flightless bird [C]

Adderdawn

Following Daisybreeze's apology, however clumsy it'd been, Adderdawn devoted most of his thoughts to Whisperear. Not quite most-- a heavy portion of them were occupied by his own brother, and by Daisybreeze's. Once they'd all separated, and he'd found the strength to let Flutterpetal go on his own, Adderdawn had crept into a hollow corner of camp to sulk. It was one of his few talents: sulking. Periodically, his whole body would go tight, frozen with the intensity of the rage that simmered within him. His claws would flex, buried into the springy earth, until he could breathe deep enough to steady himself and force his muscles to unwind. The whole situation enraged him, infuriated him to the depths of his soul. That Daisybreeze would leverage Flutterpetal's own mortality against him... that alone was enough to make him want to strike her where she stood. He'd stopped himself, if only for his brother's presence, but he'd wanted to so deeply his paws still itched with the feeling before. Never had he felt a rage like that, except when he had joined her and Coyotegrin on the patrol to avenge... to avenge Goldenpaw. That incensed him as well. He had no claim over Goldenpaw's life; he could not banish anyone from speaking of him, nor would he, but to toss his untimely death around in such a manner... Adderdawn stiffened again, hackles rising and claws scraping through the springy grass.

And Whisperear. Stars, Whisperear. He wished they'd never been put in this position at all. He wished he had the emotional intelligence that they had; they had been such a steadying, comforting presence in the wake of Adderdawn's own crushing grief. While it wasn't grief they were feeling now (he didn't think so, at least), Whisperear deserved the support regardless. They'd been wronged, criminally so; they had been quieter since, more than normal. Adderdawn often saw them steeping in their silent feelings. He assumed it was the same burning rage he felt, though for different reasons.  They deserved to know the same comfort they had been so willing to extend. Once again forcing the tightness out of his body, Adderdawn rose stiffly to his paws.

It didn't take long to spot Whisperear-- they were always easy to find, what with their height and pale coat. Sat alone in an equally quiet edge of camp, just as he had been. Once Adderdawn's gaze found them, he stared for a while, about to make the stiff trot over before a different idea hit him. Food is comfort. He wasn't sure if an older cat had passed that knowledge onto him in his youth, or if it was just the existential sort. It was a good and soft thing, to share a meal with someone you cared for. Allowing his heavy paws to guide him to the fresh-kill pile first, he nosed the largest catches out of the way first-- birds, green-leaf fattened rabbits... and found a pair of mice. Grabbing them gingerly by the tail, Adderdawn quickly returned to his initial track, padding quietly over to his friend. "Whisperear," he mewed around clenched teeth. He stopped a little less than a tail-length away, and bent his head to lay the prey gingerly on the ground, nudging one closer to the lanky cat with a careful paw. "We haven't talked in a while. I brought... mice." As if to emphasize the already obvious, he gave the rodents a curt nod. It was true, they hadn't really taken the time just to talk since his ceremony; though that was more than understandable. Hopefully this would be a reprieve for Whisperear; for both of them.

ooc: takes place the evening of this topic, before the decision

Whisperear

Whisperear was lost in their thoughts more often than not. It was something that had been true since they were a kit. When they were younger, it was because of the voices on the wind. They still heard them, from time to time, although now that they’re older, Whisperear isn’t as certain that they are actually real. They heard a lot of things that other cats weren’t able to make out, and they wondered if it was just hearing all of those little noises that others could not detect. Whatever it was, Whisperear had always used it as a way of disconnecting from what was around them. Now, they spent more of their time lost in their own thoughts. It used to be that their thoughts were occupied with memories of Rosepaw—the original, though sometimes, the second as well—and Lavenderdrop. Warm memories that pained them, but also brought a small smile to their face. Since everything with Daisybreeze, though, that afternoon was all that played in their head. The word of Scarthroat dripping off of Daisybreeze’s tongue like blood; the fast-flying insults that bit and tore into their ears; the way she’d leapt onto them and pinned them down like a predator that she was ready to maul. Whisperear sometimes entertained the alternative reality where they had not turned claws onto Daisybreeze and had only taken the assault like a respectable warrior, but those fantasies only served to make them angrier. Why should Daisybreeze attack Whisperear and they let it roll off of them? Because she had not used claws? They had understood what Daisybreeze was getting at when she attacked them, and so they attacked in turn to get her off. But the look that Coyotegrin had given them; the disappointing look that had burrowed under their pelt and latched in like fleas. Whisperear did not want to disappoint Coyotegrin, and it made them wish that they could feel regret for how they handled the situation; but they simply did not. If they got a chance to relive the situation again, Whisperear only felt that they would have clawed Daisybreeze more, and faster, before they were interrupted.

Their thoughts were waved away when a voice greeted them. Whisperear opened their eyes and saw Adderdawn before them. Some of the anger simmering in their heart faded at the sight of their not-apprentice. Whisperear thought as dearly of Adderdawn as they did of their former-apprentice Flutterpetal, and so they practically thought of Adderdawn as having been an apprentice of their own. Adderdawn had been one of the cats to come to Whisperear’s aid against Daisybreeze, and their respect for him had only increased since.

Quietly, Whisperear greeted, “Adderdawn.” Their eyes landed on the prey and a tiny smile touched their lips. “Thank you. That is quite kind of you. I was feeling hungry.” They shifted to grow comfortable and purred at the offering. “This looks delicious.”

They took their share and began to eat alongside him. After a couple of bites, they asked, “How have you been doing?” They knew that Adderdawn and Flutterpetal were both close with Daisybreeze before this nonsense began. They wondered just how much of this was affecting the both of them. If anything, that was what Whisperear really felt badly about. Flutterpetal had looked so distraught in the moments following the attack, and that hurt Whisperear almost as badly as Coyotegrin looking disappointed at them. Flutterpetal was such a fragile soul, and Whisperear hated to be a part of something that caused him distress. So after a moment, they added, “And Flutterpetal—is he faring well?”

Whisperear hoped that their anxiety was not all apparent. Their emotions felt like they fluctuated wildly as of late. While anger seemed to be their new default, anxiety struck them just as easily when confronted with any kind of negativity stemming from the cats that they really cared about. Adderdawn, Flutterpetal, Brackenwing; Whisperear cared deeply for their friends and they did not want them to be in a bad state, especially not because of anything that they did. Perhaps it was worry that Whisperear would be the cause of another disappearance, or perhaps it was just their empathy wanting to keep their friends happy. Whisperear could not identify what exactly it was, but they supposed the ‘why’ did not matter terribly.