SunClan
don't call me nice; i'm gonna eat your heart out
Posts: 150
Pronouns: he/him
Played By: rubykh
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Post by Turtlefang on Aug 7, 2022 0:26:30 GMT -6
The scolding plucked the amusement straight from Turtlefang's whiskers, nearly earning the other warrior a glare back if he wasn't busy trying to be the bigger cat in all of this. Sensible, confident, calm, collected, rational- all the things he was supposed to be. Forgive me for trying to lighten the mood I guess. He made to keep walking, ready to ignore Daisyfire's bad attitude and part ways on hostile terms if that was really the path she chose amidst all the possible mixed signals left. Lucky for him, there was one more surprise waiting in the realization that he'd lost the bob of folded ears in the corner of his eye. Stopping the few steps he'd taken, he blinked back at the other, sitting firmly at the boundary that'd take them both home.
He returned to the other tom only by a pace or two, keeping a comfortable gap between them where he now stood on the other side. On Moonclan ground, separated from the warrior just a patch further. It probably wasn't a good idea to linger there without an escort at his immediate side, but a good pause for sensing out the area confirmed to him that they appeared to be alone and undisturbed for the time being. He just hoped the border patrol ran on the same schedule as Sunclan's- it'd give them a while to make themselves scarce. Or, him anyway. There wasn't a them, anymore. Or, there wouldn't be, so long as he could get Daisyfire off the ground and back home where they could both forget each other in peace. Out of sight, out of mind. For now, though, eyeing the dig of his claws into the dirt as if Turtlefang would drag him back otherwise, the tortie spoke up, mustering a patience to his tone. It wasn't that hard, not when he was delaying return himself. "What's there to be scared of?"
Gracefully dodging the words geared to get rid of him, his own question was an answer in itself. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. While he didn't stop and sit like the cat across from him, his tail flicked, slow and lazy, in a casual gesture, as if they weren't standing on the edge of Moonclan territory just waiting to be caught by someone. "It's just your clanmates, isn't it?" Unless it wasn't. With a slight tension sharpening his inflection, he continued, "If it's because of me, I assure you, I'm not going to talk. We both have something to lose if I did." It was too easy to feel just a touch offended at the prospect that Daisyfire's supposed trust had been retracted so easily. As if it meant something in the first place. He shook the sting off as best he could. Positive reinforcement worked better before. And so, he advanced more mindfully, leaning his weight forward as if to confide in the cat who couldn't even open his eyes to look at him. "All you have to do is tell the story I gave you. This will all die with it, and you'll forget you were ever here. It'll all be okay from that point." For such finalizing words, condemned to their own dismal fates in the wastelands of corroded memory, Turtlefang's tone was softer, now, like promising the end of a bad dream. Offering comfort in amnesia, comfort in letting go, because that's what most cats liked, wasn't it? To just forget what was bad, and embrace what didn't hurt you.
Daisyfire's bright markings grew fuzzier in his perspective, like a hazy summer day, as something overshadowed the edge of his mind. The ghostly touch of other things worth forgetting, things that needed to be thrown away if you were ever to escape them. If she were truly scared, the best thing he could do was become just another nightmare to her. A creature that merely lurked in the subconscious, far from touch and far from thought. Just like his own fears. Thinking back, did he even say he was scared of him specifically? It felt like such a given, Turtlefang couldn't fathom backtracking now.
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MoonClan
The thing no one tells you about being dead is that it’s boring
Posts: 114
Pronouns: She/He
Played By: VioCrow
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Post by Daisyfire on Aug 8, 2022 0:57:10 GMT -6
*＊✿❀ Daisyfire ❀✿＊* Scoffing exasperation, she shook her head violently as if she could somehow physically dismiss Turtlefang’s words. “You don’t get it! MoonClan is all I have and I- I said and did so many things, how am I supposed to face my Clanmates now? I’ve so easily criticized Pansystar for being soft, and now? Now you- and I-” Daisyfire shook his head again. “… I don’t have any family left. It all felt so far away, but now that we’re here… I don’t know how I‘ll be able to look at anyone, knowing that a part of me is missing now, and without it? I might just lose everything.”What a sorry thing to say. It wasn’t as if Turtlefang hadn’t reminded her this entire time of this specific situation, and yet, it hadn’t felt real enough to warrant any concern at the time. Now that he was soon to leave her side, and in doing so she would be thrust back into the world she once knew as a cat she couldn’t recognize. Would her mother ever recognize her? What cat had she become, and what cat was she meant to be? Was this what she had left everything for? Maybe she hadn’t been meant for just… staying around. She groaned, slapping a paw across her muzzle before getting up in resignation. “I worked so hard to get here! I’ve lost everything, and I guess that wasn’t enough for me! Let’s just- let’s just get this over with, I don’t need you to tell me that you were right and that I’m stupid, I’m just… going to have to get used to acting like I don’t know something life changing.With paws now being forced to work again on their social death march, she closed the distance between them and took a few extra paces beyond Turtlefang. “C’mon, Turtle, before I forget how to be a cat again.” How annoying. It wasn’t as if Turtlefang had been the only cat to have ever told Daisyfire to use his brain. He’d heard it most of his life, especially after coming to the Clan. It just stung to finally have an instance where her heart had betrayed her so thoroughly. Did she even know how to ignore it now? She’d have to, otherwise she might just have to go crawling back to that ugly little white fence. … no, if she ever got banished she’d rather just become a loner. |
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SunClan
don't call me nice; i'm gonna eat your heart out
Posts: 150
Pronouns: he/him
Played By: rubykh
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Post by Turtlefang on Aug 8, 2022 3:28:16 GMT -6
Quite honestly, he didn't know how to respond for a moment. With Daisyfire's outburst, all scattered and full of worried sentiments he couldn't piece together, he leaned out from where he'd knelt inwards just a moment before, drawing back from the flare-up lest he get singed by the sparks once more. Before he knew it, the other warrior had passed him by, bright tail snaking across the border like it'd never been an issue. Turtlefang's muzzle twitched at the motion, teeth threatening to flash in annoyance- because for all the fuss she'd put up seating herself so stubbornly, now he was just going to head on and act like it was 'Turtle' holding them up? Crying about loyalty woes and personal loss like it meant something, just to get up and head off all bossy and avoidant? If you're just going to clam up, don't bother telling me anything at all. It was bothersome. Bothersome, especially hearing about all the life-changing information that had apparently ruined the warrior's place in Moonclan. If just talking to someone was enough to ruin your sense of belonging, maybe it wasn't there in the first place, he wanted to hiss. Don't make it sound like my fault. Hadn't he already given the perfect solution? None of this would matter, not a single thing, with a good bit of forgetting. It wasn't a hard thing to do, not when they were unlikely to meet again. For all the things he'd told him at the Moonpond, Turtlefang couldn't imagine what he'd done to be so memorable that it'd hinder someone's capacity for peaceful living. It was stressful. Stressful, because all he'd done was be himself. Just for a little bit. And look at how it ruins you. Why would you ever ask for more?
It hurt, in a way, to know that merely by existing, he could irreversibly damage someone to the point of lost rationality. If Daisyfire couldn't forget him, a warrior he'd met twice, then what did that mean for the cats forced to put up with him every day of their lives? With one little lie, none of the other's fears would ever come to fruition. But apparently, even that wasn't enough to repair... whatever had broken when he'd allowed himself to hang around too long. But that was just proof of what he already knew. Proof of what he'd warned the tom again and again- that it was dangerous to talk, more dangerous to play with attachments. It wasn't his fault she hadn't listened, but it was his fault for not being meaner sooner. For not scarring her mentally the way she'd scarred his back. Proof of touch, of connection. If anything, didn't he have it so much worse? Daisyfire wouldn't have to look at himself and see the physical evidence of their crime. That was all his burden to bear, and yet here she was acting like he somehow came out on top. All just because he was right, had always been right. As if victory was synonymous with reward. Winning didn't guarantee him security, and being treated like it did was aggravating in a way he didn't want to justify. The last thing he needed was to give a Moonclan warrior any more leverage over him than he already had.
Without words, he padded after the other, although not without quickening his pace to reclaim the lead with a sharp sideglance in the process. You don't order me around.
If Daisyfire was going to keep up the dramatics about all his loss at the paws of a wicked, unfeeling Sunclanner, that was his own baggage to unpack. Turtlefang wouldn't bother trying to advise someone who refused to let go of the most basic psychological conflicts. And to think he'd tried to comfort someone so misguided; a cat so determined to suffer that she'd insist on risks that didn't need to be there. But then, it wasn't like he'd seemed to want the comfort in the first place. All he'd wanted was to sink his claws into some scrap of sympathy and use it to garner the tortie's guilt and shame, as if that'd somehow make her feel better about the same feelings clearly eating away at her own psyche. Well, tough.
As they resumed the trip, he would stay silent.
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MoonClan
The thing no one tells you about being dead is that it’s boring
Posts: 114
Pronouns: She/He
Played By: VioCrow
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Post by Daisyfire on Aug 8, 2022 22:44:17 GMT -6
*＊✿❀ Daisyfire ❀✿＊* Turtlefang’s silence was always much worse than any of his snarking. As they walked, she waited patiently for some snide remark. It started to sink in that Turtlefang wasn’t going to say anything, and she sighed in exasperation, hanging her ears and looking up at him. “I know you hate when I do this, but I’m sorry, okay? I know none of that’s your problem, I shouldn’t just complain about all that, just- will you please say something? I don’t want to leave you like this. I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re special, Turtle.” She wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by special, but… it was true, wasn’t it? He’d made her reconsider a lot about her life. Her Clanmates couldn’t do that. He challenged her, met her every step of the way, and didn’t cower down or leave for her wild temper. Even if he wasn’t happy about it. He made an effort to stick around, and she didn’t know why.Clearly this time she’d said something too wrong. Something that made him withdraw more than he had this entire time. It made Daisyfire uncomfortable. … wait. They were by the river. On MoonClan territory. Oh! She bounded ahead, rolling a good sized stone to the riverside and dipping one of her paws in the mud. It would be rushed, but she put as much rushed effort as she could into the simple painting. A portrait of her mother, like most of her paintings that were done with little thought. “Hey, real quick! Look! This is what I was talking about, this is a painting of my mom, Mocha. I paint her every now and again so I can keep her face fresh in my mind - I think she’d like you.” Daisyfire wasn’t sure just what was the point of him showing this to Turtlefang, but - well. Maybe it’d help him understand her better. Maybe it’d make him change his mind, just a little bit, coax a few last words out from him. “Oh it’s uh- this is a quick one, obviously, and this is just normal mud so it’s not as good as I would usually make it but I wanted you to be able to see it. At least once.” If she was going to live her life with the heart of a traitor, she’d at least have to make sure that Turtlefang could reap some sort of benefit from it. Something that would make it worth the risk and heartache. |
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SunClan
don't call me nice; i'm gonna eat your heart out
Posts: 150
Pronouns: he/him
Played By: rubykh
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Post by Turtlefang on Aug 9, 2022 2:24:13 GMT -6
It was so much senseless, insisting probing that Turtlefang almost had to say something rude if only to remind the other tom of how much nicer this would be for both of them if they mutually agreed to shut up and stop nipping each other like mosquitos. Things like apologies, the pleading, it was all just more frustration. How many times had Daisyfire kept changing his tune, flitting from one song to the next like a mockingbird in the aging daylight. Pouncing on new methods to get under his skin every few seconds after the prior one failed. What did it matter if he said anything? What did it matter if he was upset, either? He wasn't special, or he shouldn't be. Not to her. If being unsociable and distant made him wildly appealing to the other, she may as well just talk to just about any of his clanmates interchangeably. When it came to Moonclan, they'd all treat her the same. He was no exception, and he was far from unique just because he'd been a little bit nice to start. It hadn't been for Daisyfire. It'd been for himself. It always was, because that's how he approached everything. Selfishly. And right now? That was a good thing. It freed him from grovelling for an ounce of attention the way the pointed warrior was right now.
It didn't free him from the sick feeling in his stomach when she talked like she meant it. A free-flowing, unbarred geyser of words, words, words, all meant to carry him back to her and.
Suddenly, he had run off somewhere, down by the riverbank, and Turtlefang followed out of obligation, face screwing up as he caught her swiping the mud around like some sort of crawfish, streaking his clean paws with soon to crust silt in a thick slurry that made the tortie's nausea turn in new ways. When the other cat started talking about his mother all at once, it caught him totally off-guard. What did mud have to do with painting? With cats named Mocha? This is it. I've broken him for real. It was a solemn sentiment, but not an unexpected one. It was only a matter of time that a full nervous breakdown would take place, with how erratically she'd been behaving these past few exchanges. He just hadn't expected he'd be the one to bear witness to it, and now was apparently the one responsible for attending to it as well. For the first real time since he'd started antagonizing the other, he felt a true sense of regret. Things had gone far, but this was a drastic consequence much worse than any other. How would he be able to escort him back to camp, at this point? He didn't know where Moonclan resided, but leaving Daisyfire to sit out here in delirium wasn't going to fly, either. He might think a fox is his cousin or something and go jumping into its jaws.
It was honestly too sad to watch. The stiffness of his disgusted stance softened into something gentle as he approached the other cat, ready to put his deception to good use if it meant getting him home safely and into the paws of a capable healer. Briefly, he skimmed the view of the slathered mud on the rock, now much more visible to him where he stood almost directly beside her, a proximity that would have previously made his pelt puff out on all ends. Now, it was an easy motion, easy when he knew he was dealing with someone. Too lost to.
...
His brief look at the rock sharpened as he stared down at the strokes, making shapes out of what should have been aimless smearing. It was just mud, wasn't it? And yet- there was something there. Triangular structures, a round, sweeping line that connected them. Small, finer details in between, placed purposefully like points of reference. Shapes. Shapes.. It was just mud, until it wasn't. Somewhere in the patterns, something like design emerged, creating meaning and recognition from nothing more than a few placements of muck. Separated into individual elements, it was just different spatters of mud, meaningless and randomized. But together, in this specific way, they formed something like a symbol. A face was configured, a face just like his own, but made of something from the ground. It didn't have fur, the eyes didn't glisten, and there wasn't any discernible colors. There was no dimension to pull it off the rock and make it real. Undeniably, it was nothing but mud, and yet. Somehow, it wasn't. Somehow, he could recognize another cat from a few simple strokes. A cat that was composed of no material he shared, a non-cat of sorts. When he unfocused his gaze, he could almost pull back from what he'd seen- it grew hazy, turned back into meaningless mud. But it was impossible to unsee. Almost immediately after he'd scramble the image, it'd come back together at another glance, pulling that face back into view like the flat reflection of a pond, but shaped by Daisyfire's own paws. She'd created something from nothing, and that something was still nothing, but made anew in each line's placement and positioning. How?
Without realizing, he had sunk into a crouch to stare at the rock- the painting?- with his tail lashing hard behind him in animated bewilderment, a baffled splay to his whiskers as he examined the face like it'd been stolen off a passerby's own neck. Utterly perplexed, Turtlefang did not look away for a moment, as if he'd lose the illusion in doing so. "How did you do that." It was monotonous request as he began to analyze the image on a deeper level- more than just the face of a cat, but taking in the personal details that differentiated it from his own. It was.. a face he knew. It was Daisyfire's face, wasn't it? Although his tone stayed vacant, it in no way dulled the perplexed tilt of his ears as he cocked his head, almost expecting the cat trapped in the rock to mirror the motion, but to no avail. If he turned around, would the other cat still have her face on? "It's not real.. so how does it exist?"
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MoonClan
The thing no one tells you about being dead is that it’s boring
Posts: 114
Pronouns: She/He
Played By: VioCrow
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Post by Daisyfire on Aug 10, 2022 4:27:22 GMT -6
*＊✿❀ Daisyfire ❀✿＊* Slow to join, she almost worried that Turtlefang was going to draw the line at this little outburst. It was easy to try to dismiss his lack of appreciation for art, but the brief thought had any icy grip of sorrow on her chest that was difficult to place - and no longer necessary, once she heard the gentle sound of paw steps approaching her. Success! A little bit of engagement, a small moment of teaching, a tiny shred of connection! Made so much more by the closeness Turtlefang put between them. So close, she felt like she could almost feel his pelt against hers - an exaggeration, maybe, but still a thought that made her face burn. Strange. With her mother’s gentle eyes looking up at her from the stone where she’d placed them, it was hard not to remember that little voice that had nagged at Daisyfire earlier. He opted to ignore it. What he couldn’t ignore now was Turtlefang’s silence. It wasn’t really all that bad, was it? A rush job, maybe, but… Finally he spoke. Another question that wasn’t made a question by inflection or tone, but by context, further proved by the real question that followed after it. Not real? Well, sure it was real, she’d painted it just now, hadn’t she? She turned to face him, baffled by the question only to freeze upon seeing the bewildered position of Turtlefang’s head, all the way from his ears down to the whiskers. She blinked at him, trying to make sense of the questions. “I painted it,” she answered simply. “I may not have known her for long, but I remember pretty well what my mother looked like, you know. I just took that thought, and let my paws use the mud to recreate it onto stone. That way you could see her! Of course, if I had real paint you could see the colors better, the blue of her eyes and the really soft browns of her fur, the white of her collar - not so easy with mud.” That led to a scary question she hadn’t expected to ask, eyes turned back down to the rushed little mud splatter that brought them together in this moment. “Um… do you… do you like it? Uh, seeing paintings, I mean. If- if you do, I could teach you one day, maybe. It takes a bit of practice, I remember being taught as an apprentice how to make flowers out of paw prints and then working up to actually trying to paint them normally, but… we could skip to trying to paint anything you want. Your imagination’s the limit, you know?” As embarrassed as she was with the sentiment, she’d made it clear that she enjoyed being around him by now. There wasn’t much use in backpedaling anymore. Not when she’d shared something so personal already, anyway. “And, y’know, it is real - kinda. In the same way that paw prints are real when all you see is the imprint in the mud or the paw-shaped dust left on a stone or something. It’s… one of those signs that someone existed, you know? If a rock stays stained with something I created with my own two paws, it’s a reminder I lived here. Seeing my mom on stone like this, even like this… it’s proof of who she was.” He shrugged, suddenly concerned with how much sense any of that made. “Real mud, real stone, real cat who lived, real memory from my mind, I just… combined them all into something that could get the same idea to you.” |
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SunClan
don't call me nice; i'm gonna eat your heart out
Posts: 150
Pronouns: he/him
Played By: rubykh
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Post by Turtlefang on Aug 13, 2022 0:54:50 GMT -6
Words, explanations, swept their way in and out of the warrior's dark ears, aloft in strained alertness for some sort of meaning, yet finding none in the answers given. Just mud on stone didn't make sense of what he was seeing. Pawprints were one thing, perfect records of your step... but there was nothing that could incidentally create the face of another living creature. Maybe Daisyfire's flatter face could leave an impression if he rammed it up against something, but the painting had unmistakably originated without any such violence. It'd manifested like an omen, so suddenly.. Not in one swift imprint, like the examples given, but several purposeful motions instead. Intricate, precise moves in a very specific order. Complex. He couldn't tell where each line started and ended, or how they'd gotten to where they were in the first place. Painted it, wasn't an answer. Painting was something in the paws, but the exact nuance was lost in translation, in the little movements that Daisyfire took for granted in how intuitively she knew them. Turtlefang couldn't make sense of it. There was nothing familiar to grasp onto. He just stared at the stone, all wary-eyed and agitated, no less lost than he was before he'd asked for clarity.
Frustrated to be at such an intellectual disadvantage, he almost missed any returned questions altogether, too lost in the ramifications of combination and paw flowers or whatever else had been offered up to him, instead choosing to stare up at the craftcat's own face, a near mirror of the one in front of them. Mocha, he'd said. Brown and blue and white. What did all that mean? What was paint, if it could be so many colors? How did it come about, and how was it different from using mud? If mere sludge could be harnessed to embue life into the unliving, he was almost afraid to find out what real paint could do. It was too abstract a concept to grasp, this- carving of reality- and he wasn't even sure what to say. Do I like it? Was there any way in particular to enjoy looking at the grass, or the sky? There was no joy to be found in basic sensory catalogue. Looking at a cat on a rock was no more pleasant or unpleasant than looking at Daisyfire himself. It was all just looking, wasn't it? Looking right now at her, he wasn't feeling much different than seeing the twin face on the other side of him. Maybe a little less confused, since she was actually real. But maybe that was the crux. Were paintings made to be looked at, in the same way they were made to show something? If that was the case, why would that idea be entrusted to him? Why was any of this happening?
Turtlefang was at a loss.
"I..." He faltered, focus flickering back to the fake(??) cat as if she might move without his constant surveillance. "..I don't understand. If your intention is proof, there are easier ways to leave your mark." Then, as if still unconvinced of the claims, his tail gave another restless sweep, the tip flicking with pent energy even after the base had finished the motion. "This is a real cat?" Even after the repetition of the insistence, the consistent mention of the figure as Daisyfire's mother, he struggled to connect the dots. Even if he were given the tools and power to ever do the same easy smears as the Moonclan cat, how could you build such a clear image of something from memory alone? It had to just be based off the reflection, right? They were by the water, after all. It'd be just like an enemy warrior to try and pull a trick on him, referencing their face off to the side and then trying to play it off as a clever, impressive feat of skill. But it's not like that much was necessary, when he barely even understood the process in the first place. Overkill. Not to mention, the collar. Was it so easy for Daisyfire to imagine himself as a kittypet that constructing the mark of twoleg subservience came without so much as a fumble?
..Was it actually his mother??
Turtlefang was so caught up in the details of comprehension that he couldn't even begin to tackle the suggestion of being taught, of making flowers. It wasn't possible, and so he didn't humor it. Even if it was, what use did showing his thoughts to others really have? He didn't have any memories worth keeping. He didn't have a mom he could visualize from memory. No, what was most important was... the immediate technicalities. The slight hitch in their stilted conversation was abruptly broken when he changed priority, interrupting where he would have otherwise waited for a response. "Do it again. I need to see." This time, he'd watch more closely.
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MoonClan
The thing no one tells you about being dead is that it’s boring
Posts: 114
Pronouns: She/He
Played By: VioCrow
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Post by Daisyfire on Aug 13, 2022 1:56:01 GMT -6
*＊✿❀ Daisyfire ❀✿＊* Patiently, Daisyfire tried to make sense of Turtlefang’s speech. Was it really so confusing for him? The idea was foreign for her. His demand, however, made her hum a small pleasure as a soft smile crossed her muzzle. “Sure, I’ll paint my dad for you. He and I don’t look anything alike, but he was nice when I met him and I know Mom liked him so, I try to keep track of him, too. Let me get another rock real quick.” Leaving the baffled Turtlefang at the rock, she examined the nearby rocks until she found a suitable one, and rolled it next to the painting. Perfect. She’d try not to go too fast, so that Turtlefang could enjoy the process more, but she kept a wary ear out for any potential danger. Satisfied for now, she got to work. Gently dabbing a paw into the wetter portion of mud that she had prepared for her mother’s portrait, he made swift strokes across the rock, lightly forming the silhouette of the lanky memory of his father’s face. Gently, he extended a claw, forming wisps of where Barn’s curly fur would fray from his body. Satisfied with what would become the highlights, Daisyfire returned her paw to the mud before beginning to fill in darker details. Shapes that would increasingly get darker, building up to the details that would require a singular toe and then even her claws once more. Things like her father’s stripes she could manage with her paw at large, but she thought idly about his nose and eyes and the delicate movements they required. “I don’t think I’ve had another cat watch me paint in a while,” he said idly once he began to shadow in the indicator of his father’s muzzle. “I hope I’m not boring you.”His collar was black, she noted mentally, quickly adding the bar of dark color before it became forgotten by the details of Barn’s actual face and body. “Like I said, my mom was brown so the mud there’s not too off - still not right, though - but my dad was actually red with green eyes. Not really possible to show that here, but, well, you’ll still get the idea of what he looked like, though. They’ve probably both changed at least a little since I last saw them, but… well, that’s just sort of what happens when you’re painting from memory.” She paused at the sentence before willing herself to resume the painting. “I guess I could always try imagining what they’d look like now and paint that but… well, that’s not a project for today, anyway.”She cast her eyes at Turtlefang, stamping her paw mark towards the edge of the rock. A sign that the work was hers. “You’re really interested in this, huh?” |
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SunClan
don't call me nice; i'm gonna eat your heart out
Posts: 150
Pronouns: he/him
Played By: rubykh
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Post by Turtlefang on Aug 15, 2022 3:16:24 GMT -6
As the painting process began again, Turtlefang nearly knelt back into his crouch- but this time, a tad more prepared, he was self aware enough not to shift into the position, not when the painter himself was so close. Sat up straight and attentive, like receiving a new lesson from an unexpected mentor, he kept his focus locked on the next rock as Daisyfire's colored paws descended oh, so naturally to begin layering the base. Easy enough. But then, all too quickly, things became harder to follow, even with the speed reduction meant to aid his observation. The initial swipes were quick yet delicate, forming an immediate shape out of nowhere, just like before. How do you know how to even do that much? It was nowhere near complete, but the ease of blocking out the soon to be cat replica had already presented a roadblock, marked by the stunned twitch of his ears backwards a notch. Shake it off. Eyes narrowing determinedly, he followed the clawmarks as best he could, signing off the first step as something to question later. It was hard to believe that right off the bat, a cat could pounce right onto that sort of rough silhouette visual, already creating a shadow of what was to come. When he looked at other cats, it was hard to summarize the shape in such a way that it could be translated onto a flat medium, not when cats went out in so many directions that a stone was limited in portraying. He knew how to tell a cat from another animal, of course, but that was just instinct. Manifesting the shape to one's paw, creating it out of thin air... was that even allowed?
The fur was easier to follow. The movement of the curls was a callback to something he could at least personally connect to- it followed the flow of Daisyfire's locks beneath his taming tongue, the linework he could comprehend in the way he'd traced it only a while before with strokes of his own, albeit while dealing with the real thing instead of copying it into the mud. But it was progress! Already, his claws itched in a way to try to mimic the twirling motions before him, test for his own capacity and commit the method to muscle memory. But not yet. Not here, where he could be laughed at for getting confused or lost in the process, as he immediately found himself losing his way once the actual features began to shape themselves out. Stuck on the face again, in those strange, curving details which seemed to peel themselves straight from reality. How? How? It snuffed out the small victory he claimed, leaving his whiskers quavering uncertainly as he realized that, all over again, the process had finished, and he hadn't automatically absorbed it all in one go, not even from watching closely.
And yet, dismay did not overtake him.
With a strange, stumped sort of feeling, neither eager to overcome nor despairing at the challenge of it all, Turtlefang sank to his haunches and stared at the painting as he had before, gaze flitting between the two mystery cats now seated beside one another. How could they both look so different? Making a cat had been intimidating enough... but now, the could both appear entirely differentiated from one another? Personalized in their strokes to the point of both succeeding in resembling cats, yet maintaining individual identity? It was true to life, yes, but all the more inexplicable. To be able to paint one, potentially generic cat... only to move on to painting even more, specially marked cats that totally parted from the original. A mark of mastery, like different methods to catch the same prey. How frustrating. Did it take moons of training to learn that, too?
Lost in himself, he still failed to directly meet Daisyfire's prompts, although it was no longer for the sake of strategy. Now, it was entirely incidental, his brain too fixated onto learning to process the words that floated around him in a timely manner. What use were those words, if they didn't further his education on the matter?
He did catch them, though. Just delayed. Parents.
Although it was no easier for him to imagine the unseen, he tried to project the colors once more. Tried to find hints of deep, dark red in the mud, too dulled to exhibit the characteristic warmth of the hue it was meant to represent. But it felt closer than blue, at least. A hidden redness, somewhere, if he tilted his head and tried to imagine a sunbeam overlaying it, maybe bringing that warmth to the surface. Where he'd struggled to imagine the sky-like palette of Mocha, there was something more intimate in the lost reds of- Daisyfire's father? It was. Familiar, in the back of his mind. It shifted like a memory.
"My mom was red." It slipped from him as simple as a breath, spoken with the same transience as it dissipated out of maw, out of mind, into the atmosphere. A quiet note- a reminder- that lost trajectory the moment it was given voice. The intention of the disclosure died before it could become fully realized, died with the laser focus that Turtlefang had maintained until just then. Out of sync, out of step with painting and pawprints and Daisyfire, he thought aloud in an even induction, drawing empty, pointless comparisons between pointless, absent parents. Absent enough to be memories, at least. Faces on rocks, without anything of their own to offer. Just like. "Are they alive?"
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MoonClan
The thing no one tells you about being dead is that it’s boring
Posts: 114
Pronouns: She/He
Played By: VioCrow
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Post by Daisyfire on Aug 15, 2022 22:51:19 GMT -6
*＊✿❀ Daisyfire ❀✿＊* His mom? The words caught Daisyfire by surprise, her violet eyes wide with surprise as she turned to face Turtlefang. Then he asked her a question of his own, and the irritation of being left ignored once more slipped away, forgotten with some sense of... reciprocation? With a gentle tilt of her head, she thought about the question maybe a little more than she should have before answering. “I hope so,” was what she finally concluded. “They weren't that old last time I saw them, and they've got fewer dangers to worry about - I like to think that they're alive. Not that I'd ever know for sure, I guess.”That thought sat cold in her throat. It wasn't as if it was the first time he'd been asked something like that, even if only from himself, and it certainly wasn't the first time he'd pondered it - but that gnawing dread remained each time. How frightening to not know what was happening to a cat you loved. How cruel. How many new siblings did she have? Were the two she left still even in that house? Den, nest - whatever! That place! What became of them? Did they have their own mates, their own kits? Was she an uncle? Had her mother been replaced with a younger cat, nicer to twolegs than she had been? Did she finally get to escape, and if she had, was she doing alright without her claws? The questions nagged and nagged, the forest in front her became more and more distant until - there were those eyes she knew. Her drifting gaze caught the teal of the cat with her, and suddenly the current world crashed back into Daisyfire's consciousness. “What's your family like, if you don't mind my asking? I had siblings before, who knows how many there are now.”Maybe twolegs were just StarClan given physical form. They made as much sense, and had just the same amount of cruelty in deciding the fate of cats. |
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SunClan
don't call me nice; i'm gonna eat your heart out
Posts: 150
Pronouns: he/him
Played By: rubykh
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Post by Turtlefang on Aug 17, 2022 4:57:45 GMT -6
Where Turtlefang had previously been so captured by the paintings, lost in pursuit of knowledge, desperately seeking enlightenment in every crevice of the now crusting mud, he couldn't help but notice Daisyfire's strange phrasing. Notice Daisyfire in general, after a good moment of fixating on nothing but his paws and their legacy as if they were detached from the cat himself, nothing but tools lent towards the express purpose of painting the rocks with cats lost to time. Lost to space as well, it seemed, as the context of each sentence that'd passed him by started to connect together in a secondary puzzle. No longer resolving the truth of painting, but now unconsciously putting together the story of the cats themselves. The cats beyond the painting, existing as more than idea, somewhere out there in the real world. How strange. How strange... The dissonance of the concept was uncomfortable, creeping under his pelt in the same way that starlight did when cats breathed too dreamily about the ancestors staring down along with it. The portrayal of something real and known, a resemblance, a symbol, a representation... existing in synchronization with the real source of inspiration, somewhere in the world. How odd it was to realize that this may be his only understanding of these cats. A secondhand meeting, manifested through nothing but flat visuals, while the originals milled about entirely beyond his realm of reality. To think he might only know these real cats as faces on rocks, that they held no meaning or identity to him except through their new existences as static image, out of context, out of their true stories and personalities and souls... And these were Daisyfire's parents. Knowing that much... made his feelings even more complicated. Was it okay, to see cats so important to someone, as nothing but shapes within the mud? To never know the full extent of their selves, to never see the colors described? Was that sort of partial, incomplete picture truly allowed to exist? What was the use in an idea only half-baked, forever unable to replicate the entire, accurate memory that existed in one's head? Was it really okay for his understanding of Daisyfire's parents, such a personal label, to be little more than what he saw before him right now, unfinished and inferior doppelgangers to the real thing? Was it enough for her, to only see them in this distant, detached way? Forced to carve love with her own paws, entirely unreciprocated against the unmoving, unbreathing face of the stone? When his own family was mentioned, Turtlefang's cloudy eyes didn't clear. Only darkened.
"There's nothing to talk about." Hackles starting to pull up off his neck as if pulled by Starclan's strings, Turtlefang's back paw slid away somewhat, as if to haul the rest of the body with it. He didn't take the retreat just yet. Didn't even really know why he felt so prickly at the question, only that he did. It wasn't exactly pertinent to anyone to know who he was related to. Even in Sunclan, cats sometimes seemed to miss his connection to his brothers entirely, reacting with aggravating surprise whenever Tinyleaf happened to chime in that he actually had two brothers, in case you didn't know! Without anyone to acknowledge it and with little positive interactions with the warriors who shared his blood, it was hard to use a word like family. Not in front of Daisyfire, who loved his family enough to remember every detail of his parents' faces, to ponder on them even now. Loved and loving. It felt.
With a tightness in his throat, he just shook his head. Not so much to reject as it was to ward off the bitterness, ward off the subject entirely. "I suppose," He transitioned, feeling a tremble at the base of his ears where they resisted the muscle reaction to flatten backwards. "That I won't be able to understand... this." It was a broad statement, meant to refer to the painting process, but feeling oddly more encompassing as he locked eyes with the father- red- once more. If only to reassure himself, Turtlefang clarified more precisely, dissatisfaction stirring the start of a frown onto his expression. "Watching.. can only take you so far. It seems I've only wasted your time and demonstration. For that, I apologize." It felt strange to apologize here and now to him, when there'd been much bigger issues between them that remained unresolved and unaddressed, but it was only fair. For the first time since they'd started this little riverside show, he'd remembered the circumstances of their meeting, and realized just how dangerous it was to be down here in the bank together smack dab on the clearly defined Moonclan border mark. The longer he kept them here, the riskier it would be, and as much as it stung not to know paint the way Daisyfire knew paint, it would do neither of them any good for him to keep her much longer.
It wasn't like he could even bother trying to imitate it. What wasn't already in Sunclan was none of his business. Wasn't the Sunclan way. Getting your paws dirty making shapes when they could be dirty walking a patrol? It was just inviting negligence, and on the cusp of incoming leaf-fall, Turtlefang couldn't afford to be preoccupied with aimless thoughts of faces he didn't know. Couldn't afford to care about a magical method that didn't benefit anyone, and certainly wouldn't benefit a cat like him, with nothing meaningful to put into the world.
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MoonClan
The thing no one tells you about being dead is that it’s boring
Posts: 114
Pronouns: She/He
Played By: VioCrow
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Post by Daisyfire on Aug 17, 2022 19:49:04 GMT -6
*＊✿❀ Daisyfire ❀✿＊* Though shocked and concerned initially with Turtlefang's statement that there was nothing to talk about when it came to his family, Daisyfire's attention was quikcly diverted, smiling with a gentle and fond amusement. “I didn't think you were the kind to quit so easily,” she said playfully, resisting the urge to swipe a playful paw at him and instead dipped her paw into the mud. Gently, she pressed the pads of her paw onto the face of the rock, away from her father, picking up her paw and rotating it until she had twisted her paw to its full range in both directions, stamping her paw at each extreme. She then drew a quick line and two dots for safe measure, a quick little flower. “Maybe you can try it some time, it's more effective, I think, to learn things by doing them. We didn't become warriors by just staring at our mentors, did we? Same goes for painting, flower weaving, swimming - just about ever skill you can think of, right?” With a tilt of his head, he watched Turtlefang's expression carefully. “I'm not saying you'll enjoy it, and maybe you just don't want to, but if you ever do... well, I'd be more than happy to walk you through it.” |
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SunClan
don't call me nice; i'm gonna eat your heart out
Posts: 150
Pronouns: he/him
Played By: rubykh
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Post by Turtlefang on Aug 20, 2022 6:21:23 GMT -6
It would've been easy to retort about him lapsing into fantasy again, discussing impossibilities like teaching an outsider to paw around in the mud when even standing here together was a safety hazard. It would've been easier to insist that he could do it himself, and didn't need the help of someone who'd call him a quitter, even if he was technically quitting. But what of it? What was the harm in quitting when you knew there was nothing to be done? A Moonclan cat couldn't regularly provide the time needed to teach a Sunclan cat a totally new skill. They couldn't even see each other again. That was the whole point, the whole lesson they'd learned together. But Daisyfire just kept pretending the rules didn't apply, making dreams from desolation the same as she made flowers spring out of nothing.
Flowers grew naturally, at least. Daydreams lived and died in one place without ever even having the chance to bloom. Barren brains with brittle bluffs, trapped in the skull where no light could spur germination.
Turtlefang felt Daisyfire's stare before he glimpsed it, focused on his face like he was displayed on a rock himself, unfeeling and unmoving and made for consumption beneath a hungry, analyzing gaze. It gave him another instance of stage fright where he firmly averted teal from violet, disliking the ways that attention could exist so transformatively, making him smug in one second only to leave him floundering the next. Instead, he observed the strange flower. There was reassurance in this new painting, not made to exist so closely to the real thing. It had an abstraction to it, like the pieces of a flower had disconnected and warped into something resembling itself, but not quite. Like a flower blurred in a rippling pond, like his face in the river next to Daisyfire's, meshing all her brightness with his clinging darkness, nearly void of color or warmth.
He did what came easiest, and changed the topic. "You better clean your paws, after making such a mess of them." As blunt as he was, it lacked all the bite of a warrior who would've meant it only yesterday. With his downturned muzzle, shying away from the other tom like a stubborn apprentice, Turtlefang really only seemed embarrassed. Although by what, he wasn't sure himself. Failure wasn't usually so complicated.
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MoonClan
The thing no one tells you about being dead is that it’s boring
Posts: 114
Pronouns: She/He
Played By: VioCrow
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Post by Daisyfire on Aug 21, 2022 23:13:59 GMT -6
*＊✿❀ Daisyfire ❀✿＊* While there was a distinct lack of bite to the statement, Daisyfire couldn’t help but feel just a little stung at the subject change. He’d been fascinated mere moments ago, what happened? With a huff, she got up to clean her paws but not without the obvious air of sulking. The only purpose of sulking was making her frustration obvious while she hunted for words to remind Turtlefang that he wasn’t dealing with a shrinking violet. Lost in his own thoughts about the complexities of his interactions with Turtlefang, the process of paw-cleaning didn’t even register until was already done, paws clean and dry but mind full of twisted emotions and what did Turtlefang have to be embarrassed about? He was the one trying to keep that distance between them, Daisyfire was the one with all the muddy emotions and muddy paws and muddy paintings and mud-Well. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if he’d tell her anything. Returning to Turtlefang, she smirked with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t say it like you weren’t impressed - and if you were impressed, then the muddy paws were worth it. I wanted to share something that makes me happy with you, and I got to do that. Worth a little inconvenience, right?” Well, he might disagree but whatever. Clearly there was something Turtlefang was trying to sort through too. It made Daisyfire want to poke and prod and try to chase it out, like a rabbit in a bush, but that might mean confronting whatever it was that cycled through her heart and thoughts. That didn’t sound nearly as fun. She’d leave Turtlefang’s little rabbit heart alone for now, curiosity insatiable but weaker than the sense of self preservation. “… onwards then?” |
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SunClan
don't call me nice; i'm gonna eat your heart out
Posts: 150
Pronouns: he/him
Played By: rubykh
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Post by Turtlefang on Aug 25, 2022 1:55:18 GMT -6
Turtlefang watched Daisyfire's retreat with silent relief, glad just to have a moment to himself without the faces of her past and the body of her present sandwiching him like he was next in line to be immortalized on the river stones. However short-lived, it was a few seconds to shake off the pressures of what had passed between them. Information thrown in front of him in total confidence, the secrets of an unknown universe and all the new faces that came with it. Offers of time, of lessons. The unyielding, abyssal sensation of being in totally over his head, and knowing that no matter how many times he was shown the paintwork, that he could never replicate it. That sort of impossible knowledge annoyed him, especially when someone else could bear it like it was nothing. When Daisyfire could do everything so easily, and all he could do was get lost in confusion.. it was embarrassing. When Daisyfire could paint faces to show him like he somehow mattered, it was embarrassing. Everything was a humiliation, and he just wanted it to be done with so he could forget. The key to it all. A happy amnesia.
The opportunity presented itself when the point returned, although not without a few words worth swatting her ears for. Turtlefang didn't say anything either way- the last thing he'd do was give a Moonclan cat an ego boost over his own sloppy reactions. The last thing he'd do was lend credence to something that made him uncomfortable, something he didn't understand. For a moment, he forgot if he was still thinking about the painting.
"Let's go." Turtlefang rose to full form where he'd subconsciously been slouching in contemplation. For what it was worth, looking the part of a self-assured, stoic warrior did lift his heart a bit. The easy rise of his ears, the casual sway of his tail- it all felt natural, and he was relieved that in the midst of all the chaos, he hadn't lost the skills he already possessed in pursuit of ones he never could. It felt a little bit reminiscent of the game they'd both lost, and he settled into the burrow it provided like a rabbit cozying away for the winter. Comfortable. "It won't be long now." And though it was a reassurance to himself, to the other tom alike, it played the same role of all his other carefully calculated one-liners. A warning, plain and simple. Don't think this changes how it has to be. Knowing what someone's family looked like didn't guarantee them a place in your heart. It was an exposure of weakness, and Daisyfire was far too beseeching to have done it. Reckless to show off a Moonclan tactic in front of a Sunclan warrior. Out of grace for the the other's consistently inconsistent commitment to reality, Turtlefang would do his best to put it behind him as they headed off, his pawsteps in the grass disappearing in the same way the muddied paintings would some day erode when the floodwaters rose to cover them.
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