the here and the hereafter ↷ [ final confessions ; group 1 ]

[smogstar]

Claw-tips continuously scrape against the unforgiving stone. After more than a day's worth of marching through the dark, they've dulled to the point where hope's threads are all but unpluckable. His resolve has not yet vanished, no, and he remains the unflinching presence to guide his blind companions forward—but a novel force now commands his paws. Despair. He's choked of rhyme and reason in this isolated cocoon of solid earth, every pawstep forward leading him further away from clarity. The utmost he can do is put his last vestiges of willpower into prolonging the inevitable; it may not be the picture-perfect ending of seeing sunlight again, but it's good enough for him.

Once limbs start growing weak and group's pace drains away, Smogmaw was faced with the grudging decision of calling off their venture for yet another night. "We're done," he rasps, breath bated, "we must rest." A hollowed enclave in the cave wall will serve as their lodging for the night—the toll of not having nests to lay on shall be nullified, at least partially, with their dozing forms nestled so closely together.

As he limped along into his sleeping spot, he found that it wasn't just fatigue (nor the proximity of his companions) pressing down on him so. The schism between survival instincts and wistfulness lasted only as long as the day's travels, and it now began to mend.

It felt as though his spirit bore the weight of a leaden sky. Even more so than before, he aches for freedom; for the tender tongue-strokes of the queen he holds dear, for the warmth of his young ones nuzzled close into his limbs. He had it all, the desires and indulgences of any ambitious tom. Family. The promise of leadership. An indefensibly beautiful she-cat to herald as his better half. All forsook in the name of this ill-founded, stupid fucking quest. The depths of his folly knew no end. Being someone who valued a methodical approach to every and all things, a melancholic self-loathing settles over him as he reflects on how he'd gotten trapped in here.

Would pouring his sorrows into conversation offer solace? His reservations about unveiling such vulnerabilities pleaded for him not to. Yet, the certainty of their impending end grew. If the tom had to muster a guess, he'd reckon that they had a scant day and a bit before the first of them gave out, especially considering the states of Lightstrike and Iciclefang. There was little, if nothing at all, to lose.

"If... if you hold someone close," breathes Smogmaw, tone taking on soreness foreign to the ears of those around him, "don't let your admiration for 'em go unspoken. Not ever."

Sunken eyes drop to the cold surface between his paws. Twice now has he consigned a loved one to his memories while yielding to his misguided compulsions. Twice. "My mate got the cough, so did my son. When the chance arose to find this lungwort stuff, stars, I jumped." A long-drawn sigh parts his words and lays bare the raw emotion his stoic exterior sought to stifle. "I took my leave in silence, left ShadowClan without giving 'em a goodbye," he continues, and he grieves not knowing why.

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[LIGHTSTRIKE .]

❝ WE HAVE YET TO CRASH ✧°.☀ —————————————————————————————
Food was scarce. Energy, more so. Maybe that was the only reason Lightstrike had breathed barely a word rather than complain to kingdom come. He was busy, far too busy with the monumental task of walking. The thing was... he wasn't sure how much longer he could, and that made the small portion of him that was still present angry.

We're done, came the abrupt command, and Lightstrike took at least three more steps before he'd realized cats around him were beginning to drop for the night. He stood, processed, wavered slightly, and then less-than gracefully fell upon his rump. Oh. They were resting now. That's... good.

Lowering himself to his belly, the tom realized he was trembling. No, that wasn't new, was it? He had been for quite a while now. The issue was that he couldn't tell whether or not it was because he was cold, hungry, or both. He felt sick.

In the silence broken only by the breathing of the cats around him, he seemed to slowly melt into the stone, chin lowering to his paws. Stiffness gripped at his muscles, his face especially so. Everything seemed to ache one way or another. Had he been clenching his jaw?

Lightstrike became aware of the hoarse rumble of Smogmaw and his ear twitched, brows briefly furrowing with confusion and sending yet another twinge of pain through his wound. He was speaking, was it morning already? He didn't remember falling asleep. Mind sluggishly processing the deputy's words, he reached the conclusion that it was just... conversation. He wasn't sure that he could recall the tabby speaking other than to command them, much less about himself.

"...I promised I wouldn't die," he said at last in a rasp. "I plan t'make good on it." The warrior pulled in a breath that wavered, and swallowed against a dry throat. "...No intention for that 'bye to be my last."

[penned by its_oliverr - ☀]

——————————— ☀.°✧ BUT WE STILL MAY AS WELL ENJOY IT ❞ ​

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[iciclefang]

Time has slowed to an agonizing crawl in the darkness. Every movement is accompanied by a limp, her shoulder stiff and unwieldy. Iciclefang’s paws are sore and scraped from walking along stone and grit from the rock slide, and her eyes are tired from straining against such opaque darkness. She resents that she’s come to rely on a ShadowClanner so heavily, but when Smogmaw tells them to stop, she does as easily and naturally as she would obey Smokethroat. Her limbs are trembling with effort when she finally collapses beside her companions, hardly paying attention to the conversation lulled between them.

And then her ears flick forward. “If… if you hold someone close, don’t let your admiration for ‘em go unspoken. Not ever.” Iciclefang gropes for Smogmaw’s figure in the dark, but she can’t tell one cat from another. He goes on to tell them his mate and son have yellowcough, and that he took his leave from ShadowClan in silence. Her fur prickles as she remembers how she’d left, too—with a goodbye for her sick sister, her sick father, but not one for Ashpaw.

How much would she even care if I died? If I never returned? Iciclefang’s mouth tightens. It hadn’t been as though she’d shown Ashpaw a warm reception upon her return from her kidnapping. She’d erected barriers thicker than those their camp is guarded by, thorny and distinct. She had forced Ashpaw away, and does she regret it now? Some part of her says yes, but another part is…

Snow-blue eyes search the shadows aimlessly and find nothing.

“I pushed the girl I loved away moons before I left RiverClan.” She’s surprised to hear herself talk, words spilling coolly from her maw like water into a pool. “I was made a warrior first. Early.” She chuckles, a sound so dry and brittle it sounds as though it’ll snap. “I took her on a walk to celebrate. The stars were so beautiful… and she was, too. We wandered right into a Twoleg trap. Her paw was snapped up in shiny jaws like a fox’s.” Her voice is nearly without tone as she recounts her tragedy. “The Twoleg came for her, and I tried to fight it. It gave me one good blow and I was done for. For moons, I thought she was dead. I convinced myself she was never coming back, so when she did…”

She trails off.

“…I treated her like she never meant anything to me, and now she doesn’t.” Iciclefang is surprised to hear the candor in her voice, to feel it in her heart. “I convinced myself she didn’t matter to me anymore, and I did it so well it became true.”

After a heartbeat, she shrugs, and though no one can see it, the motion makes her grimace. “Anyway. I intend to come back, but—but there’s no one waiting for me that isn’t my kin, and that’s my fault.”

ooc ✧ 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦

•  
•  
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  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

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[STORMYWING]

☁︎

While at first she had thought the ShadowClan deputy to be as intolerable and apathetic as a cat could possibly be, over the next days she had begun to rely on him as she would any ThunderClanner. He hunted for them, found water for them, kept them safe while they wandered as blindly as newborn kits. He'd earned her trust, and so when he tells them all they're done walking she slips to the ground next to Lightstrike, seeking him out by scent. Heaving a sigh, she leans down to begin to groom the back of his neck - some semblance of sharing tongues makes her feel better when she knows she might die any moment.

When Smogmaw speaks, she pricks her ears in surprise, unused to hearing him speak with such raw emotion. She frowns, his words pulling at her heartstrings, and she can't help but think back to camp...where Cloudyfur and Pebblestep and Flycatcher and Falconpaw are. Has Burnstorm gotten himself an apprentice before her? How is Wolfwind doing? Mousenose and Freckleflame and Wildheart? I miss them.

Lightstrike speaks next and she nods in agreement, forgetting for a moment that no one can see it. And then Iciclefang speaks, telling a story that has her attention more glued to it than she'd ever like to admit. It's a story about a she-cat she once loved, and how that love had been squashed down by none other than the tortoiseshell herself. Her stomach twists with a mixture of sympathy and discontent; somewhere deep down she wonders if it's a lie, that the molly does still mean something to her if she's bringing her up now of all times...

Her jaws open suddenly, her own secret sitting on her tongue and waiting to spill out. "I-" She bites down. Tears prick at her eyes, sudden and catching her off-guard. These words from Smogmaw and Iciclefang...they're talking as if they're about to die. And Stormywing doesn't want to die a kittypet in their eyes. She wants to die a true-born forest cat. And so she stays silent, her confession sitting in her stomach, unsaid. Apprehension rolls off her in waves and she tucks her paws in closer to her chest, thick tail lashing. She stays silent, unsure of what else she could possibly say to follow up the others'.

I WANNA TASTE LOVE AND PAIN ☁︎​

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[DOEBLAZE]

✿ | the darkness had been unsettling when they had first set out on this endless journey, but in the wake of unknowable hours of marching through it, it's become oppressive. her eyes are sore from perpetually searching the shadows for any sign of motion besides her own paws, which are scraped raw by the stone below. she's lucky not to have sustained any serious wounds like her new travelmates, but her bruises from the rockslide ache more than anything, and hers are not the only pawsteps growing weaker and stumbling with each slow-paced step. when smogmaw declares that it's time to rest, she nods and rasps an exhausted, "alright."

hunger scrapes at her belly, but she has neither the skill nor the energy to try and seek out any meager prey that might nestle in these stars-forsaken tunnels. instead, she settles into a restless tangle of limbs, white-freckled chin dipping into the hollow curve of her forepaws. the air feels taut and heavy with the tension of their unspoken reality: without prey, without much water, injured and tired, death looms on the horizon. the thought of dying here, a mouldering skeleton forever buried in these noxious caves away from the stars, makes her shiver from more than the chilled stone leaching her body's scant warmth. she remembers her sharply bitten goodbye to blazestar and it's all she can do not to pathetically, and embarassingly, burst into tears on the spot.

she represses it, a hard-won lump choked in her throat, and smogmaw's voice is surprising. his tone holds a measure of emotion that she's not yet heard, and his words whip at her mind like stinging hailstones, too close to home. before she can relinquish herself to rotting in silence (after all, who would want conversation with a kittypet?), lightstrike speaks up, admitting in a rasping tone his own intentions not to make his goodbyes his last. and though her jaws remain locked against her paws, she agrees with him. regretful as she might be, she - she's sure that she'll survive, somehow, maybe through sheer willpower. as if she simply wants hard enough, the world will make good on that promise. some might call it silly, but if the belief is what keeps her going, so be it.

iciclefang's voice comes as a surprise, ringing out chilly as ever in the darkness. her tone is dry and brittle like the ice she's named for, but her words betray that there must be some kind of emotion hiding beneath her frozen exterior. the idea that the cold warrior had loved a girl at one time shocks the lilac tabby to her core, but she listens in silence as iciclefang spins her own tragedy in a toneless mew. early warriorhood, a celebratory walk, a shiny-jawed trap—bobbie remembers now her hissed swear and lashing tail at the trap they'd found in a different light. her voice holds a startling candor as she admits how she'd pushed the other girl away, and bobbie winces, ignorant to her own hypocrisy in the reaction.

stormywing, the kittypet-hater, releases only a bitten syllable. it doesn't surprise her; how could the forest-born hater of kittypets have any dark confessions to make?

"are - are we doing the deathbed confession thing, then?" the joke is dry and cracked as soon as it leaves her mouth and she regrets it. bobbie inhales deeply, unsure of whether she wants to make her own admittances. there are many of them, after all, secrets she's told to nobody but blazestar (and even he only knows the vaguest details). even her kits do not know the truth of their father, and yet—she doesn't want to die as nothing but a foolish kittypet to these cats. even if they still think of her as such after, so be it; at least she could say she tried. finally the tabby murmurs, "i had a mate, back when i was a kittypet. we - we knew each other since we were kits."

"when his housefolk disappeared, he got me to run away with him. he said the wilderness would have a better life for us, so i went." bobbie sighs, a harsh and bitter sound bitten quickly off as she digs her claws into unyielding stone. "i thought he would be happy when i told him i was expecting. but he left, and i waited, but he didn't come back. he left me out in the loner lands, and i - i couldn't fight, or hunt for myself."

"so when the dog came for me, i couldn't defend myself." her voice is cold with long-buried anger as she recounts the story, remembering the hopelessness, the haze of hunger and pain. she can feel a stabbing like claws in her chest that does not come from hunger. "now everyone looks at my scars and only see a stupid kittypet. and they're right, it's my own fault for believing him."

she does not admit to the other secret buried in her heart. that she is in love with someone again, and she knows she will only get her heart broken like this. she could use a few lessons in that from iciclefang.

OOC ✿ I FELL ONTO LOVE LIKE A SWORD

• OOC:
  

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  ( BOBBIE ) ✿ WARRIOR OF SKYCLAN.
  x she / her ; 40 moons.
  x mother to lupinepaw, crowpaw, & drowsypaw.
  x a small, pretty lilac tabby with a red collar & sage-green eyes ; sweet, sociable, and somewhat naive to certain aspects of clan life.
  x currently in an era of self-assessment and trying to figure out exactly who she wants to be.

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[milkthorn.]

Milkpaw was relieved to hear about rest at this point. To walk a hundred miles to save his clan didn't feel realer then actually doing it. He had never thought he would leave Windclan further than what it was. To leave as far as this and even further.

They moved into a open cavern, hopefully a safe place to rest their heads. But he still felt uneasy. "I can take first watch..? Even if I can't see, I can smell.." he offered quietly. "Then.. maybe someone else can take it..?" He wasn't sure if the idea would be solid, but he hoped someone would agree. Better safer than sorry. If something else as dangerous as the adder would approach while they all slept... well, they would be crowfood. And that's what he feared.

But what surprised him was the ability to share what seemed like secrets, and as Bobbie stated, their death bed confessions. It only agreed to what he was thinking. He had a little hope that none of this would lead to their deathbed. It couldnt. He would grasp at the strings of hope, cling to it with a grasp and scramble of paws. They all seemed to have each other's back. And each of them were defending their own morals at the same time.

He would listen quietly to Smogmaw. He so wished he had somebody to even say goodbye to. But he didn't. His mentor died by Yellowcough, his friend died by a fox. His sister confirmed his fears that he was disowned by his family ...

Iciclefang spoke next, his own heart seeming to pain with the drop of the environment around them. A sad air, as each of them admitted to their confessions. Their fears, and their regrets. One began to start, then stopped, and he dropped his gaze to, well, nothing. He couldn't see his own paws.

Bobbie spoke of heartbreak as well. He wouldn't understand it, except, well, his childish attempt to flirt with Whitepaw. It was washed away and regretted to even try. Even if not admitted, it would seem she was indeed closer to Adderpaw than he ever could be. But he accepted it.

When the silence after Bobbie finished, he would sigh. His worries were nothing compared to them, but something to say nonetheless. "I dragged my mentor across the moors, she fell ill during training, and passed out. It wasn't long after that she passed away, and although we fought at first, and my childish actions took the best of me, I wish she hadn't passed like that..." He fell silent for a second.

"My.. friend I suppose I could call it. I don't know, I looked up to him. He was killed by a fox just shortly after. Sacrificed himself in attempt to kill it with him, but it survived as he fell to the depths of the ravine." Another breath, yelling at himself to get to the point.

"My family hadn't talked to me in moons, and I wanted to make it up to them, I was trying to become a better cat, hoping they would accept me back. I was trying to prove myself to them, to be able to protect my little sister, and all of Windclan. And- I don't know if I did prove myself to Windclan, but I know Sootstar sent me here for a reason. I don't have anyone to go home to besides my clan; my sister threw past into my face, and it was then proven that I was no longer apart of what I hoped could be fixed. Her words stung worse than any injury could."

He bit his cheek, pain washing over him. It was nothing extreme as their pains, he felt insecure for a second, selfish that this even was a confession. But it was a confession nonetheless. A drive, an ability to keep going.

"I guess, I came out here to prove myself valuable. To prove myself differently, so no one could throw back what I did, but what I am capable of doing. To see so many sick, it does pain me to see and hear the loss everyone else feels. It sounds... weird, but I want to help rescue my clan, and others from this..."

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[FERNGILL]

The air stayed stifling, and though Fernpaw kept his optimism it was beginning to feel more distinctly like hope, rather than truly believing everything was going to be alright. Blind in every sense, though... he had to trust Smogmaw. Had to have faith that the ShadowClan deputy bore his rank and gruff confidence for a reason, and everything was going to turn out alright.

Misery and regret were beginning to take hold; Fernpaw could not justify cutting in to attempt to boost morale, not when he hardly felt any joy himself. Tiredness gripped him like hungry jaws, and upon instruction he finally let himself settle. Smogmaw touched on thoughts of what could have been- his ears angled to the gravelly tones. Family, ill- a similar reason to why he'd come on this journey, but the difference between him and the ShadowClan deputy was that he'd gotten to say goodbye. Gotten to, chose to... Smogmaw's voice was thick with regret, and Fernpaw couldn't blame him.

It was difficult to imagine what that would be like. If he hadn't gotten to bid goodbye to Mudpelt and Steepsnout- if he'd walked away, wishing not to see them until they were healthy, he was sure it'd be eating away at him now, left to picture nothing in this darkness. His mind often wandered back to his friends; to Sablepaw, to Ravensong. If he hadn't seen them that last time...

Fernpaw felt oddly suspended as Iciclefang spoke- it was odd to hear her admit out loud what had happened with Ashpaw. That she'd steeled herself- oh, and Fernpaw knew she had steeled herself- until unfeeling was exactly what she felt. It was surprising that she admitted it, but the ginger tom didn't revel in it- he simply stayed silent, thoughtful. There's no one waiting for me that isn't my kin. It sounded pessimistic to say, though- did she really think so few people cared for her? Or was this simply about matters of love?

Stormywing stuttered a syllable, but little more- not that she could see it, but a verdant eye flickered toward her all the same. Was she holding something back, or- were they alike in that they had little to admit? That they'd left everyone they held dear on good terms?

Bobbie surrendered a story of manipulation- of how someone she loved betrayed her trust. Maybe it was the foolish rashness that had kept him with an apprentice's name, but... he couldn't believe love could be broken so easily. Over kits- something that anyone should be overjoyed to hear. Fernpaw was glad there was no light to catch the sheen of tears in his eye. Deathbed confession, she said, and Fernpaw would not let her dwell on that. "We're not going to die," he assured her- assured everyone. Iciclefang didn't intend to die, she'd said. And Fernpaw did not think they would, honestly- even as Milkpaw delved a little bit into his own regrets, too.

Fernpaw lay his chin on his paws, ear flicking low at Milkpaw's words. He was sent to prove himself- sent, presumably as Dovethroat had been. To prove myself valuable. That was a harmful mindset that Fernpaw knew very well- he hoped the young Windclanner would break out of it. ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​