private with all my heart (iciclefang) god bless you

[MUDPELT]

// @ICICLEFANG

It’s not often the warrior gets moments like this, quality time alone with one of his youngest daughters. And though she says she isn’t his little girl, and he knows she’s grown from that tiny ball of tricolored fur that suckled at his mate’s belly, he can’t help but look at her the same way he had when she was that little. To her, he may just be her goofy, annoying dad. But she is the light of his life - one of them, at least. And even as aloof as he can be sometimes, the turmoil she’s been facing hasn’t gone over his head.

He is working on weaving another reed through the apprentice’s den wall, fixing it up the best he can before cast a side-glance towards the tortoiseshell. “Do you wanna…talk about it?” He asks carefully, voice soft with worry. “Ashpaw, I mean.” He’s not blind. He could see how close the two had been, and now that the ginger apprentice is back, his daughter is as cold towards her as her namesake. As her father, he knows it must be because she’s confused. It’s a difficult situation, and honestly, he’s not sure how to best approach it. He thinks this could be a good start.​

 

[iciclefang]

Camp work. She’s bored before she starts, though she doesn’t complain outwardly about the drab nature of the work. Her father has been assigned with her, and she watches his skilled brown paws shove woven reeds through a gap in the apprentice’s den with passive interest. “I’m still not as good as you,” she says, looking thoughtfully at her loosely-twined bits of reed. “I suppose it’d be unfair if StarClan made me good at everything, though.” Her tone is dry, but there’s a gleam in her eye as she secures her bit of craftwork and begins to work it next to Mudpelt’s.

Of course, it’s only a matter of time before he brings her up. Iciclefang isn’t surprised to hear him say something about her. She sighs, though audibly it’s barely more than a puff of breath. “Do we have to?” An ivory paw begins roughly tugging at more bits of twine. “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about, Mudpelt. She wasn’t here, and now she’s here.” Her posture has stiffened, and though her expression is neutral and carefully still, her father might pick up the steely shine of her eyes.

✧ INFO.

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

​

 

[MUDPELT]

He grimaces, large paws continuing to work. He should have expected her displeased response. He lifts his gaze, focusing on her paws that seem to stiffen as she rebukes his offer at conversation. He slowly lifts his eyes until he’s looking at her face, where her features are tightened, more stern than usual. Her eyes betray something, but what it is, he can’t tell. He sighs.

“Well, it’s just…you’re avoiding her an awful lot, aren’t you? Is there….a reason why?” He treads carefully, words chosen slowly as he mulls over them. He usually isn’t so cautious with his words, but even he can see this situation requires it. The tom wants to help his daughter if he only knew how. “We don’t have to talk about it, though. Not if you don’t want to,” He is quick to add, reverting his gaze back to his work.​

 

[iciclefang]

So even Mudpelt has noticed the distance she’s put between herself and Ashpaw. The tortoiseshell’s eyes narrow at this observation. “Avoiding? Hardly.” She grits her teeth, forcing a particularly stiff reed to twine about a twig. “She’s an apprentice, and I’m a warrior. What business do we have—” She remembers Ashpaw’s shrill cry of pain, paw ensnared in the shiny jaws of the trap—and then in the rough-shodden paws of the Twoleg—and she forces the reed a bit too hard. The entire piece breaks in two, and she’s left standing, frustrated, amongst splinters of stick.

Iciclefang is silent now. She knows Mudpelt—and every other cat who has inquired about Ashpaw—is only trying to help her, but she feels adamantly out of her element in every conversation. She, prodigy warrior, earning her ceremony early because of her battle prowess, and she, bruised and desolate, returning alone to camp without the girl she’d sworn silently to protect against all odds. She lowers her gaze momentarily, her pelt prickling. “She’s just a Clanmate,” she murmurs, and though her heart aches as she says it, she is quick to put the ice back in her voice, back in her chest. “I care about her like I care about all of my Clanmates, but that’s all she is to me.” A lie, bold-faced, but the more she says it, the truer it’s becoming.

✧ INFO.

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

​

 

[MUDPELT]

Mudpelt flinches slightly when the reed snaps, and he, too, watches the pieces litter the ground. An awkward grimace forms on his face. Yeah, definitely seems like nothing's wrong, He thinks, cleverly keeping that thought to himself. He frowns a bit and goes back to his weaving, racking his brain for something to say. Seeing his daughter, stone-faced and sure, seeming so….different, even if it's a change only a father can see…it breaks his heart.

He casts another clan in her direction before his eyes fall, somber. "Right…" He murmurs, large ears flicking back. He forces a brightness into his tone as he tried to meet her eyes, that charming half-grin slapped onto his maw again. "Well, if you need to talk - you know, about anything - you know your old man's here, right?"​