private SWEET SLEEP, MY DARK ANGEL ✧ ferngill

[iciclefang]

The trek back to RiverClan’s camp is long, and Iciclefang is practically panting by the time they near the nursery. Her limbs tremble with exertion—her, who used to plunge into treacherous waters to fish, her who had scaled the sheerest cliffs, nearly sinks into her nest as though she’s a stone tossed into water upon their return. She says nothing to Ferngill on the way home; if he’d tried to talk to her at all, she hadn’t heard it. Stormywing’s eyes pierce the shadows gathered in her head; Stormywing’s voice reverberates in her ears. I just wanted to see you again, she’d said, and the innocence of it twists Iciclefang’s heart into a knot.

She shifts in her nest, bone-weary but wide-eyed. She can’t sleep. She pushes herself to snowy paws and exits the nursery, hoping to catch the tail-end of her littermate before he disappears into the warrior’s den. “Ferngill. Wait.” Her voice is a hoarse whisper, choked-off and raspy. Her throat threatens to cave in, rockslide-style, like it had in the mountains—like it had when Iciclefang had first touched her tail to Stormywing’s, tender, in darkness so thick they couldn’t even see the whites of their eyes.

“I… don’t go to sleep yet, okay?” Her mew is thick. She turns her face away, unwilling for Ferngill to see the pain written on it. “I want to… to talk… will you talk with me for just a moment?”

Not about Stormywing. She can’t bear to rehash what had just happened, can’t bear to see the shame and pity reflected in her brother’s gaze. She briefly let’s her muzzle brush against his flank, and she murmurs, “What’s your favorite fish? I want…” Tears prick the corners of her eyes. Stubbornly, she refuses to let them fall. “I want it to be the first thing the kits eat, when they’re weaned.” Her jaw trembles. “River prey. Good, fresh fish. Would you… would you catch it for them? Would you bring it to me? And my milk, I… I want them to get a taste of the river before they ever taste meat…”

She sniffles, hard and sharp, a single time. It’s embarrassing. She wishes she had been able to suppress that, too.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: @FERNGILL
• 
• Iciclekit . Iciclepaw . Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 21 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
  — mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring Cicadapaw ; previously mentored n/a
  — riverclan lead warrior & queen. mudpelt x icesparkle, gen 2.
  — former mate to Stormywing ; current mate to no one.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.
  
  

​

 

[FERNGILL]

For once he'd been right, but- that did not make it feel good. It had been a bad idea- the lingering silence that clung to the air during the walk home communicated that much. The air was tense and sad, and Ferngill knew better than to open his big mouth. It was late, anyway... whatever they had to say, they could say it in the morning when Iciclefang's wounds weren't so fresh. When his sister turned into the nursery, Ferngill lingered for a few moments, processing it all himself. He knew, he knew... this secret was not about him. It would be better if he pretended like he didn't know. But who else would Iciclefang have to speak to?

Stumbling on her in the river, it would haunt him for the rest of his life. Stood in the dark, Ferngill realised it then. The secret between them would always be acknowledged, even silently. And though it would stay locked behind his fangs forever, he would never be able to wilfully forget. And if he couldn't-

As he thought of her, Iciclefang's voice broke through his pondering. A green eye met two blue- in the dim moonlight, he thought he could maybe catch a glassiness there. "Of course," he said, voice soft and accepting. It was an easy answer to give.

What's your favourite fish? He blinked in surprise at the question, ears swivelled to attention. At her request, he was nodding before he was speaking. First nature. But these kits would be his kin- he would do anything for them, anything for Iciclefang. At the sharp sniff of sadness, Ferngill curled a feathery tail around his sister, ushering them closer together. "I'll get you anything you want, and... when they have teeth I'll catch them the biggest trout in the river." It was a gross exaggeration of his own abilities, but he meant it- he'd spend all day on it, if he had to. Involuntarily, Ferngill's own voice began to tremble a little with teariness.

Despite his emotions, though, his voice was curled with an encouraging smile. Would it help to look to the future. "They'll swim before they can walk," he said, speaking the truth into existence. They had RiverClan blood- Mudpelt's blood, Iciclefang's blood. Born Riverclanners, the first litter the Clan had seen. ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[iciclefang]

His murmur is soft in the gathered darkness: Of course, he mews, and she’s reassured by the proximity of his orange pelt, by the hush of his pawsteps against the sand. She wants to press her face into his fur and inhale the scent—she wants to go back to simpler times, brawling with Steepsnout in the nursery while Ferngill and Darkwhisker search for pebbles on the island’s banks. She wants the comfort of her mother, of her father, of her older sister, even, but—but they can never know what she’s done, what she’s sentenced her kits to. Only Ferngill… only Ferngill.

He tells her what she wants to hear, as he usually does, but there’s such earnestness in his voice that the tears gather in her eyes once more. “I’ll get you anything you want,” he tells her—her shoulders slacken. “And when they have teeth, I’ll catch them the biggest trout in the river.” She feels the softness of his tail around her, and her whiskers shake as she struggles to compose herself. She will never have the comfort of Stormywing’s tail around her again, but she is not alone—she has to remember that.

“You’ll help me teach them, of course,” she murmurs. “In the puddles, like Mudpelt taught us.” She gently presses her muzzle to his shoulder, closing her eyes and envisioning a future where she can still make this work. She can still be the mother she needs to be for her children—strong, resolute—and she can still be the lead warrior RiverClan needs her to be. She had broken the warrior code, and that had been wrong, but her kits will not be wrong. They’ll be strong swimmers, swift hunters. Their paws will flash through river water like hawk’s talons. They’ll… they’ll be RiverClan, and if their fur is gray, if their shoulders are broad and their chests thick with muscle, who will know the difference?

“They must never know the truth,” she says to Ferngill, fighting to steady her voice. She’s shown enough weakness for one night, hasn’t she? “They must be RiverClan kits, through and through. I meant that, when I said it to her.”

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Iciclekit . Iciclepaw . Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 21 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
  — mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring Cicadapaw ; previously mentored n/a
  — riverclan lead warrior & queen. mudpelt x icesparkle, gen 2.
  — former mate to Stormywing ; current mate to no one.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.
  
  

​

 

[FERNGILL]

He could tell she was avoiding looking at him, that she was trying hard to keep herself together- the trembling of her whiskers, her shaking sigh. Ferngill ached for his sister- for once, he would be the glacier between them, sturdy, tall and unmoving. A shuddering breath fluttered through him. Verdant eye glimmering with tears, Ferngill too tried to keep his emotions steely and immovable- thinking of how close their arrival was, his tears became harder to hold.

These kits would not mend their mother's heart completely, but Ferngill desperately hoped that they would know how loved they were- would feel the sacrifices Iciclefang had made for them, even if it was never spoken. "Definitely," he affirmed- his voice swelled with hushed excitement. It wouldn't be easy for Iciclefang to ever feel good about all of this, he imagined... but desperately, desperately, he wanted her to see the hope. "On our watch, they'll have the skills of a warrior by the time they're apprentices." It was a joke, mostly... but he meant it when he said our. Every step of the way, he'd be at his sister's side- he'd love these kits as any kin should, as any Riverclanner should. She didn't have Stormywing, and- well, he certainly wasn't as good. But she wouldn't be alone.

The heaviness of her assertion brought into Ferngill a deep inhalation. Slowly, gravely, he nodded. "I'll never tell them. You- you don't think..." he swallowed. His voice dipped even quieter. "Stormywing won't tell them, will she...?" Iciclefang knew the Thunderclanner much, much better than him, after all... given her recent teary desperation, he worried, truly, for what she might say or do. ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[iciclefang]

She sees the emotion glimmering in Ferngill’s eyes, hears the waver in his voice, and she feels her resolve strengthen. Iciclefang meets his gaze and her lip twitches into a microscopic smile. “They’ll have a lot to live up to, but with two lead warriors who went to the mountains guiding them…” And with that, she’s permitted Ferngill to be a part of her children’s lives. He wants it—he means what he’s telling her, and she’s never felt so much love for a brother she has forsaken so many times. “Thank you,” she murmurs, touching her nose to her brother’s ginger ear.

Ferngill avows that he’ll never tell the kits, but his question troubles her. “Stormywing won’t tell them, will she…?” She’d shown how reckless she could be when matters of the heart were involved—but something tells her Stormywing won’t want to force these kits into a divided world, either. “No,” she decides, swiftly. “I don’t think so. But we should… maybe avoid her at Gatherings for awhile.” She bites down on her lower lip, tasting blood, just a smear, on her tongue. It feels cruel—in many ways, it is cruel, but she has her kits to think about now. They have to come first, always.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Iciclekit . Iciclepaw . Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 21 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
  — mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring Cicadapaw ; previously mentored n/a
  — riverclan lead warrior & queen. mudpelt x icesparkle, gen 2.
  — former mate to Stormywing ; current mate to no one.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.
  
  

​

 

[FERNGILL]

Two lead warriors who went to the mountains guiding them. Ferngill let free a soft chuckle. He didn't really see himself as someone to be admired, someone to give guidance- all he really cared about was that he would get to be there for these kits, for his kin. When she thanked him, pressed her nose to his ear, he shook his had gently. "It's what I'm here for," he asserted, voice warm. What sort of brother would he be if he couldn't do this for her?

At Iciclefang's assertion- and caution- Ferngill nodded. He swallowed, and it felt like a pebble was scraping down his throat, but- but Iciclefang knew her former mate. Avoiding her at the gatherings, though... he'd feel awful for it, but it was probably for the best. They couldn't risk even one cat overhearing anything... and besides, Ferngill had already once told her no to ask him of anything again. All he could hope was that Stormywing's good heart wouldn't lead her to do something foolish.

"Yeah. Alright." There was no doubt to his hushed tone- simply acceptance. It was what had to be done. Iciclefang's sense of duty lay in her blood, and Ferngill shared it- the both of them were Riverclanners through and through, and so would be these kittens. A silence stretched between them for a few moments, and his feathery tail twitched thoughtfully, still curled protectively around his sister despite his smaller stature. "Will you be alright tonight? I can stay up as long as you want." The nursery, even with Hazecloud and Lilybloom's presence, seemed a lonely fate. ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[iciclefang]

"It's what I'm here for," Ferngill says, and Iciclefang dips her head in acknowledgment. What he's here for—support, love, all of the things she'd taken for granted for so many moons. She is not in the business of chiding herself, but she does offer herself a firm reminder: never again. Ferngill would know how much this means to her, even if the only way she can show him is with small gestures of gratitude. The tortoiseshell queen offers him a small smile now: bright, genuine, no trace of sarcasm or taciturn edge.

He asks if she'll be alright tonight, and she nods again. “I will be now," she murmurs. Now that she knows, for certain, that she is not as alone as she feels. “Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." She touches her nose to his ear once more, then heaves herself to her paws, blue gaze darting to the nursery that has become her home. She squares her shoulders and pads in that direction.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Iciclekit . Iciclepaw . Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 21 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
  — mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring Cicadapaw ; previously mentored n/a
  — riverclan lead warrior & queen. mudpelt x icesparkle, gen 2.
  — former mate to Stormywing ; current mate to no one.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.
  
  

​