Envy is Base (Closed)

It completely baffled him as to why this would be the case, but Crowpaw had always gotten the vague sense that Mistypaw didn’t like him all that much.

They hadn’t even talked very often, but for some reason he always got this impression that the other apprentice was looking through his expressions. And Crowpaw didn’t like that feeling. He didn’t like it at all.

He liked it even less that he had noticed that his fellow apprentice seemed to be spending some time with Brighteye. Crowpaw liked the young warrior; mostly superficially, mostly because she seemed to like him, and he adored being liked, but still. And he couldn’t stand the thought of someone who didn’t like him spending so much time with someone who did like him. Was there a chance the other tom was talking badly about him behind his back? Was he going to hurt the reputation Crowpaw cared so much about?

He couldn’t let that happen. So he would just have to make the other apprentice like him.

Usually this was simple for him. The stakes were high, they were always high, but he went into every conversation under the assumption that the other cat was inclined to like him, anyway. That wasn’t true here, and it added a sense of desperation to his need to impress, a sensation he found himself rather disliking. He didn't like to be made to feel like he wasn't in control, and he felt a sense of resentment for his peer growing in the back of his mind before the conversation even started.

“Hey, Mistypaw!” he said, approaching the other apprentice. His smile was wide and bright, his voice tightly friendly. Perhaps a little too much so. There was something gleamingly insincere in his face. “How are you doing? I know you were hurt recently...how’s recovery been going?”

Mistypaw had managed to convince Cinderpaw to let him out of the medicine den, and had curled up in a spot not far from it, yet not quite far enough for him to really be content. The left side of his face was swathed in... whatever herbs the medicine cat had used. All Mistypaw really knew about them was that the poultice reeked and was uncomfortable to feel against his still-healing wounds. He had to fight not to twitch his tattered ear in irritation, lest the herbs come off and Cinderpaw really had a reason to yell at him. Much as Mistypaw didn't want to admit it, the poultice did lessen the pain, but Mistypaw would be thrilled once he was free of the sticky plants and cobwebs that bound them together once and for all.

It would be even better if he could leave camp and go back to doing normal things, like hunting. He'd never been idle for days at a time, and it showed in the restless flick of his dusty gray tail. Cinderpaw was downright overbearing. Her intentions were undoubtedly pure, but suffocating. Brighteye had been shaken by the dog attack too, but her quiet presence when she wasn't off hunting was almost soothing. Time seemed to pass quicker when she was around, his pain dulled by the company of... what, a friend? Something else? Mistypaw had yet to sort out his feelings on her beyond that he considered the white she-cat a friend. Part of him was wary at the thought of doing so, of what he might find beneath the surface. And of her possible reaction. A hundred different scenarios ran through the injured apprentice's head, each one entirely too unnerving. He doubted that Brighteye would be interested in him anyways. Not after seeing the scars marring his face now.

At Crowpaw's voice, Mistypaw lifted his head. Something about the dark tom had always struck him as ingenuous, and Mistypaw thought that half the time he talked just to hear himself speak, but he couldn't just ignore his denmate. And... A distraction from his thoughts and the mind-numbing boredom of recovery wouldn't hurt.

How was recovery going? Was Crowpaw serious? As if the herbs wrapping around one half of his face didn't give anything away. Maybe Mistypaw would die of boredom, and no longer have to deal with the herbs on his face or the pain that kept him from sleeping comfortably.

"Recovery has been going great." His tone indicated precisely the opposite. "I think I've memorized the exact number of thorns on the bush outside of Cinderpaw's den."

"How's training?" Mistypaw almost didn't want to ask. Usually he didn't bother to keep up the pretense of being interested in a conversation that he... wasn't interested in. Yet the question would move the conversation away from the moot point of talking about recovery.

Crowpaw felt that sense of resentment begin twisting around in the back of his head, slowly but surely worming its way to the front of his thoughts.

Unbelievable! He thought I’m being nice and taking time out of my day to ask him about how he’s feeling, and I get a tone like that?

“Oh, terrific. I’m super glad to hear your recovery is going smoothly,” the tone was still generically friendly, but there was a sardonic undercurrent slowly creeping up into his words. “But I get it, it must be boring for you. I’m sure you’ll be happy when you’re able to go back to training,”

“As for me, training’s been going fine. Fought an owl, but it wasn’t so bad. Made it out without any real injuries,” The dark-pelted tom stretched out with a casual yawn. He turned to face the other apprentice again. “Sorry,” he continued, wearing the beginnings of a smirk, “Didn’t mean to sound like I was bragging or anything. That was inconsiderate of me,”


He sat down and swept his long, fluffy tail around himself.

“Hey, when you’re able to go out and about again, maybe you, me, and Brighteye should all go hunting together. You two are pretty good friends, right?” he threw out the words with an air of ease, as if the thought had randomly occurred to him in the moment, as if he hadn’t been thinking about steering the conversation in this direction all along. As if he didn’t care about the answer.

It took everything Mistypaw had to avoid pinning his ears back in irritation as Crowpaw spoke. The sardonic undertone hadn't gone unnoticed, but Mistypaw supposed that it was fair given his own response to the other apprentice. Maybe Crowpaw would talk the uninjured ear off, as well. Surely it was what Mistypaw deserved for opening himself up to conversation with him, after all.

MIstypaw's face remained still as Crowpaw spoke, mostly passive aside from the barest twitch of his whiskers- the only movement he allowed himself.

"Fine by me." He shrugged, "I'm sure she'd be happy to go if I asked." That Brighteye's company was preferable to most was a given, of course. Mistypaw wasn't quite sure where she fit on the scale of friend and... something else, but she was a friend at minimum. Their time together, while often quiet, was never awkward. She seemed to genuinely relax around him, and Mistypaw was glad that their relationship had always seemed genuine. Not that Crowpaw needed to know anything more about their relationship. Mistypaw truly didn't care to play a game of one-upmanship with the tom, nor did he have the need to.

Crowpaw’s whiskers twitched. Whether it was meant or not, he had interpreted Mistypaw’s phrasing as nothing short of a direct attack.

“if I asked”-- he said “if I asked” the dark-pelted apprentice thought I was the one who made the suggestion! What about if I asked, hm? What, are you trying to say she’d say yes if it were you, but no if it were me?

He felt his cheeks burning with indignation. What kind of game was this other apprentice playing? Had Mistypaw already said something about him to Brighteye to try and get her to not like him?

Whatever the perceived danger was, the idea of it caused something in him to snap for a moment. His eyes darkened, and suddenly the other apprentice had gone from being no more than just a potential vague annoyance to an outright threat.  

“I’m sure she would,” he said. The tone of his voice was still sweet, but sickly sweet in the most literal sense, honey mixed with only barely disguised venom.  “Although, you know, now that I’m thinking about it...wasn’t she with you when you got attacked? I wonder-- I mean, considering you’re friends and all, I wonder if that was traumatic for her, too, seeing you like that…?”

He paused, weighing the words with glee in his head before letting them lose. His smile began to twist slightly into something ugly and cruel. “I wonder if she even likes spending time with you now, or if it reminds her of something painful? Especially considering, you know…” he flicked one of his ears towards the herbal dressing on Mistypaw’s face. The implication was clear. Scars are forever, and so are the memories that make them. “Oh, but she’s pretty quiet normally, isn’t she? If she was actually uncomfortable, would she even say, I wonder…?”

Suddenly, in a flash, his expression reset itself, and it was back to being jovial and warm. He smiled good-naturedly. One might even wonder if his face had ever really changed at all, or it had all somehow been a trick of the light.

“Aw, nevermind,” he said, and the only hint left of the transformation was a lingering glow of menace in his eyes. “I don’t mean to be a downer or anything! Just speculating. But hey, I mean, what do I know...right?”

Well, he'd definitely poked the bear with those last words. Mistypaw's face remained still, though it took effort. Moving meant pain and he didn't need to cause himself more of that, really.

Crowpaw's words were enough to do more of that, no matter how still he kept his expression. Hadn't he been asking himself the same thing, earlier? He'd... avoided looking into the puddles that formed around camp after recent rains, not quite wanting to see his own reflection staring back.

Yet much as Mistypaw was reluctant to look at his own reflection, Brighteye hadn't seemed to care, meeting his eyes in conversation as easily as they always had. And if she was truly bothered by his appearance, well, Brighteye wasn't the only one. Yet something about the thought of Brighteye being uncomfortable around his ruined face made something tighten in his chest.

Yet it also felt wrong. Brighteye had always been honest when pushed to give an opinion on something. He didn't think she was the sort to continue a once genuine friendship out of pity.

...Would she, though?

Crowpaw's expression had shifted, just for a brief moment, too quickly for Mistypaw to parse when struggling with his own thoughts.

"That explains why we've been spending more time together recently. If she were uncomfortable, she'd avoid me entirely in favor of the pine grove." Mistypaw's tone remained cool, almost indifferent, as he spoke. That much, Mistypaw was certain of. If Brighteye wanted to avoid him, sharing prey and spending time around Cinderpaw's den wasn't the way to achieve that.

Unless she really does just pity me, whispered a tiny voice at the back of his head. His face remained impassive, the dark tom unwilling to show that Crowpaw's words had indeed struck a bit closer than he would've preferred.

"That's why we've been spending more time together recently"...

Internally, Crowpaw was losing it.

He couldn't stand the indifference of Mistypaw's tone. Acting casually indifferent was his job. Controlling the emotional state of a conversation was his job. And here he was, picking every word with care, with attention to what would have the maximum effect, and he was getting back nothing. He seemed to be having no discernable effect. And that infuriated him. He felt like he was losing. And he hated to lose.

So he wouldn't show it. He'd act indifferent to Mistypaw's indifference. He would find a way to win whatever game this was. Nothing in his head would escape into the mask of his face.

So he shrugged nonchalantly in response to Mistypaw's words. The only visible sign of his frustration was the fact that he was pressing his paws just a bit too hard into the ground. "Oh, sure," he drawled, his smile frozen on his face like ice, "That's the spirit, staying positive like that. I admire your optimism," he paused to causally rub a paw under his eye, as if scratching an itch. He made sure to pick the same side of his face that Mistypaw's wound was on.

Mistypaw merely shrugged at Crowpaw's words. "Optimism? No. I'm simply being honest, and telling things as they are." Something you wouldn't know if it smacked you upside the head. He added silently.

Crowpaw seemed bothered by his honesty, and Mistypaw had to wonder if the other tom actually thought he was trying to one-up him. Maybe if he were a different cat, he would've, but no. Mistypaw had no desire to play games with his denmate, and felt precious little need to keep up the false pretense of friendship where there was none to be had.

Crowpaw's antics were bothersome, though, much as Mistypaw tried to ignore them. Here he was sitting idle, and the other apprentice rubbed his face in the fact that the herbs coating his jaw and cheek were slowly grating on his last nerve. And he could do nothing to alleviate his irritation with them. Dusty gray tail twitching back and forth with irritation, Mistypaw turned his head slightly, unconsciously turning the good side of his face towards the other apprentice.

"Of course. My apologies. I'm sure that is just how things are,"

Crowpaw flashed the other apprentice a look of pity, and this time his expression was completely real. He pitied his denmate's naivety for believing in such a thing as "honesty", as being able to "tell things as they are". No one told things as they are. They told things as they wanted to tell them, then lied to themselves that that was just "how it was".

And if we're talking about 'honest' he thought at least I'm 'honest' enough to know that's what I'm doing. I might lie to everyone else, but I'm not lying to myself.

Suddenly, he felt a little better. His annoyance at Mistypaw subsided, just slightly. Because even if he couldn't seem to affect the other tom, even if he lost when it came to Brighteye's affections...he knew at least he wasn't delusional enough to believe he was ever "telling things as they are". Still, he only felt slightly better, and he was still deeply resentful of the other apprentice.

"Well," he said with another shrug. "I guess if she doesn't secretly hate spending time with you, the three of us can go on that hunt together sometime," he smiled, and peered at Mistypaw out of the corners of his eyes. "It'll be fun. I'm sure the three of us will all get to be such great friends,"

The apprentice tipped his head back, gazing up at the pine trees as Crowpaw spoke once more. It was endless. Why had he subjected himself to listening to him? Still, Crowpaw's words caught in his mind like the dog's teeth had caught his ear. If Brighteye didn't secretly hate spending time with him. The thought rankled far more than the herbs pressed to his face did. Mistypaw didn't think she did, really. But what if she did?

It was another thought to keep him awake at night, Mistypaw was certain. And Crowpaw knew exactly how to rub his fur the wrong way over it.

"Right, sure... I'm sure you have training to get back to, though." Mistypaw muttered. As if he'd want to go hunting with Crowpaw, of all cats. The tom got to his feet, slowly stretching. Crowpaw was draining, and Mistypaw was suddenly looking forward to curling up in his nest, away from the other apprentice and away from socializing. He'd had enough to last him the next moon.