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goldcrest for lilygirl. im just going to give up apologising for the length of my posts, you know i can't shut up <3
Carriondare liked WinterClan - she always had. SummerClan, SpringClan, FallClan; they were too cutesy, too sweet and sugary, and DayClan had already filled the allotted vacancy in her for that type of crap. DayClanners were harmless little sheep among the golden fields and she was a wolf, sleeping among them and letting them pry open her lips with their soft little paws and giggle over her teeth like handsy children. And she liked them; she was protective of them. WinterClan, though - they were savage little wolverines, all blunt claws and snarling eyes among the ice, and she liked that. They were funny, because they were nuts in such a different way to the League but also so hysterical, just recluse hermits playing at Empire. She liked to watch them, burrowed down and camouflaged in the snow with her white fur, and cackle at their brooding antics like she was watching some Scandi-noir movie.
Now, though, she was calmer than she'd ever been and this trip was more like a new mother being freed from the house for the first time since her confinement than a manic bachelorette filling her days. If it were up to her, she'd spend every second of the day with her kits, driving all the murderers and crooks mad with her constant cooing and exclamations over a little stumbling waddle or a burp or a sharp-toothed yawn. Now that she finally had them, she never wanted to leave them. But, finally, even over-protective Bermondsey realised she'd been cooped up in the Mansion for weeks, breathing in the same stuffy air and lying in practically the same position - and, since they were both as 1950s as they came, he'd become convinced that it was somehow bad for her. And so, with many tears and looks over her shoulder, and much anxious fretting ("what if they need me? What if they get scared?" "Agamede and Reynardine know what they're doing" "yes, but-"), and many false-starts because she kept running back to her kits when they mewled for her and eventually had to be physically ushered out of the room by Reynardine, Eshek was outside. But she couldn't enjoy herself; as much as she tried to breathe in the cold, fresh air and feel that familiar troublemaker spirit, her thoughts were rooted in the room she shared with Ber back home, thinking they're probably napping right now; I should go home; what if Reynardine isn't paying attention and Laertes falls off the window seat, he's always so clumsy; what if-
She let out a deep breath that fogged in the air, determined to enjoy herself on her day out. She took a few steps further across the tundra - and then stopped, kneading at the frosty ground as she looked over her shoulder for the thousandth time that day. She couldn't see League territory from here - she'd made a detour by DayClan to let Lucistic know she was okay and to scrub most of the League smell from her fur in case she met anyone who didn't particularly like them, and there were many; usually she wouldn't care but, as Ber said, new mother and all, she had to be more careful - but she imagined she could feel her kits beyond the mountain. She went on kneading for a few more anxious, indecisive moments, looking back and forth, her face set in consternation and anguish, her paws picking up, putting down, picking up - and then finally decided to go back. She'd had enough of an outing; Bermondsey probably needed a nap, and she could relieve him. Perfect - wonderful excuse. She had to go back. Despite picking up the DayClan scent from her brief detour, the majority of Carriondare's smell was still pure milk, sweet and recent. Every time she noticed it, it made her smile like an idiot. She finally had kits. She was finally a mother.
She was so swept up in all her internal chaos that she almost didn't notice the she-cat coming up the path the other way. At the last minute, Carriondare spotted her and, letting out a strangled, cartoonish exclamation that someone would make when they were suddenly grabbed around the neck, threw herself off the path and flattened herself against the snowy cliff-face. But of course the she-cat was going to notice her - they were literally on a path half a metre wide, with a drop into a pure white abyss on one side and the cliff on the other. All Eshek achieved was looking like an idiot, trying to become one with the rock, half on her hind legs and with her forelegs at an odd angle against the stone, watching the she-cat approach with wide eyes like those that watched you from a painting with bits of the canvas cut out.
Lilydawn had never really been one to stick inside camp in any of the clans she had been — their expansive territories always drew her out, away from the noise and the crowd and the stuffy feeling of being cooped up for more than a few hours. She enjoyed the crisp northern air of Winterclan's mountains, loved feeling the chill even if her fur wasn't built for it. A reminder she was living, even if it did feel like a chore. Early in the morning she gave her siblings a visit, adjusted their flowers where the wind had rustled them up, attempted to do some hunting before giving up in frustration and boredom. Now, she was wandering, trying to clear her head enough to think. She hadn't spoken to Doefreckle since she had dragged him over the border. Cottontail hadn't spoken to her since she had yelled at him that they were getting a divorce as soon as they could, and she was almost ashamed to admit it stung, because he had said he felt lucky to have been paired with her and she felt she was somehow failing him now, even though there was nothing but her own bitterness between them.
She had to admit it, life was getting painfully boring. She was young, she knew, but she had lived enough for a lifetime and frankly, she was over it. She lived each day trying to gather enough energy for the next and she always fell short. What she missed was excitement, the overwhelming joy of things, the childish glee of getting a new toy or some candy or something sweet and simple. She carried on her path, staring at the motion of her paws and muttering a few disgruntled sentences under her breath, before casting a glance up, gaze falling onto a peculiar, lanky she-cat. She was about to stop in her tracks, pray to whatever was out there that she hadn't seen Lilydawn at all, walk the other direction because she did not want to talk to anyone else right now — but the other let out a startling scream and flung herself away.
"Good God, woman!" She lifted a paw in surprise, giving a reluctant, quiet sigh and padding over to her with a near stern, aggravated look. "I'm not going to skin you." She stepped back, gave her room to sort herself right. She didn't smell like Winterclan — which Lilydawn really couldn't be mad at, she would prefer anyone else to a Winterclan cat right now — but it was a little difficult to tell immediately where exactly she had come from. The first scent that hit her was unmistakable, something she remembered from spending much time in the nursery despite outgrowing it, the brief time Beetuft could curl around her new kits. She grimaced. A mother. A new mother, at that. The underlying scent could have been Sunclan, or maybe Dayclan, she wasn't quite sure, the Forest Clans all seemed to meld together in her mind, some weird foreign place that she had almost tricked herself into believing was another paradise, just as she used to picture Winterclan, before snapping herself out of it.
"Don't you have anything else to be doing than making snow angels? What is this?" She frowned. Winterclan was not to partial to outsiders, being one herself, of course, but she didn't have the heart to chase her off. If she wanted to steal, pillage, burn the place to the ground or something, so be it, as far as Winterclan knew Lilydawn hadn't seen her here at all.
“Ohh, I was just- admiring the stone work,” Eshek replied, turning her back to Lilydawn and pawing up and down the cliff face with an admiring sort of stiffness. Leaning against it with an exaggerated casualness that looked about as casual as… something incredibly un-casual, she turned back to her and offered a big, winning smile. “Carriondare. Charmed.”
With that, she lurched away from the cliff wall and shoved past Lilydawn to peer down over the edge of the mountain; far below, clouds blocked the comfort of the ground from view, cold and white and swirling. She felt dizzy; her vision ebbed back and forth like a Wile E. Coyote episode. Shaking her head, she let out an admiring whistle. “Whoo! Anyone ever fallen off one’a these things? Wanna be the first?” She suddenly whipped around to grin at Lilydawn over her shoulder, menacing and playful and with her brows set in a wicked glare. Then she threw her head back and laughed. “Kidding, pudding. What’s your name?” she asked as she padded along the edge of the precarious cliff, stepping one paw out in front of the other with an exaggerated swing to the side. One gust of icy wind and she’d be falling through the clouds. She’d done much the same with Pinesimmer the first night they met, over a cliff in NightClan; it was something about having fallen to her death, maybe, and about almost condemning Ber to the same fate with her sheer hubris - the need to show she wasn’t scared of it, that she could conquer it, that she could take all of destiny’s attempts to off her and flash her middle finger at it. It was something about fear, and about not letting it consume her like it so utterly threatened to; about not succumbing and letting herself be cornered into a cowering, sobbing little ball in her room. “You’re cute. Got that round little face and those small ol’ ears. If your name ain’t got mouse in it somewhere, honey, someone messed up.”
She looked back and the smile on her face when she met Lilydawn’s gaze was softer now. Calmer. Even though she was interrogating her with the same indecipherable hauteur she always had when she walked into someone else’s home and made them feel like the interloper, something maternal had settled back over her. Something that added a warmth to every harsh line, every scar, every jutting bone that contrasted so strangely with the remaining softness of her stomach.
She gave a mistrusting look. "Really?" The 'r' was drawn out slightly, an exasperated sort of sound. Her eyes followed Carriondare to the mountain edge, moving up to hover just beside her. When she first moved to Winterclan, the sights had amazed her, so fresh and beautiful and exhilarating, but it had all faded with time, and while the cliffs had never become home, they had become familiar.
Anyone ever fallen off one’a these things? "I don't know, probably." She kicked some snow off, watching it separate and fall into the clouds below. Wanna be the first? She laughed, stepping back as if she were weary of the she-cat pushing her anyway, though she could only assume she was joking.
"Strange thing to greet a stranger with, I think a hi would have sufficed," she chuckled, "but it's Lilydawn, sorry to disappoint. A little less than charmed." Her words were less accusatory, lighter and softer. She wasn't the biggest fan of strangers, but she was funny, humorous enough to drive away most of her annoyance. She pressed her paw to her cheek, pressing in slightly — if she were human, she could have had a small hand mirror to make faces into or something.
"You think?" She quite liked the way her features tended to throw others off, how she looked so adorable and wide-eyed and kit-like that they would never expect a personality like her own. She had to crane her neck to look Carriondare in the eyes. She liked the look of her scars (they had always been such a cool feature, part of her wished she had more), wanted to ask every story on how they came to be. Lilydawn only had one of her own, etched into her right cheek where a rather sharp stone had scraped it after she tripped over something she couldn't quite remember. The type of scratch you made up a cool lie about to make yourself sound better.
She gave a look around, eyes landing once again on her, head tilted in a slight curiosity. "I know you aren't Winterclan. I'm going to have to take you back, y'know." Turning towards the path she had come down, opposite of Lilydawn's own. She didn't move immediately, "so, where d'you come from? Or where should I take you if you don't want to go back?"
Lilydawn, Lilydawn… She couldn’t quite put her finger on why that name sounded so familiar. It would come to her eventually, hopefully sooner than just starting awake in bed at night and disrupting Ber and her kits with a triumphant shriek. Eshek looked down at the little she-cat as she spoke, a thin, lopsided little smile on her face; at a little less than charmed, it hooked into a wide grin. “I think,” she agreed around it, a purr in her voice. Eshek liked the way she was looking up at her with such admiration — not in a vain way, just in a pleased to perform way. It annoyed her, usually, when the trainees stared at her scars and whispered about her with wide, fearful eyes; they weren’t training meek little diplomats — had they never seen a bit of blood before? But with a Clan outsider, she was far more patient, far more indulgent.
She didn’t move when Lilydawn turned back towards the steep, rocky path, just watched her with wryly quirked brows. “You aren’t WinterClan, either,” she replied, a deep little laugh in her voice despite its calmness. Her eyes were hooded with contentment as she looked down at her, brilliant blue against dusty white. “You haven’t got that wild arrogance.” Really, Lilydawn was like a lost puppy, her head bowed self-consciously even when it was held high. But she wasn’t going to say that. Finally, Eshek fell in beside her. “But if you want to play the good little soldier, you can take me towards DayClan. I just know I’ll get lost without my brave guide.” She looked down at Lilydawn serenely, her grin more in her sparkling eyes than on her face. But her mocking wasn’t cruel; she was always going to humour and support a she-cat soldier, even if she patronised the Clans as being self-serious and overly concerned with such trivial things like borders and ranks. “What are you doing so far out here on your own?” she asked as she prowled calmly beside the endless drop, looking down at Lilydawn all the while. “I thought Wintrystar kept her disciples on a very tight leash.”
You aren’t WinterClan, either. She stopped, blinked, like she was taken aback. Was it really that obvious? She thought she at least presented like she fit in, but if a stranger could tell so easily that she didn't really belong, what did the clan think? She shook her head, and though she wanted to turn away now, she didn't, their gaze was still met.
"I assure you, I am." She said, but she wasn’t secure in her words. Turning away finally, she moved down the path, looked back and watched Carriondare catch up, head following her as she set in beside her. She didn't need any more reminders that Winterclan wasn't home, as much as she had tried to force it to be, because where else could she go? She wasn't happen here, but every other option seemed just as miserable. So, she had resigned herself to the fact that she may not ever belong anywhere, that she may as well stick around because she didn't want to go through the hassle of moving again. She looked up at the she-cat with just her eyes, head held low as she traversed the path.
"Dayclan? My —" brother? He wasn't quite that. "My dad's son," she grit out, "lives there. Did you get rid of your silly twoleg problem? Got your leader back?" It was closer to a mock, much harsher than Carriondare's words had been, because she met nips with bites. There was her need to defend herself against every little thing, no matter if it was a tease or an observation or a simple joke, she always took everything a bit too personal; her confidence was an ever moving scale, she was something to be hated, an unlovable, lonely thing, or she was divine, something others walked over and forgot about and it was all their loss, not hers.
Lilydawn rolled her eyes at the mention of Wintrystar. She wasn't much a fan of the leader since the arranged marriage, and even though she knew it a very common thing in Winterclan, she couldn't shake her anger towards her. "Not me," she replied simply, though she wasn't sure if that was entirely true.
"I could ask you the same. Don't you have kits to nurse? What are they doing without you?" She could see that little charm in her eye, the wistfulness, and no regular she-cat had that strong a scent. She doubted she was just spending time in the nursery just because. She wanted to rub a little more of her insecurity into it, just to see if she reacted — 'did you get sick of them? going to leave them?' — but she decided against it.
My dad's son lives there. Eshek mouthed a silent, smiling 'oh' around another little, crooked grin, heading tipping back slightly while her eyes stayed down on the little she-cat, like she was impressed. She gave a few small, faux-sombre nods. It felt slightly mocking, but it was fond and humouring; Lilydawn was still young enough that she thought having extended family members scattered around the Clans was a terribly unusual thing and not the natural consequence of meddling gods and grief and cats who couldn't keep it in their pants. At her jibe about twolegs, she let out a loud, single cackle. She got defensive about DayClan with League cats, just because she felt like she had to defend the lambs from the other wolves, but with other Clan cats she stepped back to let them squabble out their own little tiffs. "Yes, thank you," she replied, voice careless and thick with amusement. Her voice became pouting and mewling as she stopped and raised a paw to examine her claws. "They put little covers on my claws and it was very upsetting. It wasn't my fault their children kept trying to kiss me. I'm sure the marks won't scar." Her sullen look hooked into another sharp grin and she looked up at Lilydawn like she absolutely knew they would. The children's faces would be ruined forever. All through their lives people would ask what happened to your face? and they'd have to reply her name was Miss Sparkles. Eshek twinkled her claws merrily for a moment longer before letting out a purr and pushing herself up to lope at Lilydawn's side again.
At the she-cat's question about her kits, Eshek arched her brows and looked down at her. "Am I still that fat?" The corner of her mouth twitched and she looked away again, taking in the cold of the mountains. "Oh, they're with their father." With their father! She got to say things like that now. Another wave of pure joy swept through her and she found herself grinning dumbly at the cliff-face, head turned slightly away from Lilydawn. "He said I needed some fresh air and there's nothin' fresher than this. I haven't been out since they were born." There was an obvious smile in her voice, even as she still looked away from the little she-cat like she could somehow hide it. It was embarrassing, how happy she felt lately. All she'd ever wanted was this kind of easy, simple domesticity.
And it was then, walking in that quiet, that her brain slowly turning in the background caught up to her - and she remembered. "Oh!" she suddenly exclaimed, lurching to an abrupt stop and staring at Lilydawn like she was truly seeing her for the first time. "You’re Doefreckle’s girl, aren’t you? Ohhh!" The sound came out as a delighted sort of groan, like she’d finally put two and two together, a mischievous grin snaking across her face as she tipped her head back to the heavy white sky. She laughed suddenly and looked back down at Lilydawn, whatever aloofness Eshek wore melting away into family-like familiarity, as if she'd been with the little she-cat from the start. "I’ve known your dad since he was a kid. Back when he was just a gawky apprentice in NightClan with those big, ginormous ears - and a little portly sometimes, lemme tell ya. I’ve always wanted to meet you."
She took a few steps closer, eyes wide and smile happy and open. Then she tipped her head to the side, eyes flitting up and to the side. "Well, no, that’s a lie - when I first found out he’d adopted a litter I thought he was a goddamn idiot, barely knew how to look after himself and he was going to raise some kits? Pfft. But when he told me a little while back that it was just you left, THEN I wanted to meet you." She looked around. "Glad to see you got out of SummerClan - your dad likes it well enough and I’ve got a friend there right now-" She chose not to make a tasteless joke about how she’d walked in on that friend and Lilydawn’s dad the other night; the words were on her tongue, but Eshek, as a mother, was slowly - finally - beginning the arduous journey of learning boundaries, of when to say things and when to keep them to yourself, however boring and monotonous the process of correction was. "-but you have to be a special kind of BLAH to not let all those flowers suck the interesting parts out of you. So same-same, y’know? Pretty can be sickly, that place proves it. This is much better for you. And me. The whole monarchy thing is too rigid for me - they take themselves so seriously, don’t they?" She looked over her shoulder at Lilydawn from where her gaze had wandered up to the cliff-face as she talked, "But the gloomy vibes are nice. So..." She pulled a face, unable to think of the word, and did a little wiggle as she twinkled her toes in thought. "Sexy. Y'know?" She looked away again, craning her neck to gaze up the cliff-face again; she was thinking that if she didn't have her kits to be responsible for she'd try to climb it, but then the thought of wishing away her kits made her panic and she scrubbed the thought out of her mind like it was something physical she could smear and rip up.
She gave a small laugh. Wisteriasun certainly wasn't as intense, but perhaps he should have been, maybe he'd have gotten that collar off faster. "I'm sure it was a tough time for you," she played along, matching her fake sulk, still not stopping as Eshek lagged behind. She slowed as the ground sloped slightly, marking their descent down the mountain to the clans below, and as she caught up, Lilydawn muttered a soft "careful."
Oh, they're with their father. She gave a small 'oh' of acknowledgement. She remembered Beetuft would do the same, go out for air often and leave her to watch her kits after multiple 'are you sure you're alright?' and 'you don't have to, I can stay behind' and every other worry in the book. She tended to avoid nurseries after the she-cat died. "I can see how it gets stuffy," she nodded. Her tone had taken a neutral tone again, an attempt to switch out of the angry Winterclan soldier role and back into the uncaring one, only doing what she must because she had nothing better to do.
You’re Doefreckle’s girl, aren’t you? She looked up sharply. "Really?" Her eyebrows raised as she talked more about their relationship — one Doefreckle had not mentioned at all, though she supposed they hadn't had a lot of time to talk about those things — and she whispered a quiet "Nightclan?" under her breath.
"That's what caught your interest?" Almost offended, but she could understand, even though she felt a little more like an encaged animal, something to be gawked at and sympathized for. "But yeah, you're telling me," she mumbled, but couldn't help but disagree with the 'this is much better for you.' It hadn't given her the peace she thought it would have, and really what had she expected of such a cold, strict place. Even though she managed to sidestep her responsibilities most times, went off almost undetected, escaped everything she thought was causing her so much distress, she was still so unhappy.
She opened her mouth, words paused like she was about to say something else before continuing, "I guess it's alright. I mean, I was forced into a marriage against my will and I'm half freezing to death but, y'know, at least I got away from the frolicking flower fields of Summerclan." There was a slight curl to her lip, but the bitterness wasn't directed at Eshek, strangely it was towards herself, for not fitting in and settling and just getting over herself. Summerclan could have been such a nice place, she could have been so much better, and she was upset about that too. She wondered if one could mourn a part of themselves they never knew.
"I always imagined Dayclan was quite similar." She had settled to the conclusion that Wisteriasun had chosen it for that reason, a way to get out of Summerclan without really leaving the good parts behind.
I mean, I was forced into a marriage against my will. “Kill ‘im,” Eshek said immediately, so blunt and casual, like it was obvious and she was genuinely confused as to why Lilydawn hadn’t done it already. She stopped and gave the little she-cat a frowning, ‘duh’ expression, wobbling her head slightly and raising one forepaw pads-up. “If my daughter was told to marry some sheep, I’d mount Wintrystar’s head on the wall.” She thought for a moment. “Or maybe that’s just what I hope my mom would’ve done for me.” She went back to walking and gave a little shrug. “I dunno. I never had one so I’m makin’ all of this up as I go. Violence is usually the best bet, I think, ‘specially if some freak was tryna sell off my girl. From what I’ve heard, though, my mom was very sweet so maybe she’s cryin’ in heaven. Oh, well, mom, shouldn’t have died then.” Despite the careful, stony flippancy, it was obvious that losing her mother was a gaping wound, an altar that Carriondare carried around with her every second of every day.
She looked down at Lilydawn. “You don’t have a mom either, do you?” she asked in that same blunt, slightly emotionless voice, her brows high and arched. If Eshek’s voice was empty, it meant her heart was truly aching. “Sorry, I never paid much attention to anything Doey said - he talks a lot, y’know. Especially back then. He was goin’ on and on and on about, I dunno, baby names and vomit, all excited, and I was like,” her voice was suddenly bored, eyes heavy and glazed over, “uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, no, yeah, that’s really interesting.” She straightened and went back to normal, shooting Lilydawn a brief look. “Sorry, cupcake. Anyway, just assumin’ you don’t have a mom because if you did then Doey would’ve had to share custody and,” she choked, “socialise with a woman and he would never’ve stopped hyperventilating.” And likely getting consumed by jealousy that he wasn’t the favourite parent and plotting the mother’s downfall with snide, sneering remarks and tight, pretty smiles.
