- [ ★ ] lightclan // the loyal & devout // deputy who?

((yikes i was having laptop issues Darkηesque i'm literally responding from my college computer lab lmao. first day of classes. i'm super sorry to keep you waiting, i'll be on top of it a lot more this week and after because of college & i ordered a new laptop, won't happen again!!!))

--Leafkit shivered internally at the tone Foxtail took, her horror and fears growing substantially as they were voiced by the one she had been taught to trust unconditionally. She was unable to choke out any sort of reply in the short time she was given before Galekit was addressed. At the opening to once again establish her honesty, she found her voice; "I had the vision," she stated icily, voice almost hissing as she glared at Galekit. "I would never become like Whitetalon! He's barely good enough to feed our elders! And Swiftstrike can barely feed herself let alone contribute to the Clan - and our Gods' offerings." She stumbled mentally trying to find more insults to add to the pile, hopefully making her seem more believable, but ended up ending at that note, peeking carefully at Foxtail in between her sustained furious gaze directed toward her sister.

Swiftstrike caught sight of Nightstorm eating a mouse a few paces away and studied him curiously. Only a few moons younger than her, they'd been denmates many times before. She followed his gaze to Foxtail, looming about two of her kits and, as usual, raving like a complete mouse-brain. It was a miracle she hadn't succumbed to the froth-mouth disease elders sometimes told ancient tales of; she was certainly delusional enough for it.

"You, too?" she asked dryly.

It was a risk, talking to her quite-unquote "normal" Clanmates. Still, she remembered Foxtail from her days in the nursery - tall, forbidding, with darkly furious amber eyes and nothing but sharp words for even her own kits. She remembered Nightkit, too, so naively eager to please and so wounded when he figured out it was a losing game. Any chance any kit from that litter - or any of Foxtail's others - had ever had at normalcy had been burned to the ground long ago. They could fool themselves into thinking they could lead happy lives, and they could easily fool their Clanmates, but they could never deceive her. Takes one to know one and all of that.

"Don't worry," she added, and it was as empathetic as it was openly angry, a strange mix of kindness and fury. "Once you mess up enough, they suddenly decide they never want to look at you again. It's easier on everyone."

(Card against Humanity)

(I know Night's not really shading her, lmao, but I love me some of that sweet miscommunication.)

"Relax," Swiftstrike meowed, warm with a crooked sort of amusement. Nightstorm might think he was being subtle, but they never were. "The bad leg's not catching, promise. Neither is the temper. Things wouldn't be so boring around here if it was."

At least he was on speaking terms with her, a surprising notion for a Foxtail kit. Most of them - excluding the dead and the other undesirables - were still so spooked from their childhood that they acted like they expected her to come crashing through the bushes at any moment and berate them for the slightest offense. Talking to one of LightClan's Least Wanted was more than a slight offense, she figured. It was borderline catastrophic.

Luckily for Nightstorm - and unluckily for her latest litter, StarClan help them - Foxtail was occupied. She catalogued the way that he watched her - skittish, intent, anxious - and narrowed her eyes. She knew what they all said about old habits, and she had her own choice words about old memories, old trauma. None of them were pleasant, and probably none of them were constructive. Still, she felt it was her duty to say something.

"Don't worry about her," she told him. "The whole Clan thinks she's nuts, anyway. They probably hate her more than they hate the exiles, and that's saying something. She'll never get what she wants."

Silvernight won't, either, she added silently. She saw the way Sparrowstar looked at her, the way the preachers whispered. There was no way any LightClan cat could overlook her past sins and accept one of her kits as a preacher. That was why the current batch of apprentices was confined to purer bloodlines.

It was a hollow victory, the thought of her mother dying alone and unfulfilled someday, but Swiftstrike wasn't picky. She took what she could get.

(Card against Humanity)

( ♡ Bun ♡ Uh, sure. I'll use Boragetail)

Boragetail's eyes opened as the morning fog had already started to fade. The majority of the other warriors had already gotten up and started their day, leaving her to sleep into the morning. Nobody wanted to touch a cat who was possessed by an evil spirit, and Boragetail couldn't tell if it was her curse or blessing.

Stretching out her back as she got up, she headed out of the warriors' den. Her head was groggy, and her mind was fuzzed. Feeling many sour glares point into her pelt, she receded into the den. Usually, she did her business a times when the camp wasn't very inhabited. And, due to an odd sleep schedule, she was often up when her Clanmates were sleeping nice little dreams.

Creeping back into her nest, she looked out at camp from between the den's vines. She knew that nobody would want to talk to her, unless they weren't highly religious(which so many cats seemed to be).

At that moment, an overwhelming dread swept over her. Her throat began to close in on itself. When she tried to swallow spit that had accumulated in her mouth, she found herself choking on it. Also, her body began to quiver, causing her muscles to tighten and immobilize her. Plus, she felt her ears flush with heat and her heart start to beat. Even though she recognized what was happening to her, and she had gone through it many times before, the panic and fear of it never wore down.

Gripping her nest with her extended claws, she started to calm down shortly after. Her limbs still stiff with anxiety, she cautiously placed her head down. The thought of another attack made her belly churn. Not only had it caused her so much internal suffering, they have prevented her from being happy with a mate and kits. They have made her an outcast in her own group and family. She was never assigned to do anything, and nobody ever wanted to do anything with her. Why did the evil spirits want her? How did the gods let this happen? And, more importantly, when will it end? When will she be able to achieve her dreams and when will they give up?

She put her head up again and noticed camp. Fewer cats now sat in it, so now she could leave and get her morning meal. Pushing herself back onto her paws, she headed out to the freshkill pile. Apprehension loomed under each pawstep.

( ♡ Bun ♡ )

Nightstorm blinked a bit at her response. Did he come off as rude? Nightstorm had barely any social interaction with anyone outside of a simple "yes" during hunting patrols. Was he just too awkward to socialize?

Swiftstrike's next words did little to calm him. True, the entire clan disliked her....but they never did anything about her awful behaviour. They sat back and watched while she abused litter after litter, never wondering that maybe, just maybe, they should do something about this. As long as they continued to be passive on this matter, Foxtail would just make more and more kits, each one traumatized from her manipulation.  Nightstorm noted how barely any of his older siblings talked to Foxtail either, and it seemed like all her kits despised in some way. 

Perhaps they were too busing judging each other for signs of rebellion to notice the abuse as plain as the nose on their faces.


"It's not like they're doing anything to stop her, though,"  he whispered. He didn't want to speak loud out of fear of his mother somehow hearing. It might have seemed silly to another clanmates, but his mind was so obsessed with not giving her any excuse to talk to him that he didn't care. 

He swallowed in an attempt to seize the shaking that had spread out all over him, as he reached down and took another bite of his mouse. He had to force it down, and all it did was make his stomach feel incredibly sick, almost like he was going to throw up. He wasn't sure if he could eat anymore, but it was either that or leave a half-eaten mouse lying on the ground. 


December

Hearing Citrinedream's voice caused Boragetail's heart to bounce into her throat. She jerked her head towards the blind tom. She wasn't expecting him, or much of anyone, to speak to her. With her stiff tail bristling behind her, she replied. "Yes." She grabbed a mouse and prepared to leave. However, an idea popped into her mind. She was typically isolated from others. Not only was it caused by her Clanmates, she had a part of it too. Maybe she could accept Citrinedream's friendliness and finally have a friend.

"Uh, are you okay?" Boragetail murmured.

(He was already busy, but since Hollylight doesn't seem to be doing anything, I'll pretend that it already happened.)

Aspenlight sat by the Preachers' den. His tail lightly flicked behind him, and the short fur on it was spiked up in all directions. When he saw the smudge of a she-cat (Foxtail) pad towards him, a larger part of his tail swayed. Foxtail was definitely not his favourite cat in the Clan. With so many false preachers sitting in her pawsteps, he found it hard to trust her or any of her numerous kits.

"What do you want?" Aspenlight suppressed a growl. He already had a guess as to what she wanted, but he couldn't be rude about it. Even though he's old and generally not the most selfless or kind cat, he was still expected to follow his duty.

December PatienceTheVirtue Darkηesque

(I'm just gonna assume that they both came, RIP. Hope that's alright. Short reply so we can get to the good stuff with the kits.)

Foxtail's eyes narrowed. It was no secret that the preachers didn't trust her, and it was no secret that she didn't particularly like them. Still, it wasn't her place to question the choices of Gods, and either way, Aspenlight was her only option right now. She just had to hope that he'd be fair, that he'd put his opinion of her family behind him and make a reasonable judgment.

"Tell him," she demanded, giving Leafkit a rough nudge forward. "Tell him everything."

And convince him, she pleaded silently. You could be my last hope. Make sure everything else - all of the pain, all of the betrayal - was worth it.

( nem PatienceTheVirtue Darkηesque )

All your kits are liars.

At Aspenlight's words, Foxtail's world halted. A distant part of her was aware of movement around her - Aspenlight making way to camp center, speaking, no doubt exposing Leafkit (her angel, her salvation, her happy ending, I believed you and look what you've done -) for her dishonesty; if she strained, she could even make out flashes of words - but it hardly registered. Instead, she stood rooted to the spot, amber eyes blown wide. Ice water churned through her veins. She felt like she was trapped in a blizzard - cold, isolated, surrounded by white, the world around her muffled and distant. Every color, every sound, every motion felt surreal. Nothing registered but that same sentence, again and again, taunting her.

All your kits are liars. Don't you notice a pattern?

Nightkit, eyes glowing with excitement. Nightpaw, head hanging in shame as Sparrowstar assigned him a warrior mentor. Breezefeather, limping into camp with his paw dragging useless behind him. The preachers telling her no, never. Boragetail in the throes of an episode, eyes wild, breathing erratic, somebody whispering, The Dark Forest is in her. Cherryfur, a crumpled pile of waterlogged fur at the center of camp, the way her cold body felt as Foxtail buried her muzzle into her pelt and tried to carry home one last hint of her scent -

Rowankit, coughing and coughing and coughing, whispering, Will it hurt when they take me to the sky?

She looked up sharply, met Aspenlight's eyes. And then, suddenly, something in her snapped.

"Traitor," she snarled, whirling around to face Leafkit. Her ample fur stood on end, practically doubling her size; her ears flattened against the top of her head. "How dare you do this to me. You knew how hard I prayed you would get a better future. You knew how proud it would make me to bring a preacher to this Clan and honor my bloodline before StarClan's eyes. You knew we'd be disgraced if you were found out." A sick feeling took over her stomach, and suddenly, her voice dropped low and icy. "Did you ever think of me? Did you ever care for your poor mother at all?"

She drew herself to her full height, looking scornfully down at her once-beloved daughter through narrowed eyes. "You insult your sister's memory," she hissed. "And you insult every cat who's ever had the displeasure of listening to your lies." She let out a purr, low and dark and distinctly unhappy. "Well, no more. As far as you are concerned, I'm your mother no longer. You will sleep outside the den tonight - if Sparrowstar permits you to stay in the Clan at all."

She turned to stalk away, but paused as she noticed Galekit. "As for you," she meowed, "take care to make sure family issues stay private next time. There will be no more of these public meltdowns. And for Wolfstar's sake, wipe that smile off your face before I do it for you."

Then she began the long, shameful stroll back to the queens' den, struggling to keep her head held high and her face composed.

(Note: She's not actually in the den yet if anyone involved wants to stop her and say something.)

(This is just... literally filler Gay internal monologuing. It furthers the plot in zero ways. Enjoy.)

Stormpath's hasty apology was cut short by Aspenlight's announcement and Sparrowstar's subsequent exit. He felt a rush of sympathy - and affection, ever-present and uncontrollable - as he watched Sparrowstar begin to address the Clan. Why hadn't Aspenlight warned him first? He pushed the irritation aside; questioning the preachers was useless, first of all, and worse, it was perhaps as great of a sin as his illicit nights with Sparrowstar were. Besides, it was hardly a big deal. He told himself he was just feeling protective over his sort-of-mate, knowing how much he hated dealing with liars, especially Foxtail's particular brand.

His gaze shifted to Leafkit. Despite everything, an even stronger wave of pity washed over him as he watched the young she-kit tremble before the Clan. Every cat in LightClan knew how Foxtail treated her kits, and unfortunately, this one was clearly no exception; he had to struggle to hide a wince as he watched Foxtail berate her in front of all of her Clanmates. He supposed he shouldn't let himself think too kindly of her, given that she was now a convicted liar, but he knew his sins were worse than hers, both in magnitude and in knowledge. She'd hardly even lived through more than one season, but he was too old to live in ignorant bliss, to pretend he could change, to be awarded the benefit of the doubt from his Clanmates.

If they caught him, he wouldn't get by with only some harsh words and a lost nest. He would lose everything.

He found his thoughts drifting longingly towards his eminent visit with Sparrowstar. He yearned to be close to him, to express his feelings in earnest (or as much as he could muster, given his reserved and awkward nature), to forget about Echoheart and Alderpaw and Leafkit for as long as they could manage. Don't think of them, he wanted to say. Don't think of any of it. Just focus on me. I'll take it all away.

He couldn't, of course. That was the beauty of the fantasy, he supposed. The world was so much better when its real-life constraints couldn't reach him.