private SIGNED, THE WHALE | VELVETPAW

[ROOKFANG]

THE HERMIT ─── The warmth of the morning sun as it rose struck his half-lidded stare as he watched the sky begin to shift. Through the dying leaves that desperately clung onto the branches that surrounded him, Rookfang allowed his stiff and tense muscles to slowly release, each muscle unlocking one at a time. He was restless underneath the cloak of the night, so even when there was mostly silence within the murky darkness, it never allowed him to fully settle. Now with them finally back at home, the warrior felt like he had been cut out of the picture and now taped back on, the jagged corners of the separation not glued perfectly together which left cracks of hesitance to feel like he was "home". But was it even really home for him? That was a question that had been tugging at his conscious lately, surging pain any time he tried to focus on the gnawing question. It was searing and nonsensical, if he really did not wish to get his paws dirty with having that self-discussion with himself, it was refusing to budge. So, he simply observed it among the stars as he stayed up for the whole night, waiting for some sort of response but it never gave.

Now with the sun deciding to return and push out the murky veil of the night, his vigilance began to unwind as he knew more bodies would arise little by little, trickling life and activity to the deserted main clearing. He no longer slept within the warrior's den, allowing himself to sleep on the branches of nearby trees to give room to the new clanmates but also to push away the gifts that Hazecloud had placed within his nest that he now wished he had the brutal strength to throw out. Despite his suffocating aura of sober pessimism and rugged appearance, Rookfang had an extremely fragile heart. It was bruised all over and raw from the recent losses in his life but luckily, he was not one to wear it on his sleeve for the world to see. He didn't want anyone to feel sorry for him, what was the point? It felt wasteful on him and he desired nothing more but to simply move on. Like the sun.

With the very thing now warming his figure and coating his dark chocolate fur with a golden hue to it as he stretched on the branch he had stayed up on for the night before dropping down to the ground, a soft thump to show his presence. He knew there were some chores and duties that needed to be done, now with him having a new apprentice. Bumblepaw was a lovely child but there was a certain youth that he would like to focus on before his mentorship responsibilities were called. As he watched the others begin to rise out, his tufted ears pricked toward the direction of the apprentice's den as the large figure strode to his destination. Rookfang knew some loyalties tied him down to still deciding to stay here among the waves of the river and the clan of stream-lined swimmers, but there were specific relationships that were sacred to him. Ones he would never dare to shatter or lose, for they were a part of him as he was a part of them. Especially with the chimera youth who held a very similar glint that was unique to outsiders--like he had been.

As he reached the mouth of the den, he shifted sideways to allow the younger generation to begin to pull themselves into the new day, his jaded mixed stare not catching the familiar pelt. His frown deepened and he sighed, waiting for one last apprentice to leave before deciding to head to the entrance and squeeze himself in. He huffed, forgetting he was no longer the lanky scrap of a rogue child but a full-grown warrior. One that had been honed to battle, only increasing his size. After finally shifting in, his narrowed eyes sought out the pelt of the one he sought and upon seeing it, he stalked with quiet steps to shift next to it, raising a paw to lightly press against Velvetpaw's shoulder to give a gentle shake. "Hey. Wake up. I'll be outside so don't take too long." He wasn't going to harshly drag the apprentice out nor allow him to stay in, so Rookfang decided to stick to the middle ground. He had taken the youth after he had been found abandoned and knowing the scrunity that some Riverclanners had for non-clanborn felines, the tom had been straightforward with defending the kitten. But Velvetkit was now Velvetpaw. The spike-furred warrior knew he couldn't coddle him even if he would like to but he had noticed more fiery snarks and remarks from the child as if there had been too many pokes and probes lately. This worried Rookfang but he knew better than to assume how the other felt so as he finally stumbled awkwardly from the den and sat back on his haunches next to the entrance, he allowed a low sigh to dance out of his jaws into the crisp morning air, watching the ribbons of his hot breath dance as he waited for Velvetpaw to come out.

@Velvetpaw ​

 

[Velvetpaw]

He's dreaming before Rookfang wakes him. He's dreaming of the rogues who had housed him for his kithood; of their rough-and-tumble ways and the way they'd treated him. They'd been hardly different from the rogues who had driven RiverClan out of its hime. If Velvetpaw had still been Vivian, if he'd still been one of them in true, he's quite certain he would have been one of those pillagers, too– and the thought... scares him, a little. He doesn't want that evil to be left in him. But the whole of RiverClan can apparently see it, so what's the use in hiding it? In his dream, Velvetpaw faces Cicadapaw and Nettlepaw and Bristlepaw and Beepaw again, but not as a clanmate; their stares pierce his pelt as the wolf collar had once pierced his chest, and Velvetpaw– no, Vivian –launches himself at them, trying to drive them out of camp all on his own.

Despite Rookfang's attempt to be gentle, Vivian (no, Velvetpaw) startles awake, pulled so starkly from his dream. When his glassy-ice eyes snap open again, he could swear he's still fighting, and his claws unsheathe on instinct– until he recognizes his surroundings. The apprentice den. Velvetpaw's gaze slides sideways to his brother, and the sight is enough to draw a single amused snort from his muzzle. Rookfang was way too big to be in here. I'll be outside, so don't take too long. "Okay," Velvetpaw acknowledges, and prepares for an adventure. Maybe he would've been crabby to be woken up at the crack of dawn had it been any other cat, but he knew Rookfang would not pass judgement on him. He couldn't imagine what he'd do if his own brother were to admonish him for his heritage, considering the past they shared.

Velvetpaw emerges from the apprentice den shortly after Rookfang, mottled face barren of his usual acetic snarl. He sniffs, ready (and eager, he thinks) to face the day with Rookfang instead of stupid Timberpool. "We goin' out?" the boy asks, his drawl almost thicker thanks to the familial comfort he felt with Rookfang. His short-cropped pelt is little shield against the chill of the morning, but Velvetpaw likes the bite of the cold. His own breath billows into the cool dusky morning as he waits for Rookfang's reply.​

 

[ROOKFANG]

THE HERMIT ─── There will always be a haunting past, one that echoes with each step in the mind of Rookfang. His original name...he was unsure of, his mother had simply given the sickly sweet kindness to call him "Prince" but the fairytale idea of being loved was not the same he would have found in a Twolegged's storybook. The oh-so-loving mother had abandoned him and his siblings in the gaping mouth of an abandoned fox den. Trembling shivering figures among piles of fallen leaves and gentle cries for the slender figure of the mother rang out only to be answered by the maddened eyes of a returning scarlet fox. It had not been abandoned. Rookfang had returned from seeking his mother around the nearby area to the motionless figures of the only family he had been able to cling to. It was deafeningly quiet, the world turning and rolling on its phases while his mind, everything had been shattered and lying amongst his siblings on the crimson-pooled ground. So, what did he do? The horrified child had decided to run. And run. The rustling sounds of leaves, the heavy pants that came from his collapsing lungs, and the roaring of his ears proved that he had not died with them. He would not return to such a silence.

Rookfang knew he was...an odd duck. Since the beginning, there were the wandering eyes and wrinkled noses that were directed to him whenever he walked by, sulking low to the shadows as if they were the grace to hide him from any further judgments. He wondered what he could do to please them, for them to see him as equal. Different attempts had a mixed bag of approval and disapproval, he knew the bitter truth that not everyone was going to accept where he came from, especially as a child of unknown identity. No relations to truly connect him other than his name was given to him by the gentle queen who had decided to take him in. His mentor had been one of cold judgment, there was no actual hatred or bad intentions laced with malice there was a detachment, being given to the rogue apprentice. The warrior had felt inferior and mocked, due to feeling this from his mentor, this fueled the bitterness spark into a full-grown blaze. Turns out, the path of rebellion was not well-suited for him as it only caused the icy tension to frost over any attempts he had for other apprentices. Sharp-tongued and harshly heated lost their tang when Rookfang realized there was nothing positive coming out of this. He was once again, trapping himself in the silence he had run away from.

So kindness and gentleness were what he began to accept even if the downcasted tom was not familiar with such motions. Even if he was not a popular face or fully accepted by those he shared a clan with, it didn't falter him in wanting a better path for Velvetpaw. He had grown a quick fondness for the venom-snapped rattlesnake of a child, that he knew came from a state of fear and discomfort. It was a repeating cycle that he wished to break as he waited patiently for the other. Luckily, it appeared his younger brother seemed somewhat relaxed at the idea of spending time with the dark chocolate tom. Good. Rookfang thought as he scooted slightly over as the warrior rose to his shaggy paws, heavy gaze turning to focus on Velvetpaw. He had managed to receive approval from Timberpool despite their hesitance and hoped this could be a continuing habit. Rookfang respected the traditions of the Riverclanners with much delicate care that he could give but there were his own morals of having to know how to survive without the resources they had graciously with them at the time.

"Yeah actually, to the beech copse. Have you been there recently? I want to show you some stuff there you might find interesting." He answered, his usually airy voice holding a lighter bouncier tone, almost happy if one could title it. There was no smile gracing his features but his tense posture seemed relaxed, tightened muscles unraveling to hold a welcoming aura for the youth as the warrior began to head across the camp, jagged tail gently rising as he quickly glanced over his shoulder to see if Velvetpaw was following shortly along.​