she sings, "be gentle, be kind" | slate

[cloverjaw -]

TAGS — There's been a sort of quietness between the littermates ever since that dog attacked; ever since Kuiper had been ripped to ribbons and buried. Cloverjaw doesn't like it. There's not supposed to be a quietness between siblings. They tell each other everything, don't they? At least, that is what Cloverjaw's ideation tells him. Clearly that's not the case, though, or else he would have known about the blood on his brother's paws. Don't judge him, he tries to tell himself. Surely that type of bloodshed was what was needed to survive as a streetcat, beyond the comfy glass of twoleg nests he'd so often looked out through. Another jolt of doubt slithers through his spine: does he even deserve to know Slate's life story? They're littermates, and he likes to think they're as close as they can possibly be, but... well, it's hard to ignore that they've lead very different, very separate lives thus far. Maybe Slate doesn't owe him that sort of transparency. He supposes he can't blame him, if that's the case.

Still, he's trying. He'd invited his brother out on a stroll through the territory- nothing too serious, just a patrol to mark borders and the like -but it's solitary, and the newleaf air is relaxing, and he is praying to Starclan that Slate will feel like talking. Not that the tom seems to keep much from Clover, but... well, he'd kept some things, hadn't he? "It's been a crazy few days," Cloverjaw muses, not wanting to dive so directly into it regardless of the way his chest twists with anxious curiosity. "Hasn't it? I mean, with the rogue, and the dog, and everything...." He trails off; presses a paw into a stray stone along the border; peers back at his sibling. There's clearly more to say, but the question now is, will he say it?

/ @SLATE​

​

 

[SLATE]

❪ TAGS ❫ — He and Cloverjaw are not typical littermates in the sense that they had been inseparable since birth and know each other like the back of their paws. Slate loves his brother unconditionally, something that is a rarity in itself. The city-slicker, the lone wolf, the street rogue wasn't known to love. He wasn't known to look out for anybody except himself, and yet, reuniting with Clover has changed everything. For once, Slate had someone to open up to, a friend to confide in when things got hard... though he really hasn't done much of that. The charcoal brute was used to keeping things to himself, letting his thoughts fester in his brain and burying his vulnerable emotions inside. Slate had felt comfortable talking with Clover about the life he had lived after their separation, but there had obviously been some details left out of the story.

It's times like these when Slate is reminded of the reason why he's never cared to get close to anybody. Out on the streets, he had no one's expectations to meet, no one to disappoint. Now, the Maine Coon felt like a total asshole in his brother's presence (even if Silversmoke had been the one to ruin everything). He should have known that Cloverjaw would bring the recent drama up during their stroll; they hadn't gotten a chance to talk alone for a little while, anyway. "Yeah..." Slate says, his response lingering in the air as he debated on what to say next.

His orangey stare tears itself from the ground and up to meet golden ones, a certain unspoken anxiety glistening in his hues. "... Did you tell Blazestar about what happened? About Silversmoke and I." Slate was not scared to lose his place in the clan, but he was afraid of losing his family for a second time. If he were to be exiled from SkyClan, then he'd be chased away from the borders and would likely never see Clover again; he'd be alone once more.​