the sting of disappointment [p]

[Fawn]

Palequiver -

As Palequiver examined his stealth lesson in progress, she encouraged him with motherly little cheers and awed noises because she was so very impressed by her boy out there doing his best, his stealth a sight to behold, a gift bestowed upon ShadowClan itself. Yes, he would someday find himself among the legends.

Perhaps it would be for having the silkiest, most shimmering pelt instead of his stealth ability, however. Or his penchant for . . . expressiveness. ShadowClan's stoicism truly could use his flavor of brightness.

When she heard him cry out, Palequiver refocused, immediately on edge and seeking whatever had distressed him. "What is it, my darling? What's wrong?" She rattled as she approached in strides quickened by panic.

It took her a matter of moments to understand what'd happened, and Palequiver deliberately began ushering him back, away from the hive while she stood like a wall between him and those nasty bees. "Oh, my precious baby boy! Did it hurt you? Did they sting you? Where?" Came the barrage of overbearing, overly-concerned questions, with her advancing into his personal space at a rapid rate. "We must get you to the medicine cat's den at once, or-- or, here, allow Mentor to have a look."

@BEAR.

[BEAR.]

Her coddling did nothing to soothe his AGONY, and as such she needed to be punished! "You-" the words came venomous, laced with the minutes of building agitation with how she sabotaged his life AND looks. "YOU did this! If it weren't for you and your STUPID, FREAKING BEES - none of this would have happened!" Look at his beautiful muzzle, damaged beyond repair! It'd soon swell up and carry him away, the horror. Coldpaw made sure to puff up, blinking back tears as he got near her face with a hiss. "What is wrong with you?? I didn't want these stupid bees, and now - now they've stung my muzzle off! YOU RUINED MY FACE! Is this why your kits died, your sheer stupidity???"

[ @Fawn ]

[Fawn]

Palequiver -

Palequiver flinched back as if she had been struck, anguish written across her face at his near-violent rejection of her mothering efforts. Poetically, his operatic meltdown had stung her worse than if she’d been attacked by the bees as well — that comment about her kits, it wrecked Palequiver in a matter of seconds, and she stood frozen in place as a statue of grief and outrage.

“Enough,” she hissed, fragile, meow like glass. Her entire porcelain facade was on the brink of collapse. “Your feelings have been expressed perfectly clearly, my dearest Coldpaw.” The usual motherly warmth cut like icy shards.

Palequiver’s frame trembled. She turned away from him, staring at some distant future that would never be. Ears tilting back, a whisper slid from her, thin—stretched too tight, “I suppose if you had been mine by blood, perhaps you'd have inherited thicker skin.”

@BEAR.

[BEAR.]

"No, apparently it has not", there was no waiver in his voice, his anger seemingly justified by her callousness. How cold of her to take back her -- her-- Coldpaw didn't know what she took back, but Mentor withdrew and he did not care for that. This was about him, after all.

"Your actions have wounded me Mentor, but of course the one time you're needed you turn away." His face throbbed, his only solace the death of the creature that inflicted the pain directly. He was doing his best to maintain composure but this, this definitely pushed it. Briefly, he wondered if this was a show of her true colors - an indication she was not as bothered as she acted.

He discarded that, instantly. Clearly she was just getting a rise out of him - fine. He'd indulge. "If I were your blood, that sting would have killed me moons ago! Is that what you want, Mentor?? I thought you cared."

[ @Fawn ]

[Fawn]

Palequiver -

Palequiver’s muzzle was drawn, a thin line between trembling corners as if will itself could stop her from breaking apart before him. His cruelty echoed, the damage done.

Her heart strings, already frayed, tugged nonetheless when she heard that word: needed. By his own admission, Coldpaw needed her right now. Every instinct groomed by moons of devastation and loss screamed at her to discard his transgressions, then swoop to his side and collect him in a healing embrace—but she hesitated, the striking awareness that her behavior elicited this.

Coldpaw hadn’t needed her when he got stung.

Suddenly he did.

Palequiver course-corrected into restraint. A mother’s love, just out of grasp. “My dearie,” she spoke wistfully, “do not be so callous as to suggest I would wish death upon you when I do care with a depth rivaled by oceans. I merely long for your inclinations towards me to be less—hurtful.” Her voice may have broken over the word, but her gaze side-slid to him, waiting.

But her resolve and dedication to the role didn’t come anywhere close to Coldpaw’s, and within moments, she was fracturing. Her retreat was marked by old habits: turning towards him, eyes filled with worry. “Now, stop this petulance and let Mentor take care of you.”

@BEAR.