Deadmoon had been resting somewhere in between sleep and wakefulness, eyes thin slits as she dispassionately observed the goings on of the warriors den. Predictably, not much was happening. This was simply fuel for Deadmoon's moment of apathy, the perfect accompaniment to her moment of indulgent self-pity. She wasn't sure why this had come about now. It was foolish. All of it was foolish. It had been moons, other cats equally close to Wolffang, closer even in Leopardsong's case, had moved on. Had gotten their paws back under them, and brought light back into their lives. She'd thought she'd done the same, doing her best to watch and lavish upon Snowybreeze's kits, and resolved to give Honeypaw more attention. Patrols, too, had been a welcome distraction.
But today, today Deadmoon was feeling far more like Deadpaw, after Nightpaw had gone but before she'd met Marigoldpaw or gotten to know Breezepelt. An empty husk of a cat, going through the motions as best she could but well aware that she would never measure up. It was strange. How deeply she had been imprinted at such a young age. Not a single physical reminder remained of her mother and sister and brother, nothing but the ghosts that wormed into her own mind. Deadmoon must have the power to banish them, yet she did not. As weak of will as she was of body, perhaps. Huffing softly, she was about to try and got to proper sleep if only to stop thinking when a voice rousted her.
She raised her head, doing her best to shake any moss or bracken from her fur as she propped herself onto her haunches, sitting and then standing to face Batglare. What on earth did HE want? Deadmoon couldn't remember a time the two of them had spoken, and so was understandably rather perplexed. Well, confusion was better than apathy she supposed, as she busily tried to figure out what was going on. Was she in trouble? Deadmoon was fairly certain she hadn't done anything all that naughty, but one never could tell. But alas, she could think of no other cause for the fury's visit.
Busy I most certainly am not. she replied, overly convoluted in her wording if only to give her tongue something to do.
And then, Batglare got around to his purpose of visit. And......um. Not what she had expected! Deadmoon wasn't in good control of her emotion at the best of times, and at this exact moment could do absolutely nothing except her initial instinct of a vacant expression and a perplexed
Uhhhhh before she realized she was supposed to be Better Than This starsdamnit and shut her mouth right up. Ugh. This was an unexpected situation and she was not vibing with it one bit. Because....why her? Why now? What on earth? She was flattered, of course she was. Deadmoon had an ego just like every cat, the idea of being given some sort of plaudits for what she'd been doing for 45 moons of her damn life was.....nice. Made her feel good.
On the other paw, however, she had the capability to stink this up really badly. REALLY badly. However nice the thought was, that required her actually living up to what the rank entailed which she.....wasn't that sure she could do. Ultimately, what decided it for her was Snowybreeze. The only cat left in this clan that she actually cared about, him and his kits. And Honeypaw maybe. If he was going to think of her as a good warrior, a good cat, she needed to try and be that. Needed to live up to those expectations more than she had done so far, even. And if that meant she might have to figure out how to be a fury, then that was what she would do. If only to make sure he was proud to call her a former mentor, and Wolffang up in the stars was proud to call her a sister. And, maybe, to spite Rosebriar and Featherwhisker, wherever they might be now.
I'd....I'd be interested. If you'd have me.
@
Moonraven
Re: WindClan Warriors' Den
