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 Circle Fish Eyes Fire Hollow, superkit's return
superpaw
 Posted: Aug 2 2017, 09:44 AM
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Flat eyes, black lies, the sensation of something crawling just underneath the skin, like ants that cannot find an escape out of her body, crawling over the same trails they had become accustomed to in the past month. She is aware of the sensation, but she cannot stop it -- it is but another flaw in an already damaged system, and she is no worse off for it. Probably. But she isn't here to lead on the ants in her skin, and despite the actions of the past month, she isn't here for forgiveness, nor for anything contrary to that. The simple fact of the matter was that the once-kitten (for really, she was of age to be an apprentice by now) was returning for reasons unknown. The obscurity of the logic was reflective of the vague pretext in which she disappeared, the mysterious and sudden absence of the constant, if quiet, ghost that wandered the clan. No, there seemed to be very little reason for the kitten to slip away suddenly, and to return just as quietly, just as suddenly.

She didn't stop by the border, her pelt lacking scent but for the river, lavender, and strong smelling herbs usually meant to cover up something. She was still gangly, still awkward in her proportions, but kitten fat had burned away entirely, leaving a lean, scrawny looking apprentice in its wake. She hesitated not, she paused not, and she moved over the border with familiarity, as old as one so young can experience. Had she missed this place? She wasn't sure. It felt detached, in a sense, far off and buzzing in the distance. She figured she did. She didn't think about it often, too busy in other senses, but she missed... quiet things. Watching Patchpaw sort herbs. 'Speaking' with Pondpaw in the silent motions of paws and body language. Crouched near the leader's den, remembering the peace of an adopted family together. She missed many things.

Some things would never come back. Her mother's laughter like the rustle of leaves in the wind, Alderpaw - branch's company, the push and pull sensation of feeling another's soul (and how was she supposed to explain that she felt it again, that somewhere in the world Alder wasn't as dead as previously thought). She missed the odd, trickling sensation of hope that had been too bright and too light for her to bear, looking towards the face of her father and not knowing the ache in her chest.

There were things she missed. But she was... back. She supposed. Here, back, but was she really herself? No, don't think about that, don't think at all. She was here, changed, a fresh splitting her lip, and old ones set deep in the fur and flesh of the little-more-than-child. Superkit -- the same name because who would change it -- returned as quietly as she had left. The black omen was back in Riverclan, and but for the change in physique, it was as though she'd never left.

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Midnightscar
 Posted: Aug 2 2017, 01:01 PM
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After both the disappearance of his father and his sister, Midnightpaw had become grumpier than ever. It was possible, contrary to many conflicting opinions. His glare seemed plastered to his face, and should a cat dare to approach them he stared them down until they left, or simply rolled over to ignore them. Little speaking was going on, other than to Squeakpaw-- he couldn't just not speak to the only family he had left. He wasn't even in the mood to be meeting Owlpaw any time soon, but then maybe she could cheer him up. It was unlikely that such a molly would do anything of the sort, but he was still trying to teach her friendship, and that involved comforting friends.

Midnightpaw padded out of the medicine den. He needed to go through his daily exercises, and there was much more room in the camp than inside the cramped medicine den. The smoky tom began running through his routine which mostly consisted of various stretches and putting weight on different sides of his body.

As he finished his exercises, Midnightpaw glanced toward the entrance to camp. He'd been taking more walks out of camp lately than he cared to admit, but no one ever tried to stop him. The tom looked back toward the medicine den for a fleeting moment before making a beeline for the exit. Fresh air-- that's what he needed. Not stupid exercises or bitter herbs. He would go insane if he was cooped up in camp much longer.

His thoughts had taken over and his paws began to wander in their own direction. Midnightpaw had become careless like this; it was how he had come across Owlpaw in the first place. He liked to think that his paws knew something he didn't. They would take him somewhere important.

And indeed he did, for when his thoughts had consumed his consciousness, Midnightpaw found himself running into a black wall of fur. He scrambled backward, unsheathing his claws and allowing his fur to bristle. The scent was one he did not recognize, but there was something familiar about it. Just vaguely. As he calmed himself and took a moment to gaze upon the intruder, Midnightpaw found himself face-to-face with not an enemy, but his adopted sister. He stared at her with wide eyes. What was he supposed to say? Dad and sister are both gone and will probably never return! Squeakpaw is super mega injured! Welcome home!

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Stonestar--
 Posted: Aug 2 2017, 04:57 PM
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Stonestep had been hunting nearby when he scented someone crossing the border. There was no familiarity there, not with lavender and water as the only scents; the blue deputy rose silently and followed a black figure on her path, recognizing both the age of their invader and the sense of comfort in one's skin. She could be dangerous, he recognized, seeing the air of someone that knew the limits of their body and could push beyond.

Before long, RiverClan scent became prevalent. He hesitated, wondering if a patrol might happen across the female and ask why he'd followed instead of stopping her. The answer, in his mind, was he wanted to know why she was there first before making any accusations; she knew their territory and so perhaps she had been prepared. A spy? An old friend returning? The possibility of this being Superkit never crossed his mind. She looked too large, too muscled, too tested to be the small, silent watcher that he remembered.

Midnightpaw crashed into the female before he could make a more solid decision. The black smoke tom rebounded, bristling and extending his claws; that was enough for Stonestep to emerge from the rushes, tall and proud. He circled to the intruder's right side, not noticing Midnightpaw's surprise, to deliver a common message: "State your name and bus- oh." Suddenly, his green eyes went as wide as the apprentice's. He recognized her face, even with the split lip and the fact that her ears were no longer, comparatively, giant. "Superkit?" he meowed, not yet daring to believe.

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Inspired by Dandelion from Watership Down - Avatar by the stupendous Skypher and signature by the lovely Lunlun - STONE'S BIO!
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superpaw
 Posted: Aug 3 2017, 07:14 AM
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Of all those within her adopted family, it was Midnightpaw tgat was the furthest from her. Whether a result of his training or her avoidance (or a mix of the two), Superkit had never spoken much with her brother. Looking back, recent times had seen her growing distant from them all, leading up to her disappearance. She wasn't old enough to grasp the significance, only the cause and effect - and even that was obscured by a chicken-and-egg type scenario, more confusing than rewarding when it came to trying to understand. Still, she was slightly more alert to her brother's presence, and wasted no time in creating a respectful distance between them as he stumbled back.

His lack of words was taken without a beat of hesitation, and the now lean child simply blinked back at the wide stare. A part of her wondered what he saw now; she supposed she was changed, not only on the outside, but inside. Much of her disappearance was a blur, whispered words that made her head hurt while trying to recall. There'd been a lab, but also Bloodclan, Bonechill and... her head hurt again. Rather than focus on that, her attention was drawn by Stonestep, and she turned to regard him with the same passive expression she had given her brother. Oddly enough, he didn't recognize her until he saw her face, and her lip burned self consciously. His bewildered use of her name seemed only to amuse her slightly, though the emotion was too slight to be noticed.

"Yes."

Words. Words were still uncomfortable, clawing at her throat, but she had been told to answer on occasion, and thus she endured the physical rasp that came from disuse, and the emotional protests that came from speaking. Yes, she was Superkit -- or at least had once been.

She wasn't sure who she was really, but that would have to suffice.

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Midnightscar
 Posted: Aug 3 2017, 12:51 PM
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It took many moments for Midnightpaw to fully comprehend what was going on, and even then there was still much uncertainty in his mind. Superkit wasn't the same as he remembered to be. She possessed a certain amount of maturity in her, that went past her appearance. What had happened to her?

Midnightpaw knew he should have found more joy in her return, but he'd never been particularly close to her in the first place, and somber events had made it difficult for him to find happiness in anything, even the return of a sibling. She needed to know what had happened.

"Pondpaw is missing and Pyrestar has been captured by twolegs," he meowed at last, breaking from his tense posture into a more relaxed one. "Squeakpaw is laid up in the medicine den," he added, figuring he might as well update her on the entire family. She could see his own wounds that had not yet healed-- the gashes on his sides that had cobwebs plastered to them

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Stonestar--
 Posted: Aug 3 2017, 03:28 PM
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RiverClan


She spoke...! Superkit's voice sounded rusty, like she hadn't bothered with language before, but here it was. Stonestep had always assumed that she was mute due to some physical reason, but perhaps it was a choice? Or maybe she'd unlocked the skill during her time away? His lip twitched upwards into a smile, though, because she was back. Midnightpaw recognized her as well, and he trusted the tom. "We've taken a bit of a beating, but we're healing and improving," he agreed, truly believing RiverClan would recover. They were elastic, strong, confident.

His gaze drifted back from joy to concern. "C'mon, we'll get you back to camp. Patchpaw will be beyond happy to see you, and she can treat the cut on your lip. Does anything else hurt?" He didn't ask any questions that she couldn't answer nonverbally, though he was interested to see if she'd talk again. Stonestep was sure she'd tell her story in some manner when they returned, but for now, he wanted to make sure she had basic needs covered - food, water, medical care.

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hollowfrost
 Posted: Aug 3 2017, 04:47 PM
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do you know the line i'd walk for you?

RiverClan


unlike the others, there was no mistaking superkit for anyone else in hollowfrost's eyes. call it a father's instincts, some secret knowledge only those who had sired kits knew. a parent would never forget what their child looked like, no matter how long they'd been apart or how much distance had come between them. he knew.

his hunting patrol was long forgotten the moment he spied the lean, gangly she-cat weaving through the sparse undergrowth. her scent was unfamiliar, laced with riverwater and sharp-smelling herbs he couldn't put a name to. it was the color of her pelt that grabbed at his attention, the way she harried on with a purposeful stride. it was that moment he knew, wthout a doubt, that superkit had returned to riverclan.

he stepped through the bracken and stare wide-eyed at his daughter, rendered speechless when the first note of the word 'yes' fell from her lips. it was the first time he had ever heard his daughter speak - though he wasn't the only one - and there was a near reverent gleam to his green eyes as he stepped closer to survey her. "where have you been?" hollowfrost demanded, and the words might have been taken for angry if not for the wholly relieved expression on his face. he was too glad to find her back, safe and sound. she looked a little worse for wear, that split lip in particular looked sore, but otherwise his daughter looked more fit and healthy than she had in the short weeks after he'd been accepted into the clan. she was a little scrawny, a little too thin for his liking, but that was easily remedied. "never mind, i'm just glad you're safe."


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superpaw
 Posted: Aug 3 2017, 06:00 PM
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Discomfort called upon the ants once more, their solemn march continuing under her skin as Midnightpaw spoke. Her adopted family seemed shattered then, abandonment renewed. Pyre was gone, her last words to him toxic and tossed in hatred and despair. She remembered those words every time she felt the urge to speak, and the feeling tended to disappear. But she merely stared blankly at her brother this time, numb in a way that was frankly frightening. She... hadn't expected anything upon her return. Hadn't expected to return just-- the future was empty to her. A worm curled in her stomach. The ants marched on.

Then Stonestep added an enthusiasm that felt as foreign to her as the desert, a state of mind that was as far off as the stars for the child, whose kelp green eyes tracked the positive chatter of her elder without a change in her guarded caution. Then it was concern, genuine and raw, and she dropped her eyes to focus on his chest instead, uncomfortable with the softness. It felt invasive, unusual, and she shied from it without moving. To his question, she simply shook her head, a distant look returning to her eyes. Patchpaw... Super had missed her, truly, but some part of her felt shame burn in her stomach, her ears flicked back. To answer Stonestep, she merely shook her head which... wasn't entirely true. Her head hurt, yes, but there were also bruises hiding under charcoal fur, ones that pulsed and pulled tight with her movements. No bother. She had earned them, and the pain would turn to strength.

Her father was there. Not the adopted father who had lied and inspired her despair and anger, nor the fatherly figure that towered over her in gleaming white grace, but the father that matched her, that brought her into this world. Salt and water bloomed at the corners of her eyes, not to fall but simply threaten such. Her throat squeezed again, and only one more word fell from her split lip before she was rendered speechless by emotion.

"Dad."

And though she wasn't particularly known for physical shows of affection, she hadn't had the chance to know her father either time she had lost him, and there was an ache as old as she that demanded she rush towards him, stumbling to try and hug him.

She didn't understand the sensation of home, but she was tired of pretending she didn't care he was here.

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Permafrost
 Posted: Aug 4 2017, 02:41 AM
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She wasn't right.

There was a note of concern hidden deeply in the thousand yard stare that gripped Permafrost's face so tightly. With the recent events the tom had no true ways of reaction. He was as cold and frigid as ever, however, he couldn't help but notice the emotion the escaped his clanmates. Was it pity that drove them to be bleeding hearts, he wondered? His ears flicked forward, wind whistling through the stricken tear of his left ear - causing him to flick it several times in a row. After a moment, the long legged white tom, with his ever brazen approach to things, approached. He knew that of them all he looked as though he'd been tossed around in a dryer with a mound of clothes. Permafrost had only groomed his fur twice in the last six days, so it was uneven and disheveled - concealing the true elegance and beauty of his frame. Dried cobwebs hung to his wounds, strapping on poultice obtained from the medicine cats den.

"Super," he says. Relief wholly overtook his frame, causing a weak sigh to escape his jaws. He thought he'd have never seen the black molly again. His eyes closed as thoughts were pushed away to leave his mind as an empty space. He attempted to mimic the adoration, love, and support that his clanmates so wholesomely extended - but it just came out as a simple smile. The serval walked haggardly closer, looming over Superkit with a relieved sigh. "I'm so glad you're alright."

@superkit
//no template because im tired lmao

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Patchpaw
 Posted: Aug 4 2017, 12:27 PM
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RiverClan


Bright shapes and warmth—that was the world. Everything smelled of trees, of thick foliage and aging blossoms. The drama of sparrows and blackbirds unfolded in the skies, carried by sporadic gusts and the heavy air of the season. The birds made their presence known now and again, sometimes through dry song and sometimes through molted feathers dropped. A bird could go nowhere without leaving behind a trail of vestiges, a hasty mausoleum to itself. A cat was not like a bird. A cat could disappear. A cat could fade away in static rage, a mocking reneging of existence. And because of this, because of quiet paws and still whiskers, because of stubbornness and solitude, it seemed as if cats vanished all the time.

Patchpaw had not awoken that morning to expect that her friend would have returned. She had, in the weeks since Superkit’s initial departure, not dwelled on the missing clanmate. The apprentice had missed Superkit without question, but the enigmatic feline had always existed in a state of constant liminality. It was if asking Superkit to stay in RiverClan had been an unfair request, impossible from the outset. On some level, Patchpaw had always anticipated that the she-cat would slink out of camp one day, without a trace. It had seemed selfish to assume anything else of her. Still, even with that perspective, Patchpaw had been hurt, saddened. The two of them could share the silence. They could share the night sky and the dithering light of a crescent moon. They existed in a space of confusion, abhorrence, and fear. And in that same space existed a mutual respect, taut between contradicting behaviors and ideology. They were too old for the company of their peers and too young to escape the condescension of their elders.

In the days following the dog attack, Patchpaw had faced increasing responsibility. Fawntrot had not been around as much to direct her as she aided her clanmates, and a physical exhaustion had begun to set in. Her legs felt rigid, leaden. A lack of recent rains had allowed a thin sheet of dust to amass above the ground, kicked up and aggravated by those passing through it. Patchpaw moved heavily from the entrance of her den to the center of camp, intent on procuring fresh-kill. She pawed at a half-eaten fish, small and round, enjoying the transient reprieve that accompanied a meal. She was tempted to go back into the cool shade of the medicine cat den and nap, relishing the quiet that had seized the camp. Quiet. It was never quiet in RiverClan. The calico got to her feet, straining her eyes to pick out familiar shapes. She stood for another few moments, wondering what she had forgotten, what she had overlooked. Everything seemed still and motionless, trapped in the greenleaf heat.

The medicine cat apprentice, disconcerted, approached the edge of camp, where the chatoyant gleam of sun-lit vegetation made it difficult to garner much of anything. She began to leave. Lassitude inhibited her speed but not her worry. Inundated with the smell of flowers, she struggled to discern anything else. As she made her way across the territory, ears strained, Patchpaw began to recognize the scents of Stonestep and Hollowfrost. Then, Midnightpaw. Permafrost. And someone else. She assumed a loner, maybe, and was ready to return back to camp, not entirely interested in the bureaucracy of new member acceptance. But the calico was compelled to at least lightly chide Stonestep for venturing out as far has he had with an injured rib. It had been challenging to find the time to catch up with the deputy in recent times, anyway. Walks were good, too. Her weak justifications receded in their prominence as she approached the group, which was moving in her direction. Somewhere overhead a blackbird called, and Patchpaw watched its shadow moved over the grasses until it too was swallowed by light.

Patchpaw settled into her calm as a dragging breeze worked its way across the land. She looked up from the ground, ready to introduce herself to whatever newcomer had stumbled upon their clan. She was surprised to see before her someone she knew. Taller, surely, and older—marked with the sinews of maturity. Patchpaw looked on, glancing briefly at Stonestep in disbelief before turning her attention to a relieved Hollowfrost. She shut her eyes and suddenly all of the shapes disappeared. The world was dark. Then, the shapes were there again. The shapes had names. Yes, Stonestep, Hollowfrost, Midhnightpaw, Permafrost. She did not even deign to pause on the last name. She was too startled. Patchpaw took another step closer as the group neared, Everything was registering more slowly than it usually did.

Now it was Patchpaw who was rendered silent. She did not know what to say. Or rather, she did not know what to say first. So she settled on nothing. They had lived in comfortable silence before. She had missed it. She was ready to revisit it. The medicine cat apprentice did not move any closer, she simply waited to share the space once more with a good friend.
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superpaw
 Posted: Aug 4 2017, 10:58 PM
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It wasn't difficult to sense the changes in dynamics, even with the tears in her eyes and the sense of loss that had reopened like a picked-at scab, leaking sluggish and burning with the threat of infection. It was fresher, and it felt less like detachment and more like... guilt. A headache that flamed behind her eyes and shone just over the horizon, a threat in the future. There was something eerily foreboding about the way that despair picked away at the edges of her resolve when her forest green gaze fell upon her father, her only blood relative that she knew of, the man that had searched for her. She could give him nothing, could offer so little that what there was wasn't worth staying around for. She feared his eyes losing interest, she feared him peeking past the first few sights and realizing he had travelled for nought. She wasn't worth it, not really, but her disappearance would help. She had left because another called her, because she really lacked worth.

Permafrost was there. His presence was that of frost in the morning, a quiet proclamation of existence that seemed to go no further than the simplest of decrees. He was here and that simple fact brought her back into the present, and whatever vulnerability she had begun to show shuttered and froze in its paces, as though one cold figure could remind her of the necessity of the ice and separation. Her soul twisted backwards, remembering how badly the light of day burnt, and the tears cleared before gravity could coax them out. She pulled back from her attempted embrace, regardless of the success of her would-be physicality. Green sought out the icy features of the former deputy, whose loss of status was both unknown by the once-kitten and wholly irrelevant. Authority had never held importance to her, words and titles meaningless to the former loner, the child of wild places, sea salt, and ocean spray. The retraction of her vulnerability meant that confrontation of her fear, the fear of failure, was cut short. The panic it wrought in her was silenced by the rising tide of numbness, trained and necessary. Permafrost spoke, spoke of joy and relief and for some reason, she thought his words could echo in the emptiness they themselves created. He was like her, sometimes, hollow in a sense -- they couldn't be like the others. For Superkit, that meant she worked harder -- she made sacrifices. She tore out the broken pieces and let others fix what was left. And now she was better than she had been before she left. But words came not -- she had no need for them. One affirmation of her identity and one yearning whimper for what she'd never had, and her words were used up, her energy better spent trying to stand without wobbling, more than a month's worth of exhaustion and loss catching up to her. How had she crossed the border, how had she gotten here? So much was missing from her mental timeline, and not in the passive observation that tended to blend together days and weeks, but in the legitimate loss of self that had been brought on in her absence.

Here, Midnightpaw told her that her second family was in shambles. Here, Stonestep moved as though with an injury. Here, Hollow was gripped with panic at the thought of loss. Physical wounds were loud to the child, but she had much time until she could learn to abuse the quieter, more insidious wounds. The wounds of heart and soul she knew little of but from firsthand experience, and those did not give her the ability to wield them as her claws and teeth. She saw the injuries and knew of struggle, and images of blood and violence fought against the present until another approached. And it was this last one, more than anything swept away words and left Superkit's wide green gaze sharp and vulnerable at once. She fought not to weep, fought not to scream, fought not to break into a million pieces as her mind and heart waged their war. It seemed the both of them stood like statues of shock, time becoming sluggish in its movement, each breath accompanied by a thousand thoughts, wordless and desperate to understand. Eventually, she felt her lungs expand and draw in air, the scents of little interest but that one with the slightest cut of the river, hidden among sprigs of herbs and moss, the scent of safety and comfort, the scent of sage and quiet. She had missed it more than she had known and found herself casting something wistful, almost heartbroken towards the apprentice. She couldn't remember it all -- but for some reason, she felt like screaming, like running towards what had been her closest friend only to disappear once more, as far as she could go. Maybe this childish admiration had once been simply desiring to be around another, but now it was... more. She looked to Patchpaw and the ants stopped marching, and she only felt the throb of the poorly-healing split lip, only felt the ache in her chest and something... light. Like another battalion of insects now resided in her stomach, moths that fluttered, crowding the bottom of her lungs and making the air she breathed cold inside of her. She was scared. Scared and uncomfortable because this was a new feeling and she could handle everything else -- all the guilt around the family of Pyre, all the conflict of Hollow, all the detached foreboding of Permafrost. But she didn't know this one, this dread and horror and lightness that combined into something twisting her stomach. She was supposed to be apart from it but she was -- what was this?

She pictured doing the same thing as she'd done with Hollow, rushing forwards and begging for her to simply exist within her own presence. But it would be fast and loud and not at all what she wanted, so instead, she found herself in motion. She moved forwards, tight steps and lean muscles not speaking of a great strength but still awareness, a change of true severity. Some threshold was crossed and there was no going back -- Superkit had died and this was who she was now, harsh and sharp inside of the fuzzy softness of even the scrappy kitten she was. Age would only heighten it, but in her approach, she was two parts edge and one part barely standing as she found herself far too close to Patchpaw. The moths were mad, wild, ghost touches with fuzzy wings against her insides but she was close to the one she wanted to be close to, and maybe that was the only thing she had left to want because she fell to the ground in front of her once-friend and rested her forehead against the warm earth, the sun picking through her fur as she postured, as though bowing with the whole of body and soul to the one person that existed in the same quiet space as she.

She was afraid. Afraid of failure. Afraid of what the holes in her memory meant for the future. And the moths found their way into her throat and she was afraid of that too because it was new and light and terrifying. But of all the fears, it was the last that she knew the least about, the last that no one, not Bonechill and not the shadows in her dreams, could prepare her for and it was all of it that drove her to the ground in front of Patchpaw, as though posed before an idol, a symbol with incomprehensible significance to the angular soldier. Words, there were none, only this, and the bugs inside her skin.

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hollowfrost
 Posted: Aug 12 2017, 02:24 PM
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do you know the line i'd walk for you?

RiverClan


this was the part he didn't know how to deal with. hollowfrost had never been good with comforting others, and until that moment he hadn't been given a chance to really do anything with his daughter. she was almost a stranger to him, espectially now that she was back in riverclan. something was off about superkit, and it wasn't just the physical changes to her body.

it was a similarity his shared with his daughter, this uneasiness for affection. so he was surprised when she darted for him and pressed close, uttering the one word he'd been longing to hear since the day she was born.

everything was not as hollowfrost would have imagined it, all those moons ago when his mate had confided in him that she carried his kits. he had envisioned a large litter, an indeterminate number of daughters and sons who all looked to him with adoring eyes. a brood that trailed after him everywhere he went, following closely in his shadow. they would mimic everything he did, and as they grew older would follow in his footsteps, one of them would take over as leader of the city cats, the others serving as advisers or second in commands. his children would rule the city. when only superkit was born, a single daughter when he had hoped for many sons and daughters, hollowfrost was somewhat crushed. but his excitement over being a father at all was too strong to allow him to wallow for very long. his daughter was healthy and strong; that was the most important part. and he could always have more children, younger brothers and sisters for his firstborn to play with and teach. fate, of course, had other plans for their family.

hollowfrost felt choked with sudden overwhelming emotion. he leaned down to bury his nose in her dark fur, inhaling her familiar-but-not scent. he couldn't find the right words to say, not when so many cats crowded around to greet her return. everything he wanted to say to his daughter were private, meant for her ears only; nearly six moons of unsaid things that he longed to shout to the skies.

but then she pulled away, and he was almost grateful for the sudden disconnect. hollowfrost couldn't think with superkit so close and vulnerable, not at all like the fiesty she-kit he'd come to know in the brief weeks before her disappearance. though his throat still choked off whatever words he might have said, hollowfrost didn't feel quite so overwhelmed with emotion as he had moments before. but in its place came a quiet sense of discontent as he watched superkit change before his eyes, watching with attentive silence as she pulled herself together and seemed to solidify into someone wholly unreachable. an iciness swept through him, the barest winds of a chilling rage beginning to kick up. he wondered what had happened to his daughter in those weeks she had been missing, but it wasn't something he wanted to ask when they were surrounded by so many others. perhaps stonestep would call her to a private meeting and ask what had happened; if so, hollowfrost knew he would demand to be present.

and then she bowed before patchpaw, and hollowfrost looked upon his daughter with a muddled sense of wonderment and confusion. he looked to patchpaw, and then stonestep, forest green eyes wide.


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 Posted: Aug 12 2017, 04:15 PM
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The deputy was lost in so many nonverbal meetings, so much tension ebbing and flowing as cats readjusted to Superkit's presence. She might be Superpaw, now; he wasn't sure how old she was or even if she could continue to follow the six-moons rule after her disappearance. What he did understand, however, was that her time away from RiverClan left Superkit with a lingering coldness that even her father noticed. Hollowfrost seemed almost scared of her change, worried by the differences in his daughter, and that resolved the blue tom to investigate.

"When you get the chance, Superkit," Stonestep began, "I'd love to walk with you for a bit and ask where you were. It'll help us decide how to proceed with your apprenticeship." That was a good enough excuse for curiosity and concern. "If you wish, we could bring someone else to help translate; I'm not sure how difficult it is for you to speak." She had sounded rusty, raspy before, so he'd do her the kindness of bringing a translator of her choice.

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 Posted: Aug 13 2017, 03:28 PM
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With Superkit posed before her like some votive offering, the apprentice questioned what was appropriate to do next. She looked between Hollowfrost and the deputy, as if they would have the answer, as if they understood what was going on. Patchpaw was tempted to take a step back; she was tempted to recoil slightly at the abruptness of the act. But she remained immutable, paws planted unassumingly on the ground, inches away from the paws and the eyes and the heart of her friend. At another point in time, Patchpaw may have been given to react verbally, to question the posture of Superkit, to dwell on how incongruent this experience was with all other experiences she had had. Now, though, in the stagnant summer atmosphere, she simply dipped her head. The gesture was slow, almost solemn. It was a recognition of emotional gravity that would have otherwise been weakened by clumsy articulation.

Patchpaw was beginning to understand that there were some complexities that escaped vocabulary--that there were some things that existed beyond the scope of speech, even beyond the scope of thought. Those things were few and far between, rarities in a world crowded with sensation. She did not dare try and manifest the scene before her. If she had to, though, she would call what was unfolding unequivocal trust. A trust developed in the darkness, in the company of restless crickets and words unspoken. A friendship fortified by silence did not need to be bolstered by empty inquiries.As they sat there, Stonestep's voice pierced the stillness. Where had Superkit been? It was a good question. Patchpaw did not know what she assumed the she-cat had been up to, and thus she had no expectations for the answer. There was also the matter of dressing her injuries, but they were not pressing enough to make the medicine cat apprentice nervous.

"A lot has happened since you left." Had she left? Had she been taken? Patchpaw was not sure what word to use. "It's good to see you." She added with a light purr. It had been too long since Patchpaw had felt herself in the simple company of friends. And even with the impending stress of studying without Fawntrot's guidance, she felt a burgeoning assurance. She got to her paws, standing, but she hesitated to move any further. It did not seem right to walk away before Superkit herself got up. So she waited, patiently, looking once more at Hollowfrost. She wondered what he was thinking.
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 Posted: Aug 13 2017, 05:57 PM
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Despite the reactions of Stonestep and Hollowfrost, despite the patient anticipation of her elders, she did not move until Patchpaw did. While it wasn't easy to glimpse into the tangled burrs that made up Super's mind, things like this were... meaningful. She lacked the vocabulary to express herself, and perhaps language as a whole lacked the ability to capture efficiently, veraciously, the depths to which she was feeling. It painted her as slow, perhaps unfeeling, but in the lack of loud responses laid subtle actions, which seemed to crescendo into the sweeping action that brought her to this moment now. The lowering of a head, the posturing that suggested submission but more -- because Patchpaw knew, hopefully, that Super was not submissive. This wasn't that. This was, slightly, an apology -- but moreso, it was a promise. A commitment. To something vague and unspoken, a proposition of a bond and the word of a mute, so to speak.

As Patchpaw shifted, the spell faded, and Superkit raised herself to standing position, no longer crouched at the shoulders and slumped over with poor posture. She was now purposeful and sculpted to be in a certain fashion, to move with awareness and not ease but reason. She had a reason to exist now, and this renewed purpose brought her actions a strength they had not held before. The ghost of a smile tickled her split lip, the cut there healed enough not to split when she moved her lips. She had mostly scars now -- some bruises and a kink in her tail as well, pads cracked from her journey. She was changed in other ways but she -- physically, nothing was actively threatening. Mentally... she nodded at Patchpaw's admission that much had happened, but said nothing.

Stonestep's words required addressing. She turned to the deputy and held a frown heavy on her lips. A translator? For what purpose? He wanted to speak with her, but she could say very little about where she had been, for more than the obvious reasons. Pondpaw was the only one who really understood a good portion of her unspoken language, and according to her adopted brother, she was gone. Rather than wait to find someone, the would-be kitten simply met the deputy's eyes and gestured to the side, suggesting they walk. Settling in could wait, she supposed -- and after her emotional breakdown (which had ended frighteningly in abruption) she would rather not return right away. Perhaps she would find time to at least... observe her father afterwards, if not necessarily spend time with him.

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