you sure know how to drop that guillotine on me || acting strangely

  • Although Betonyfrost has never felt it before, she is certain that what she feels now is love.

    It is only natural that such a thing would descend upon her at a moment when her life-- when everyone's life-- is in upheaval. Her bird-heart flutters like it wishes to escape, like it has an energy in of itself. Like it is an energy in of itself. Every time Betonyfrost blinks she sees the red glow of embers and when her eyes open it is as if she has looked at them in truth; the afterimage flickers in her sight as if the sun had caught her eye.

    She feels something like that: flame-hungry and contained. A sun surrounded by blue sky, an ember held in the ash-gray of cinder. Betonyfrost could jump into a lake and never sink. She's buoyant enough that she would float on the water, feather-light enough that she could catch a breeze on the soft down of her ribcage and swirl into the sky. It is a lovely thing; Betonyfrost has been nothing but whispered smiles and gentle, gut-deep purrs.

    It is so terrible that such a soft and precious feeling must be felt in the damp and dark confines of the tunnels beneath the Thunderpath.

    Betonyfrost knows that what she feels is wrong. She knows its selfish and callous and so terribly cold; she knows the way the acrid scent of fear and smoke mingle but never fully mix. How could Betonyfrost be so happy when everywhere she looks, her clanmates look haggard and beaten down? How could she not care that the home she has lived in for the whole of her life may be eaten by an ever-hungry but never starving fire?

    It is so terrible, but every time Betonyfrost starts to feel the encroachment of guilt on her good mood, she steals a glance, just a small, tiny little look at the one who has stolen her heart without even a word, and those feelings vanish. Betonyfrost looks and looks again, wishes they would look her way, wonders if they are just as shy as Betonyfrost feels, wonders and wonders and looks-- look at me! -- and looks to her folded paws. Like the sun greeting and cresting the horizon Betonyfrost feels a smile dawn on her face.​
  • Code:
shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | tags
Betonyfrost is a young warrior, younger than her, and Flickerfire has always found her to be an anxious and dour type. Weird, for sure. Anti-fun, even. The tortoiseshell has not paid much attention to her Clanmate besides this succinct internal classification, but now, trapped within the confines of the tunnel under the Thunderpath, she finds she has little to do but stare and 'cat watch.'

Most of the cats are despondent, afraid. Most of them did not see the fire, did not inhale the smoke or feel its heat on their fur, but they fear losing their home. There's only a single cat who has a lightness to their step and a strange, out-of-place smile on their maw.

"What the hell are you so happy about?" Flickerfire asks. Her tone is curious, not cross. She has salve smeared on the two spots where her fur has been burned away, and her throat is feeling marginally better after a mouthful of Bonejaw's honey. Now that she knows no one has been killed, she's in a better mood. "Someone call you cute today? Who was it?" She leans forward conspiratorially.

the feline hated gossip. drama. silly little chattering about nothingness. why? well, why would they enjoy it? it had nothing to do with them, right? and they weren't a cat who really enjoyed stuff like that. they barely enjoyed small talk, trying their hardest to stay away from most conversations in the first place. but in such a small confined space, they had no choice but to hear it all. whispers and giggles. laughs, even. they kneaded into their nest, yawning before standing up. they fluffed it up, tilting their head as they heard flickerfire's voice nearby.


with a breath out, they lashed their tail. they were going absolutely crazy in here. they hated confined spaces, and with a bunch of chatty cats, nevertheless. flicking their tufted ear, they laid back down in their nest, propping their head up with their paw.

"surely you have something better to do then being so... loud?"

their voice was rather neutral, considering how agitated they actually felt. chilledgaze had been very good at masking their real feelings for indifference.
  • It shouldn't surprise Betonyfrost that someone confronts her, and yet she startles, head jerked back and owl-eyes blinking up at Flickerfire.

    Betonyfrost had known someone would; she just hadn't known it would be Flickerfire, and she had carried the assumption that it would come with a scolding for not taking things seriously enough. Flickerfire seems nosy, and the whole of Betonyfrost wants to protest. It isn't any of Flickerfire's concern-- why does she even care? Something harsh riles in Betonyfrost. She wants to--

    but Betonyfrost doesn't know what she wants to do.

    Instead Betonyfrost uncrosses and recrosses her paws, now folded opposite to as they had been before. She moves her head as if to lay her chin down, but then rights herself. Betonyfrost does as she always does and swallows her frustration. It will pass. She cannot help herself; she looks at them again, and then remembering her audience, looks back to Flickerfire.

    "No one called me cute," Betonyfrost says, neutral, "Not today or ever."

    It isn't the answer Flickerfire will want, but it is the answer Betonyfrost gives. She thinks to herself: don't look at them again, and then as if her neck wishes to spite her, Betonyfrost's head turns once more.

    And Chilledgaze is looking her way.

    Oh, it could have been a lovely thing if only Chilledgaze hadn't spoken. It could have been lovely if Flickerfire hadn't prompted Betonyfrost into speaking, but Chilledgaze's words only spark something deeper in Betonyfrost. They are just like me! Betonyfrost thinks. She wouldn't be brave enough to say something like that-- but oh, how many times has she wished it? She thinks the two of them could just sit in silence, and they wouldn't ever need to say a word.

    She thinks that maybe-- maybe she could be someone Chilledgaze could talk to, if they wished it. When they wished it, because surely everyone wished deep down that they knew how to reach out. Chilledgaze could help her with that, and maybe Betonyfrost could help them in turn.

    "We'll be quiet," Betonyfrost promises, her voice already a touch lower, "I think... I think Flickerfire was just on her way, anyway," She can't help but be nervous saying it. Betonyfrost has never dismissed someone before, but she's feeling just as brave as she is light, and the gnawing fear that Flickerfire will hate her for this is miniscule when compared to the knowledge that Chilledgaze would rather have quiet.​
  • Code:
shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | tags