Post by ☪ঌяανєηƒαηтαѕуঌ☪ on Aug 7, 2016 4:03:08 GMT -5
So, this is a little fanfiction of "C u r š ε" by ☣Sнα∂σωƒα¢є☣, originally posted on the old forums ;3 please enjoy
The pain was distracting, to say the least.
Closing her eyes, Shadowface tried to turn onto her other side, hoping sleep would come.
Come on, kits, I don't like this situation either, but at least let your momma sleep.
Her eyes snapped open at that thought, and a snort of dark amusement escaped her. 'Momma.' What a word to call herself. Her, Shadowface, cursed defiant daughter, deadly rebelling warrior, called 'Ma'.
Another snort escaped her throat- the thought was too bitterly hilarious to keep back. She couldn't seem to adjust her life to fit that of a mother. How had any of her ancestors ever managed it?
I bet many of them didn't have a choice. Just like I didn't.
She sighed heavily, spread out over the nursery floor. None of the shecats keeping her company awoke, thank Starclan. The nursery wall was just as boring as the ceiling and floor, and she was sick to death of staring at both. But sleep was just as elusive as the answer to her curse.
Her curse.
Claws sank into the bedding, as dark thoughts flashed through Shadowface's head. She narrowed her eyes to slits, imagining an enemy before her. The Fallen Warrior in cat flesh, mortal and vulnerable. Just right for her claws to sink in and tear apart.
The frustration, along with despair and helpless terror, made her dream of a foe she could battle, an enemy she could defeat with her own claws and fangs. It was the sweetest dream she had ever tasted, a desperate desire to stop being helpless.
Dull pain thudded through her belly as a kit kicked, and she immediately went loose, vicious thoughts abandoned.
Stop it, okay? I'm trying to destroy a danger to all of us here.
But such blissful dreams wouldn't help them at all. She gritted her teeth. Yarrow-starch. Mouse-dung. Fox-stench. Eagle-droppings. Fish-bile.
Those last two curses made her think of cats she didn't really want to think about right now. And then the thought that she was cursing. Ugh. Why were so many words off limit to her?
A new flush of anger rose in her, spurred on by the realization that the curse had another side to its evil. It made mangled her life to the extent she couldn't even think of certain concepts without grief wringing her heart and fury spiking her marrow.
Gritting her teeth, she sank her claws into the bedding once more.
One of her kits kicked again.
The mangy foxheart. Shadowface would remember that. One day, once her kits were finally born, oh yes, then she'd have them. She'd finally see which one was the dratted mischief maker and give it a piece of her mind. Oh yes, just they all wait.
With a sigh, she collapsed back onto her bedding.
This was going to be a long night.
The pain was distracting, to say the least.
Closing her eyes, Shadowface tried to turn onto her other side, hoping sleep would come.
Come on, kits, I don't like this situation either, but at least let your momma sleep.
Her eyes snapped open at that thought, and a snort of dark amusement escaped her. 'Momma.' What a word to call herself. Her, Shadowface, cursed defiant daughter, deadly rebelling warrior, called 'Ma'.
Another snort escaped her throat- the thought was too bitterly hilarious to keep back. She couldn't seem to adjust her life to fit that of a mother. How had any of her ancestors ever managed it?
I bet many of them didn't have a choice. Just like I didn't.
She sighed heavily, spread out over the nursery floor. None of the shecats keeping her company awoke, thank Starclan. The nursery wall was just as boring as the ceiling and floor, and she was sick to death of staring at both. But sleep was just as elusive as the answer to her curse.
Her curse.
Claws sank into the bedding, as dark thoughts flashed through Shadowface's head. She narrowed her eyes to slits, imagining an enemy before her. The Fallen Warrior in cat flesh, mortal and vulnerable. Just right for her claws to sink in and tear apart.
The frustration, along with despair and helpless terror, made her dream of a foe she could battle, an enemy she could defeat with her own claws and fangs. It was the sweetest dream she had ever tasted, a desperate desire to stop being helpless.
Dull pain thudded through her belly as a kit kicked, and she immediately went loose, vicious thoughts abandoned.
Stop it, okay? I'm trying to destroy a danger to all of us here.
But such blissful dreams wouldn't help them at all. She gritted her teeth. Yarrow-starch. Mouse-dung. Fox-stench. Eagle-droppings. Fish-bile.
Those last two curses made her think of cats she didn't really want to think about right now. And then the thought that she was cursing. Ugh. Why were so many words off limit to her?
A new flush of anger rose in her, spurred on by the realization that the curse had another side to its evil. It made mangled her life to the extent she couldn't even think of certain concepts without grief wringing her heart and fury spiking her marrow.
Gritting her teeth, she sank her claws into the bedding once more.
One of her kits kicked again.
The mangy foxheart. Shadowface would remember that. One day, once her kits were finally born, oh yes, then she'd have them. She'd finally see which one was the dratted mischief maker and give it a piece of her mind. Oh yes, just they all wait.
With a sigh, she collapsed back onto her bedding.
This was going to be a long night.