diurnal nights [c]

Once more, Dawnfeather found herself in the odd room, full of things. Yes. Things. To be fair, she wasn’t exactly trying to focus on the decor (sorry, decor, I’m sure you look very nice indeed). The golden she-cat sniffed around, looking for one thing and one thing only- a way out. None of the kittypets she’d talked to knew one, or even cared- though, she’d been gracious (because of course she had it was all she had left) and kind. She’d been captured by Twolegs before- yet then there had been only her and Cassandra, not all these cats- and they hadn’t, exactly, been careful. These Twolegs? Were careful- but that was good! For them! Not so much for her!

Dawnfeather padded around the room, sniffing at every corner (although her sense of smell had never been very good) and looking for any escape route. Anything at all, even just the tiniest crack would lift her spirits.

She could see outside, yet the Twolegs never let them come in the open room when the stars were out, as if they were trying to cut them off from their ancestors- although she was sure they weren’t. It was just a coincidence. And besides, that wouldn’t stop her from talking to them- Ashaunt, Smokema, Stag. Prima, Muddy, Holly, Beetle Beechaunt Ravenclaw Sparrowda Wasp Slate- though they weren’t dead- no, some of them were- but it was a comforting mantra of pelts and voices and scents that she recited to herself. The cats she loved, the ones she would see again, no matter what.

She just had to keep on believing.

"It's commendable to keep searching for ways to get out. At this point, it's an energy waster. Dawnfeather, right? I'd suggest you get some rest, all we can do now is wait for the right time, but until then we might as well do what we can to ensure our health and energy until then." A black tom meowed, from his usual perch atop the highest fuzzy tree. He was starting to feel better by the day, his wound on the back hidden by a fur that wrapped around his abdomen somehow helping with that, it seemed. When he moved, his wound did not grow teeth and did not feel as if the sun scorched that part of his skin, and in a way he was grateful. He'd be in fighting shape in no time, prepared to fight this two-leg menace and return to his clan fit and healthy.

"Or don't. I'm not your leader, so I wouldn't care either way." Nightstar shrugged, looking down at the she-cat with piercing amber eyes. The she-cat had sense, probably more of it than most cats here, but he'd at least make it clear that she could do whatever with no consequence.

A voice called out to her, and Dawnfeather looked up to find the black tom atop one of the tree-things. “I have energy to waste,” she mewed simply, dipping her head in respect to the leader. “I cannot sit all day and rest. I have no wounds to heal.” Not that that was what he was doing- it was simply that a nervous energy filled her spirit, the same feeling that drew her back to SkyClan before and would do so once more… she hoped. The restless feeling in her paws tugged at her heartstrings, singing of family and friends and love that would never die, yet she could do nothing, as of now, to follow the song. She would have to wait.

He didn’t care either way? Well… “You’re the highest ranking cat here, as far as I’m aware, and StarClan gives lives to those who can lead with judgement.” Not that everyone else wouldn’t make perfectly good leaders… just that he seemed sensible. Not that others weren’t. Just… he was used to leading! And Dawnfeather was not. She preferred to follow.

Bunching her hindquarters, in a single bound Dawnfeather soared up to a platform on the tree-thing just below and to the side of the ShadowClan leader. She didn’t want him to feel crowded. ShadowClan… ShadowClan… “You wouldn’t happen to know a Cicadapaw?” she asked hopefully, flicking an ear. She wanted to talk. It would take her mind off things. “A tom? He would have his warrior name by now… a tortioseshell?” Had he gotten his warrior name already and she’d forgotten? Stars, she hoped not… that would just be rude of her.

"That's true. But I won't disrespect another clan's warriors by bossing them around. I lead Shadowclan, no cat else." Nightstar responded swiftly, making his stance clear that his goal was not to be disrespectful. Lives or not, he seemed to be the most injured one here, and it would not be wise to make enemies if he could avoid it. The tom's ears flicked back as the molly neared where he lay, his admittedly large bubble of personal space immediately intruded upon. But he kept silent. But he was not silent for long, as a name he hadn't heard in a long time left the mollys mouth.

Nightstars fur bristled near immediately before he forced it down once more, suspicion suffocating any good feelings he had. Swallowing and letting the silence stretch, the tom meowed, "Yes, he was one of my best friends. Cicadashriek was his name before he died. What. Of it?" his tail lashed and his eyes narrowed as he regarded the she-cat, warning her to tread carefully. Now that he was so close to the she-cat, there was something eerily familiar about her, and not in the he's seen her before kind of way. He knew a tom cat rogue named Aether was after Cicadashriek, but that wasn't how Cicadashriek died, but that rogue had been Dawnhawks son, and had caused the death of his mentor and second mother. Maybe it was a far-fetched association, but why else would any cat outside of Shadowclan mention the name? Not enough evidence, he didn't have enough, he'd have to hold his tongue, see what the she-cat said.

Cicadashriek! But- was- the golden molly’s ears drooped, a sudden melancholy filling her eyes. He was dead, then. She’d hoped otherwise. A long exhale. “I’m sorry for your loss. His warrior name fit him. I’m glad to hear that he earned it.” Cicadashriek… yes, it was a good name, for a good cat. She’d hoped, hoped against hope that the scrappy young tom had survived and was just lurking in the background… with a sigh, Dawnfeather dipped her head for a moment, in respect for the slain.

Hmm? “We met at Highpine, a few times, when he was Cicadapaw. I gave him some fighting pointers, once… we didn’t, exactly, fight, it was more of a spar. I won the first time, and he kept coming back to see if he could beat me,” she reminisced with a fond purr. “Then I was kidnapped by Twolegs, and only recently managed to return… I had hoped that I’d simply missed him among the crowd.” How sad, that such a promising young tom was taken from them, too soon. She wanted to ask how he’d died- but the ShadowClan leader’s taut jaw made her think otherwise. He was obviously hurting, and she didn’t know how to help. “We are both fortunate to have known him. I always admired his spirit and tenacity.”

((Ooc: so the first time they met was like that. The second time was a large border skirmish where cicada’s mentor almost killed dawn. The third was when cicada accused dawn of causing all his problems. However, Dawn’s foggy memory+ natural tendency to sugarcoat things has led her to honestly believe that all of their encounters were like the first: more of a friendly spar than border fight))

When Dawnfeather continued and revealed nothing of concern, Nightstar while still wary let his fur lie flat, but his suspicion did not subside. "That sounds like him. I'd been winning my spars with him since apprenticehood, we had the same mentor, so the competition was always high stakes. We were both battling each other for the attention of our mentor, and our leadership to show them who was the best tom." Nightstar let out a dry huff, the closest thing to a chuckle he'd been to in a while.

"Wherever he is, I'm sure he's very, very mad that I got deputy and leader before him. And then after that, I'm sure he'd be proud, aside from some things." Like the rogue kits he'd been letting in. It's not like he wanted to let them in, but he was sure that even if he was the leader, his clan would make it very well known that they didn't approve. Besides... there was the code as well, he couldn't go against it, so the best he could do was to make sure to the best of his ability that they came with no baggage that could threaten Shadowclan later.

His mentor. Cicadashriek’s mentor. There was something horrible and ugly screeching at the back of her mind, an unearthly beast ramming against the safe, safe walls she’d put up to keep thoughts like that out- but Dawnfeather ignored it, listening politely and smiling fondly at the right places. That did sound like him. “You’re right- I’m sure he is proud.” A moment’s silence- a heartbeat of emptiness- Dawnfeather knew the fond feeling of loss that could linger with a cat for so, so long. She loved them all, so, so much, with a love that could not die.

“Apologies for changing the subject so abruptly,” she mewed, dipping her head, “but has StarClan happened to send you a sign or message?” Hopefully- hopefully- she didn’t want to stay here. It was warm, and safe, and she was grateful to the Twolegs for treating them well, but she wanted out, and home, and to never, ever leave again. Yet… there was always a reason for everything StarClan did. Perhaps they’d sent her here to find Muddy, or Prima? Dawnfeather clung to the heartstrings of such hope like a lifeline- which indeed they were.

Almost grateful for the change of subject, Nightstar figured that it would be unwise to try to press for any information, especially as the she-cat changed the subject to ask him a question. "No, Starclan hasn't sent my anything but that comes as no surprise. Clanmate killers are what they are, and stingy with anything else." Nightstar huffed, getting to his paws to stretch out before laying back down in a curl, scratching irritably at the material that wrapped his abdomen before settling down again. "Word of advice? Don't put all your faith in them. It'll make you blind. Starclan could be a whole lot more, yet they're not. That faith is better placed in yourself."

Dawnfeather’s ears flicked back at the blatant disrespect, but long experience kept her eyes kind. How could he not see that they had given him his lives for a reason, to protect his Clan when they could not. They were his friends, Clanmates, family, ancestors, cats who cared about him and his Clan yet were now above the trials of life. “If I may ask, what has brought you to that conclusion?” she queried, tilting her head to the side. “StarClan has led me home when I was lost, and surely they granted you your lives, to lead and protect your Clan?” What reasoning did he have? Surely he did not believe that StarClan sought to kill off his Clanmates… he was just kidding, like Beechaunt always did. They were silly cats, these, and she rather thought that this wasn’t the time for jokes, though that was just her opinion.

The golden she-cat licked down a patch of silky fur on her chest while waiting for the other’s question. She’d noticed his displeasure when she leapt up near him, so Dawnfeather politely stepped back- still close enough so that they could talk without their conversation being overheard by every cat in the room, but hopefully far enough so that he’d feel comfortable. She wanted to put him at ease.

"They did." Nightstar conceded, "They may have guided you home, or so you believe, but Starclan has taken not only the lives of my living clanmates, but the souls of dead ancestors, never to know the everlasting peace they were promised their whole servitude. Starclan stood idly by as Dawnhawk led his cronies to slaughter Shadowclan kittens, queens, and elders, and skinned the coats off of my mentor and my second mother and wore those skins to said slaughter. Starclan did nothing for Shadowclan as we were swept away from our destroyed camp, we lost the lives of children and yet we heard nothing. Starclan stood by when their mouthpieces are killed in cold blood, Riverclans medicine cat coming to mind. The most they have done is give me my lives, and yet what use are they? Would those lives not be worth giving to some cat else? Are the lives of my clanmates worth less just because they do not lead?" Nightstar huffed, the naivety of the she-cat before him becoming evident.

"What use is it, praying to stars that will never actually help you? They give prophecies, but we can never actually avoid them. They tell us what is going to happen in such vague terms, but in the end we are fastened to fate like we are stuck in this twoleg den." Nightstar was not an old cat but was likely the youngest of all the existing leaders, but already he had been subject to the trauma and tribulations of clan life. The toms tail lashed furiously, the feeling of being trapped growing obvious to the tom, but he squashed and shoved the feeling down the best he could. There would be nothing good to come of panic.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Dawnfeather mewed softly, his words a dull buzz in her ears. She- she couldn’t focus on them- just let them slide past her like a flowing stream. There was nothing there. Nothing that she needed to remember. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. She could simply focus on his last few sentences, skimming over anything- no. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. “How powerful do you think StarClan truly is? Perhaps what they do is all they have the power for. I’m sure our ancestors- the ones we knew and loved in life- would not stand idly by if they could do anything. I would not, and neither would you.” She could smell a bit of fear-scent flowing off the younger tom- her mother’s instincts clamored to rest her chin on her head and wrapping her tail around his- but he wouldn’t like that. It would be rude.

“We will not stay here,” she mewed, attempting to comfort the black tom. “I’ve been kitnapped before. Other Twolegs will come take us to smaller nests, where it is easier to escape. I have done so, twice before, with ease. Just hold onto hope- the one thing no one and no thing can take away.” She had clung to hope for moons on end, and it had guided her through. It would guide her once more, and him too, if he chose to hold onto it. No one could take it away- it was the one thing you had to give up of your own volition.

"Don't be. I'm sorry that you share the name with Dawnhawk. If you were born after, whoever named you must've really hated you. Having a name like that leads to nothing good. Maybe that's why you keep getting catnapped." Nightstar meowed, nearly spitting the name with the vitriol it deserved. Another change of subject? Nightstar considered pressing some more, his suspicions mounting once more, and this time, he did press a bit more, "Doesn't help that you look like him as well. Same colours, and similar markings. Apologies if I'm being too forth coming, I've got to be cautious, since I killed one of his sons, Apollo I believe was the name. Crossed my border and slaughtered him. You aren't his kit, are you?" Nightstars eyes narrowed as he looked at her. Ignoring her queries on his beliefs for Starclans powers.

((LOL nice job breaking it, nightstar now she’s gonna have to deal with the whole Dawnhawk situation sometime soon))

Her head swirled.

Dawnhawk? She- it had been so easy to ignore his existence (so so so sorry I’m sorry) up until now- but- she could walk the tightrope. She had done it before. She could do it again. Just don’t think too hard. “My mother named me,” she hissed, a sudden and totally uncharacteristic flare of vitriol filling her eyes. “She named me to fulfill the potential he could’ve had, if he hadn’t strayed away from the light. I- sorry, sorry,” she mewed, closing her eyes for a moment and forcing the anger out of her body. He’d just strayed away. Like a lost sheep. Silly little sheep. “That was rude. I apologize.”

“My mother is Primroselight, the most generous and benevolent cat in SkyClan, Dawnhawk’s littermate and an absolute joy to be around. I know I look like him- I’ve been told many, many times- but do you truly think I’d be allowed to stay in SkyClan if the resemblance was anything more than an uncanny physical one? I look like my mother, Nightstar, and I’ll thank you to keep that in mind. Oh, that was rude, too- apologies.” No one had ever insulted her mother like that. It made her blood broil in a way that was unnerving and ominous. And her head- it swirled- and at the same time that it was hard to think straight her mind was clear with anger.

The golden she-cat licked down a patch of fur on her chest, forcing her pelt to lay flat. He hadn’t meant to rile her up like that. It was just a misunderstanding.

Like Blossomstep’s murder was a misunderstanding?

"So your mother named you to erase an evil cats evil deeds? You're being used to unsully the name? You seem to love your mother, but that's a lot of responsibility to place on you. Regardless of her intentions, she's shackled you to a lifetime of this. The burden she's attached you to is nothing if not negligent. Just look at you, the minute you get righteously angry, to defend yourself and your loved ones, you apologize and shut yourself down. You'll turn into the very cat that your mother named you for by force at this rate, you'll explode and hurt some cat, and what then? You've further tarnished the name you were given the birthright of saving." Nightstar hissed, his confidence building as a conversation turned into an interrogation. But not that he cared much, not anymore, the revelation that a cat with close ties to Dawnhawk was enough for him to throw any consideration for the she-cats emotion away. A brief thought crossed his mind, that it'd be so easy to remove her from that vile beast's bloodline, that no cat would know outside of the cutters den, but he quickly shoved it away, because no matter how much he hated Dawnhawk, she did not need to reap his consequences. For now.

ooc: You're welcome, glad I could help XD ))

Dawnfeather’s eyes grew hard, like flint. The she-cat rose to her paws, leaping onto the fuzzy platform Nightstar sat on- always, she was unimposing, gentle and meek- but she was tall, and though there were few scars littering her fur there was muscle beneath the silky fur, just as there was anger frothing in her heart. For a moment and an eternity, Dawnfeather saw red. The blood rushing in her ears like a crimson river- the pounding of her heart as it sought to break free of her ribcage and escape like some grotesque moth- how dare he insult her mother?!?

Blue eyes glittered like flint in a stony face. Dawnfeather was never angry. Dawnfeather was never furious. Dawnfeather was never imposing, never resembled her battle-scarred relatives in more than height and strength- yet now, for a moment, the battle-rage of a long line of SkyClanners clouded her vision, righteous anger cascading through her veins. It would be the work of a moment to tackle him off the platform, to slam him to the ground, breaking open his back wound, and to tear out his throat, glorying in the taste and the feeling and the soothing triumph of victory- so easy to tear at the wound and the black pelt she so detested until not even StarClan could heal such wounds, to kill him, to kill-

The thought shocked Dawnfeather back into rationality. “Nightstar,” she growled, and for a second as her voice reached unusual strength and tone, she could’ve, perhaps, sounded like someone she’d rather not sound like- “Would you like me to insult those you’ve lost, to call them names and question their love for you? Would you?!?” There was hysteria, now, more familiar and therefore easier than anger- “I have lost, and lost, and lost, and by all the stars in the sky you will not insult my mother!!! You insult my bloodline, my integrity, my heart, yet if some unfamiliar cat went out of his way to insult those you’d loved and lost, would you sit and take it? No one, no one, has ever insulted her- you wretch-“ she broke off, throat constricting with such pain, such loss as she’d always forbidden herself to feel- her paws were shaking, glued to the platform as if they were weighed down by stones heavy as those which weighed down her heart.

No.

No.

She would not think about this. She would calm down, and apologize, just as soon as her voice would cooperate and her paws stop shaking and… oh, why did he have to be so cruel! She had managed to cheerfully press on for so, so long, and he had to come along and ruin it? Oh… stars, forgive me…