the ghost of you. [p]

[silver.]

batpaw
he/him // 16 moons

---

It didn't matter how exhausted he was. It didn't matter how heavy his eyes were or how his paws ached. Once all the formality was finished with he didn't need to waste any more time talking to cats he didn't care about. Not even Dawnstar herself mattered to the young tom. Not ever, really, but especially not in this exact moment. Not bothering to politely excuse himself he makes his way to the apprentice's den with a lack of grace only a half-blind creature such as he could possess. Once at it's entrance he stares into the darkness with an owlish expression, one iris a bright, gleaming, familiar orange, and the other more dull. Clouded. Different. Ugly. But even if it was something that marred his appearance it didn't seem to bother him. Because his eyes were upon her. The one he had been anxious to see again.

Midnightpaw.

There she was in all her glory.

Without a lick of hesitation he pushes forward, past the entrance and closing the space between them. Gently his forehead meets her shoulder and rests there as he finds comfort in her familiar scent. Her warmth, her very presence. She was still here. He didn't come back to find her missing just as he had been. Snatched away in the night on an outing he shouldn't have been on. The cavern of gleaming silver had drawn his attention that night only to begin the suffering that was his time away from Shadowclan. But he didn't care to think about that right now. All he could think about Midnightpaw, Midnightpaw,

"Midnightpaw."

Stars, the last chant of her name marching around his mind escapes him into the silence of the den but he doesn't regret it. Doesn't flinch or recoil at the sound of his own voice-- at the sound of it using her full name instead of the nickname he had gotten so comfortable with saying. He missed her. Worried about her. Wanted nothing but to get back home to see her again and return to the way things had been. Of course he knows things will never be like that again but it's a soothing thought nonetheless.

He was home. He was with her again. Midnightpaw... He was home.

midpaw | @Omari

[Omari]

Midnightpaw
Shadowclan
She/her
72/100

Midnightpaw had a set schedule that she liked to follow each day. It had been this way since she was small, since she was able to put together a coherent thought. She needed consistency as soon as she could understand the term, and not a single day went by where she was not consistent.

With how easy it was for her to follow a schedule, to be as dependable as she was, she thought it would be easy for everybody around her to do the same. Her pa, he had been a good warrior. One of the best around. An enforcer born and bred from consistent dedication. Her brothers, a blood bound constant in her life. Her friends, companions to grow old with, to achieve warrior status with, to battle alongside and confide in–lifelong bonds… How had consistency been so easy for her, but so difficult for everyone else?

Sue the girl for seeing life in black and white, but never grey. There was no such thing as in-betweens for Midnightpaw, you either tried your best or did nothing at all. How could everyone do nothing at all? Each and every one of them. Her pa, that ridiculous joke of a parent that she couldn't even put a face to, both of her brothers in succession, each of her friends one by one–Batpaw? Nothing at all.

With each disappearance, her standards for those that she could consider an equal got higher and higher. She simply could not follow through with a friendship if she did not see the cat in question on the same level as herself. Not in skill, not in power, but in consistent dedication. Slim pickings, so she decided on nobody at all. She kept her nose up high, shooting for the stars. Always aiming to land herself with those that she looked up to–the consistent ones. Hazelstripe, Hawkbite, Darkfall, Dawnstar (of course) just to name a few. The cluster of stars that she could only pray, each and every morning, to be considered even remotely similar to. Always wishing to be a part of their constellation.

According to her schedule, it was time to settle down for the night. Midnightpaw believed that she had a good day today, that she had done well. Following her routine, she sat beside her moss bed, carefully kneading at her nest to make sure that it was cozy, the way that she liked it. She was a picky molly, yes, but it was well worth it for a good night's rest.

For a moment, her nose caught a familiar scent. Not an entirely outlandish concept. Over the last few moons, she found that her mind would play tricks on her like that, filling her mind with hopeless thoughts of, ‘they've finally come home’. No such trickery would work on her now, no.

Her fur suddenly puffed up when someone had taken it upon themselves to headbutt her–albeit gently, it wasn't a necessarily welcome action. Midnightpaw's head quickly snapped to her offender, green eyes narrowed in offense at the odd affection before her gaze softened.

He's back?

The molly's icy exterior cracked for a moment, her jaws parting in a quiet gasp. With her fur still puffed up, she rose to her paws, taking a quick step backwards as she dropped into a crouch–just to look at him. There were a few differences in his appearance since the last time she had seen him, most notably his eye, but… This was still him. With her mouth still agape, she just stared at him in shock.

Batpaw. Her very first in-between. One of many who had disappeared, but also the only cat to ever return to her. It was difficult to see him in the usual black and white colors that she often painted the world with. She just couldn't. Batpaw was the only splotch of grey among the black and white… And she wasn't sure what that meant.

“You… You? Where have you been? Whe–what? Where did you go? Why did… Why?” The questions came tumbling from her lips, a stream that she couldn't bother to stop. Still, despite her curiosity, despite that need deep within her chest for her to step closer to him, to bunt his shoulder the same way that he had done to her… Something told her not to.

[ @silver. ]

[silver.]

batpaw
he/him // 16 moons // shc apprentice
purrks: shadow fiend, burn baby burn

---

So far so good. Sure, she backed away from the touch but that had been something he had been expecting the moment they made contact. Despite the fatigue that wracks his frame, his expression, his everything, his attention stays glued to her. As if her very existence and the proof of it was revitalizing him. Aside from her edging away from his touch he didn't know what to expect and part of him didn't care. He had always been selfish. Only caring for his own comfort and his own strength. Even now he only cares for his own wellbeing because he's shuffling in close again like a kit desperate for his mother's attention. Inviting himself into her nest means tight squeeze but knowing she's real is top priority. That she, too, hadn't been whisked away in the night in his absence. They were together again. She was still here and he was back home.

Back home, safe in the apprentice's den, away from the twolegs that pulled at his limbs and stabbed him with long claws. Away from the cold ledge of silver and the odd smells of the white den with the twoleg with the long white pelt. Away from the eager four legged demon he was forced to share a space with for the past... How many moons? How long had he been away?

The questions fumble from her mouth and he can't help but snort, a teasing grin stretching his muzzle. Would it harm him to react a bit cheekily? Perhaps. In such a tender moment he never did learn how to read a space and react accordingly. So instead he rolls onto his back to stare up at her with... something in his gaze, so he can gingerly bat at her cheek with a claw-sheathed paw. It's gentle. Soft. As if all he wants to do is touch her and nothing more.

"The twolegs thought they could contain me once more. But your leader has returned, escaping their cold clutches yet again. Praise my strength for it is absolute."

Though he speaks as he used to it's... Audibly exhausted sounded. Like maintaining the façade was effectively tiring him. As if this charade was maybe for her comfort more than his own so she didn't have to see the ugly changes in him just yet. Rolling back onto his belly, he continues to stare up at her with those wide, ever seeing eyes. Sure, one didn't see as well as it may have used to but even still they see her. Admire her, take in the sight as if looking away meant they would part once more. Maybe the awe in his visage should be masked better to preserve his image. But he can't bring himself to. Can't bring himself to mask away the genuine young tom beneath as he used to. Midnightpaw...

"They captured me. Brought me back to their den. Took me to their master of torture for... I'm not sure what. But I have survived it all. Did you think I would leave any other to torment you? Kahaha! Foolish Midpaw. Only I have the right to writhe beneath your skin."

The theatrics still tire and it's plain as day on his face. After his speech he even heaves a sigh, resting his chin atop his paws to finally tear his gaze away from her so he can gather some semblance of energy from the depths of his soul.

"Of course I would come back. They could never trap me for long. They have tried time and time again and to Shadowclan I return."

To you I return.

midpaw | @Omari

[Omari]

Midnightpaw
Shadowclan
She/her
73/100

When she noticed the way that he seemed to inch closer, she wasn't sure how to react. Her heart leapt up into her throat and her paws kneaded at the moss below her, willing herself to stay put. Midnightpaw's growing anxiety was easily dismissed and recognized as something else entirely–discomfort.

Then, he snorts and Midnightpaw's lips curl in distaste. Ew! She would have retorted moons ago. Now, she stays locked in place, big green eyes boring into his own orange ones. The only inkling of a reaction was the scowl on her face, but otherwise, nothing at all. Her tail didn't even so much as twitch. Even as he rolled onto his back to peer up at her, her gaze only seemed to harden.

Less reactive than she used to be, she wasn't one to play games very frequently anymore. If she ever so much as interacted with any of the other apprentices, it was only for training purposes. She wasn't one to approach others, and they certainly didn't approach her very often, either. Maybe she preferred it that way, or maybe she just didn't want to waste her time on someone who would eventually disappear. It was lonely, but it was safe.

Finally, her brows furrowed as his paw pads touched her fur. Again, she felt the urge to shuffle back, get away, run, hide, but there was a stronger pull that had convinced her to stay where she was. Her eyes narrow as he speaks, unsure how to receive his mischief considering the topic at hand. It was different from his old behavior, though. It sounded as if he could hardly back his own statements–well, the theatrics behind them. The scowl on her face relaxes into a deeply set frown, watching as he rolled back onto his tummy to which he continued with his words. A part of her wondered if he had rehearsed this, whenever he had decided it was time for him to return… But, wasn’t that cruel of her to think? What if he wasn’t lying?

But what if he was?

When his attention had finally been ripped away from her, Midnightpaw’s eyes darted elsewhere as well. Her frown wobbled and wavered as her throat seemed to constrict. It was a tough pill to swallow when she had been telling herself the complete opposite of what he was currently explaining to her.

He left you! He left the clan behind for a better life somewhere else! A much more fulfilling, Midnightpaw-less life! Just like dad, just like Eveningpaw, just like Morningpaw, and that coward of a parent Blazingswirl! He’s lying to you! He’s a liar, a liar, a liar–

A sharp inhale that sounded almost painful to take in interrupted the long silence that had followed Batpaw’s last words, and then a long exhale. Inhale, exhale. Again. Inhale, exhale.

“They hurt you?” She finally managed to breathe out. The thought itself was painful, more than she would like to admit. Her throat was tight, feeling as if it were infested with small creatures, each piercing their little claws through the tender flesh. Is that where dad was, too? Her brothers? Had twolegs taken them all from her, and only Batpaw had managed to make it home?

“They hurt you, and took you away an’–hic–..And I’ve.. I-I’ve been hating you this entire time?” The question was quiet, more so to herself. Her eyes darted from place to place, her moss nest, the roof of the den, her paws, the mouth of the den, back to her nest. Every which way, but never to his own.

[ @silver. btw that is in fact where her dad is :P ]

[silver.]

batpaw
he/him // 16 moons // shc apprentice
purrks: shadow fiend, burn baby burn

---

Enough of this act. It was too exhausting. When he's decided that he's had enough of trying to push the theatrics, his body physically deflates, fatigue settling in and forcing him to press against the soft moss of Midnightpaw's nest. If he wasn't still in awe at her presence he would have closed his eyes there and fallen asleep. But no, his gaze returns to her to watch closely. To make sense of her expression and her words.

All in all it made little sense to him. Did this mean that she cared for him, too? Perhaps as much as he cared for her? Sense tells him no, but his own yearning heart tells him otherwise. When he was riddled with that cursed injury from the falling balls of ice who else bothered to take him to see the healer? It was her. Of course it was her-- no one else in this damned clan cared enough about him to have taken such careful note of his health. Though his opinion shifts a bit when she mentions hating him. That wasn't true, right?

No, of course not. She would have responded differently to his return if she truly hated him. There would be yelling and hissing and spatting and he would be spending his night across the den away from her to stare longingly. Oh how he's missed the nest he set up next to hers. How he missed the nights he would lay awake to stare at her until she finally opened her eyes to meet his gaze with that twinge of annoyance that made him cackle. No she didn't hate him. He was impossible to hate, after all, and if she truly did despise him she did a poor job of showing it.

Next his mind wanders back to the pain he had endured. The twolegs had hurt him. They stuck him with sharp, long claws, cut off his fur, stitched him back together after cutting him open... If he had been awake for it he would have fought for his life but whatever magic they had cast upon him rendered him helpless. At their mercy, useless and numb. Even to this day he wonders what it was they did to him. It irritates him to no end to not know. No use in dwelling on it but he couldn't help it. The audacity of them...

"They stabbed me over and over." He begins the recounting of his tale, his suffering. As he speaks his eyes fall closed. "At some point they managed to force me to sleep. While at their mercy they cut my belly fur and removed my flesh."

Though he wasn't sure why they did what they did, he knew they they stole from him. Stole his fur, parts of his body... They stole his blood and who knows what else when he was sleeping. Why the twolegs would do such a thing boggles him. Perhaps they knew he was of special blood and wanted to experiment upon it? Use it to make powerful elixirs to strengthen their armies? It was exhausting to think about. At this point most of his fur had grown back but the loss of anatomy still bothered him. The healing cut left in it's wake bothered him. Ugh! Nothing made any sense! But at least Midnightpaw was here. That at least made sense.

"But I have triumphed and returned to you. Are you not grateful?" Eyes reopening he notices that she was... Crying? Head canting off to a side and eyes wide in confusion, he watches her closely, before brows furrow and he cannot help but scoff. "W-What's with the tears? You should be rejoicing! You should be happy! You... You should..."

Did he do something wrong? Say something wrong? He was speaking of his experience to rise above it but it seems as though Midpaw was too delicate to hear of such gruesome tales. Curse her-- he would have to push through exhaustion to once again tend to her needs. Rising from his comfortable position in the nest, he shuffles in close to her, eyes still wide and staring as he leans in close... To lick at her cheek. The salt of her tears sits on his tongue-- lingers there for what feels like an eternity. He dare not try it again, knowing how perverse to touch she was, but the attempt to soothe her aching was made.

"Dry your tears, Midpaw. There is no reason to cry. I have returned as I had vowed to the night they stole me away. I am of great strength-- they could not keep me forever. They will not have me again. I swear it. So no more sniveling! It makes you look pathetic."

The last sentence is accented with another sly grin, tail swinging to thwap her on the shoulder as if that alone would will her sadness away.

midpaw | @Omari

[Omari]

Midnightpaw
Shadowclan
She/her
79/100

Each word he spoke felt like a physical swing at her heart. The tight throbbing in her throat continued, and now her head had begun to pound as well… they cut my belly fur and removed my flesh, he told her.

And while they poked and prodded at him, sliced and tore him apart, you were here… Doing what, exactly? Debating on shredding his old nest to soothe your aching heart? Over-working yourself to the bone to forget about him? Telling yourself that he had left the clan for something better? Vowing your hatred to the stars above, dedicating yourself to being the exact opposite of what you assumed him to be? What you've assumed all of them to be?

Midnightpaw's eyes darted from her paws up to her old friend, pupils blown wide and shaky with something reminiscent of terror. Her breath hitched when she had made eye contact with him, and instead of saying anything, she squeezed her eyes shut.

She had done so much, worked so hard to improve herself. To toughen up, to be capable enough to take on the hardships that this world would inevitably throw at her time and time again. She had gotten her paws dirty, learned to flay pelts, prayed each and every morning to empower her own beliefs, fought, fought, fought–and now she was crying?

With one simple action from the tom before her, just a gentle lick, her walls came crashing down despite all that she had done to build them up in the first place. Her quiet whimpers had abruptly elevated into broken-hearted sobs, her legs wobbling beneath her as she shuffled close to her friend, allowing herself to slouch into her nest at his paws.

“No!” She hissed at him suddenly, shaking her head with a brattish attitude fit for a kit. “I'm sorry! I'm s–hic–... So sorry. I thought you ran away an’ left to.. To go somewhere else and I–! Dunno, I dunno, I hated you for it. I told myself–and the stars, I told them that you left and I hated you. I hated you so much.” Midnightpaw spat at him, and if it weren't for the fact that she was still crying–and still collapsed in her nest at his paws–it would be easy to interpret that she was lashing out at him. No, that was not the case, though. Far from it. She was confiding in him, no matter how enraged and messy it seemed. Green eyes ablaze with frustration and devastation, glittering with tears and sorrow, she hiccuped again before she continued. “I told myself that… If I ever saw you–any of you–trying to crawl your way back, I'd rip your to–.. tongue out, with whatever stupid apology you had, and I'd send you packing. But, you..”

And the water works came again. Guilt pulled at her heartstrings, burnt her eyelids to the point that the skin there had taken on a reddish-pink tone. “You were just trying to get home–and they hurt you... They hurt you, so, so, badly. I am so sorry.”

[ @silver. ]

[silver.]

batpaw
he/him // 16 moons // shc apprentice
purrks: shadow fiend, burn baby burn

---

What was all this? Where was this all coming from? There was nothing for her to apologize for. Not in his mind, anyway. She wasn't the one that was flaying his skin and bleeding him. She wasn't the one that laid a trap to steal him away from his home, his friends, his life. She wasn't the one that made him feel so scared and weak and pathetic like he was just a kit again. No, she didn't do any of that. So why was she sobbing and apologizing? Perhaps it was guilt rearing it's ugly head. That had to be it. She felt guilt for hating him when he had done nothing but suffer. That made more sense to him when he put thought into it. When his head cleared enough from the sudden shock of her outburst to make sense of it all.

A sigh once again deflates his frame as he stares down at her now at his paws as if begging his forgiveness. What was he to do? It was his nature to tease her. To continue to take things un-seriously and diffuse the tense situation into something lighthearted and kit-like. Foolish, like bickering kittens arguing over a moss ball. But he didn't want to. It was exhausting. It was stupid. It wasn't him anymore. Try as he might it just wasn't.

So he settles in against her flank, both of them squished into one apprentice sized nest. Laying opposite of her so he can rest his head on her lower back and curl his tail around her trembling body as if to offer an ounce of comfort. As if he could comfort anyone. As if he was good for something other than taunting and poking fun. It was his own fault. No one would take him seriously and while part of him was alright with it it got under his skin, too. It made him angry. Why didn't anyone ever take him seriously? No, this wasn't the time to feel sorry for himself! Midnightpaw needed him. Someone needed him.

"Don't apologize to me. You've done nothing to harm me. It was them." Staring at her through the corners of his eyes, he allows but a moment of silence to linger before opening his mouth to continue. "If you were there I know you would have tore them to shreds."

He wasn't making a wrong assumption-- he was sure of it. Sure that if Midnightpaw and he had been taken together she would have fought tooth and nail to protect him, and he would do the same for her. If there was anything he was sure of it was that. Argue as they may, tease as they may, at the end of the day they would defend one another. He was sure. Their bond was deeper than he would ever admit out loud-- no, that would be far too embarrassing. But to himself? In his days alone, away from home to suffer, he had done a lot of thinking. A lot of understanding. Midnightpaw was more than an underling. More than a friend. He... Loved her. Ugh! Even the thought made him sick!

"I wouldn't have blamed you if it happened that way. If I simply returned without reason, having disappeared without reason. I would hate you, too, if it were me."

If he were in her position he would be bitter. He would be meaner than she, teeth bared and eyes ice cold. Even if twolegs had stolen her he would be angry that she didn't come home sooner. Angry that she was foolish enough to be captured. Hurt that he had to continue living not knowing whether she were dead or alive. Even just thinking about it has him curling in against her as if letting go meant she would disappear next. He was childish still.

"But what is important is that I have returned. I am to stay for the rest of my days! And I would rather die then be whisked away again. I swear it to you-- they will not have me again. Even if I must swear it upon the stars to prove it to you."

Hopefully it's enough to soothe her. Even if it lulls her into a calm that ceases her shaking and sobbing.

midpaw | @Omari