- Apr 21, 2023
- 100
- 35
- 28
They hold each other whilst her paws are empty, clutching the glittering stargrass beneath them. Mottled black-and-orange ruffles in the dead of night, exposing poultice, bandage - fear, distress, whilst predominantly white settles impossibly close, exhibiting much of the same. They have each other, they have more beyond their two moss encompassed bodies - and she has nothing but floating lights and dead companions.
Wrong. Brookstorm's breath feels useless and yet it shudders. Parts of her figure that in death she'd be gifted wisdom beyond all that she knew, but instead she's only offered clarity. Were it not StarClan's decision, she believes fate would have stolen Brookstorm in any fashion possible. At war with ThunderClan, beneath her own sharpened claws - betwixt the canines of a hungry hound… Her life would have ended before her children would have memories of her.
Instead, she fades into stories for them, ideas of all that she could have been if illness and ill tempered waters had not stolen her away. She knows not yet if her toddlers hold fast to their nestside tales, eager to know of their other parent - but they have them. Robinheart in all of her warmth and determination reminds them of a mother they know not. She does not let the memory fade or tarnish even if it makes her heart bleed to remember.
Brookstorm - Brookstorm has that. She desperately wishes she was there; there to coddle Redkit and Algaekit while Robinheart and Rivuletkit are treated, there to watch them eat their first morsels of fish and play war-games with the others in the nursery. But in her omnipresent, distant experience, she is not there in the sense that she wishes to be. When the moon lights a path to the surface, she lingers as they sleep, a sentry watching over them as if she has any means of protecting them from where she is. She would tear open the fabric between the land of the living and the dead if she had to. Even if it damned her to places so dark she cannot see beyond her nose, she would.
But Robinheart proves that she does not need protection gifted from the stars. Her lover is brave, a testament to the stubborn presence she had in Brookstorm's life prior. She is protective, fierce like the queen she's still learning to be. She is… self sacrificing, always has been, but she remains beneath the clouds for their children even with her tremendous feets of courage and survivability. She does what Brookstorm was not strong enough to do… She stays, and the stilled heart in her chest hurts.
Brookstorm releases the grass from her claws, parting with a silent apology to the plant (though it seems unbothered by her carnage.) She has security in Robinheart, love fluttering in her chest like it's both new and old for the tortoiseshell molly. Her shoulders slacken, the tenseness no longer bringing a vague sense of pain or discomfort, though she almost wishes it would.
The grey molly says nothing, unwilling to summon anymore souls to watch her little family. She holds to it defensively, as if her fellow StarClanners would dare to condemn a lonely widow and her infants. She sends her love in the light breeze that ruffles the willow branches, the bubble in the stream, the song of the birds - in all of her frustration, Brookstorm smiles. She smiles for even though her loved ones hurt, she knows they will be alright.
Wrong. Brookstorm's breath feels useless and yet it shudders. Parts of her figure that in death she'd be gifted wisdom beyond all that she knew, but instead she's only offered clarity. Were it not StarClan's decision, she believes fate would have stolen Brookstorm in any fashion possible. At war with ThunderClan, beneath her own sharpened claws - betwixt the canines of a hungry hound… Her life would have ended before her children would have memories of her.
Instead, she fades into stories for them, ideas of all that she could have been if illness and ill tempered waters had not stolen her away. She knows not yet if her toddlers hold fast to their nestside tales, eager to know of their other parent - but they have them. Robinheart in all of her warmth and determination reminds them of a mother they know not. She does not let the memory fade or tarnish even if it makes her heart bleed to remember.
Brookstorm - Brookstorm has that. She desperately wishes she was there; there to coddle Redkit and Algaekit while Robinheart and Rivuletkit are treated, there to watch them eat their first morsels of fish and play war-games with the others in the nursery. But in her omnipresent, distant experience, she is not there in the sense that she wishes to be. When the moon lights a path to the surface, she lingers as they sleep, a sentry watching over them as if she has any means of protecting them from where she is. She would tear open the fabric between the land of the living and the dead if she had to. Even if it damned her to places so dark she cannot see beyond her nose, she would.
But Robinheart proves that she does not need protection gifted from the stars. Her lover is brave, a testament to the stubborn presence she had in Brookstorm's life prior. She is protective, fierce like the queen she's still learning to be. She is… self sacrificing, always has been, but she remains beneath the clouds for their children even with her tremendous feets of courage and survivability. She does what Brookstorm was not strong enough to do… She stays, and the stilled heart in her chest hurts.
Brookstorm releases the grass from her claws, parting with a silent apology to the plant (though it seems unbothered by her carnage.) She has security in Robinheart, love fluttering in her chest like it's both new and old for the tortoiseshell molly. Her shoulders slacken, the tenseness no longer bringing a vague sense of pain or discomfort, though she almost wishes it would.
The grey molly says nothing, unwilling to summon anymore souls to watch her little family. She holds to it defensively, as if her fellow StarClanners would dare to condemn a lonely widow and her infants. She sends her love in the light breeze that ruffles the willow branches, the bubble in the stream, the song of the birds - in all of her frustration, Brookstorm smiles. She smiles for even though her loved ones hurt, she knows they will be alright.
