- Oct 22, 2022
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Smogmaw loves his family.
That's what he would say if he loved his family—which he does, obviously, there's no denying it.
They're just about the only thread in his existence left unplucked by hidden motives or agendas. Their entire relation to him is bound by the simplest, clearest terms possible: he makes sure they're looked after, and in return, they look up to him. No games or dances or lies, no manipulations or sacrifices, no strings attached. Family — as plain and straightforward as a definition should be.
Having said that, much like all else, Smogmaw feels predisposed to view them through a cold and clinical lens, sometimes. It isn't always a conscious effort, mind, just a byproduct of an analytical brain. The tom is a deputy, first and foremost. A good leader wouldn't leave his Clan in a mess because he's so fond over his kits. All the same, he's naturally motivated to safeguard them, their interests, and their ambitions wherever they lie. He may not have their mother's grace and compassion (though perhaps few do), but the minimal he can provide is securing they're upheld and supported.
Herein lies Laurelpaw and his predicament. The young tabby bears an uncomfortably strong resemblance to his old tom in almost every imaginably aspect. They look one in the same, sporting ash-grey pelts and dark intricate patterns that might as well have been plucked from one and onto the other. Both carry an aloofness and restraint to them, yet beneath smoulders a volatility which tends to erupt when others behave so inexplicably irrational toward them. This mirror-image quandary goes well beyond the superficial; when Laurelpaw had exploded upon Bonepaw and roused the entire camp, the close likeness became disorientingly obvious.
The heart of the matter is this: Smogmaw harboured very little affection for his parents and littermates in the long run. Their usefulness had petered out by the time he reached the early adulthood, and when they left his life, he hardly noted their absences as gaps at all. Avoiding this outcome with Laurelpaw was an obvious step, yet this only leads to another hindrance: given the disparity between their ranks, the two of them rarely intersect these days, not to mention ShadowClan can be harsh on apprentices.
Establishing a durable bond is will be like sifting for a treasure in pebbles — opportunity is scarce what with deputorial obligations, so he'll take them as they come.
Luckily for him, an opportunity arises this afternoon. There's a lull in camp between arrivals and departures of patrols, and the deputy sights his son in the clearing amidst it all. "You're just where I wanted to be," he would huff as his eagre strides carry him near. A smile coaxed upon his maw, the tom gestures for his son to follow him with a gesture led by his noggin. "I want to show you something, Laurelpaw, out in the marsh. Don't dawdle, c'mon."
Stage exit: Smogmaw.
His pawsteps exude a vibrant sense of purpose, beckoning the apprentice onward. It's just a short walk. They won't be missing too much of the day-to-day.
// @Laurelpaw.
// do not worry about matching length aaaaa, i got excited
That's what he would say if he loved his family—which he does, obviously, there's no denying it.
They're just about the only thread in his existence left unplucked by hidden motives or agendas. Their entire relation to him is bound by the simplest, clearest terms possible: he makes sure they're looked after, and in return, they look up to him. No games or dances or lies, no manipulations or sacrifices, no strings attached. Family — as plain and straightforward as a definition should be.
Having said that, much like all else, Smogmaw feels predisposed to view them through a cold and clinical lens, sometimes. It isn't always a conscious effort, mind, just a byproduct of an analytical brain. The tom is a deputy, first and foremost. A good leader wouldn't leave his Clan in a mess because he's so fond over his kits. All the same, he's naturally motivated to safeguard them, their interests, and their ambitions wherever they lie. He may not have their mother's grace and compassion (though perhaps few do), but the minimal he can provide is securing they're upheld and supported.
Herein lies Laurelpaw and his predicament. The young tabby bears an uncomfortably strong resemblance to his old tom in almost every imaginably aspect. They look one in the same, sporting ash-grey pelts and dark intricate patterns that might as well have been plucked from one and onto the other. Both carry an aloofness and restraint to them, yet beneath smoulders a volatility which tends to erupt when others behave so inexplicably irrational toward them. This mirror-image quandary goes well beyond the superficial; when Laurelpaw had exploded upon Bonepaw and roused the entire camp, the close likeness became disorientingly obvious.
The heart of the matter is this: Smogmaw harboured very little affection for his parents and littermates in the long run. Their usefulness had petered out by the time he reached the early adulthood, and when they left his life, he hardly noted their absences as gaps at all. Avoiding this outcome with Laurelpaw was an obvious step, yet this only leads to another hindrance: given the disparity between their ranks, the two of them rarely intersect these days, not to mention ShadowClan can be harsh on apprentices.
Establishing a durable bond is will be like sifting for a treasure in pebbles — opportunity is scarce what with deputorial obligations, so he'll take them as they come.
Luckily for him, an opportunity arises this afternoon. There's a lull in camp between arrivals and departures of patrols, and the deputy sights his son in the clearing amidst it all. "You're just where I wanted to be," he would huff as his eagre strides carry him near. A smile coaxed upon his maw, the tom gestures for his son to follow him with a gesture led by his noggin. "I want to show you something, Laurelpaw, out in the marsh. Don't dawdle, c'mon."
Stage exit: Smogmaw.
His pawsteps exude a vibrant sense of purpose, beckoning the apprentice onward. It's just a short walk. They won't be missing too much of the day-to-day.
// @Laurelpaw.
// do not worry about matching length aaaaa, i got excited
