ooc: this is an unofficial death topic for my old character Primroselight, who has left the forest. I want to kill her officially so she is available for moonstone journeys but wanted to give her story some closure as she is so special to me
"Fatefully
I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery
Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
And you passed right by
I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides
The knife cuts both ways
If the shoe fits, walk in it 'til your high heels break"
Primroselight had never been the best at dealing with her own problems - she had grown talented at sweeping them under the rug, ignoring them until they went away or became big enough to deal with, just as long as they weren't anyone else's issue. To squash her own worries was to open herself to everyone else's, to play the role she was supposed to play as peacemaker or advisor or sister or mother. Her role as the kind one, the caring one, the optimistic one. Her pride wouldn't allow her to ask for help and her empathy wouldn't let her bear her soul to another, and the two combined created a never-ending cycle of internal turmoil, one that the aged warrior had grown used to.
But it seemed that after all these seasons, this cheery facade had begun to show its cracks, ones that had been there from the beginning and now coming to light. Her siblings' incessant arguing - a dent. The loss of her vision - another dent. The fire, losing Dustpaw, losing her home - splinters reaching almost every corner. The Asylum and her brother's betrayal - each fragile piece of the facade clung to one another as there became more cracks than false shining parts. The Dark Forest itself rose from the earth, the dead returned to life with Dawnhawk at the helm and it shattered into a million pieces. As she replaced each part of her mask another fell, leaving her exposed to the darkness of the world. Gone was the light that she was named after, that light of optimism that had become so integral to her personality.
And so she ran.
Something she thought she wasn't even capable of doing: turning her back on family and clan. She had always told herself it was only supposed to be for a few hours and she would have been back by nightfall, but once her paws were set on the path not once did she consider turning back, not for anyone. That was a feeling she had never experienced before after spending her life so affectionately tied to her family and friends, however in that moment she was ready to forsake all of that love for a few moments alone.
She found herself in Twolegplace, knowing it would be the last place anyone searched for her. Here she could let the crumbling walls fall, hidden in an alley were no familiar cat would grace with their presence. And she wept. Primroselight had always resented how swiftly tears bloomed in her eyes in response to any emotion, but now she didn't even try to swallow them back. All that grief and stress flooded out of her where she stood in the shadows, her sobs echoing of the nest walls as the stench of rubbish and Twolegs swirled around her. It was just like she remembered it feeling as an apprentice, cold and unnatural and entirely unlike anything she was used to.
It could be argued that it was the warrior's way of life to lose others. Most rouges had allies but no loyalties, with few to none cats that they cared for. In some ways, Primroselight wondered if that made it any easier, to not feel that love that could be so quickly stripped away by death or betrayal. She wasn't even sure which hurt more. Her heart was overfilling with love and yet each new cat she allowed there hurt her more, some intentional but most not. They hurt by leaving, they hurt by not noticing, they hurt by turning their backs. For Starclan's sake, she loved all of Skyclan so much and yet so many had gone. And now she was the one turning her back on them. Dustpaw, Stagkit, Mallowkit, Slatekit, Dustkit, Sparrowflight, Copperfox, Blossomstep, Smokefeather, Dawnhawk and so many more that it hurt to even think about. It felt like as she lost each of them they took a piece of her heat with them, and she only had so much left to give.
No matter how hard she tried, Primroselight didn't think she would ever recover from her mother's death. Never in her life and she felt so powerless, and she despised that feeling with all her heart. A mere witness in the crazed way Dawnhawk attempted to carry out his vengeance, the warrior knew there was no other way out of what had happened. There was nothing that could've been done to stop it but that didn't stop the searing pain it caused as her sister was put through that torture as their mother lay lifeless, one of many pieces in their brother's little game. Sometimes, when the world was too quiet, Primroselight could still hear the strained whisper of Smokefeather's final words, circling on repeat. But at least here in Twolegplace it didn't stink of death like the camp she had once called her home.
Primroselight should have known better than to lose herself in her thoughts, especially in an unfamiliar place. For hours she wandered down alleyways and past buildings, staying as far as possible from the source of monster's roars, knowing she couldn't outrun or dodge them in unknown territory. The scent of dusk was on the horizon now, and the cream she-cat knew she needed to stop for the night, as much as she needed to return home. It was alright - Skyclan couldn't fall apart in her absence if it was already in smouldering pieces.
She soon lost count of the days where she walked, seemingly in circles, and then rested for the night in a shadowy corner. It got to the point where she wasn't even sure she wanted to go home, only knew that she had to return. Skyclan was her life, and the warrior didn't know what there was to life without it, or without her loved ones at her side.
Eventually, Muddythorn found her. It was only explainable that Starclan must have assisted her son on his journey, despite Primroselight's own currently dwindling faith - either Silentwhisper was even more powerless than he seemed, or had forgotten his promise to her. Either way, the stars had not helped her in a long time. Everything, however, seemed brighter with Muddythorn at her side. But he also didn't know the route back, and nothing was quite as it had been, because every time Primroselight began to put on her optimistic, cheerful mask, her son saw right through it. She didn't know if she'd lost her touch for acting or if the other cat had become to wise about her emotions.
Despite her heightened awareness of the dangers of Twolegplace, one suffocatingly warm green-leaf day Primroselight found herself trapped. The next events left her extremely disorientated, and she only managed to make sense of them in the aftermath, with Muddythorn's detailed explanation. Bright flashes of light, the touch of a bald Twoleg paw on her back, and a heavy dreamless sleep that felt strangely unnatural. It all made the warrior assume the worse.
The outcome, however, never failed to surprise her. Gentle Twoleg paws she saw no point in fighting carried her into a room with Muddythorn. A nest with no way out but no reason to want a way out. The life of a kitty pet she had always looked down on, but now she understood it all. It was comfort and ease she didn't think her pride would ever allow her to have. But as much as she didn't want to admit it, Primrose (she now often dropped the -light from her name when introducing herself, having never felt so far from the warrior-like brightness she brought) was aging. Jumping had never been so difficult, and startled slightly at the realisation she would have probably retired from warrior life by now if she were still with Skyclan. It was during this time of discovery that their Twolegs brought a new arrival to the home.
At first, Primrose was extremely hesitant over this, her old clan-like ideas returning as she remember what 'most' kittypets were like. But all of that disappeared immediately when the cardboard box carrying a clear kit-scent was presented to her. Within, a tiny grey she-kit (as described by Muddythorn) with large green eyes, wide with fear. Primrose found herself lost in instant love for this little kit. Ultimately, they decided to call the nameless kit Smokey, honouring what was lost but recognising the new life that had begun for both them and this little kit. Much like Primrose, Smokey struggled with her vision, but the older cat had a strong inkling that this was done purposely by their Twolegs, who recognised that the kit needed a cat who had spent her whole life relying on four senses to teach her what to do. It brought her a lot of happiness and comfort to know she was still making someone's life better, even if it wasn't by providing for her clan.
And it was thanks to this rapidly growing bundle of joy that Primrose did not sink her claws into life when Starclan visited her in her dreams. Smokey's presence meant Muddythorn wouldn't be alone, and as much as Primrose would miss the pair of them, she knew that there were so many she would see again in the afterlife.
It was nowhere near the first time Primrose had felt powerless, but it was the first where she allowed herself to feel so, without a hint of bitterness.
She was powerless to go against what came next, but gladly followed Sparrowflight up into the stars, gently taking her last breath comfortably curled in a ball with two of her kits, their pelts brushing hers.
"Long story short, it was a bad time
Long story short, I survived"
