- Sep 21, 2022
- 232
- 22
- 18
He's heard cats talking around camp, idle chatter to pass the time until they return to their duties. They've spoken of love, how it tends to blossom this time of year. Did it really? Was it true? He never noticed. Such things were never on his mind, his first mate had been using him, after all.
Thinking back to how he felt when he first met the silver furred molly felt like thorns in his heart. A feeling so potent, so pure, a feeling that warmed his cold heart and made him feel safe to open up to her, sullied by her manipulative words and the knowledge that she had only been mates with him for survival.
He did love her. He did. His reputation among cats in the mountains had kept cats away and he liked it that way, but when she approached him, the frigid wraith of the mountains, she was not afraid. The more he tolerated her presence, the more he welcomed it and realized it was nice to be loved. To be held, to have someone to curl up next to at night.
It was everything he had never received, love. The first time he was shown love, and it was never even real. She left him one morning before he woke, just like his adoptive mother had. And just like he did then, he searched for her for as long as weather would allow before it dawned on him that he had once again been abandoned.
He never did see her again. He closed himself off even more, snapping at and attacking anyone who came near with no exceptions this time.
And yet, when he arrived in the marsh... His first time living amongst so many cats, he felt himself changing. Slowly but surely, his imposing and intimidating demeanor faded to something more relaxed, and he let his heart open just a little. He made friends, even grew to view his first apprentice as his little sister. He let himself feel happy, for a time.
Which made the pain of loss hurt so much more when they died. Poppypaw's death will be a permanent wound on his heart, one that he'll never escape.
Love has brought more pain to his heart than any claws could, but the thought of a romantic relationship causes him so much unease he'd swear his stomach was twisting into knots just at the thought. Even so, even as memories of the silver molly who abandoned him haunt his thoughts on the subject, he finds himself wishing he could have a real mate.
It's the fear of abandonment that keeps him quiet. Skunktail's gestures and words are not lost on him, but its fear that keeps him from answering any of them. But maybe.... Maybe he can open up just a little. Surely, he couldn't be abandoned a third time. He refused to admit that he was only good for someone else's ambitions, their entertainment, and that when they had their fill, to be tossed aside like trash.
He deserved better. He's seen what love can be, how important it is to those who've claimed each other as theirs. He can have that too, can't he?
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❤︎₊ ⊹ Whispers in the wind are saying that love tends to bloom in this season. Write on your character's perception of love. Is love important in their eyes? What does love look like to them? Do they have any past experiences with love that are significant to their character?
Thinking back to how he felt when he first met the silver furred molly felt like thorns in his heart. A feeling so potent, so pure, a feeling that warmed his cold heart and made him feel safe to open up to her, sullied by her manipulative words and the knowledge that she had only been mates with him for survival.
He did love her. He did. His reputation among cats in the mountains had kept cats away and he liked it that way, but when she approached him, the frigid wraith of the mountains, she was not afraid. The more he tolerated her presence, the more he welcomed it and realized it was nice to be loved. To be held, to have someone to curl up next to at night.
It was everything he had never received, love. The first time he was shown love, and it was never even real. She left him one morning before he woke, just like his adoptive mother had. And just like he did then, he searched for her for as long as weather would allow before it dawned on him that he had once again been abandoned.
He never did see her again. He closed himself off even more, snapping at and attacking anyone who came near with no exceptions this time.
And yet, when he arrived in the marsh... His first time living amongst so many cats, he felt himself changing. Slowly but surely, his imposing and intimidating demeanor faded to something more relaxed, and he let his heart open just a little. He made friends, even grew to view his first apprentice as his little sister. He let himself feel happy, for a time.
Which made the pain of loss hurt so much more when they died. Poppypaw's death will be a permanent wound on his heart, one that he'll never escape.
Love has brought more pain to his heart than any claws could, but the thought of a romantic relationship causes him so much unease he'd swear his stomach was twisting into knots just at the thought. Even so, even as memories of the silver molly who abandoned him haunt his thoughts on the subject, he finds himself wishing he could have a real mate.
It's the fear of abandonment that keeps him quiet. Skunktail's gestures and words are not lost on him, but its fear that keeps him from answering any of them. But maybe.... Maybe he can open up just a little. Surely, he couldn't be abandoned a third time. He refused to admit that he was only good for someone else's ambitions, their entertainment, and that when they had their fill, to be tossed aside like trash.
He deserved better. He's seen what love can be, how important it is to those who've claimed each other as theirs. He can have that too, can't he?
-----------
❤︎₊ ⊹ Whispers in the wind are saying that love tends to bloom in this season. Write on your character's perception of love. Is love important in their eyes? What does love look like to them? Do they have any past experiences with love that are significant to their character?