[redshiftreign]

RUSHWATER.

agatha kitty, mind reader, go with the flow
@Ravenswings @poppy

rushwater had a very particular moral code. certain and set in stone like the twirling of a clock, but as indecipherable as a forgotten tongue.

strike one was the blood-scent in the air, the crooked canyon of a wound across the deputy’s maw, and the unsheathed claws. rushwater’s shoulders were tensed and poised for a fight, tail twitching in patient analysis.

he was, admittedly by nature a dangerous tom. he was raised to be lethal and efficient as the bloated river amid the summer storms. the difference between he and other more impulsive hazards was the tick, tick, tock of his conditioning; an incessant drone in the back of his head like steady beat of his heart. his hooked claws were no strangers to flesh, and his glinting teeth were not unaware of crimson.

strike two was leaping on yet another clanmate. i am begging you, truly, to give me a third reason.

goldenberry was in no state of mind to be around so many cats— it was clear from the way her grief turned rage and she fell to delusion and mania. rushwater had one prime objective: get her somewhere where she can’t hurt anyone else. or herself. willowpaw was the name of the deceased, he assumed. okay, he could use that. tucking away that information, he pulled out every conflict de-escalation skill he could think of.

he flicked an ear to birdsnow, a subtle glance back indicating that he’d like some space. in part because he didn’t want the gathering crowd to stress the grieving she-cat more, but more so because he didn’t want anyone else getting attacked.

“goldenberry,” names are powerful, personal. appeal to emotion. experience, years of treading water with volatile associates that could blow up at any moment prepared him for this.

“dandeliontuft is right. willowpaw wouldn’t want this, i can’t imagine anyone would. would she claw her deputy? would she scream at her clan mates? would she blame anyone?” truly, he didn’t know the answer because he didn’t know willowpaw. yet still, he could use this. he could cut to the heart of the matter.

“she deserves a better legacy than you going mad over her death. i’m asking you again, quite kindly, to take a breather out of camp. if you’d like, i’ll walk with you, or you may go alone. think about her, think about what she would want.”

he hated being the good guy, sometimes. this cat deserved to be tore asunder for laying a paw on another riverclanner.

but he was used to thinking, and not doing. he was used to choosing the second option when it is better for the situation. more than that, he did not want to have to drop another body under the stone especially if the blood fell on his own maw. he did not want to lose everything he was working for.

there would be a time and a place for him to decide what he thought was best, for now all he could do was wait. patiently.