[Phoenix]

i'm an angel with a shotgun fighting 'til the war's won

If anyone ever wondered what constituted the color gray, they need only have looked out across StoneClan’s territory that day. Gray clouds covered the sun, and a thick, gray fog blanketed the ground, significantly decreasing visibility and seeming to muffle their steps as they danced across the sandy floor. At least the wind has died down, Ospreywing mused as he peered into the mist, listening intently for the quiet scuffle of Honeypaw’s feet against the sand and dust. Although a fog as thick as this posed different challenges (no cat dared to leave camp alone for fear of becoming lost and never finding their way back home), he much preferred this weather to the unforgiving wind that had torn through their land the past few days. With no trees or undergrowth to break its path, the cold gusts had, at times, threatened to blow the smallest of their number away, although they had not discriminated when it came to chilling felines to the bone; everyone had, at one point or another, sought shelter in their dens. Those who had persevered in spite of the unpleasant weather were few and far between.

But they were not alone in performing their responsibilities for long, as the weather had finally shifted, with the fog replacing the frigid wind. The warrior had stepped out of the warrior’s den that morning to the faint sounds of awe from the youngest apprentices, who had, he had realized upon further consideration, likely never experienced such a phenomenon before. Moments later, he had found himself thinking of Sandkit came to mind, and a faint amusement had flickered through him at the mental image of the small ginger tom showering his mother with all sorts of questions about how and why the clouds had decided to rest upon the ground today instead of high the sky. When he had directed his steps toward the apprentice’s den, he had idly wondered how many of those inquiries he would face from his own apprentice. She would have been too young to truly remember much of her first leaf-fall as well.

Something, whether a faint shift of the air or the softest noise of a pebble skittering across a sandy surface he could not tell, caught his attention and jolted him from his thoughts. Instincts honed by experience had his fur prickling along his spine with an acute awareness that he was being watched. Ears swiveling around, the warrior moved lightly to the side. Unsurprisingly, fighting in such a thick mist was different than fighting on a clear day, and Ospreywing had decided to take advantage of the somewhat troublesome weather to give Honeypaw the opportunity to learn for herself just how much the weather could sway a battle. When they had begun their spar, they had still been able to see each other with a few tail-lengths between them, but as the sun had (presumably) climbed higher in the sky, the fog had thickened and the visibility had lessened. With his eyes effectively rendered useless, he had fallen back on hearing and smell, and if his apprentice wanted to win this round, she would have to do the same.

With his own breathing as quiet as possible, he strained to catch the faintest sound, knowing that he needed to hear without being heard himself. Suddenly, the tuxedo tom whipped around and lashed out with a paw, claws sheathed as always. His blow landed on soft flesh, and he was met with a loud squeak that had the corners of his lips curling upward in a faint grin as he gathered himself and leapt forward a moment later. However, the easy victory he had been expecting did not come just like that. Honeypaw had been prepared for his attack, and his paws merely brushed her side as she whipped around in turn. A blow to his shoulder had him stumbling, off balance, and she took that opportunity to pounce. Ospreywing found himself with a face full of apprentice as they rolled, and the flurry of paws and sand ended with him as the victor.

“Close,” The warrior commented lightly as he rose to his full height and stepped off to the side, pausing to regain his breath. “But not quite.” Yellow eyes studied his apprentice for a moment before glancing off into the mist as he waited for her to climb to her paws. ”You’re still hesitating where it really matters,” He pointed out, turning back to her. ”In a real battle, you can’t worry about hurting someone, not when they’re trying to hurt you. You may feel bad, Honeypaw, but there’s no guarantee they’ll feel the same way.” LightningClan and RainClan were ruthless, and chances were that if she were ever to end up in a fight, it would be against one of their neighbors. Honeypaw clearly had her reserves about injuring others, but Ospreywing knew that the other side had no such conscience.

Beckoning with his tail for his apprentice to do the same, the tuxedo tom lowered his haunches to the sandy ground. “Let’s take a short break,” He started, ears flicking lightly. There was a moment of silence as he searched for a conversation topic, knowing from experience that if he wanted to prevent his curious apprentice from asking about something he would rather not share then he had to begin the inevitable discussion himself. It did not take him long. “You went to your first Gathering the other night, didn’t you? How was that?”

i don't care if heaven won't take me back

ospreywing | stoneclan | warrior | Fawn

angel with a shotgun | background image

[Fawn]

"Whoo!" She hadn't been able to stop her own triumphant outburst when her blow to Ospreywing's shoulder had actually connected. It wasn't that she was slow to learn battle moves, it did not come as naturally to her as it did Herondive or Cricketpaw, so it required more effort, more concentration on Honeypaw's part. When she was successful, Honeypaw hadn't been able to stop herself from letting loose that exuberant cheer, proud (and a little surprised) at her own progress.

That triumph was short-lived, however, as Ospreywing ended up getting the upper-paw again (and, in hindsight, it probably wasn't a good idea to yell 'whoo!' in the midst of a serious battle). When Ospreywing called for a break, Honeypaw exhaled gratefully, her fur mussed and her flanks rising and falling rapidly. Embarrassed by that outburst, she rasped her tongue over her chest fur both as a means of comfort and to tidy herself up a little now that they were no longer squaring off.

Though a thick cloud-like fog had rolled into StoneClan territory, Honeypaw could still see her mentor's black and white coat, still hear his voice as he spoke from nearby.

”In a real battle, you can’t worry about hurting someone, not when they’re trying to hurt you. You may feel bad, Honeypaw, but there’s no guarantee they’ll feel the same way.”

Honeypaw winced, expression sheepish. For once, she had no reply, the normally social she-cat feeling uncomfortable with her own reasons. I can't... I can't bring myself to strike someone hard enough to cause them pain. The Gathering had come and gone, but Honeypaw had returned home that night changed by the experience - and not necessarily for the better. As if plagued by a flock of crows that would interrupt her thoughts at every turn, Honeypaw hadn't been able to get the news Badgerpaw had shared with her out of her head.

Murder. Bodies. RainClan. Clanmates. It shook her to the core. A part of the she-cat was praying to StarClan that Badgerpaw had been wrong, but even a cat with memory troubles as bad as Badgerpaw's would be able to remember that kind of ... that kind of crime even if he couldn't remember the cats that had committed it.

When Ospreywing broached the subject of the Gathering, however, it was as if he had loosened up a single stone, and the rest all came tumbling down. "The Gathering was great, but--" Honeypaw fidgeted, her expression visibly troubled. Thank StarClan he'd brought it up! She just hadn't known how to say it... Where to start...

Honeypaw couldn't settle, instead moving closer and dropping her voice to a whisper, feeling like there were eyes watching them through the fog. "I was talking to a RainClan apprentice, and he said RainClan cats were killing each other! That there were bodies, and something about t-traitors. That's why there were so few RainClan cats at the Gathering... Everything's gone wrong for them." Looking pained, as if the thought of Clanmate turning on Clanmate was creating physical wounds under her tabby fur, Honeypaw struggled to understand. "Why would they do that? How can cats turn on each other like that?"

With that weighing on her mind, was it really any wonder she was hesitating?

It's so easy to make believe,
it seems you're livin' in a dream

Word Count: 537 Words
Tags: Phoenix
Notes:

[Phoenix]

i'm an angel with a shotgun fighting 'til the war's won

He could tell that his words of advice had troubled her, but where a more soft-hearted feline might have followed up with some comforting platitude, he remained silent and let the message sink in. Having never truly lived in a world where it seemed as though the hardest thing in the world would be to turn unsheathed claws on another cat, he had next to no personal experience when it came to swallowing such a harsh truth, but although his ability to empathize with those clan mates that bore fewer battle scars left much to be desired, he knew that it was not an easy lesson to learn. Spending these past few moons with her had shown the warrior that his apprentice was one of those genuinely kind and optimistic cats, of which there never quite seemed to be enough. Violence did not come naturally to her; while she had mastered hunting with ease, it was the battle training and the physical spars that they still focused on now, a mere moon or so from her warrior ceremony. When he had asked before, she had explained why she found it so hard to truly fight back and opened his eyes for the first time to the possibility that anyone might be afraid of causing pain. He knew, of course, what she meant, but that did not mean that he understood it.

No one enjoyed suffering, but if he had learned one thing over the course of his life, it was that agony and misery came regardless of what happened. More often than not, it came at the claws of another clan. If they took no issue with lashing out and stealing lives and childhood innocence and everything else unprovoked, then he took no issue with fighting back with everything he had. They were willing to hurt him, so he would be equally willing to deal back some of what they asked for. It was foolish to stand by for fear of hurting an opponent – and useless. Never again would he be forced, of his own doing or of anyone else’s, to stand on the sideline and simply watch as what he loved was torn from his claws again.

Ospreywing knew that that time would come, sooner or later, and it fell on him to ensure that she had all the knowledge and tools necessary to emerge the victor, as whole and healthy as possible. If that came at the cost of her opponent’s well-being, so be it; he was perfectly willing to pay that price. But Honeypaw, having been born into, grown up, and thrived in a world of peace, did not have his perspective. Though she had experience with death, she would never truly understand the ferocity of battle and everything it stole from a cat until she was forced to face it herself.

When he had brought up the Gathering, however, he had expected bright eyes to turn on him and words to tumble over each other in a rush to leave her mouth and express awe over the event and describe just who she had met and talked to. He had not thought that there would be a ‘but’ to her excitement, that her expression would grow even more disturbed, and that the volume of their conversation would decrease so dramatically. What had she seen? Or heard? Yellow eyes shifted from idly glancing around at the swirls of mist around them to watching her with a sudden focus, and he flicked his ears lightly as he waited for an answer to his questions. Soon enough, it came, and what he had heard caught his interest with the tenacity of a hawk grasping onto its prey.

Ospreywing had no love for RainClan, and as he looked at her worried features and realized that she was clearly struggling to understand the reasons for such a horrible event, he had to bite back on his first reaction to the news: a slight grin that was entirely lacking in the sympathy that he knew she wanted from him. RainClan had had it coming for quite a long time, and it seemed as though it had finally arrived. He might not have actively wished disaster upon the other clans, but he certainly did not wish that they would not face times of hardship. While he could not imagine the horror – a moment later, he amended what he realized was a lie, for he could indeed imagine the horror – of being attacked in his own camp (though, admittedly, not by clan mates), he would not have expected anything less from the disgusting lowlifes. No, Ospreywing had no argument with misfortune befalling their neighbor, and he had no sympathy to spare. In fact, it was almost pleasing to hear of the decimation of those who had decimated his family; his only wish was that he had been the one to pay them back for what they had done.

Belatedly remembering that she had asked him a question and that the silence had stretched on almost to the point of being unusually long, he reigned in the vicious satisfaction that had been racing through his veins to something more befitting (and less vindictive) of the situation. Since he did as much as he could to limit his interaction with any RainClan or LightningClan cat and spent his time probing for weaknesses whenever they were forced to meet, he could offer no explanation as to why they would turn on each other apart from a wry: “Clearly they disagreed over something.” The ghost of his smile almost returned, and he glanced away from her to hide it. He wondered if Hawkstar knew. While some might not approve of kicking an enemy while they were down, the tuxedo tom had neither a moral code of that rigor or any hesitation to take advantage of such a situation when it was practically presented to him on a silver platter.

“This does explain why the border has been so quiet recently,” He murmured to himself, tail tip flicking. They had noticed that unusual behavior for the past few months, but by general consensus, they had agreed that RainClan was likely planning something. When that something never came, they had simply accepted the odd silence for what it was and carried on, though he had remained extra vigilant around that area. Honeypaw had asked a second question, however, and this was one that he could answer. “Not every cat is as kind-hearted as you,” He stated lightly, shoulders raising in a slight shrug. But his casual tone soon grew distant. “Cats will do unthinkable things to each other without a second thought. That’s just the way they are.”

i don't care if heaven won't take me back

ospreywing | stoneclan | warrior | Fawn

angel with a shotgun | background image

[Fawn]

“Cats will do unthinkable things to each other without a second thought. That’s just the way they are.”

It was the first time Honeypaw had ever heard an answer that choked her to the core. Expression widening, every fiber of her being at once protested to this. Ospreywing was older than her, more experienced - but that couldn't be true. "No, you're wrong. You have to be wrong, Ospreywing. I get that cats can be awful to each other but that can't be 'just the way they are'. No one's born cruel or hateful or murderous. No one's born into the valley thinking how they can hurt others or t-take a life."

No one normal. No one that wasn't already... damaged in some horrible, irrevocable way. Honeypaw's small tabby head shook from side to side, wholeheartedly disagreeing with Ospreywing for once in the apprentice's life. She knew reproach was coming. It was only a matter of time before the conversation turned to the... ghost stories she'd heard about StormClan - every cat knew Ospreywing and Skunkspots had lost so much that day. Fallenleaf too. Everyone. It was well before she had even been a glimmer in her mother's eyes, but the effects of that day could still be felt even now.

I don't believe him. Honeypaw's expression was wreathed in apology, and she bowed her head, feeling sorry for her outburst - but not for the things she had said. Maybe I AM naive, but I'm so tired of everycat in this Clan hating all the others in the forest! So far, she hadn't seen any good reasons for it. Besides LightningClan moving the border; Honeypaw thought of Nightstep and Palescreech, the eerie, unsettling couple she and her sister had bumped into not so long ago.

They had been... menacing, and an unspoken threat hung in the air around the couple as if all they needed was a perfectly good excuse to shred the hapless apprentices. They wanted to frighten us, but would they have killed us? The thought made her shiver. Honeypaw looked at her paws, deeply hurt by the notion that maybe he was right.

Oh StarClan, is that why Herondive is so sullen all the time? Her heart plummeted like a stone into a gorge, rolling to a miserable stop as her knowledge of the world was challenged and found to be lacking.

It's so easy to make believe,
it seems you're livin' in a dream

Word Count: 396 Words
Tags: Phoenix BlooRey DVD (Herondive)
Notes:

[Phoenix]

i'm an angel with a shotgun fighting 'til the war's won

She was so unbelievably naïve. It made his heart clench with something resembling sympathy (after all, such a harsh truth must have shaken her world to its core), even as he bit down on his initial, irritated and defensive reaction to her outburst. On a visceral level, he knew that he was not wrong. She was wrong, and he was right. How could someone be so unbelievably naïve? He knew that he had to be patient with her. He knew that she had never experienced violence like that which he had faced multiple times. It was entirely reasonable that she had managed to maintain such an innocent outlook. He should not have expected any other reaction, not from his apprentice, who he knew was far more optimistic and willing to see the good in others than himself. Ospreywing simply tried – and failed – to understand why her inclination to do so.

The tuxedo tom wanted to shake his head and change the subject. This was supposed to have been a light conversation about her exciting adventures at the Gathering. Never in a thousand seasons would he have guessed that it would have transformed into a dialogue about matters as heavy and emotionally charged as these. He had no desire to defend his world view or explore the explore events that had irrevocably shaped his life, and the warrior had the sudden urge to rise to his paws and begin pacing. Instead, he took a deep breath and looked away from his heart-broken apprentice, staring blankly into the fog that swirled around them. It was imperative that when they leave this area she would at least be willing to hurt others in defense of herself, that she would not be the easy target frozen in the middle of the battlefield. She needed to be able to survive the inevitable fights in which she would find herself, and in order to do that, she needed to be prepared to face the undesirable side of those whom she seemed so willing to give the benefit of the doubt.

Their philosophies were entirely different, complete polar opposites. How could he possibly hope to make her understand?

“Perhaps no one is born murderous,” Ospreywing conceded finally, even as his mind strayed to a pair of LightningClan felines with eyes as red as the blood on their claws. They had looked positively gleeful as they slaughtered their way through StoneClan with the same nonchalance with which any other warrior might hunt a mouse. After a moment of soul searching, he found (unsurprisingly) that he did not entirely believe that statement, but his apprentice need not realize that. “But that does not mean that everyone is born good.” The warrior found himself pausing again as he tried to figure out where he wanted to lead the conversation. This seemed all wrong. “In the end,” He tried to explain, brushing aside her concerns about the inherent good or evil within each cat. “It doesn’t matter whether someone is born murderous or born kind-hearted, because even the most kind-hearted cat can hurt others. What matters is their actions.” Frustrated, he bit off his words again. His attempts were still not right – how could he hope to explain the fact that he knew, that everything he had experienced, taught him to not expect anything from the other clans except violence and pain?

Moments passed as he tried to gather his wandering thoughts into some semblance of coherency and tried to find the words with which he could explain them. “Honeypaw,” He finally spoke, the frustrated word coming out harsher than he intended. A pause as he composed himself, and then, “You’ve heard of StormClan, how LightningClan and RainClan worked together to chase us out of the valley.” Ospreywing swallowed around the knot in his throat, and he turned a piercing yellow gaze back to his apprentice. “Two entire clans full of cats heard that idea, planned the attack, and followed through with it. Two entire clans. Did anyone speak up against it? Did anyone protest, refuse to fight?” He realized that his voice had been rising in volume with every word, and he paused, clearing his throat. “No. If RainClan and LightningClan had this ‘goodness’ you like to see in others, then we would never have been chased out because of a fight that was inherently unfair. It was slaughter, and even if someone felt any semblance of shame and guilt for their actions, it did not stop them from taking over our land. We had to fight our way back to our home, our rightful territory – tell me, Honeypaw, why should we offer anything to clans who had either stood by and watched while we ran for our lives or actively participated in the battle themselves?”

i don't care if heaven won't take me back

ospreywing | stoneclan | warrior | Fawn

angel with a shotgun | background image

[Fawn]

Conflict had never been and never would be Honeypaw's strongsuit. Ospreywing was right; she was naive, but it was a byproduct of her optimism, not ignorance. Of having hope, even in the darkest of times - even after such loss. She watched, suddenly feeling like a spectator as Ospreywing's volume rose to a level he had never before used with her; the normally well-spoken, quiet tom was riled now. He cleared his throat to get himself back under control, but the damage was done.

“No. If RainClan and LightningClan had this ‘goodness’ you like to see in others, then we would never have been chased out because of a fight that was inherently unfair. It was slaughter, and even if someone felt any semblance of shame and guilt for their actions, it did not stop them from taking over our land. We had to fight our way back to our home, our rightful territory – tell me, Honeypaw, why should we offer anything to clans who had either stood by and watched while we ran for our lives or actively participated in the battle themselves?”

"Because they were misled too!" Honeypaw blurted, her throat tight and raw with pain. "RainClan apologized at the Gathering, they said their medicine cat lied, and that they said it was wrong, they condemned StormClan in front of all the Clans." Breathless now, and struggling to break through the sudden icy wall she had crashed against with Ospreywing, Honeypaw tripped over her words, stammering out the support of her argument as her emotions ran wild, voice fluctuating a little. "You said what matters is their actions, right? Then what do their actions mean now?"

A hoarse whisper accompanied the apprentice's bowed head, blinking wetness out of her gaze. "I know you must hate them for what they did - so many cats seem like they do. But... how long do we have to punish them for something that happened before I was even born? There are whole generations of cats now who didn't participate, who are innocent. Who don't want to be mad at the other Clans anymore. Doesn't that count for something?" Doesn't all of that hatred and resentment hurt? Doesn't it make your chest feel tight and your heart ache?

Maybe she just didn't understand. Maybe she hadn't lost enough, to comprehend the emotions roiling through her mentor's heart and mind and soul, for so long. But pain... pain wasn't a competition. That he had lost both parents and a sibling, killed by StormClan cats, that did not neutralize the pain she felt over losing Kitekit.

Grieving three times over didn't... Honeypaw held her breath. Grieving three times over didn't give him the right to be so spiteful and cold towards RainClan. To actually feel satisfied over the murders that had taken place there.

It's so easy to make believe,
it seems you're livin' in a dream

Word Count: 468 Words
Tags: Phoenix
Notes: xD sorry it's a rambly mess.