Stormy Night, Spark of Light

[Ziera]

Notes:

- RP continued with BMKMB off site, shared with their permission!
- Takes place shortly after Sparkpaw finds Adderfang's body.
- Spark is mine, Stormgorse is bmkmb's, obvi <3
- Posted for continuity purposes & background.
- Title credit to bmkmb <3 dearly missed

// Spark • Post 1

When Spark opened her eyes to the newest horror show her mind made up, the apprentice merely prepared herself to wait it out. Nightmares lost their novelty.

Ever since that bloody clan meeting, Spark suffered horrific dreams over and over again; they weren’t new or special and she wasn’t afraid of them, thank you very much. Sparkpaw just didn’t care. Not about seeing reruns of Icestar’s murder, Dawnstar shoving claws down Spark’s throat or tearing off leathery pieces her own face, not even about the sound of manic laughter that used to pump Sparkpaw’s veins full of fear. Put simply: it didn’t scare her anymore. No matter how much it tried.

Maybe Sparkpaw was braver than she used to be. Maybe the she-cat finally achieved some of that stoic impassiveness reminiscent of Talonstone, qualities that used to pique her interest and madden her in equal measure—or maybe Spark was still too numb to feel. Adderfang's body flashed before her eyes but every loss blended together now.

“Not to be rude,” Sparkpaw growled at her own dream, lip curling to reveal a set of fangs, “but could you hurry this up? I have work to do.” She was talking to herself like usual when things got too quiet. Silence like this was unnerving. Usually the apprentice's dreams were loud, chaotic.

What is this?

—

// Storm • Post 1

A smoky blue shadow observed his new surroundings, thoroughly intrigued. He hadn't meant to fall into someone's mindscape this time. It was just... being dead sucked the life out of felines, especially those who had been overactive warriors in their youth. In other words, he got bored enough to lose control over his spirit placement. An embarrassing situation, to say the least.

Now imagine Stormgorse's surprise when he spied a familiar pelt with his not-so-little eyes. Still invisible to the mortal, he crept around the edges of reality, scrutinizing the form of the fire-tongued molly. Interesting — very interesting, he noted, holding in a grim chuckle. Her mind was darker than he would've thought; it was most certainly darker than it'd been two moons before.

He froze when she spoke, ears swiveling curiously. Could she see him? Impossible! But not quite so; if some cats could form ice beneath their paws, then why consider sensing the dead preposterous?

Stormgorse curled his tail in contemplation. Perhaps it was time to start the game, then? Stepping backwards, he mentally warped Sparkpaw's mindscape. He shaped the land from grassy to parched and called down the mist (perhaps better described as low-laying smoke). It looked like the forest after a rather wicked wildfire once he finished playing around.

"Welcome," the deceased warrior murmured quietly so that Spark would only hear if she really strained her ears. The smoke then climbed until it engulfed nearly the entire mindscape, then vaguely parted to show the shadowy silhouette of an oversized cat still hidden in the soot. Quiet yet deafening and most certainly resounding, the figure continued, voice somewhat distorted, "Your mind reeks of darkness. Do you not agree?"

—

// Spark • Post 2

Something was different this time.

All around, fresh blades of grass withered in a swell of inexplicable transformation; the earth beneath Spark’s paws shriveled and cracked as if scorched by some powerful sun, and the final touch was swathing it all in grey—whether mist or smoke, either was a possibility. The stabilized landscape was unrecognizable and Sparkpaw’s weary impatience gave way to sharp-eyed interest. This…hadn’t happened before. It was something new.

Spark stiffened when a word reached her ears, so barely there it could have been real or imagined. Welcome. No…not imagined. She used a combination of logic and feeling to conclude that whatever it was? It didn’t come from her maw, her mind, her dream. Someone else was here—someone powerful enough to peel back the skin of her consciousness and slip inside. Sparkpaw grew instantly alert.

Cream-colored fur prickled around Spark’s neck when the voice tickled her ears again. From where?! Blue eyes darted around in a circle, scanned every direction for the source. Though the feline tried to appear like she was taking her time, the truth was Sparkpaw’s disadvantage made her increasingly uneasy. Her instincts warned her to even out the odds. Now.

Generously this intruder took care of the problem instead. Smoke engulfed Sparkpaw and she forced herself to remain still, focused heavily on other senses while her vision was impaired. The Bengal’s thorn-sharp claws dug into solid earth; it helped Spark stay in control.

Soon the charcoal mist thinned and Sparkpaw was staring at an outline. A spike of fear pierced her from within before she overwhelmed it with logic: It’s a dream. You know it is. Whatever happened here couldn’t affect reality. Right? Next, this phantom (who she knew was responsible for this shifting atmosphere) wasn’t her creation. It—he—they?—had a will apart from hers, otherwise Spark would have recognized her mischievous touch in the games they played.

Lastly… your mind reeks of darkness. The specter wasn’t wrong. Armed with the confidence that dreams didn’t bleed, Sparkpaw’s interest in this looming figure outweighed her discomfort. She decided to grace them with one of her special smiles, decorated with the pretty fanged hints of a threat. Her tail flicked, dismissive.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Spark’s voice was calm despite her overstimulated senses; she was oh so good at pretending these days. And…hmm, this cat’s opening line was a key. “Wait. Hold on a second. Have I finally crossed the line? Ha! Don’t say you’re here to drag me away, like in the nursery tales. I know plenty of other candidates ripe for the taking.”

It sounded flippant—playful—but Sparkpaw wasn’t teasing this time. The feline used to disregard a Place of No Stars’ existence back when she was a wide-eyed (indignant) kit too perceptive for her own good, thinking it a tool adults used to control their kits, but now? After observing Talonstone and multiple shadowcat battles Sparkpaw’s beliefs altered to fit evidence. They always did.

Humming, Sparkpaw took a taunting step closer. “Who are you?”

—

// Storm • Post 2

The mysterious feline stood frozen-still, almost like an owl but without the timed hoots. He beat down a purr of satisfaction when unease began to rise into the air. Good... games were no fun when the contenders were nonchalant around the harder obstacles.

Stormgorse graced his little host with a dark, rumbling chuckle. "And what if I am here to take you away? Are you scared, little kitten?" The smoke billowed out and around him, expanding only for the sake of drama. "All tales contain some truth, or have you never heard of that particular phrase? Clan cats prefer tales of the Dark Forest, but I assure you, the Place of No Stars is much, much worse."

Oh, he was having too much fun, but it was entirely Spark's fault for presenting the idea.

The phantom countered, "Of all the candidates, you are the sharpest one. Look at your fangs, your claws, your silver tongue. The Shadows are a brutal place to live, hm? I would gladly snatch up your leader; unfortunately, the Dark Forest called her first, and who am I to challenge their will when she's already claimed a chunk of the Wicked Woods for her own."

So far, he'd said nothing false, and perhaps Spark knew that. Of all the leaders, Stormgorse believed that Dawnstar was the first to take advantage of the neverending woods that lived in the back of her mind. As soon as she started utilizing that darkness within, any feline wishing to preserve their sanity should've run to a different clan. Sadly, most shadowdwellers were simpleminded and not that smart. Why else would such a corrupt clan exist? Nothing was chaining them to the pine forest. Nothing but themselves.

"My name is none of your business," Stormgorse dismissed, "but since you asked nicely, why don't you refer to me as Stürmen." It was more of a command than a suggestion, and he grinned with his fangs, maw just barely visible through the mist.

The feline continued, "Now, kitten—unlike those Dark Forest felines, I cannot read your mind. Unfortunately, your thoughts are safe from me." Thoughts, but not emotions. No, emotions were intensified in the mindscape, stark patterns visible only to the dead. "So, for the time being, what should I call you?"

Stormgorse only wanted to inspect her response; of course he knew who Sparkpaw was, but if he could convince her that he was one of the Starless, then it would be all the better.

—

// Spark • Post 3

Operating under the assumption that this was a dream and dreams couldn’t hurt or maim, Sparkpaw’s confidence grew, blossoming into her usual buoyancy (although she tried to mask this recovery). He seemed to enjoy her fear. She wanted to keep that up, at least some semblance of a cat wearing a brave face to mask their terror, as the more he underestimated her the better.

Spark hid a smirk at the cat’s response while crystal blue eyes trailed puffs of smoke into the air. That cackling laughter. He had a taste for theatrics, didn’t he? The apprentice could respect that, although: if you wanted to scare me, I’m terribly sorry. You’re ages too late. Sparkpaw would handle him--like she did every single curveball thrown at her—then move forward.

Oh dear, just listen to that stream of compliments. Sparkpaw used flattery often enough to recognize it in the mouth of others and dismissed it with a flick of her ears. She was sharp, and some said her tongue had a silver gleam, yes – but what would buttering her up with these truths accomplish? Hard to tell at this point.

That bit about Dawnstar was believable at least. She owned her own space in the Dark Forest—huh, now that was interesting! Before now, Spark wasn’t aware that was something a cat could do. If he wasn’t lying and this feline could track who ‘owned pieces of’ or frequented the dark forest, well. Spark might be able to use him. She just needed to play her hand right.

“Stürmen,” Sparkpaw mewed, more experimenting with the sound than complying with his ’suggestion.’ It didn’t strike her with any sort of familiarity. Still, if there was one thing Spark would bet on regarding this feline it was that he loved to play games. Perhaps as much as she did. Stürmen meant something. Whether something ridiculously obvious or not, she didn’t know yet - Sparkpaw needed more to go on.

Cat brows arched. The Bengal hadn’t considered mind-reading a possibility, but she was glad he couldn’t do it all the same. “I’m afraid ‘my name is none of your business,’” Spark repeated his words, voice honey-sweet with an acidic aftertaste. She tilted her head. “But if you know so much about my strengths, my silver tongue, it’s not outlandish to guess you know my name as well. Feel free to use it.” Wondering how easily his pride bruised, Spark added—”’kitten’ is just so unoriginal.”

For the first time since the landscape shifted, the cream-colored feline started to roam, regarding Stürmen as less captivating than his masterpiece of a background. It seemed so real. “How did you control this?” Sparkpaw questioned, genuinely curious. “Is that something I can do too?”

—

// Storm • Post 3

How adorable! Sparkpaw reminded him of a kittypet he once knew; said kittypet found a rogue's kit and taught it how to fight. Unfortunately, neither the kittypet nor the kit lasted long once the rogue mother caught wind of the tale and tracked both of them down. (Unfortunately, Sparkpaw resembled the kittypet in nothing but appearance, which meant that Stormgorse's job here would be significantly more complicated than the murderous rogue mother's.)

Pushing that lamentable thought aside, Stormgorse raised his tail at Sparkpaw's response. As much as he wanted to pout instead, such an action would be uncharacteristic of someone called Strümen, though it would certainly catch Sparkpaw off guard.

"Kitten," the smoky tom mock-defended, "is not unoriginal. Otherwise, at least one of my former charges would have rejected the term." With a flick of his tail, the feline mused, "Or have I embarrassed you? Does the little kitty not like being called a wittle kitten, just like she is?"

Softly, Stormgorse laughed at his own jest. (Though he wasn't lying; Sparkpaw looked tiny compared to him.) Obnoxious, that's what he was. Not once in his life had he purposefully irked, but many times in his death he had. The warrior had nothing to lose anymore, so why not? Besides, acting all dignified tired him out.

Stormgorse regarded Sparkpaw strangely — why ask about something as useless as that? "It's your mind," the tomcat pointed out. "Shouldn't you already know how to control it, Shardpaw?" Or did the Shadows no longer teach their kits how to cast illusions, he nearly added — not literal illusions, of course.

—

// Spark • Post 4

Sparkpaw continued exploring—only letting a corner of her mouth slip into a half-smirk when he took the bait and defended his ‘unoriginal’ name. Why in the world did toms make it so easy to pull their composure apart? All it took was tugging on a single thread. Spark filed away the thought for later, moving on to consider how he mentioned ‘former charges.’ Huh. So he’d done this before.

“Awh,” Spark purred, tone erring on the side of facetiousness. The bolder she got the more willing she was to break character. No scared little kitten stood before Stürmen now. Instead, Sparkpaw revealed herself to be an intelligent opponent in this battle of wits and first impressions. “Are you saying I’m not the first? That hurts my feelings…”

Maybe he’d comment on that and enlighten her more; the shadowy figure was being so forthcoming already. Tossing a glance over one shoulder, Sparkpaw added: “And yes. I’m embarrassed. Embarrassed for you; I’d get it if this was your first time, but it’s not, and you still couldn’t think up anything better.” Tsk tsk tsk.

Stürmen’s response regarding the atmosphere confirmed her suspicions. “Hm. So it’s my mind. Which means I’m the one in control here, which means you’re probably from the Dark Forest.” A wry laugh shook its way from her throat. It sounded so cynical...when did she become like that? Regardless, Sparkpaw resented any comments about her skillset not being what it should be, so she dignified his taunt with a reply. “My mentor could have taught me, I think, if he would’ve been kind enough to stick around.”

Was that a spiteful edge in her voice? She didn’t mean to let it slip. Not only that, but where was the grief she often attached to Talonstone’s name? It was still there, mixing and meshing with bitterness and soon became inseparable from her anger.

“But anyway. Is there something you wanted from me? I’m sure with all the effort you put into the…” Spark glanced around at the wall of smoke encompassing them—”presentation, there’s a point somewhere.”

To be continued...