endless, nameless

[alkaline]

despite all his beliefs, he was in...the stars? his lip curled. oh, the irony.

did he regret it? no. never.

days passed, and nearly a moon went by as he hid away in the ethereal plains, refusing to do anything but sullenly sulk, and wallow in his woes. he found himself no better off here than he was down there, and he grew impossibly bitter. he'd been doomed to fade away, rather than burn out; he hated it. he quarreled with himself. he berated any action of his, past or present, eternally bothered.

was he any better? no. no, he was no better than Rabbit. oh, what a fool he was. look at all his mistakes. how did he end up here? he hardly deserved it.

guilt drove him to do it, in the end.

(it's like pulling clouds toward him. somehow, his claws pass through, but they're stirred closer regardless. whisking her over, when she falls asleep, gently poking his way into her subconscious - into her dreams.)

"Spring," he rasped, his voice hoarse - forever trapped in a state of disuse. his green eyes peered intently at the long-haired calico. already, he felt remorse. he should let her sleep peacefully. who was he to overstep, overstay his welcome? something he never had in the first place. "never mind," he dismissed, turning to run away from her. pathetic.

was that any different from the beginning? he'd walked up to a crying child and cracked the worst, insensitive joke possible to try and make her feel better the first time they ever met. he remained just as awful now. failing at the simplest tasks.

he'd lost - oh, stars. he couldn't even think of it.

he turned back, staring at Spring with wide eyes. "i'm sorry," he apologized. it wouldn't ever be enough. words couldn't fix what he'd done. "i-" he cut himself off. "don't - don't accept my apology. or think of me. or mourn me. or do anything stupid like that. just - you're alright, kid. y'know that?" he paused. "goodbye. and, uh. congrats. on the new name. but don't say thanks or anything, okay? um. bye. for real this time." and, repeating his last ever words to her before he disappeared, he added, "sorry to bother you."

he can't talk to her. he's forgotten how to talk to anybody. but especially to her. to his stupid, adopted kids. not that he ever was their father. nor were they his kids. he was just some insignificant organism passing by, briefly catching like a burr onto their pelts, before he was brushed off and forgotten.

@iliri

[iliri]

Springlight
long-furred, oriental-shaped, gray-and-orange calico molly with blue eyes; torn right ear
purrks: herbal knowledge - tier 2 | the collector | mind reader | skip the steps[all perm. active; sts for battle training]

---

tw; mentions of slight self-doubt, depression, depersonalization, abandonment, and minor yelling. there is probably other heavy topics in this post that i didn’t catch on, but please read with caution and in case if it get too much for you, please stop reading now for your own good.

It had been exhausting. Every fiber of her being had been growing exhausted. Rest solely came by as a second-to-last resort for just how downright busy the medicine den can get. These last few days had been moderately low on those meters, but to get herself to take a moment’s rest wasn't as easy as that. She was a hard worker, and she poured her sweat, blood, and tears into the very crevices of her clan just to keep herself occupied with aiding her clan-mates and healing the sick and wounded. She liked her current role in the clan, and there wasn't any way in hell that she was going to allow herself to succumb and become a burden for Bumblestar to haul all because she couldn’t execute the tasks that she was rightfully endowed with all those moons ago. Sharp, curved talons felt as if they were tugging beneath her thick coat, digging into her skin. It marked her sign of quiet disquietude, of anxiety that boiled deep within her gut and fed off her sentiments like blood-sucking parasites. Nostrils flaring, the herbalist took on the pungent, palpable stench of her prestigious herbs, feeling her stiffened muscles relax against her soft nest as her rounded paws rested among the ridges of her bed.

This position was painfully familiar; reminiscing the night he walked in before he left her without a single goodbye. Leaving without any word of thought or saying something to her. He left just like Rabbitchatter, not stating his willingness to leave just like he had. A painful sensation of bitterness formed in the deepest pits of her stomach. A sweet bitterness that protruded so chaotically that it almost physically hurt for her to bear. It was like her emotions were all conjoined together into a chaotic ball that held the intent to destroy her from the inside. Lips parted, a sharp sigh expelled past them as her large ears flattened against her head. A stiff breeze from the cooler arrangements of the outside world brushed against her coat, pulling her whiskers back, soaking into her fur like water and chilling to the bone. Yet, unlike the sensation of water’s liquid pull, it wasn’t pleasant. She felt like she was basking in it. It was easy to say that she preferred the cool breeze of springtime over the barren, biting chills of winter digging into her fur like sharpened talons.

Although there were cats who bore different options about their preferred choice of weather, Springlight just preferred the warmer, lighter weather. She’d be fairly certain that she wouldn’t be the only cat to prefer the warmer weather like this. A stifled breath escaped past her nostrils, and the molly found her eyes growing heavy with fatigue. Placing her head in her warm nest, the calico found herself slowly slipping away into a contented, deep range of slumber that she unwillingly needed.

—

Springlight’s eyes shot open. Light flooded into them, burning her retinas, and she blinked against it. The aftermath of falling asleep gradually began to hit her, her fur warm by the pouring golden rays of sun in this somewhat normalized dream. Whiskers quivering and nostrils flaring, the molly instinctively detected the aroma of plump prey, spotting a few mice nibbling on some seeds as they bounded by. The herbalist stared owlishly, taking a moment to take in her surroundings before thinking of any plentiful reason for getting up to wander around. Her brain ticked as she processed the landscape before her, feeling her stomach clench unsettlingly by the familiarity. It looked to be Firefly Cove, a piece of ThunderClan’s beloved territory. But, even with the meadow being profoundly exposed before her, it was questionable to see all the luscious prey squeaking in tall grass, to smell the overly sweet and spicy herbs drilling into her nostrils. And, with how unseasonably warm it was. Squinting, the calico glanced up before herself to observe the large ball of gas shining brightly above her. It stung her eyes, but it was still odd to see the sun of all things in her dream.

She knew full well what Firefly Cove looked like, so why was she taken there again? Had she just been mentally wishing to dream about the place and she hadn’t held a singularized clue about it? Narrowing her deep blue hues, the calico rose to her paws. Her movements were sluggish, but the exhaustion in her limbs was quick to drive itself away as soon as it had appeared. The golden sun’s brightened aura practically flooded into her vision, blocking them and making it difficult to process more of her surroundings. Preferably, she would’ve liked to stroll the piece of territory when the sun was actually at its point of conversing over the horizon. Not at this time of day. Then again, she was snuck into a dream where it was apparently about a piece of her territory. What was she supposed to do in it? Explore? Collect flowers like she was a naive, curious child again? She held no clue about what her options were, but she supposed at least one of them would work.

The one thing that she can say though was that the sun felt presumably nice. It was better than the harsh bitterness of cold that snuck its way through the narrowed entrance of the medicine den and got both herself and her patients frigid and nauseous. Winter was always a definite pain in the tail to deal with for those cold, difficult times of the year. Illnesses and maladies always came around and she was almost certain that was when the poison from RiverClan came to be. Stars, that time was atrociously awful. She never really had a more stressful time than that. Trying to cure everyone in the clan from that impenetrable disease felt like a disaster made in hell more than anything. It wasn’t easy to get everyone to become cured of the disease, but thankfully, it worked out in the end and now it’s no longer something for either herself or Drizzlecloud to deal with. A sharp sigh expelled past her nostrils as she continued lumbering through the meadow, not seeing much to think about as she walked. There wasn’t anything too intriguing other than the glaringly luminous sun and overly sweet sprouting blossoms.

Her subconscious drew her towards a stop as she landed in a field of scarlet red blooms, finding herself staring at the blossoms in a captivating way. Blinking once. Twice. She goggled at the flowers without much thought given to their beauty. While she stared, she couldn’t feel but think of a burdening remembrance that she never necessarily yearned to think about again. The day when she stood in a place in the meadow alongside a tom-cat whose fur gleamed a bright russet red, plucking flowers and snagging firefly bugs like the innocent little molly she used to be. It was funny to look back at those thoughts. She hadn’t known of Alder-... Foxstep’s negligent nature. She hadn’t grown a mild dissatisfaction towards him and thought of him as a cat who held zero responsibility towards his clan. A cat who put her family members' lives in danger and hadn’t truly thought of the consequences of his actions towards his negligence. Her claws slipped and sunk into the life-rich soil, tearing away strands of grass and her tail whisked without a second thought. Presumably, she never let it go otherwise if it weren’t for her emotions doing things they shouldn’t be. She couldn’t find herself angry; just disappointed. Disappointed by his lack of initiative and insensitivity toward his actions.

“Spring.”

Her large ears instinctively erected forward, her body freezing up as each of her muscles instinctively tensed against the sudden silence that overtook her body. His voice thrummed through her ears like a bee’s buzzing wings coated with the sweet nectar of life-rich pollen, but his voice didn't carry its normal tone as it used to, only sounding hoarse as if he decided to take a mouthful of sand and gargle with it until he assailed his throat muscles. The small voice in her head didn't want to believe that it was him, wanting to retaliate against her inner consciousness for believing that she wanted to think that she was here with her in this painful dream. Did she miss him so much that she was imagining that he was there with her? Did she imagine that his voice was purely coated with the flinching guilt of his actions? She had to be. He wasn't here with her. He couldn't be. He left and never bothered to come back without a second thought. Each intrusive thought screamed and weaved that she was right. He wasn't there; she was just imagining it. Even with her thoughts and heart mindlessly screaming at her, she couldn't stop the urge to turn around and look behind herself.

Lo and behold, it truly was him. That same deep, russet-colored coat, the vibrantly snow-white paws, and deep emerald-green eyes, all alight with stars that gave him an unusual ethereal glow, highlighted by the sun's golden rays. It was all there. All they were staring pointedly at her as if they were taunting her very presence. But, even with all that ethereal glory showering down on him, there was an escalade of exhaustion that laced his entire posture. Dark circles ringed themselves beneath his eyelids to show his external conflict with himself after his unbeknownst passing. Other than that, the calico couldn't stop her internalization of conflict happening within herself. That bitterness swelled again, protruding and pounding at the very crevices of her heart. Brows furrowing, the calico found herself feeling intertwined with her emotions. At one half of her, she wanted to be furious, angry, yell at him for leaving, and reprimand that he was here to mock her for the events that occurred. Yet, on the other hand, she wanted to be… guilty. Guilty for never telling him that she was sorry; that she had no right to be angry. It was all a pitiful, heat-of-the-moment, mindless blur that she should be ashamed of for committing.

“… Alder?” The word shakingly brushed past her lips, barely even a whisper as she found her legs growing weary beneath herself. Unbridled anger bubbled deep within her chest, almost in a defying urge to call him out for leaving her alone in the clan where she was struggling to maintain her inner sanity. One of the only cats that she had formerly held a high amount of respect for suddenly gone and departed only to have shown himself in the stars and had done nothing to help her in regard. It was only once that they had, and that was during the whole incident with the foxes themselves. Nothing. Else. In all fairness, it hurt. It hurt so damn bad to feel the chaotic mixtures of emotions bubbling deep within her chest. The tom-cat didn’t even wish to face her, pitifully dismissing the matter as if he hadn’t even bothered trying to make amends. It was foolish of him, to know that he still held that tendency to not bother to face the facts right in front of him. Springlight silently scoffed at herself, her tail lashing habitually as she stared at the back of the former deputy.

Was this any different than how they met? The day that ThunderClan’s old camp grew barren and destroyed by the mass amount of sinkholes? The day when Rabbitchatter left without a single word and never tried stepping a paw back toward ThunderClan territory? She was only a mere child, a child who lost her home and was forced to go through days of no training without her mentor there to assist her. A mentorless child who remained snuck in the crevices of the apprentices’ den all because she couldn’t find the courage to speak up with anybody in particular. That old, embodiment shell of hers was no more. She wasn’t as naive; not as clueless. Her training days of looking after the sick and weak and having the clan in the care of both her paws and Drizzlecloud’s made her into a different, more dependable feline. She sure as hell lasted longer than the other medicine cats of her clan and she hoped to keep it that way for a long while. Nonetheless, the pastel feline stared ahead, looking at the russet feline whom she saw as a father figure even long after he had left. Their first interaction was painful, given that the young ‘paw had been so clueless and naive of the world’s rough nature, but those were days of the past and she must now tend to the future.

The moment he turned back, Springlight found her lapis-blue gaze locking with his green, finding her own will to test her inner strength faltering. It wasn’t hard for her to digress from the unstable emotions coming from the tom in front of her. This bond, or whatever they had, was broken. It had grown to be crooked and conjoined greatly from the burdening aftermath of their growing bond of what had progressively begun at their little adventure at Firefly Cove. Springlight’s stomach surged, finding herself feeling internally ill at the grisly thought. She had been young, and the duo were new to their ranks. She held no clear initiative of his future plans. Or, even if his negligence even was a part of his plan. All that the thought did was make her grow all the more sick, feeling internally burdened by the mass succumbing of what had occurred moons ago. His words rushed through her like a raging tirade, crashing against the banks of walls and she doubted that she’d be able to muster up the proper wording to even coordinate against his words. All that she heard spew out of his mouth was one thing after another, and they burned deep within her core, making her growing frustrations fester and spit like boiling hot lava.

“You know… I should be mad at you.” Springlight spoke, struggling to contain herself as she stared at the tom-cat right in front of her. Thank stars for the dreamlands giving her the freedom to talk without any sort of agonizing pain permeating her body. She’d be able to give out her own internalized opinions with her own free will. “If you think it’s gonna be that easy to forget about you, well you thought wrong. I can’t stop thinking about you almost every stardamned day because you were influential to my life, even if you think otherwise. You were as important to me as Rabbitchatter used to be. Sure, you may have been a fumbling idiot at times with your nonchalant snarkiness and lack of social cues, but do you think that I cared about that? No. Do you think that I just think of you as the cat who caused negligence towards his own clan-mates all because he took a pawful of innocent children with him to fight foxes? As much as I want to think of you as that cat, I know that you didn't do it on purpose. You were looking for cats to help you fight, and they stepped forward to help assist you.”

She stopped, momentarily catching herself as she found her voice turning wobbly. She didn't know when the tears began falling, but she was vaguely aware that her cheeks were stained with a hot wetness. Either way, she didn't care. She was too hyperfocused on expressing herself in a misguided attempt at trying to get the starry tom to see her thoughts; to see how utterly broken she became throughout the moons that he had left. “Do you think I wanted to feel like this? To feel broken, battered, torn down like I am a mess? I've been broken for moons. I’ve struggled to maintain myself ever since you left ThunderClan. After you left, a part of me left as well, just like it had with Rabbitchatter and my siblings. I don’t think you understand waking up in the middle of the night shaking, sobbing, every night because someone you once loved left you without saying a damn word! After all, the one who should be apologizing here is me, damnit! I pushed you away when you came into the medicine den while I was recovering all because I was disappointed at you for what you did. I wasn't angry, I was disappointed. Get that through your thick skull, dad.”

She had almost fizzled out considerably by this point. Her voice was hoarse and she felt drained, even though it was all just a dream. It was never in her intentions to yell at him, but it was too late. The damage was done. “I just… I’m sorry. I pushed you away because I didn't think thoroughly enough. I’ve been trying to think against the thought of being angry at you… but after you left, it’s been hard not to do so. You broke that barrier. You broke our bond. We just… it’s hard to even think that I am standing here talking to you of all cats.” She felt weak. And she hated it. She hated putting on such a display in front of the one cat that she had considered her father and kept herself together anymore. That barrier that she had kept her maintained for so long broke. She just couldn't keep it together anymore, and just let loose her frustrations. It felt like a burden was lifted off her shoulders, but her chest felt hollow and her heart was heavy. Her gaze tore away from his green as the tears kept coming, painfully reminiscing of their first meeting the day their old camp was crumbling before them. What a way to make a scene, she supposed.

@bite. [ this was painful to write ]

[alkaline]

contains themes heavy on past violence + death/grief + guilt (+implied mental illness)

He hates that name. Alder. They - Yarrow and his sister and... maybe somebody else, though he couldn't remember, not unlike how they might never remember him again - always used it so stubbornly as if it meant something.

Foxstep turned Fox. Turned dead.

His stupid corpse is rolling in its grave now, suffering to hear that name.

He knew from that look on her face already that she detested the sight of his pelt. What else could she feel? She was sensible; sensible cats knew what vermin looked like. They caught mice and maggots under their paws and pierced the heads with claws sharper than icicles.

Her words, then, were like a sudden shooting star: unexpected, amazing, and, despite it all, terrifyingly enlightening.

(He knows grief; anybody did. It was what connected them, all their tears and shuddering hearts so woe-stricken they grew weary of beating that same rhythm: grief. For his first love ever, Creamcloud - whom he never worked up the wits to realize that he could love - he grieved. For his fastest friend, Rabbitchatter - a saving grace that pulled him from arrogance, until that itself became a stranger - he grieved. For all those apprentices he lost, he grieved. For his son, Yarrowcrest - whose kits, his grandkits, he never got to see - he grieved.)

It's darkly disheartening to know that Spring was no stranger to sleepless, sobbing nights; to know it was his fault impossibly added to his guilt, bearing down on his heart until it stopped.

But he'd rather her be angry than disappointed. Disappointment, he knew too well on his mother's face, and her upturned nose. Anger passed, but being let down was hard to forgive, and it could never be forgotten. He grimaced faintly, killed even more by her admission, though it was only fair: caused by his damning failure.

She's still standing there, tears streaking down her cheeks like raindrops down a glass pane. He knows there's nothing more he can do; further apologies would only drive the stake deeper into his heart. They're only useful if the other accepts them, and what point is there to accept an apology when there's no action to prove its credibility? He was dead. He could do nothing. Not anymore.

He felt a line drawn invisibly between him and her. It kept him at bay, away from her. He cannot comfort her. She's grown up now, and he's painfully distant, despite being right there in front of her.

Silence settled thickly between them, like the calm snow of leaf-bare. There was a frosty fog blurring his window through which he peered out to see his daughter-turned-stranger; the lack of clarity made him hesitant to speak. He inhaled slowly, paws shifting minutely.

She won't forget him; that much is obvious.

"I never... never left. Willingly," he started quietly, tongue laden with lead-heavy desolation. Already, he knows he won't say much. There were things he'd promised himself to take to the grave; being a spirit changed nothing. "It's - it's not your fault, okay? Don't think that. Don't be guilty - " because guilt is a leeching parasite " - 'cause it's not your fault." He'd hoard guilt like a pack rat if he could.

He paused, his next inhale shaky. The scar on his cheek stung. He knows what he was back then: a rabbit whose heart gave out and gave up from fright. The fight had left him the moment his clanmates turned their claws on him - for his mistake.

It's not just him who broke that bond between clanmates. It wasn't only foxes who tore open wounds in him. Spiderthroat and Bumblestar - two enraged entities with violence rather than words (sparse words that reached him in a haze, dissociated - but who cared? who knew? it was inconsequential compared to all those who accompanied him, mangled afterward) that delivered reality to him: he was incapable of earning trust, worthy only of betrayal.

He'd hardly any time during his turn downhill to catch onto Spring, to be there when she was wounded, to be there when she might've needed him most. That, he suspected, built the dam between her and him. He opened his mouth, wishing to hell and back he could somehow find the words to mend that hurt he'd inadvertently delivered to her. He couldn't. He bowed his head, ashamed.

It would have been better if he never found the afterlife, or if he had never visited her dreams, so as not to remind her painfully of his wrongdoings.

@iliri