The future's in your paws. Shape it well.Roleplay in a cat Clan of warriors. Based off the Warriors series by Erin Hunter. Takes place in an AU before the cats in the books existed.
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Characters : [R]owansong [Ro]okflight [S]ilverhawk [P]igeonpouce [F]ish [T]wilightkit Clan/Rank : [R] RiverClan T5 Elder [Ro] RiverClan T4 Warrior [S] ShadowClan T3 Warrior [P] T2 RiverClan Warrior [F] T2 Rogue [T] RiverClan Kit Number of posts : 2483 Gender : any or username Age : 22
Subject: amen (reprise) [C] Mon 18 Mar 2024 - 17:36
"Know yourself and who you came in with."
Cloverheart RiverClan | she/her
StarClan. Cloverheart's tail lashed behind her. StarClan-- Beechfang and her fool daughter both walked the plains of Silverpelt now. Birdstar, at least, hadn't actually done anything worth exiling her to the Dark Forest. No matter how much Cloverheart wished she had--nevermind. She was dead and here now. But her mother...
Repentance. That was the word they all used when speaking of her. Bah! Cloverheart would claw the ears off whoever said it next. Beechfang spent a year living in solitude--was that repenting? Was that all it took to absolve oneself of murder? Of the murder of a non-combatant, a medicine cat; StarClan's mouthpiece, supposedly sheltered by them. Day by endless day, Cloverheart grew more and more sure she was the only one that retained her sense upon death. At least, she thought with a grimace, there'll be someone intelligent here when Perchstar comes. She wasn't looking forward to the leader's final arrival, but any company would be better than--
"You."
StarClan's plains were endless. They rolled forever in all the directions of the sky, five territories mimicked on an unimaginable scale. If Cloverheart had no desire to see Beechfang, then she wouldn't. It was simple as. But she never could help herself; never one to leave well enough alone.
The hulking figure in front of her inspired no fear. When starlit eyes round on her, Cloverheart would only snort. She canted her head to the side, letting her eyes travel to the crick running nearby. She'd followed the tributary aimlessly, letting the river guide her brooding paws. And the water led her right to Beechfang. What a joke. Cloverheart's eyes narrowed icily and she returned her attention to the large tabby opposite her. "Are you enjoying your gallivanting?" She asked sourly, tail lashing once. Cloverheart jerked her chin up in defiance of opposition yet to come and went, "How about Birdchaser? I was so hoping I wouldn't see either of you here. And yet..." Her ear flicked. The cold slits of her eyes narrowed impossibly further. "Here you stand. I can't even have peace in death."
"You." The familiar voice pulled Beechfang from her thoughts, and she turned, a sigh falling from her lips as her eyes settled on the form of a small, white and ginger she-cat. Cloverheart. Because of course, the strange and uneasy peace she had found in Starclan's territory must be broken, and of course it would be by the puny medicine cat. It couldn't have been someone she wanted to see, like Primroselight, or Ashstorm,, or Plumleaf?
Cloverheart let out a snort and turned away, but now that she was here, Beechfang stalked after her, appearing in front of the smaller cat. "Haven't you put us - Birdstar - through enough?" There was a rising frustration in her voice as she glared at the she-cat. Her nemesis just as much as Dawnhawk had been in life. "If I had known the trouble you would cause my family even now I would have walked away. Left you to suffer in your vitriol. Not that it seems death has changed you. You're still a petty, vindictive foxheart."
Peace? Ha. As if the antagonistic, argumentative she-cat had ever craved peace for even a moment in life. As if either of them had. "Oh, don't even start," She muttered, "Maybe if you hadn't stuck your nose where it didn't belong you would have had peace. But you just can't help yourself, can you, Cloverheart?" The she-cat let out a soft huff. "You started this, now we're both here... Why aren't we in the dark forest?"
Beechfang's appearance in front of her made Cloverheart's ears swivel back. Her pupils constricted, but no fear painted her expression; nor did it roll through her body. What was there to fear? Beechfang already killed her once. As far as Cloverheart knew, under the laws of StarClan's domain, there would be no second death to worry about. "You should have walked away," she sniffed indignantly, tilting her head up towards Beechfang. "Nevermind that you gave it up--I was still a medicine cat when you killed me. Not that I need to remind you, but I'm just saying: any warrior worth their claws would know better." Her whiskers quivered and the anger that led her paws here began to turn. "Of course I was-- and am! --vindictive! Wolfstar ruined my life."
"Help myself? Of course not." Despite her mounting hostility and the growl that edged her continual nemesis' words, Beechfang was... withdrawing? She spat insults, but the hard edge to Beechfang's tone was receding into a resigned mutter. For some reason, that just made Cloverheart's drop lower rather than encouraging her. What, did she not want to continue the fight they'd carried throughout their lives? The idea that her regret was genuine made Cloverheart snort inwardly, however it showed in Beechfang's voice.
"I did not start this. Wolfstar did. Sure, yes-- I'm a vindictive foxheart who can't leave well enough alone. But you're just as bad as me." Then, to her own surprise, a sound bordering on a laugh escaped Cloverheart's maw. "We? We?! And what do you imagine I'd be sent to the Dark Forest for, hm? You would at least deserve it. What are my great crimes? Losing my mind, being antagonistic? Looking too unsightly as a corpse?!" It made all that rage flash under her pelt again, but the novelty of it grounded Cloverheart quickly. Scoffing, she deliberately jerked her head away, looking off toward star-crowned trees that lined the distance. That strange half-laugh sounded off again; mostly bitter, though some real humor managed its way into the sound. "Ha. As if. You're welcome to go whenever you please though, Beechface."
"Medicine cat?" She scoffed, "Tell that to Lilacsong... Or does that not matter because I defended myself? Perhaps the real villains here are the ones who refuse to teach us that unless we trained as a warrior first. Ivystar knew what mess she dragged her clan into, they all knew the mess that would happen when Skyclan found out someone harbored a cat who killed a kit. And someone still tipped them off. Let our chance slip through our claws and explode in our faces." Her words were... Strangely hollow, though. Lacking in the intensity they had once held. "Stars, Cloverheart, do you think I wouldn't have done things differently, had I known the horrors that battle would inflict upon all of us? You weren't the only one with your life ruined that day." Her tail lashed once, the image of a blood soaked camp springing to vivid life in her mind. Smokefeather, numbed by it, Foxfire and Wrenspring so wounded. Cloudmane, Maplepaw and Blossomstep laying frozen and unseeing, their bodies cold when they had reached camp. Dawnfeather, sweet Dawnfeather, nowhere in sight and the stink of an outcast permeating the air. So many cats who deserved more than what her crusade had wrought.
A different blood-soaked camp came to mind too, though the faces in that one had only been nameless enemies. Maybe Beechfang would prefer it that way, to not put names to the faces her crusade had inflicted so much harm on.
"You ruined my life when your antics - and Bear...whatever's - got me struck with lightning. Dawnhawk ruined it before that, even. Our mother ruined us both. Lilacsong's idiocy nearly ruined the entire forest. We could play this blame game for an eternity, Cloverheart." She was so tired, so very tired of it. "Foxdung, what is the point?"
A soft snort escaped her at the medicine cat's words, "'We.'" She agreed, "But it seems the dark forest isn't permanent... So not like you'd be there for long." Her lips twisted into a sneer, "But maybe it would have given you a taste of what it was like." Beechfang stepped away from the Riverclan abruptly, tail lashing behind her. Maybe... Maybe she could walk away and lose the infuriating ghost in the stars. Of course, the stars had found them both here in the first place, so she doubted that would happen. Just her luck, really.
Cloverheart listened. Quietly, with her jaw sealed shut (however badly she wanted to retort), she listened. Heat couldn't fill her empty pelt, but in its place came a crawling feel like icy water being trickled down her spine. It felt like doubt; like shame. Cloverheart broke her silence to scoff at herself. Shame! It would have been funny, almost novel, if every strand of hair wasn't trying to work itself free of illusory follicles. Profundity washed painfully over her.
Beechfang's lashing--if it could be called that--was nothing she hadn't either heard before or understood more of on joining StarClan. But Cloverheart hated the emptiness in her old rival's voice. The hollow cadence spoke volumes beyond her actual words. Quiet bells of disturbance rang in Cloverheart's head. Her tail snapped to the side and, sourly, she looked askance. She was not the apologizing type, nor would she become it. Cloverheart grit her teeth hard as if grinding them down on an opponent's leg. That resolve, she refused to lose. Seasons and years of attrition had worked... only it'd made her soft, too. Soft enough to feel regret stubbornly surfacing, no matter how hard she tried to beat it back, when her eyes slid toward Beechfang again.
There was a pause between speeches. Then Cloverheart snorted, "I still can't believe you blame me for the lightning. As if I asked StarClan to strike you." The characteristic tones of dry humor, rarely shared with those outside RiverClan, filled her slow voice. "If you can drag me all the way there, I'll let you take me to the Dark Forest sometime." Another barky laugh, as surprising as the first, left her. "Maybe it'll be nice to visit. I get sick of looking at starshine and twilight."
Cloverheart turned her head, watching Beechfang jerk away. She made no attempt to pursue; only watched. Allowed her the space to step back. "You know," her eyes slid toward the river again, watching its course, "for all that I hated you, I don't think I wanted you to die." Deep creases appeared in her muzzle as if the words were barbs tearing her throat on the way out. Still, she continued on. "It feels wrong to see you here. I mean that you still had a life ahead of you." Another half-amused snort. "However old you were. ...Your family still loved you enough to die for you." Her voice grew bitter again, unable to inflect sincerity without burying it in daggers, but the intent was earnest. "It's almost heart-wrenching. I've lost enough of my mind to start feeling bad for you."
