[Phoenix]

BRAVEPAW RainClan || Apprentice

If any cat were to see him now, they would doubtlessly wonder what had happened to his intelligence. He was, after all, walking along the shore of the very thing that had chased them from their camp, claiming the lives of a few cats with its raging waters in the process. Why would any cat have the desire to tempt fate once more by walking along its shores, especially with the river still swollen from the flood? He had no answer, and yet, there he was, muddying his paws on the banks of their provider and destroyer. It was curious how the river had that dual nature. They relied on it for fish and prey, but it held the devastating power to wipe out the entire clan. Pensive blue eyes turned to gaze into its depths as their owner paused in his slow stride. The day itself was unusually calm, and the wide expanse of water before him barely rippled in the softly blowing wind. Everything was placid, still and tranquil; had he not survived the storm, he would have been hard pressed to believe that the river was capable of the damage it had done. He kicked a nearby rock as hard as he could, watching it soar through the air for a few brief moments before breaking through the glassy surface with a hollow plunk. In silence, he watched the ripples spread from its entry point, growing in size as they expanded outward. They lapped gently at his toes with less force than a kit. How could something so unassuming become so destructive? He found it hard to believe, but it could. It had stolen both of Russetp—Russethawk’s parents from him in one fell swoop, right in front of his older friend’s green-eyed gaze. His thoughts ran down that familiar track, falling easily into the grooves that had been dug into his consciousness. He could never distract himself for long from worry over RainClan’s newest warrior, for he understood all too well the pain of losing a parent; it was hard to imagine how it must have felt to lose both at the same time. But he had only been 3 moons when he had lost Mama, and though the event would never leave him, he had had Swanfeather to lean on, Swanfeather, who had so quickly and readily filled the empty gap her death had left in his life. It was some consolation to know that his friend had Roselight and Razorfang, both of whom would look out for him. But Russethawk also had him as well. Ready to be the shoulder to cry on, should his friend require it, Bravepaw’s mind had transformed very much in the short amount of time that had passed. Being there for the ruddy tom had become one of its top priorities, distracting him from his grief, engaging him in conversation, anything to get him to laugh and smile, if only for a little bit. Because when Russethawk could hardly breathe from laughing, he was not dwelling on his loss. And he avoided commenting on parents as much as possible without it being overly obvious, avoided talk of death, and tried to keep their conversation topics upbeat, even if the matters were more trivial than usual. He was hesitant to push Russethawk too far, to completely ruin any trust that the ruddy tom might have in him; he did not want to discuss the topic, but he wanted Russethawk to instigate that conversation. So he would wait. But the question that nagged at the back of his mind was how long. Having become lost in thought, the apprentice snapped himself from the daze he had fallen into and glanced around. With a brief movement, he shook out his fur, giving his chest a few quick licks as he began to continue on his way. Blue eyes tore themselves from the river beside him, and as he faced forward, he saw the very subject of his worries. Had he been there all this time? Quietly, Bravepaw padded up to Russethawk, announcing his arrival with a quiet, ”Hey Russethawk. Mind if I join you?”

[Fawn]

RUSSETHAWK
Warrior || RainClan || 12 Moons

It must've been some kind of self-inflicted torture, to sit here in front of the very thing that was causing him so much pain, but he was too tired to notice or care. A lack of sleep made him feel as if he even his blood had grown drowsy, pumping languidly through his veins as though at any moment it might stop, without warning, and he would sink into the earth as a pile of tired bones and a cracked heart like the cherry on top. Unconsciously yawning for the umpteenth time, eyes as green as the leaves in spring glistened, the glow slightly muted in the reflection coming off the water, his form forced to shiver and writhe as a leaf cut across the quiet, nearly imperceptible movements of the river.

I miss you, Mom, Dad. I'm a warrior now - though you guys probably knew that.

The warrior caught himself talking to them again, as if they could actually hear him. Tired eyes squeezing shut, throat constricting as though someone had their foot against it, leaning with their whole weight, the tom had to struggle to emit a low, defeated sigh. With the festive, emotional atmosphere of his warrior ceremony long over, and the high he had felt standing there and hearing the Clan chant his new name had thus since faded, the newly named Russethawk had molted away that temporary feeling of 'everything's gonna be okay', revealing frayed nerves of a broken spirit underneath.

A quiet, wonderfully familiar voice broke through the sleep-deprived, grief-intensified haze, a light-furred tom approaching from Russethawk's left to sit beside him, providing a calm force of strength for him just by being there. Breaking away from the sullenness to smile at Bravepaw quietly, a single nod was offered in answer to Bravepaw's slightly rhetorical question. Of course you can join me. Bravepaw had gone above and beyond the call of duty in terms of trying to cheer him up lately, and that kind of devotion to their friendship and genuine concern was something Russethawk would never ever forget. Shifting his weight from one paw to the other, his attention gradually went back to the quiet river, as if intent upon becoming a part of the landscape, willing himself to fade away and come back again next spring, when things would hopefully start looking up...

"It's only been a few days," Russethawk spoke in a tone barely above a whisper, vocals like a frightening shadow of what they had once been, the charisma discarded for a subtle kind of suffering. "But I feel like I've been thinking about and missing them for twenty moons or more." Was that unusual? How long was grief supposed to last? The warrior's shoulder-fur bristled in accordance with a pang of worry winding around his heart like a serpent, ready to poison him.
What if it never goes away?

It felt like ages already. By the time the fog of grief had finally lifted and he could look at the world with clarity and a sense of self again, how many moons will have passed? Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, or perhaps it was something else, but when Russethawk looked at the water again, he saw not himself, but an old, gray-furred version, solemn and so severely aged, the red had practically bled out of him, leaving only a lonely silver cat in it's wake.

[Phoenix]

BRAVEPAW RainClan || Apprentice

An ear flicked in response to the soft voice, registering the broken quality that had never before graced that familiar intonation. Keeping his shoulders from slumping under the force of seeing a lively, bright feline reduced to little more than hollow shell, he tried to shove the overwhelming worry away. His efforts were futile, however, and he had expected no less. This anxiety that had slowly been gnawing away at his heart, a pain of his own and a certain frustration at his inability to do more than stand there, was persistant and perpetual; like a kit vying for its mothers attention, it refused to be ignored, cast aside and left behind. He wanted to take away the shadow that had begun to loom over the newest warrior's head, a shadow that was far too dark and lurked behind a cat far too young. Blue eyes cast a sideways glance at the subject of their thoughts, wondering how to respond to such a subdued comment. Words had never seemed more inadequate. How could he really act normal when all he wanted to do was steal his friend away, pick up the pieces, and slowly, meticulously restore the warrior to the cat he had once been? A weariness had begun to crawl through his veins, not nearly as strong as the weariness that had doubtlessly taken up refuge in his companion's, but there all the same. The combination of grief over Russethawk's parents, whom he had known, if only through his friend, and the constant, unyielding worry for the older tom, was slowly beginning to take its toll, and he was aware of it. But there was nothing he could do about it, because even if he cut off all ties with the ruddy warrior, Bravepaw knew that he would still care. And who was he to worry about himself, when his best friend had lost both of his parents? Quietly, the apprentice shifted to the side, settling down beside the other tom so close that the fur of their shoulders brushed, and he offered his silent support. He wanted to say something, to break the silence that had fallen in the lack of verbal response, but what could he say? What could he possibly say that would make the situation better, provide comfort but not sound rehearsed and horribly cliche? Because honest, completely and truly honest, meant sappy, and if it did not sound completely overdone, then it would reduce both of them to nothing more than complete wrecks. And he did not think they needed that, not when both of them were so focused on trying to hold themselves together. But saying nothing seemed wrong as well. He could not describe it, but it seemed wrong. Silence, even if Bravepaw was sitting there with their shoulders touching, made it easier to believe that one was alone, and the apprentice did not want his friend to ever believe that. The words that ended up leaving his mouth surprised the speaker, as they had rolled off his tongue without any conscious permission. "It sucks," Bravepaw stated in a low voice. "It absolutely, completely and utterly sucks, and no one deserves this." There was no need to specify his topic. Searching for the familiar green, blue eyes rotated to face their companion. "Least of all you, Russethawk." As he spoke, barely considering his words before he spoke them and trusting himself not to say anything too rash, his voice developed a quiet conviction, a certain firmness born of the subtle determination that flowed through his veins. A determination to help the warrior through this in whatever way he could. He wanted to tell his friend that he was not alone, that he had Bravepaw and Roselight, and Razorfang and Lilypaw and every other cat in RainClan to support him, to help him. But those words refused to leave his mouth. He parted his jaws, but nothing came out. In his opinion, there was simply no way to phrase it that would do this powerful sensation of camaraderie, of comfort and consolation, justice. Instead, he simply leaned over slightly, so that his shoulder rested gently against the side of his friend, ruddy fur mingling with white as the smaller tom offered a quiet support to his larger companion.

[Fawn]

RUSSETHAWK
Warrior || RainClan || 12 Moons

Had those words come from anyone else, they likely would've rolled off the older tom's ruddy shoulders like water from the scales of a fish, but the mouth those consoling, sympathetic statements had come from was Bravepaw, the previously empty green eyes swiveling to look into his companion's. He saw himself just then, reflected in blue eyes full of conviction, the sight of the emptiness he projected jarring him more when in the determined gaze of a friend then from the mirror's edge of a river. What have I become?

I'm scaring my friends. I'm upsetting the cats closest to me by being so upset. Russethawk refocused on the smaller shorter-furred tom who had last spoken, able to do a little empathetical thinking, trying to see himself as Bravepaw saw him right now. It was not a pretty picture. Sobering up to the best of his presently deteriorated abilities and state of disorientation, Russethawk stepped away from Bravepaw then, closer to the river's edge until his paws touched the water. "I'm sorry, I haven't been acting much like myself, have I?" These words came out quiet, as though he were speaking from some faraway place, but his personality still managed to come out then, the similar inflections and the undertones that were as much 'Russethawk' as was his name or the glow of his eyes.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, the ruddy warrior stepped closer and stuck his head in the water, air bubbles all rushing towards the surface as though he'd thrown this small section of the river into a rolling boil. When he felt the coldness finally start to sink into his face, Russethawk came back up, shaking his head from side to side and pivoting, intending to return to where he had left his friend; that had been the only thing he could think of to try and shock himself out of this abysmal state of wallowing.

"How long is this supposed to last?" He mewed as water dripped off his whiskers, voice cracking on the latter half of the question; he wore a fragile smile, as though he were still attempting to knit himself back together - that this would take more effort than he could give at the moment, but he was trying. "Because I-I don't want to feel like this anymore. I feel...I can't sleep, nothing tastes right. All I do is hunt and fish and hunt and fish and miss them." Having fallen into a rut, Russethawk was starting to step back from the edge a little, able to look at himself and his behavior, inwardly chiding at how badly this had effected him, while the other half found his behavior utterly justified by the losses he'd suffered.

Was it time to toughen up, or keep breaking down until there wasn't anything left to break down, and then start building himself back up from the bottom?