- Feb 9, 2023
- 476
- 161
- 43
[ permission given to powerplay @FOXGLARE and @PEONYBREEZE </3 ]
Cottonsprig leaves camp with Foxglare beneath a sky full of stars. She cannot look back; it hurts too much.
They match one another's strides as they wade through wheatgrass and heather to eventually find the border for the badlands. The silence is only broken by the occasional hiccup, as tears steadily stream down the blue smoke's visage with no sign of stopping. She trudges on, for what else is there for her to do? Forward is the only direction she has left. She cannot fathom returning to WindClan now, and she is only half way through leaving it. Her chest hurts, predictably, as she thinks of her life and how it's fallen apart in the recent weeks.
Does she dwell? She has moons to do so in her perceivable future. She can think of her mistakes over and over again and ruminate over what would've been different if her life was ever her own to control. If that cotton bud had instead blown away with the wind, rather than tumble straight to the paws of Wolfsong. If her mother and father were sane, or if Starlingheart harbored her guilt and grief rather than pressed it on her fellow medicine cats as a new law. Stars - even now in her sadness, she cannot feel resentment to its fullest capacity.
She presses forward, swallowing thickly as she tries to think of what lies ahead instead. She... will be able to raise her kittens without judgement. Sure they will never know their family or Clan but... they can be with her. Would that be enough for them? Cottonsprig worries then in her act of self preservation she is only inflicting new pain on unborn lives. Lonely lives, lost lives. Her paw gets caught on a root and she stumbles, if only for a moment, before righting herself and murmuring, "I'm fine," to Foxglare. She refuses his touch. She doesn't look at him to see if it hurts and instead surges ahead, unwilling to revel in the pain she's inflicting on others.
She cannot isolate this. Cottonsprig knows that whatever her choice would've been and will be will have reverberating effects on those she's loved and cared for. Even the briefest thought of Lungwortkit hurts her - the greedy act of self sacrifice, of hoping she can right her karmic wrong by curing a sickly child and risking that of her own health... pains her chest. For the child now will never know of her savior. Her memories will fade and warp - all of theirs will. Cottonsprig takes no solace in knowing that in moons, she will be thinking of her former Clanmates with sadness and guilt, and they will not recall her whatsoever.
The border is here. The stars watch as she slows her gait finally, and just beyond the brush, a battle scarred tom greets them. The medicine cat (can she even call herself that anymore?) doesn't look between them, doesn't care to account for any childhood rivalries or distrust. She trusts Peonybreeze, and it's her life and her decision at the end of the day. The shadows press around them as Cottonsprig finally looks at Foxglare. She's still teary eyed, however she's managed to tamper it down some. She hopes in his memory, he doesn't see her as the she-cat who is too foolish to right her wrongs succinctly. She hopes that the tabby tom sees her in his mind's eye as someone fun loving and carefree - two traits that she exhibits not-at-all in the moment.
Should he not pull away, she presses her cheek to his. "Thank you," she whispers. She almost breaks down again, just there. Cottonsprig pulls away before she has the chance to, slipping over the border. Her ears fold down as she takes up Peonybreeze's side comfortably instead. He has a place, he's said before. A spot that he's been resting ever since he left DuskClan... She'd stay there with him, she assumes. She trembles, but as the toms bid their farewells and she follows Peonybreeze's more streamlined gait, she does not look back. She cannot; it hurts too much.
Cottonsprig leaves camp with Foxglare beneath a sky full of stars. She cannot look back; it hurts too much.
They match one another's strides as they wade through wheatgrass and heather to eventually find the border for the badlands. The silence is only broken by the occasional hiccup, as tears steadily stream down the blue smoke's visage with no sign of stopping. She trudges on, for what else is there for her to do? Forward is the only direction she has left. She cannot fathom returning to WindClan now, and she is only half way through leaving it. Her chest hurts, predictably, as she thinks of her life and how it's fallen apart in the recent weeks.
Does she dwell? She has moons to do so in her perceivable future. She can think of her mistakes over and over again and ruminate over what would've been different if her life was ever her own to control. If that cotton bud had instead blown away with the wind, rather than tumble straight to the paws of Wolfsong. If her mother and father were sane, or if Starlingheart harbored her guilt and grief rather than pressed it on her fellow medicine cats as a new law. Stars - even now in her sadness, she cannot feel resentment to its fullest capacity.
She presses forward, swallowing thickly as she tries to think of what lies ahead instead. She... will be able to raise her kittens without judgement. Sure they will never know their family or Clan but... they can be with her. Would that be enough for them? Cottonsprig worries then in her act of self preservation she is only inflicting new pain on unborn lives. Lonely lives, lost lives. Her paw gets caught on a root and she stumbles, if only for a moment, before righting herself and murmuring, "I'm fine," to Foxglare. She refuses his touch. She doesn't look at him to see if it hurts and instead surges ahead, unwilling to revel in the pain she's inflicting on others.
She cannot isolate this. Cottonsprig knows that whatever her choice would've been and will be will have reverberating effects on those she's loved and cared for. Even the briefest thought of Lungwortkit hurts her - the greedy act of self sacrifice, of hoping she can right her karmic wrong by curing a sickly child and risking that of her own health... pains her chest. For the child now will never know of her savior. Her memories will fade and warp - all of theirs will. Cottonsprig takes no solace in knowing that in moons, she will be thinking of her former Clanmates with sadness and guilt, and they will not recall her whatsoever.
The border is here. The stars watch as she slows her gait finally, and just beyond the brush, a battle scarred tom greets them. The medicine cat (can she even call herself that anymore?) doesn't look between them, doesn't care to account for any childhood rivalries or distrust. She trusts Peonybreeze, and it's her life and her decision at the end of the day. The shadows press around them as Cottonsprig finally looks at Foxglare. She's still teary eyed, however she's managed to tamper it down some. She hopes in his memory, he doesn't see her as the she-cat who is too foolish to right her wrongs succinctly. She hopes that the tabby tom sees her in his mind's eye as someone fun loving and carefree - two traits that she exhibits not-at-all in the moment.
Should he not pull away, she presses her cheek to his. "Thank you," she whispers. She almost breaks down again, just there. Cottonsprig pulls away before she has the chance to, slipping over the border. Her ears fold down as she takes up Peonybreeze's side comfortably instead. He has a place, he's said before. A spot that he's been resting ever since he left DuskClan... She'd stay there with him, she assumes. She trembles, but as the toms bid their farewells and she follows Peonybreeze's more streamlined gait, she does not look back. She cannot; it hurts too much.
