private SOPHTWARE SLUMP \ darkwhisker

[FERNGILL]

His litter, the four of them, would never go on patrol together as four warriors. When Ferngill had been a young apprentice, bug-eyed and bumbling, he'd pictured a future where he and his siblings were among the strongest of RiverClan's warriors, fighting off accosting Windclanners with combined fury. That future had seemed easy at the time, like every idealism that he had pictured.

Eventually of course he'd realised that being a hero of battle was not a future he could have. That being a strong warrior was not in the cards for him. But he had never, never, never imagined that the simplest part of that dream, the four of them together as warriors, would be lost forever.

Alone with his brother, they crouched at the shore in silence. His verdant eye tracked the ripples for the silver glimmer of scales, or the small, sparkling splash of a thrashing fish. Guilt darkened his vision, though- so much so that he could hardly shut himself up for a minute before murmuring, "I'm sorry."

And, well, it'd probably be good to explain himself. Instead of just uttering a vague, stupid... sorry. "I didn't cheer at your warrior ceremony and I never got to tell Steepsnout or say I was sorry for being so stupid and selfish so I have to tell you now. I'm really sorry, Darkwhisker." It was perhaps the most dramatic manner in which he could have admitted it. Ferngill spoke with a guilt as if he'd personally killed Steepsnout out of some odd malice, but his brother above all would know the emotion- the anguish behind his utterance- was entirely, completely genuine.

\ @DARKWHISKER heheh​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[DARKWHISKER]

ੈ♡˳ . ° ✦ Ferngill’s voice startles him out of his daydreaming, images of mirthful moments far away dissipating like smoke. Darkwhisker’s head snaps toward his brother, hazy eyes locking onto a single verdant one. “What?” It’s out before his brain catches up with reality. I’m sorry. He blinks, unsure of what Ferngill’s apologizing for. He glances around for an answer, expecting to see a fish darting away or some other silly mistake that they could both laugh off… But he’s met with nothing other than the guilty expression of his brother.

Darkwhisker’s prepared to tell him that it’s okay, despite not even knowing what he’s saying is okay, because he wants Ferngill to stop looking at him like that. But Ferngill’s launching into a rushed explanation before he can, and Darkwhisker could only sit in stunned silence and listen to the anguish pouring out of his brother.

His warrior ceremony…? He’s taken back in time, standing beneath the river rock with the newly named Steepsnout at his side. There’s cheers ringing in his ears, but none of them belong to Ferngill.

It’d hurt at the time. Like claws raking through his chest. But Darkwhisker had suppressed it, told himself that his eyes weren’t stinging with tears and his heart wasn’t aching. Fernpaw didn’t mean it.

Now, Ferngill has reopened the wound. He flinches and looks at his brother with an expression that mirrors the orange tabby’s sorrow. “Don’t… Don’t apologize,” He doesn’t want Ferngill to apologize, to look so dejected, to remind Darkwhisker of yet another sharp pain in his chest that he’d tried to abandon in the past.

“It’s okay. I mean- I shouldn’t have…” Shouldn’t have what? Pinned Fernpaw in his warrior assessment? Been hurt by Fernpaw’s refusal to cheer? Darkwhisker shakes his head, looking back to the river, and then to his paws when he sees the hurt written in the creases of his face reflected back to him.

“I’m not upset… I never was,” It’s a lie, but he doesn’t know if he’s trying to convince himself or Ferngill more. “And Steepsnout isn’t either. We both love you, no matter what.” Maybe it’s out of line for him to speak on his deceased sister’s half, however, Darkwhisker genuinely believes what he says.

He leans against Ferngill, his eyes closing to block out the world around him. “We’re both proud of you, too… Ferngill is a wonderful name.” Once again, he speaks for Steepsnout. And once again, he believes it’s true.

Unwanted grief claws at his throat as he talks of Steepsnout, his eyes misting over. If only she could be here, in the physical world… Even the knowledge that she watches over them in StarClan couldn’t stop the hurt for long.

✧　°　.　✶　.　°　✧​

ooc information

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  DARKWHISKER — HE/HIM ･ 17 MOONS ･ RIVERCLAN WARRIOR ･ PENNED BY NICO

  tall, lithe dusky brown tom with splashes of white. a cheerful tom who tries to put a smile on the face of everyone he talks to, darkwhisker's life is devoted to spreading positivity in a world full of negativity. though his words may be fanciful— and coated in the sugar of white lies, at times— he is a well-intentioned, albeit overly idealistic, young warrior.

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[FERNGILL]

The creases of upset on his brother's face made themselves obvious- maybe he'd dredged something up that was better left forgotten. Maybe he was being selfish, trying to apologise just to make himself feel better. But he meant it- losing Steepsnout had reminded him just how much he meant it. Did she think, on her death-bed, that he had resented her for becoming a warrior before him? Did she think that he'd not cheered at her ceremony, at Darkwhisker's ceremony, because he was angry at her rather than himself?

He'd never know, because he'd never said sorry- had never the chance to find out how she really felt. There was a twist of pain in his stomach, a feeling that was surely regret, and it'd never go away.

Darkwhisker was as perfectly personable as ever- though Ferngill had seen the genuine hurt on his face, his brother reassured him that he didn't need to be sorry. That it was alright, that Steepsnout- wherever she was in those starlit skies- was not upset with him. Part of him couldn't believe it all, though. If the roles had been reversed, he would be upset. Forgiveness would have been easy to find, but... just like with Iciclefang, he might not have been able to move on without a conversation. Without an apology.

He leaned his weight against his brother, their shoulders meeting in shared comfort. "Thank you," he said, voice small. So small that he felt like Fernkit again. Over time the names had mattered more and more, but to hear his brother genuinely liked this one was... nice. It would be his name forever. He was glad it was a good one. "I'm still sorry, though. I really am. I was being an idiot."

Ferngill took a deep breath. "I miss her. I bet she'd tell me to shut up right about now, and... make me climb a tree again, or something..." His voice was croaky with grief, raw with honesty. Why would he lie in front of his own brother? What would be the point of it? ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​