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Old October 25th, 2024, 02:01 PM
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Rowan Rowan is online now
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Default The Orange Flower of Spring [P]


ORANGEFLOWER
Posts: 52 | Female
Purrks: Kitty Softpaws

___________________________________________

The she had been in the nursery for quite a bit, hanging out with PumpkinKit, watching LarkSwoops lot. She was enjoying it too. She always had liked being around the little sunshine’s! They were so innocent, so care-free. She love-love-loved the environment. Though she’s never had a family of her own, she wanted to be a forever queen in some part of her. She wasn’t quite sure the clans situation in how many they had or were permitted, but she was determined.

Of course the gal seemed some company around her own age as well, but disturbing the queens the moment they get some quiet time? She’d feel too bad. However—her green gaze landed upon one cat in particular. Springlight- well…Spring per her new name that BumbleStar gave her. Simply Spring. It felt odd to see the clans former medicine cat here after being gone, knowing she’d only stay for a bit. Perhaps she should try and be friendly? The she already got plenty of hostility she was sure.

Hey…SpringL- ahem- Spring…I’m OrangeFlower! How are you feeling?” she questioned the queen, her voice gentle and soft. No accusatory voice, no accusatory looks.


@iliri
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  #2  
Old October 31st, 2024, 05:18 PM
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iliri iliri is offline
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Default Re: The Orange Flower of Spring [P]


Spring
long-furred, scarred, oriental-shaped, gray-and-orange calico molly with blue eyes; torn right ear
purrks: herbal knowledge - tier 2 | the collector | mind reader | dreamwalker
she/her | … | 24 moons


Worthless. Coward. Husk. All three words were pounding in Spring’s brain, mocking her and chiding her for every decision she’s ever made as if daring her to protest against them, but she didn’t. She didn't even try to fight off the loathing insecurities as they washed over her, cradling her with their eerily cold, skeletal fingers as they tormented her with no end. They whispered that she was little more than a fleeting shadow; no more substantial than the faintest wisp of smoke. She felt trapped and cocooned within her shame, as though it wrapped around her like a thick fog, choking any remaining sense of who she once was. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there in the nursery, surrounded by a world that felt increasingly foreign and out of reach. The nursery's warmth felt like it was pressing down on her, being equally stifling and heavy as it brought her no comfort. Kits’ laughter and squeals always filled the den, yet it all felt distant, like a faint echo from another world. Their joy—their innocence—was something she couldn’t reach, a brightness that seemed to intensify the shadows that clung to her own heart. She would watch them play, their tiny paws skittering across the ground, completely unaware of the darkness that tainted her thoughts. Once, she might have been able to find solace in such scenes and might have even been inspired by their carefree spirits.

Now, though, she was nothing more than an outsider looking in, unable to bridge the gap between herself and the warmth that danced before her. She let her gaze drift, tracing the familiar lines and shadows in the den around her, trying to anchor herself in something—anything—that might ground her. But the walls that had once felt like a haven only reminded her of the life she’d left behind, of the path she’d chosen and, ultimately, abandoned. The whispers in her mind only grew louder, gnawing at her every nerve, reminding her that she was no longer needed, someone who had a place here. She was a ghost haunting this place, wandering without purpose, her former title now as empty as the hollow ache in her chest. Her claws dug lightly into the earth beneath her, an unconscious reaction to the spoiled bitterness clawing its way up her throat, suffocating any remnants of peace she had for herself. A shadow shifted nearby, drawing the calico from the haze, and her gaze slowly lifted, finding a pair of gentle green eyes watching her. There was a softness to the gaze, a warmth that felt jarringly out of place against the icy weight of her burdensome thoughts. The molly approached, a hesitant, friendly smile easing across her face as she dipped her head. Her tone was soft and gentle, her voice free of any hurtling edge or accusation, as though she knew Spring needed kindness more than anything.

She didn't deserve any kindness. Resentment wormed its way into Spring’s chest, coiling tightly as the soft, gentle tones of the stranger’s voice reached her ears. She didn’t deserve any kindness—not now, not ever. Not after the choices she’d made, the lives she’d failed to save, the mess she’d become. Resentment mingled with shame, forming a bitter cocktail that soured her insides, she didn't even notice if the molly before her took note of the turmoil Spring struggled to contain. Spring’s ears twitched, a dull pang twisting in her heart as she fought to piece together some semblance of a response. The words hung in the air, a simple question that felt impossible to answer. How was she feeling? The question seemed to mock her, and she felt the irreversible numbness pressing down on her even more. She knew the answer—or at least, she thought she did. She felt empty, a shell of the cat she once was, yet to say that out loud would only make it real. Admitting it would strip away what little pride she had left, exposing her wounds to someone who might not understand. So, instead, she gave a barely perceptible shrug, her gaze falling back to the ground as she muttered, “I’m fine… thank you.” The words tumbled from her lips like pebbles dropping into a well, hollow and devoid of any proper meaning. She felt herself cringe internally at the lie, but she couldn’t bring herself to say more.

It was easier this way—to pretend, to hide behind the practiced mask of indifference. Easier to keep Orangeflower at tail length than to let her see the fractured pieces beneath the surface. She forced herself to look up briefly, to acknowledge the warrior’s presence, but it was fleeting. Her half-blinded gaze drifted away again, drawn back to the shadows that seemed to haunt the edges of her vision, back to the whispers that filled her mind with words she couldn’t shake. Worthless. Coward. Husk. The echo was relentless, pulling her further away from the warmth and light around her.

@Rowan
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Last edited by iliri; November 1st, 2024 at 07:20 AM. Reason: ew many errors
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