨*:·. Predictable as ever, Screechpaw counters her statement with fruitless sentiments about independence, he’s not going anywhere…
Briarpaw only scoffs, not wanting argue the matter of where she could and could not stare any longer. His answer to her question, however, is much more interesting. Briarpaw falls still, careful golden-laden optics steady on her brother, his words churning over in her mind with each blink.
It would’ve made a good catch. A good story. Anger, resentment for his ignorance, even… it simmers somewhere behind her flickering hues. Her maw does not move yet, though… not when he continues, and for perhaps the first time in their young lives, proceeds to open up, even if just the smallest part of himself. Briarpaw is given a glimpse into the why. Subconsciously, the raven-furred she-cat’s brows creased slightly together, "I would’ve helped you, you know. If you had come to me." As she speaks, Briarpaw becomes a perfection reflection of her tawny-patched brother, the frown she wears identical. Something happens, something inexplicable behind shifting verdant hues. In the fleeting moment of quiet, before Briarpaw can say anymore, the claim her brother spits out makes the molly tilt her head. If there’s one thing the apprentice knows how to do, it is how to burn into another’s core, to poke metaphorical holes into her target with just a stern gaze alone. A trick she learned long ago after watching a queen practice it on one of her kittens, it is one she has won many arguments with. Briarpaw uses it now, with her pupils narrowed, but she keeps the frustration from cracking through her stolid expression. She wouldn’t dismiss her brothers deflection this time, it’s not like she had anything better to do.
"You really think so?" Surprising herself, the question that breaks the silence between them carries a genuine edge. Is that what he truly thought? She blinks, relaxing her expression for a moment. "Okay. So tell me, exactly what you would have done to defeat the owl. Maybe you could teach me something." Whether she asks to prove her own point or as a way to gain more insight into the enigma that was her brother, not even Briarpaw knows at this point.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ALL YOU HAVE IS YOUR FIRE ⋅ ࿏ ⋅ AND THE PLACE YOU NEED TO REACH ──┐‎

• 
  
  
  

• 

• 
  BRIARPAW ꔫ she/her, apprentice of shadowclan, 9 moons.
  ⭃ slender, lean-muscled black she-cat with sharp hazel eyes & large ears.
  ⭃ daughter of Forestshade && Vulturemask ࿏ sister to Screechpaw && Sweetpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​