'tis the damn season | brookpaw

[robinheart]

To the victor goes the spoils. A phrase made popular at the end of great battles to celebrate bloody victories. Certainly RiverClan arose victorious over the rogues - a victory cemented with the help of the other clans. But not all victories yield spoils. Brookpaw's certainly did not. The apprentice made of stone and salt had lost her brother, had lost yet another family member before she could even get over the loss of her mother. Part of Robinpaw didn't want to care; why should she care? Brookpaw torments her in ways that are probably deserved but still hard to swallow. She digs at the tortoiseshell's insecurities. She makes Robinpaw feel useless when all the multicolored apprentice wants out of life is to atone and become useful - to feel like she belongs. So why... why should Robinpaw care about Brookpaw's loss?

She saved me.

Over and over again Robinpaw thinks about the rogue attack in SkyClan. How she had been pinned to the ground, claws curled into her skin, life fully in the rogue's paws when Brookpaw came to her aid. Brookpaw didn't have to save her. RiverClan may have been better off if Brookpaw turned a blind eye. Yet Robinpaw stands here today, living and breathing, because the other apprentice had stepped in. And perhaps that is enough of a reason to care.

Meadowheart's nest still sat vacant in the apprentice den, though Robinpaw knew the clock was ticking on when it would be cleared out. It could not stay forever... and it was just moss and reeds after all. But they were moss and reeds that held his scent - earthen parts of him that would decay just as he would as his own body was returned to the earth. But until the day came where his scent and memory all but disappeared, Robinpaw would try hard to preserve it for Brookpaw. She tugged gently at the freshest parts of the nest, pulling free pieces and setting them beside herself in a neat pile. It may look sacrilegious to any apprentice who enters the den, so she tries her best to hurry and not be caught. She simply needs a few more minutes to gather enough of Meadowheart's nest so that she could add it to Brookpaw's without the other knowing - so she could quietly repay a debt in the only way she knew how.

@brookpaw

 

[brookstorm]

She's silent, like a ThunderClanner in the undergrowth, or a ShadowClanner treading their swamps, as she stands in the entrance way of the apprentice's den. Her shadow doesn't descend longways, doesn't stretch into the woven den nor give way to her presence - though perhaps it should. Brookpaw merely stares, her throat closing up, her chest clenching, and watches as Robinpaw dismantles her brother's nest.

Her brother who is dead - sleeping forever, not needing the warmth or comfort of his bedding, yet allowed his spot for this long and if she had her way, longer yet. She's noticed how the reeds wilt and the moss dries but she's yet to relinquish it to the winds. Maybe one day, her and Oxbowpaw can tug it apart, when they've both finally accepted his demise (or is it just her? Is she alone in this pain?)

But it's Robinpaw who pulls it apart. She's particular in the pieces she steals, tugging out fresh moss and creating a pile of it. Brookpaw's cheek become wet as she makes a heavy, trudging step forward, "What are you doing?" she hisses - her tone lacks all of its usual bite, still sharp at its edges but crumbling all the same. "Stop - stop touching that, he's -" He's not coming back, yet she wants his nest to be here, in case he does.

She slinks forward, her steps growing quicker, more desperate, and she tries terribly hard to not let her emotions spill forth. And though she had some succession in hiding her sadness prior - no tears shed for Lichentail, and barely any for Willowroot - her heart bleeds effortlessly for Robinpaw to see. Brookpaw aims her head to crash into the other's chest, full power put forth into the action. She watches as the other falls to the side, and she sees the rogue. The one that killed Meadowheart, the one that she ended. She feels underwater, she tastes the blood in her mouth, the tears sting her eyes far too familiarly -

"I never thought - thought you were a thief, Robinpaw," she hisses, placing a paw on the other's chest. She doesn't lean her weight into it, truthfully her grief and guilt make her too wobbly to do so comfortably. Her tail lashes, "What, are you to lazy to get your moss? StarClan, you can't be that useless."​

 

[robinheart]

"What are you doing?"

The hastened silence is pierced by words she did not want to hear; by a voice she recognized instantly wrapped in a timbre almost unknown to the tortoiseshell molly. Robinpaw's movements lurch alongside her heart and she stammers over her words to say something, anything, in the mere seconds allotted to her before the air is ripped from her lungs and her body feels the sharp sting of the ground beneath her paws. How could it be she saw Brookpaw coming, heard the other apprentice's command, and yet she had no time to move or react?

It was the emotion dripping from the other's mouth and eyes. A bleeding heart that stunned the tortie as she felt a paw lightly pressed to her chest, citrine eyes gazing up at Brookpaw in a shocked and scared manner. "I-I'm not," Robinpaw whispers, finally regaining some level of composure but making no move to push the other off of her. She glances sidelong at the pile of collected moss; only slightly scattered from the impact, and sweeps her tail towards it to try and push the stray pieces back together. "It's for you... for your nest," she adds quietly, gently even, as pleading eyes try to find tear filled ones. "So you could hold onto his scent and presence for just a bit longer. You - You weren't supposed to be here, to see, because I..." I what? What was she supposed to say? That she didn't want Brookpaw to know it was her who had added Meadowheart's moss to her nest? Would the other take that as an admittance of guilt? Was it guilt in the end and not an act of kindness? "I thought you'd find it more meaningful if you didn't see who did it."

She shifts uncomfortably beneath Brookpaw's hold, still not fighting to rise to her paws, and swallows hard. "I'm sorry, Brookpaw."

 

[brookstorm]

Her anger boils despite her grief - but as Robinpaw speaks, it dissipates. Terribly slowly, like an inchworm making its way down a tree trunk. For her nest, Robinpaw says, and Brookpaw almost wishes that the other would simply admit to being a thief. The kindness is unbecoming, unwelcoming, after so many moons is frustrated bullying. The molly continues to chatter on, hope straying into her tone, and Brookpaw just stares, deftly.

And there it is - an apology. Brookpaw is speechless, her lips parted. She wants to say so much, be frustrated and angry still, but simply put, it's not possible. The other is somehow too nice. Her ears pin backwards and she eases up off of Robinpaw, shuffling to the side and seating herself. Fern green eyes tilt away, and she doesn't look at Robinpaw for as long as she can, tears building up on the edges of her lashes.

"You did alright out there," she murmurs, "Couldn't hold your own, but better than what a kittypet would've done." She decides the compliment, although partial and still backhanded to a degree, is enough of a 'thank you' for the other.​

 

[robinheart]

Robinpaw remains on the ground even as Brookpaw eases off and shuffles to the side to seat herself. The tortoiseshell molly breathes a small sigh and gingerly rolls to her belly before pushing herself back up into a sitting position. Ears flick back against her head at the other’s words - acknowledging them as a sort of backhanded compliment. At least it was something somewhat positive and not the worst case scenario.

“Thank you,” Robinpaw eventually murmurs, glancing at Brookpaw but not allowing her gaze to linger too long lest she coax the tears clinging to the other’s lashes. Brookpaw seemed much too proud to cry profusely in front of another - especially a rival. “You and your family fought valiantly - I didn’t witness everything but it was… inspirational, I guess?” Much better than Robinpaw could have done. And that’s probably the reason she’s still here; living and breathing while Meadowheart is not. “Rogues have no honor. I wish things could have gone differently for your brother,” she adds as she collects the moss beside her, moss belonging to Meadowheart, and pushes it towards Brookpaw. Not quite an olive branch but close enough.