sensitive topics THAT'S WHAT YOU GET ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ FOR LIVING IN YOUR HEAD

[Swansong]

Everything went perfectly. Ternstar spoke her name like a prayer, dripping with reverence. She is the spirits' voice, with her own seat upon their chosen leader's council. A guide and a careful watcher, ensuring their will is carried out properly. The satisfaction thrums through her like a purr in her throat. She feels as though she is floating. It is rare that anything goes the way she hopes - but she thinks she could get used to the feeling.

A friend had come to her, not long after. Asking after her, a conversation in private. It is an adjustment for all, she supposes. Still, she is confident that her words can be a balm, to soothe any worries. She is StarClan's chosen, after all... Even if her methods are not traditional.

An easy smile greets her companion, a tail tapped against his flank. "You... wished to speak with me...?" Soft, blue eyes glinting with an unasked question. Private, he had said. Her paws move, unthinkingly. "A walk... Yes, come... I know of a quiet spot... where we can hardly hear the rain..." It patters down around them, the drizzle of that night growing into steady showers. She hardly minds. No ShadowClanner is stranger to getting wet, and the mist should afford them all the more quietude.

⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆

SWANSONGㅤ BIOGRAPHY ㅤ/ ㅤTOYHOU.SE
★ demigirl ( she / they ) ㅤ& lesbian, mate to poppyglow (npc'd)
★ㅤ 24 moons old & ages realistically, every 17th of the month
★ㅤ warrior of shadowclan for 12 moons
★ ㅤhalfshade x smogstar ㅤ& littermate to applejaw, ashenfall, garlicheart
★ㅤ ㅤmentored agaterain, swallowflutter & mentored by skunktail, sabletuft
★ㅤ penned by saturnid & ㅤmessage saturnids on discord for plots!

"SPEECH"

 

[Haretooth]

"INDELIBLE IS WHAT I NEED TO SPREAD THE WORD."​

Something didn't sit right, Haretooth was not one to subscribe into conspiracies around his clanmates. If anyone else had dared inform him of whatever it was that he had saw then he would scoff and roll his eyes. In truth Haretooth isn't entirely sure that he trusts his own vision, believing whatever he saw to be a half awake hallucination. Still, it could be easily disproven, while he is no blind fool he trusts Swansong's word. The pair were friends after all, the request for their conversation to be a private one was to spare his own ego. He had made a judgmental call prior and it seemed to have costed his friendship with Ternstar in his eyes, he would wish for a different outcome with her. "I did, if you're not busy" it seems that fortunately she isn't which he thought to be surprising since she was the name across everyone's maw currently.

A sneer plastered on his face as they travelled, not for the company he keeps but rather for the consistency of the ground. Exceptionally muddy, the downpour and rolling fog across already stygian land did nothing to make this conversation seem less foreboding. The pale tom is never one to back away from a confrontation though, so he tries to not dwell on the subject too much. "Thank you, I hate this rain. Awful stuff, it might bring those frogs back" he shudders at the thought, even if they need the non tainted prey it was far too much of a request for him to deal with that. Night terrors still cling to him, draining his life like a wraith whenever he is subjected to think about that cacophony of croaking. Sometimes he believes that he will wake up just to make eye contact with one of them again.

The walk is nice, despite how the mire clings to his white coat. It is nothing that a painstakingly long maintenance can't fix. When they reach whatever spot Swangsong feels comfortable in he takes a breathe to gain composure. "The night previous to this, you were not asleep?" He watches her face curiously, if the slightest twitch of displeasure is given then he is given the self satisfaction that this isn't a hallucination. That the marshland hadn't cursed him with madness. "You looked like you were carrying something" he elaborates further, keeping his tone level and neutral. Once again, he didn't want a repeat of what happened with his leader. Haretooth frets over being able to leave this conversation with a friendship still intact.

"Swansong, that feather seems convenient." Another pause, another breath. "Did you place it?" It would certainly explain why she was up so late. Why it looked like she was carrying something. Though he isn't passionate in this suspicion, heart not set on it he believes it can be quite easy to deny. Of which he would accept readily.
​

✯☽✯​

 

[Swansong]

They settle together, in the roots beneath an old tree. It is a spot that she and Ashenfall would once go to; the aching of loss is a familiar feeling, by now. Another gone, with no body to mourn. She breathes out slowly, and wrenches herself back into the present. If she is to guide them forwards, she cannot keep drifting off into the past - no matter how unmoored she may feel.

Haretooth's questions register distantly. He was there - a brush in the night, a wayward paw. His voice is level, and she keeps hers the same to match it. "Did I...?" An echo, a tilt of her head. Pale eyes glint in the dim of the overcast marsh. She meets the questioning with an airy tone, settled back upon her haunches. If her heart beats a little faster at the thought of being caught - well, she has gotten very good at ignoring her own feelings. "What if I did...? Does it matter...?" They are friends. He should understand.

Her voice softens, soothing. Haretooth has always had such a strong curiosity, and she is nothing if not equipped to answer. "The dead speak to me, Haretooth... In my dreams, I hear them... They beg me... to make our clan listen..." A smile, entreating. "I am... chosen, one way or another." That is what matters.

⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆

SWANSONGㅤ BIOGRAPHY ㅤ/ ㅤTOYHOU.SE
★ demigirl ( she / they ) ㅤ& lesbian, mate to poppyglow (npc'd)
★ㅤ 24 moons old & ages realistically, every 17th of the month
★ㅤ warrior of shadowclan for 12 moons
★ ㅤhalfshade x smogstar ㅤ& littermate to applejaw, ashenfall, garlicheart
★ㅤ ㅤmentored agaterain, swallowflutter & mentored by skunktail, sabletuft
★ㅤ penned by saturnid & ㅤmessage saturnids on discord for plots!

"SPEECH"

 

[Haretooth]

"INDELIBLE IS WHAT I NEED TO SPREAD THE WORD."​

She doesn't deny the accusation, though it was delivered in a rather hypothetical manner. It does little to quell the malaise that rises above the waves of fog around them. He squints her, studying her for remorse within the dim light that the obscured moon can offer through the filter of thin clouds. It cascades shadows upon her, he might think she was frowning from remorse if it wasn't for the fact her resting expression is in actuality a smile. It clearly isn't the case, there is naught an ounce of displeasure from her, maybe from him questioning her. The shadows playing tricks, it seems as if the clan environment itself wants an ounce of shame. "It does matter Swansong" he implores her, firm in his tone though it carrying a softer approach. This is his friend, one who indulges him in bizarre games, one that he finds a lot of comfort in spending his time with.

Her voice is naturally disarming, a constant dream-like consistency. The intent is to soothe and he finds it somewhat works, the tension in his jaw relaxes but his ears remain perked. His stance stiff, an unmoving statue in posture. The dead speak to her, while he wishes to believe her there is a lingering concern that the marshland madness clings to her one way or another. "Was it the dead who told you fake a sign that night?" He squints, frustration settling in thinking about how one of his friends has tricked another. The reverence in Ternstar's tone, oh she would be crushed, or furious. Whichever would come first.

"Swansong, I implore you. It's not too late to tell Ternstar about this. You can still help." He doesn't like the precedent this sets. What would stop her from faking something else if her ideas are not received well by their leader. What else was she willing to sacrifice? He is one to bleed in loyalty for ShadowClan but not at the extent of deceiving for it. "I'm not denying the fact that you're chosen, who's to say they didn't choose you for a different path?" There's a beat before he presses forward. "I'll stand with you, please be upfront with Ternstar in return." It's the right thing to do after all.

​

✯☽✯​

 

[Swansong]

The easy smile upon Swansong's face begins to slip. There is something piercing in that pale gaze, something that feels as though it is looking right through her. Splaying out every failing, that ugly rot that bubbles up inside. She shifts, curls her tail around herself protectively.

"It is not... fake," The molly argues, though her tone wavers. He doubts her. He doesn't get it - aren't they supposed to be friends? She has finally done something right for once, rather than wasting away. She is deputy, as her father was before her. She is the vessel of the dead's will, someone with purpose. Not just drifting along, not wailing in the night at the injustice of being left behind while everyone leaves her. This is good, this is right. "This is... It's what they warned me of, don't you see...? ShadowClan will never listen, even when the dead speak clearly..." But he should, shouldn't he...? Even when they didn't quite see eye to eye, their paths have always been stepping in sync.

The rest of the question catches up to her, and she nods slowly. "Yes... Yes, they beckoned me forth..." And how is that any less real? Why should StarClan's communication be any less when it is through her? "It was the stars' choice, not mine. Don't... don't you see...? Can't you understand...?" She steps towards him, mist dripping from her shaky maw.

The little hollow begins to feel very small. "What... other path is there?" If she is to tell Ternstar, will she be branded a liar? Cast out like Caterpillarfuzz? Her eyes are glassy, staring through her companion. "I..." A sharp breath. "She... she won't understand... Not yet, not... not now..." Her head shakes, almost without any input at all. Another step towards him, pleading. "This is what they want. My destiny. I can't... let that slip away..." He should understand. Why can't he understand? She is finally content, like this.

⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆

SWANSONG BIOGRAPHY ㅤ/ ㅤTOYHOU.SE
★ demigirl ( she / they ) ㅤ& lesbian, mate to poppyglow (npc'd)
★ㅤ 24 moons old & ages realistically, every 17th of the month
★ㅤ deputy of shadowclan
★ ㅤhalfshade x smogstar ㅤ& littermate to applejaw, ashenfall, garlicheart
★ㅤ ㅤmentored agaterain, swallowflutter & mentored by skunktail, sabletuft
★ㅤ penned by saturnid & ㅤmessage saturnids on discord for plots!

"SPEECH"

 

[Haretooth]

"INDELIBLE IS WHAT I NEED TO SPREAD THE WORD."​

There's a creeping sensation within the air of ShadowClan tonight, Haretooth is certain of it. With the frown that befalls Swangsong, as if he had torn her very being to ribbons by expressing his doubts. In a way he supposes he has, nevertheless there is a clear discontentation stemming from the pair, a far cry from their usual jovial if not morbid natures. "Did the deceased tell you to do this or did they not?" He tries again, voice quiet but firm. The last thing he wants is a passerby to hear this discussion, then again that would be a surprise considering he had planned for things to be tense. Why else go for a walk? Swansong is smarter than this, he wouldn't spend his time with her otherwise so she had to know what she was doing by avoiding the first half of his question and instead cling onto the accusation that the sign is a facade.

His gaze breaks from her momentarily, glancing to the side of her as there is a rustle within the marsh. Tensing on behalf of his deputy at the thought that his previously thought fool proof plan was in fact, flawed in design. The tension dissipates from him when the hopping visage of a marsh hare is seen between the tall grass. His gaze sharpens at it, while not the root of all problems this thing was part of the issue wasn't it? The prey is bad, this too most likely smells of rot as well. Sharp blue eyes look back to Swansong almost expectantly, would she too deem this a sign? Would the supposed dead suddenly appear just to support another coincidence. Had she somehow managed to bring this here too? No, these thoughts are delusions, they are unbecoming for a warrior of his rationality.

"When did they warn you?" She couldn't be speaking of when she was young, surely not. He forces himself to ignore the bounding rabbit within his periphery to focus on the stark whites and creams of his friend. Illuminated hauntingly by the fraction of moonlight that is allowed out of the sliver of misted dark rain clouds. "So you believe you can make them listen?" He is careful to hide judgement in his words, even if Swansong is deputy now isn't what she saying political hersey in a way? Much less just an appalment to StarClan, he had supported her in pursuits with connection but maybe he too had been part of the issue here. Was she too far gone? Did these ventures just make her susceptible to the madness of the marsh? Maybe he was deceiving her when saying that he doesn't deny she's chosen, if that what it takes for her to not continue this murky path he would happily lie to her for the rest of his days.

Swansong takes a step forward and Haretooth takes a step back, it's subconcious, so subtle that even he doesn't realise he did it until he feels a difference in texure as his hind paw sinks into the mud. "Swansong..." Haretooth doesn't fear things often, he finds the act of it to be foolish. Though there is something within him, something primal... it fears her tonight. His throat constricts ever so slightly as he tries to swallow, it doesn't impair his words just yet. "I understand but I cannot agree with you continously lying to our leader like that." A breathe he didn't realise he was holding escapes him. "I cannot allow you to lie to my friend." Does he still have that right? Maybe he could implore for forgiveness after tonight, for both Ternstar and Swansong.

"I want to aid you. However, I cannot do that while you make our clan fools." He shakes his head, ever present frown curling to a sneer. "If you do not tell them Swansong then I will have to." Once again he braces, muscles taught in anticipation for that frown of hers to shift into something of sorrow, for her to plead, yell, anything. "I am giving you this chance to set things right yourself my friend, please." It feels ashen on his tongue to plead, if he must to make her see the right path then he will. Somewhere distantly that rabbit stops from it's venture.

​

✯☽✯​

 

[Swansong]

He keeps questioning her, and the humming pleasantness twists into a cacophonous sort of buzz. "They did," Swansong pleads, even as the words taste ashen on her tongue. Didn't they? Somewhere, in one of those dreams. Siltcloud's face twists in her memories, words just as incomprehensible as the rest of StarClan's whispers. She's not lying. This is what they wanted, and if Swansong wanted it too then that is no fault of her own.

So many questions. So many questions, and she doesn't know how to answer. She wants him to stop. "In my dreams..." Her voice shakes. "In my dreams, they... they told me..." There must have been some solution in there, that relief she chases with claws. There was something hopeless in the spirit's words, and Swansong wanted to fi xit. Is that so wrong? Is that worth this scrutiny? He speaks of Ternstar as a friend, and she wants to shake him. As if she matters more than the do, as if her position is any less precarious than their own.

A rabbit trails behind him, and Swansong quiets. Rot still tears through the marshlands, the pitful creature little more than a symptom. Their eyes train upon it, watching the beast as it drags its cursed body. The smell of rot hangs in the air.

They can't live like this, letting disease fester in their own home.

Haretooth's face twists into a sneer, some ugly contortion of Swansong's once-friend. They only look at him once the rabbit is gone, noticing distantly that he has taken a step back. He's looking down his nose at them, threatening to tell Ternstar, to tear away everything they have worked so hard for. Their paws move forwards again, and they hardly notice. His words ring distantly in their ears. "No..." tears its way softly from their throat, raw and vulnerable. "no, no, no..." A shake of their head, an involuntarily jerk. Their body seems to move without their own input. Another step forwards and

Somewhere, distantly, the rabbit freezes. Rot had claimed its body, disease spreading like fear through its veins. Its body twitches, its legs drag. Its eyes are wide as it meets the spectre of death.

When the fox's teeth come, they are quick and merciful. Glinting scraps of ivory, pristine as a sunbleached bone, sink deep into scruffy fur. The fox holds, still and patient, as the rabbiy thrashes. A dying animal still fights, even against a kinder death than its cursed body would give it. It knows not what it needs, mind too clouded by the cloying rot. The eyes of predator and prey meet, and then the rabbit is still.

It's for the best.

⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆

SWANSONGㅤ BIOGRAPHY ㅤ/ ㅤTOYHOU.SE
★ demigirl ( she / they ) ㅤ& lesbian, mate to poppyglow (npc'd)
★ㅤ 24 moons old & ages realistically, every 17th of the month
★ㅤ deputy of shadowclan
★ ㅤhalfshade x smogstar ㅤ& littermate to applejaw, ashenfall, garlicheart
★ㅤ ㅤmentored agaterain, swallowflutter & currently mentoring promisepaw
★ㅤ penned by saturnid & ㅤmessage saturnids on discord for plots!

"SPEECH"

 

[Haretooth]

"INDELIBLE IS WHAT I NEED TO SPREAD THE WORD."​

"Right" the disbelief is cloaked subtly over his words, intricately laced and he rides a fine line between doubt and concern. Perhaps he has been a fool here, indulging her in such beliefs throughout their friendship. It had been harmless, she spoke it never as plainly as she does now. "Were their exact words to claw your way into power?" He doubts it, no doubt it was vague enough to fit whatever narrative it was she wanted in there. It brings a bubbling feeling of disgust, in the same way his stomach churns when the clan had discovered their prey was rotten to begin with. "Swansong, do you hear yourself?" Your reasoning is flawed, they both know it, surely they do.

He isn't sure when this cat in front of him stopped being his friend but now as he blinks at her through the foggy mist this isn't them at all. This is a fabrication, the deputy, not the warrior. He realises the error of his way, it's apparent in the feverish chant of how she says no. Tears sprung in eyes for reasons Haretooth feared, remorse over her actions seemed unlikely. Instead it read like she feared herself, feared what to come. Haretooth fears her too, in this moment. His heart beats like the prey he had been named for, a name he always felt unbefitting until now. He takes a more overt step backwards "I'm sorry, it's for the best." They both know this, don't they?

Maybe it was always going to end like this, the tom was always the confrontational sort. His name must have been a herald of what's to come, destined to meet his demise at the next biggest thing, he always thought it to be a predator. Maybe a monster, he thinks he would have liked that, to have been dissected upon the thunderpath, this is far crueler to him. In a way this is a predator, with how eerily efficient they are in snapping at his throat. Hind legs curl and dig into the marsh as he tries to batter at her shoulders, fog clouding his mind to a point that he forgets he can even unsheathe his claws, instead they're soft, unmarring and pitiful.

"Sw..." he gurgles and hacks, yeowling in an undignified matter. "St...op" he is wasting breathe, rattling as he breathes raggedly, he knows that. Though he too know it's futile to expect himself to win here, he has killed enough prey to know this wound wouldn't be salvageable. There is something cruel in him, something that wants her to remember this. To have his words haunt her, maybe that's why he pushes past the rush of blood in his lungs and throat to try and plead. In a way he is thankful that her eye meets his, in a way he hates that she will be the last thing he sees. His dying thoughts are distant from here, he wonders if Vulturesong is asleep right now, he thinks Batchaser wouldn't be since the moon seems full tonight from what he could see between the clouds. Would he be found? Would they miss him? It frightens him to not be certain of either fact. Maybe he would prefer to not be found like this, maybe it's a blessing to just be another missing face. He hopes Swansong can grant him that at least, he hopes she is right and that the clan can be salvaged through this.

It's for the best.
​

✯☽✯​