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Since meeting the first of his grown children - his son - Doefreckle felt like a weight had begun to be lifted, felt freer than he thought being faced with what should have been a burden, an end of his bachelorhood, had any right to make him feel. What it boiled down to was he’d spent so long being afraid, dreading the day he would inevitability have to confront his own children and being quietly eaten away with the guilt of wanting to pretend they didn’t exist, that any meeting was bound to be better than the nightmarish scenarios he’d conjured up. It would be a long journey, finding a role he could fill in the lives of whichever of his kits actually wanted him in them, and it would be difficult, but he could do it. Doefreckle was fundamentally terrified of commitment, famously indecisive and greedier than he had any right to be, but he wasn’t going to push his children away. It would take him a while to actually feel love for them, or something close to it - right now he felt more… the obligation to love them than any actual love - and having adult children made the vain tom feel disgustingly old, despite the fact his time being dead meant he was the same age as them, but he would get there. He wanted to get there. He wanted to be a better father than his own had been to him.
So, he felt like he could breathe more easily, like he could stop kicking himself deep down in the recesses of his mind for his own cowardice. Whatever came next, at least today he could exhale and let his shoulders hang. In fact, he felt... happy. Proud of himself. Lighter than air. Like he could face meeting the rest of his kits with a genuine smile on his face. He had a lot to make up for, and for a long time he’d have to roll over and let them take out their pain on him, but he was willing to allow it, happy even - he was nothing if not good at it. And it would be worth it in the long run, to... have a family. To have the chance to grow into someone better than before. To care for others whom it was his duty to care for. To be a grown up.
The cruel thing about how Doefreckle’s mind worked, though, was that when one thing rose in prominence, other things were pushed to the side and forgotten. One such thing was his first daughter. Though he was currently sunning himself in a patch of wild garlic near the WinterClan border, the black splotches on his pelt growing hot enough to burn, his closeness to that territory didn’t make him think of her. If at that moment you accused him of having forgotten her all together in the face of his biological kits, you wouldn’t be far off the mark. Shadedsun had been pestering him about seeking her out, but he was good at placating him with empty promises, always pushing back the due date. He absently groomed his ears, licking his good paw and running it over his temple.
I had an entire thing and accidentally closed out before I could send oh my god </3
It was supposed to be a simple outing, a chance to get away from the bustle of Winterclan’s camp before it tipped her over the edge. Usually it was fine, she could handle it, but sometimes the noise got too much and all she wanted to do was rip her tiny ears off of her head. Instead, she decided, she would take a walk. She would let her paws guide her, as they usually did, down to Springclan. Down to their graves. They usually didn’t mind her presence, and in a complicated sort of way she’d been one of them, even if only for a short while. Most days it was cathartic, a way to vent her feelings or chat about her day, to feel the presence of someone she knew even if they weren’t really there. Sometimes she swore she could hear a ghostly whisper back. She trailed the path she’d become so familiar with, carved out by her own paws. She could traverse it with her eyes closed if she wanted, every stump or stray stone known well enough. Today, as she grew closer, she hesitated. It didn’t feel right, something was off. Maybe it was the silence that hung in the air, or the way she woke up this morning, or the more noticeable feeling of the breeze on her fur. Or maybe it was nothing at all. She came to a stop, turning suddenly on her heels and making her way off again with no intention or direction. Her pace was quick, anxious and off put, a fast trot until she was at the one place she never wanted to be. The flowery smell was a lie, there was no sweetness in Summerclan. Only sour memories and bitterness and everything bad. She’d left, hardly looking back, promising to put everything behind her and move on. Only she hadn’t done a very good job at it, seeing where she was now. She stopped again, about to turn and leave, go home and forget anything ever happened—because nothing did, of course—before a figure caught her eye. Startling. Familiar. The glint of black and gold and white all mixed together in a complicated but memorized pattern, the certain way he lay in the sun, the smile briefly on his face. He was relaxed, uncaring, hadn’t even noticed her yet. Lilydawn felt her heart stop, briefly. She wanted to run up to him, tackle him to the ground and catch up on all the hugs she’d missed since she were a little girl. Yell and cry because her dad was right there, alive and well. Her dad! She wanted to walk right up to him, claw that stupid look off his face and pummel him into the ground until he was nothing but flesh and bone. She wanted to run away, convince herself it wasn’t him, couldn’t he him, refuse to look back and forget about it the next day. Lilydawn stood still. There he was, in all his stupid, selfish glory, and she had missed him so much.
It couldn’t be him. She had remembered hearing the news of his death, she remembered watching Shadedsun deteriorate as if he were the corpse instead, how he made all the time to grieve and not any time for her. She remembered Beetuft’s worry about the new kits that he had just had to have because apparently she wasn’t enough. But he was unmistakable, remarkably so. There was no confusing him with anyone else, not when her memories of him were so crisp and clear. It was one of those scenarios that you played in your head, a sick sort of one that would obviously never come true because how could the universe be that cruel. But it was, she knew that all too well.
And what made everything worse wasn’t the sudden shock of the situation, not all the conflicting thoughts and emotions. It was the fact he hadn’t noticed her at all. That she had been standing here, torn to a stop and definitely disturbing some of the plants around her, but was not even given a glance. He was laying there as if nothing had ever bothered him before, as if she hadn’t been left suffering this entire time. Lilydawn finally got the courage to move, and before long she was right above him, staring down with a tilted head and a blank face, almost calculating. Like a child forced to talk to some relative they hardly knew at some family gathering, except it was just them, and she knew him all too well.
“You left.” A sort of drawl, almost coming off as bored. It wasn’t quite an accusation, or a question, or anything aggressive at all. A statement, as true as someone saying the sun rose every morning. Because there was no denying it, even if he hadn’t ever meant to.
Doefreckle flinched at the voice so close to his ear; he rolled over messily, landing heavily on his other side and then scrabbling up into a half-sitting position to face her, the lower half of his body still lying upon the ground. He stared at the she-cat in fraught silence - if it were anyone else, he’d have snapped something or played it off with sweet, false charm. But with her, that all crumbled away. He just stared. It was like she had silenced him, like any pretence of deception was instantly denied him with a quiet ‘there’s no point with her.’ His expression changed slowly between wide, searching eyes, darting over her face like she was familiar but he couldn’t place her, or like he thought she was supposed to be familiar; to a deep frown, the cogs in his head beginning to turn. It wasn’t so much that he understood she was someone from his past, someone he was supposed to know; it was just that this cold silence rolled off her like dry ice fog, instilling within his bones the understanding that she was something. Something important - if not to him, then to the general fate of his life, of the world. It felt like, half-sitting there in front of her with his back cramping and his broken paw trembling slightly from the force of keeping him upright, he was acutely aware of some line being drawn in the earth between them, and around them. Binding them together even as it kept them apart.
The whole world seemed to darken. Thin clouds drifted over the sun, casting shadows across the territory that was usually so bright and sucking the colours from it. The sky darkened, like the tight, static moment before thunder rumbled and the rains burst open. A chilly breeze swept across SummerClan’s meadows, flattening the tall grass and making Doefreckle’s fur prickle along his spine as the chill leeched into his skin.
Finally, his eyes widening enough to see the white around the brown, Doe choked out quietly:
“Lily?”
It was the only name he had for her. She was an adult - her name was no longer the one he’d known her as when she’d been a kit sleeping against his belly. The last time she’d known him, he’d been Doestar; the last time he’d known her, she’d been Lilykit. The stark contrast between who they’d been then and who they were now made his head swim with panic, with a strange grief, with a constricted, claustrophobic sort of desperation. It felt like digging up a grave he’d lain to rest - the life he’d had before, the cat he’d been before, everything. It flooded his gut with irrational anger but he swallowed it down; this wasn’t her fault; it was his to bear.
Her words clawed their way through the fog in his head. You left. He swallowed and licked his lips, pulling back from where he’d leaned in toward his daughter and sucking in an unsteady breath that was meant to be calming. He should have hugged her. He should have gathered her up in his paws and licked her head and cradled her to him. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He hadn’t been her father for two years - he’d never really been a father to her. He didn’t feel like he had the right to do it. With the other kits, who’d never known him, he could fake it till he made it. With her, he felt both that he owed her more - honesty, the truth - and that she’d see through any guise he put on. She both meant less and more for not being his own blood, for having actually known him before. While the other kits would get mostly a lie, she would get mostly the truth. All these distinctions, all these crumbling walls, all this confusion, threatened to drown him. He felt like all the plates he kept carefully spinning upon their poles were wobbling.
“I didn’t-“ His voice didn’t sound like his own. He licked his lips again, close to panic. “I didn’t leave,” he managed, and the breathless little laugh he gave her, the smile, meant to be soothing, was borderline hysterical. “It wasn’t a choice - I would never have chosen to leave you and your father.”
He felt like there should have been more to this. A reunion wasn’t supposed to be panicked justifications for your own death to a daughter you hardly knew. There was meant to be love, affection, joyous laughter. But if Lily had harboured any delusions of the father she’d known only as a kit, the tom she stood before now, in every way that mattered the same age as her, was none of them. He was achingly young, immature, a mess of hopeless romanticism and hasty decisions and excuses. At least when she’d known him he’d had the built-in respectability of a -star at the end of his name, and the confidence and responsibility - the leaderly bearing - he’d started to curate towards the end of his life. Now, with the -freckle back in place, that was all gone. Now, he was shaky legs and anxious ears and guilty, hunted eyes like she were a fox and he were prey. Seeing him now, both of them adults, surely shattered any illusions.
“I’m sorry,” he told her in a strange, smiling voice, with a tilted head and his brows pushed together, like it meant anything, like he knew why he was saying it, like he wasn’t just falling back on the trick he’d learned when he was still very young: to get them to stop, just apologise. Doesn’t matter what for. Maybe they’ll stop hurting you then.
Post by goldcrest on Sept 20, 2021 13:32:51 GMT -5
She probably would have taken it back, considering how unfair a question it was, but the way he looked at her as if she had just been another passing face sometime long ago made her hesitate. Watching with narrowed eyes, she didn’t move until his lit up with recognition. She wouldn’t admit it, but it stung. She was right in front of his face and still—still—he didn’t recognize her, even when she had known him from first glance. Lilydawn broke their eye contact, jerked her head to the side and took a step back, ears lowering. Her claws dug into the dirt. In. Out. In. Out. She could feel the tension, the chill, the fear in the air, and it all mixed with her now brewing anger. She didn’t know why, not really—her dad was back, just as she’d wanted, and now she wanted nothing more than to leave.
Lily? Her mouth formed a thin line. She nodded, stiff and mute.
“Yeah,” She managed, a strained bite to her words. She had so many words to say, but none of them came. It was as if someone had reached into her mouth and tore them out, leaving her with nothing but empty air and a slight pain that matched wet eyes. She swallowed it all down. “Lilydawn.” A jab, almost, at something he couldn’t have possibly known. She couldn’t help but feel angry that he had missed almost her entire life, and didn’t she have the right? When he was sitting in front of her all fearful and shocked, as if she were the one that had died instead. She hated the way he was looking at her.
“Are you kidding me? No—no, no. When did you get back? Because you seem pretty damn comfortable right now. Did you even think of me at all?” She knew he hadn’t, not really, but she was still allowed to hope. Hope he’d been looking, or wondering, or wishing. That she wasn’t just more than a passing thought or a bitter memory. It wasn’t selfish, to want to feel loved. She used to think about him every day, and even as the stretches got longer and she tried to focus more on other things, his memory was still there. Even if it grew poisonous and painful, even when it hurt to think about and she still did it anyway.
Lilydawn. Doefreckle nodded at his daughter's new name, trying a weak exhalation of laughter and a wisp of a smile that trembled and fell to nothing a heartbeat later. His first instinct, still trying to defuse the tension, was to say something like pretty name, but even he knew how pitiful and inadequate that would sound. More than that, he didn't particularly think the name was pretty, not pretty enough for his daughter - had she stayed in SummerClan, had he still been leader, he would have given her a better one. But he couldn't exactly say that out loud, and it was simply a brief observation that wheeled through his mess of thoughts like a leaf caught on the wind.
And then she was snapping at him. Doe backed away without meaning to. "Of course I did!" he replied, voice tight with distress and faint fear. "I..." Oh, this was going to sound bad. He briefly considered lying, but the reality of how easy it would be untangle his story and come to the truth dashed that option from his mind. Every single cat in SummerClan knew the truth, and Lilydawn shared a border with them. "Two moons," he replied at last, his voice quiet, so quiet. His head had ducked slightly and now he was looking up at her from under his lashes, like he was already pardoning her if she struck him. He'd take it; he deserved it. Even he understood the horror of what he was saying. "Lily, are you really going to begrudge me the chance of finding comfort in my home after- what I've been through?" He'd hesitated a little, faltering on the word 'after' - he was going to say 'after being dead for two years', but even though the she-cat standing in front of him was a full-grown warrior, he still felt the need to shelter and protect his daughter, to lie to her. Somewhere deep inside, he was wailing against how selfish he was being even now, honest to god trying to guilt-trip his daughter into backing off; but consciously, Doefreckle genuinely thought of himself as the victim first and foremost. Lilydawn had surely suffered, yes, and he was sorry for that, but she hadn't suffered more than he had.
He straightened up slightly, taking a few tentative steps closer. His voice softened. "These past moons have been difficult, Lily. I came back to a new leader in my place, sleeping in my - in our - den, to what essentially amounted to a new Clan, to death and loss and confusion. It's taken a long time to find a... a rhythm." He briefly considered mentioning Shadedsun's return - more because he had the nasty, subconscious thought that bringing him into the mix would take the heat off himself - but decided against it. "I was going to come and find you - I always intended to. You're my daughter. I love you... I just needed time."
Then, Doe said possibly the worst thing he could have said. Smiling hopefully, he added, "and I've met one of your brothers. Poppyskip. He seems lovely!"
Post by goldcrest on Sept 20, 2021 23:14:56 GMT -5
Her anger only grew, an insatiable concoction of rage and grief and fear. She was afraid, afraid of the future, of herself, even of Doestar. For a reason she couldn't quite name, she was scared. But she wouldn't show it, not now, not when she had to rub it in his face just how horrible he had been. Just how terrible she felt. And every word he said only made it worse. He could at least attempt to lie better, or say what he wanted to outright. Of course I did! He didn't, and she knew it. She was just some obstacle he had, one to get over and better himself while she was left in dust. Again and again. She stamped her foot in rage, the grass lose and torn beneath her claws.
Two moons. She could feel her eyes water, nothing but anger. She blinked it back. She wouldn't cry, she couldn't, not here and not now. But two whole moons without a thought. She was right across the border—right there! She hadn't even known he was alive. She hardly questioned how. Lilydawn could feel his shame, and the fact that he knew how terrible it was only made her hurt more. Two moons. Two moons they could have reunited, talked, gotten to actually know each other. Two less moons of being alone, of rolling in self-hatred and pity. Lily, are you really going to begrudge me the chance of finding comfort in my home after- what I've been through? She paused, taking in a deep, shuttering breath.
"You? You?" She stomped forward until their noses were almost touching, her words seething, "What about me? What about what I've been through? Losing two--three--parental figures in the span of a few moons does a lot to someone, y'know!" She was loud, much too loud for how close she was to him, but she couldn't bring herself to care. "Guess what, Doestar, I didn't have any place to call home. Do you know how alone I've felt this whole time, without you? Do you know how many times I've wished you guys just left us there, wherever you found us, because we would have been better off?" She stood straight again, backing off.
"You came back to death and confusion, sure, but I lived through it. I was at your funeral, I was at Shadedsun's funeral. I was there for Beetuft when she died and I helped your devil-spawn that you needed for some reason." Her breath came heavy, yet her shoulders felt a little lighter. Like she had lifted a weight off her back, things she'd wanted to say since day one but had never been given the chance. She pointedly ignored the I love you, because he had done nothing but prove the opposite.
And I've met one of your brothers. Poppyskip. He seems lovely!
"And you—" she sputtered her words, trying to get a grip on it. He just had to go and make it worse, didn't he? "Oh, of course you had! Of course your kits are more important, more worthy of your precious time. Glad you know his name!" She hadn't spoken to any of them since she left, and had always tried to blame them for everything. They were her source of envy. They had a mother and a father who loved them, wanted them, they weren't passed around from clan to clan. They had a home. She hated any mention of them, and even though it was impossible, she wanted to think that Doestar knew that.
"I raised him, by the way. You're welcome." Sure, it may have only been for a small time after Beetuft's death, before she left for Winterclan and never came back. And sure, she did a terrible job. Trying to convince them it was all their fault, that they deserved only bad things. Some days she regretted it, everything she said. But right now she wanted to rub it in his stupid face just how much—better?—she was, how much more involved she was, how much he didn't know and she did.
(oh my GOD the way my heart is aching. i swear to god you always give me the juiciest, most gutwrenching rps)
Throughout all of this, Doefreckle stayed silent. He let his daughter stick her muzzle in his face, let her force him back, let her spit at him; he let her hurl accusations and pain and hatred at him and didn't say a word. He just took it. At some point, his gaze drifted down, too ashamed to even meet her eye as the invectives and abuse continued. Everything she was saying - it was like it ripped through the pretences Doefreckle always wore and cut down to the truth. The horror of it, the agony, the loneliness - he didn't try to deflect it, didn't try to brush it off as unfair on him; he let it rain down on him and bury itself within him, because he knew it was all true. The things he hadn't even thought about, hadn't even spared a moment to consider or allow himself to entertain, perhaps precisely because he knew the guilt of it would be too much to bear - all the funerals Lily had sat through before she was even an apprentice, the litter she'd been forced to watch Beetuft carry and then raise, with the three of them so painfully similar to her father a reminder of her inferior place in his life, all the homes she'd been passed between that had never truly been homes - crashed down around him like rubble. Stupidly, through it all, he still wanted to interrupt with I'm not Doestar anymore, but, in that state of self-awareness, he knew he would only be saying it as another attempt at pity. So he let her call him that old, broken name.
Do you know how many times I've wished you guys just left us there, wherever you found us, because we would have been better off? Doe clenched his teeth, his brows drawn together and his eyes miserable. That was what he had been most fearing to hear. Yes, maybe that would have been best, he wanted to whisper back. Maybe another cat would have done a better job than four fledgling leaders too caught up in their own glory to know anything about raising kits. Maybe without him, she might have been happy. But to hear what he dreaded the most - the fact that she wished he had never been in her life at all - stung more than he could ever say.
The expression Doefreckle wore was silent, yielding, and utterly ruined. Gone were his attempts at patching gaping wounds up with bandaids just so he wouldn't have to deal with them for another week, another month; gone were his smiles, his delusions, his faux sweetness. There was only the truth now. He listened to it and felt it. He was a terrible father. Everything she'd endured could be traced back to him. She hadn't deserved any of it. She'd been a kit - a lively, adventurous kit - and because of him, because of his own stupidity and his own selfishness, she was raging at the world itself.
His head still bowed, he visibly flinched as Lilydawn raised her voice and spat 'oh, of course you had!' at him. He flinched at each of the following sentences, like they were physical blows. He wanted to argue, could have argued - he'd been just as terrified of meeting his own children, and it had just been easier because they were in SummerClan - but he didn't, because he knew it was true: they were more important. All the lies Doe fed even himself were gaping open, leaving a clear window down to everything he kept hidden, every ugly little secret; it was startling even to him, like opening a window and feeling that gust of cold wind, to see it all laid out so clearly.
I raised him, by the way. You're welcome. At that, Doefreckle raised his eyes and his head. He breathed in a few quiet, audible breaths, gazing at her forlornly. More than anything else, that had been the most horrible reveal. His daughter had raised his son - all of his kits. His daughter had had to live in the Clan with the she-cat who amounted to her step-mother, watching her step-siblings get all the love and care he and the other leaders had been too preoccupied to give her. "Lily," he breathed, voice constricted by emotion, by grief, by raw guilt. His head was tilted slightly, his soft brows forcing a little crease between his eyes. Slowly, painfully, he took a few steps closer, gazing at her with more honesty, more openness, more acknowledgement of his own soul than any cat had ever seen before. "My love, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." He moved to touch his nose to her cheek.
Post by goldcrest on Sept 22, 2021 18:20:16 GMT -5
(giggles)
Lilydawn stood back, breath heavy, with nothing more to say. She knew he felt awful, and a part of her reveled in that. She had made him hurt, just as she had been this entire time. But it was a rotten feeling. It hadn't done anything than make them both feel worse, and as he looked up and apologized to her she felt a stab of guilt. She didn't want an apology, not really. She didn't know what she wanted. Love, maybe, or attention, or someone who could calm her when nightmares kept her awake, someone to make proud. Beetuft could have been that—she had practically taken her in after her fathers died, tried to get Lily on her feet while she struggled to stay on her own. It was always, always what could have been, and it was never what was. Because every time she loved something, or someone, or tried to let her guard down, it was taken and she was left hurting all over again.
My love, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. She took another step back. The Winterclan border grew closer.
"I don't want to hear it!" Her voice held a growl to it, slightly raw from yelling and a bit strained. She wasn't one for a lot of words. Conversations were uncommon, and when they happened they usually died off pretty quickly and they were left in uncomfortable silence. She'd never struggled to talk to her siblings, and maybe that was why she talked most when near them.
"And it's Lilydawn. The least you could do is use my name." She hated how terrible she felt, and she hated how sad he looked, and how it was her fault for even showing up. And she hated how she couldn't believe him, not yet, not until he proved himself to her, and how she couldn't stand being near him but didn't want to leave. Because if she left, she would doubt herself, doubt that he was even there in the first place. And if it were a dream, she would wake up and realize he had never been there at all. Lilydawn didn't like that possibility.
Doefreckle backed off again, standing rooted unhappily in place. I don't want to hear it! He flinched again, slightly, but nodded silently. "Lilydawn," he agreed at last, quiet, so quiet. He took the smallest step closer before sitting. "Will you... will you stay? For just an hour or two. We can talk. Or not talk. I know I can't possibly make up for what you've been through, at least not for a long time. But I'd like to try. Please let me try, Lilydawn. You can..." He drew in a breath and dropped his head for a moment before looking back up. "I haven't been to their graves yet. You could come with me."
If she agreed, and if they went close enough to camp, he'd probably go and get Shadedsun. But for now, and for as long as possible, he wanted to keep her to himself. If Shadedsun joined them, he'd be the favourite - he was faultless, he was kind; whatever ill feelings their daughter harboured for him as well, she'd forgive him far more easily than she would Doe. And, selfishly, Doefreckle wanted to repair his relationship with his daughter and be loved by her the most. He wanted someone who was only his.
Post by goldcrest on Sept 23, 2021 21:20:08 GMT -5
She sighed, deeply and heavily, hesitating for a few long moments before answering. She wanted to say no, stand him up, watch his face settle into despair and guilt. But she was stupid and hopeful, and she nodded. Hardly noticeable at first, just a quick tilt of her head, and for a moment a brief look of vulnerability crossed her face. She had never felt so young and scared.
I haven't been to their graves yet. You could come with me. She let out a long, worn sigh. "Fine," Her words were quick and snappy, "but just so you know you didn't even bury them right. Batkit didn't get a grave. Had to make him one." She didn't move to lead the way, waiting patiently for him to do it himself. She wanted to see him flounder, forget where he buried them. She wanted to step in with a scathing remark, find reason to hate him more, find reason to let herself live with the anger. Because it was familiar, she didn't know anything else. She struggled to imagine herself happy, with a loving family and the past wounds healed. For now, they were nasty infections and she only knew how to pick at the scabs.
She wondered if they would like him, would take as well to her company as they took to hers. Sometimes she swore she could still hear them sometimes, far off and distant, a whisper from long ago. They were still there, lingering. And she could feel them.
If his daughter thought he would forget even for a moment where he had buried his sons, she was wrong. That night with Shadedsun, every single second of it, was burned in his mind so vividly, so terribly, that he could blink and be back there, with that smell of summer-dry earth and the sickly sweetness of cherry blossoms on Shadedsun's fur and early rot, with the uncaring hugeness of the black sky with all their millions of stars, with the feel of dirt gathering under his claws making them feel like they were going to snap off from the force of it. And then, he'd wandered past the site every single day for two years as a ghost, hoping, praying, to callous gods he no longer held any faith in, that he wouldn't find them trapped in the same nothing that he was. If Lilydawn thought the grief of them was reserved solely for her, she was mistaken.
So, with a sharp flick of his tail-tip and a disapproving look that was as close to saying what he wanted to say to his daughter as he would let himself get, Doe brushed past her and limped straight for the SpringClan border. It didn't take him as long as it normally would; in his cold determination to prove himself to his daughter, he limped quicker, hardly feeling any of the pain at all. It was only when he came within site of the place, with the pink flowers of SpringClan sprawling out ahead of him, that he finally slowed. He could have kept that speed, could have sat down pointedly and callously before the graves and given Lilydawn a sharp, see? But he didn't. Instead, as he slowed, he gave his daughter a gentle, questioning look, silently asking if she was alright. Then, dragging his eyes slowly from her, with the faintest trace of a comforting smile on his face, Doe limped ahead and, with the full weight of what this meant now upon his shoulders, quieting the world around them and stilling the very breeze in the trees behind him, slowly, silently, sat down before their graves. His tail curled quietly around his paws as he gazed down at them. There were fresh flowers upon them; he assumed they were from Lilydawn.
For a long time, he just sat there in silence, blinking down at them. His eyes were slightly glazed over, like he was speaking to them quietly within his own head, with words that couldn't be heard and never would be. Finally, blinking once, twice, he let out a breath and sat up a little straighter, turning his head to look at his daughter. "Thank you for caring for them," he told her softly, and he meant it. Seeing their graves in real life for the first time since the night he buried them had sucked all the fight, all the remaining stubbornness, from him. There was only genuine care, genuine softness, genuine guilt left. All of them quiet. He wanted to know his daughter. He wanted to love her. He wanted to earn her love. "Your own siblings, and my other children." He smiled, small and sorrowful.
Post by goldcrest on Sept 25, 2021 21:11:53 GMT -5
She shot a glare back, all daggers that, if she had the power, probably would have killed him where he stood. Following closely behind, she let the silence overtake them. The walk there was always a quiet one, even on her own, just the sounds of paw-steps and her thoughts. It was her time, and she couldn't help but feel as if Doe was invading her privacy. They were his kits—though in this moment she didn't feel like they were—almost as much as they were her siblings. Almost. They were just pity cases. A few poor lumps that they picked up because they were cute and helpless. Something to be tossed away when it was no longer convenient. Even though it didn't really happen like that, and he hadn't left of his own choice. But he'd come back, and he had forgotten about her, about them. When they arrived, she shoved past him first, taking the first spot in front of them. Perfect, pristine. A few tulips, random wildflowers that came and went, a dandelion here and there, cherry blossom petals strewn about from the winds that carried them along, some other flowers she'd attempted to keep alive that she couldn't quite name. Three thin sticks were there to mark where they lay, and it had been the roughest she'd been here so she could get them to stand. The place was nearly undisturbed, Springclan knew best to stay away.
She only huffed in response, hunched over.
Your own siblings, and my other children. She snapped her head to glare at him, "Can you go two seconds without talking about them? I get it, they're so great and amazing and this and that. This isn't about them! Not here." She snapped. It could have been a little unreasonable, but she couldn't help but feel great disrespect when he brought his biological children up in front of the graves of his other children. She was bitter, she was angry, and any mention of them made her eyes narrow and her neck fur prickle.
"They hardly even know you. They grew up on stories, about how great and kind and compassionate you were. All lies, all to make them feel a little better. I saw through it, of course, but they're gullible. I mean, Snowdrop would probably trip over herself to even have a goddamn glimpse of you." The words were filled with venom. She'd always been so loving, in her own way, and so incredibly stupid. Maybe she'd grown out of it. Not that she would know what any of them were up to, she'd hardly seen them since she left and they were younger. Apprentices. Other than a few pointed looks if she spotted them at Gatherings, she hadn't spared them a glance. How she'd love to think so highly of Doe, how she'd adore being so ignorant. To love him properly. To be them. Be apart of what they had.
Doefreckle drew back when Lily shoved past him, quietly hurt and watching her pass with his brows drawn together sorrowfully.
Then, sitting before the three flower-laden graves, he started at her sudden rage at him, wrenched from his silent reverie and caught off guard. “I never said they were great or amazing,” he argued, voice quieter than hers but still a little worked up. “I hardly know them at all. They could be world-class brats for all I know - they could be insufferable!”
Her following words stung more than he could say, blow after blow after blow. His reputation for compassion was something he’d always consciously cultivated, and though there might be fault lines in it, little embellishments here and there to cover up a nasty undercurrent, fundamentally it was true. To have it called into question now, so bluntly, flooded him with a strange grief. Doe’s horror was often more of a lie than his kindness, believed in more strongly by him but no more true because of it. His reaction now showed him that, however briefly: his big heart was what was real, and it hurt to have it called an act. God knew it had caused him enough pain.
His voice when he replied was sad, quiet, calm, almost lifeless - not angry at her, just resigned to being wounded, lilting up here and there with frustration but always quietening again on the other side. “Lilydawn, that’s not fair. As much as you might think you do, you hardly know me. Any more than I know you. You were barely four moons old when I died - how on Earth can you say you know anything about me? You were with Shadedsun for another moon, but what do you know about him either? That he was your father, that he was leader of SpringClan, that he liked berries? Is that it? They’re kit memories, Lilydawn. The stories of me being kind are lies, you say - but how can your stories of how cruel I am be any more true? What have I done that was so unforgivable? The decision to let you grow up between four Clans was a mistake, I know that, and I should have known better, but I didn’t. When we made that choice, we were four inexperienced young leaders. I was… I was lovesick, and maybe I was slightly clucky. That’s no excuse for the very real repercussions it had for you, but it is the reason. My decision to have a second litter was hurtful to you, I know that too. But had I been around to see you and them grow up, I would have been just as proud of you as I would have been of them. You would have been my girl, Lil. My first girl. And I know I have no right to tell you how to feel, or to defend them in front of you, but being born is no crime of theirs. You said you wish I had left you where I found you - well, I don’t. I’m as proud now as I was then to have you as my daughter. You can renounce me as your father, but you’ll always be my child. No matter what you do or say or feel, nothing in heaven or hell could ever change that.”
He was gazing at her with no small amount of unconditional love, of sorrow, of sad warmth reconciled with her hatred, of soft, unshakeable belief in her, no matter what she did or said to him. Talking it through for her had solidified it for him: she was his daughter, and he loved her. He wanted to reach out his good paw and lay it on hers, but he didn’t dare. A cool, flowery breeze passed between them, carrying a few pink cherry blossoms. It would take him a long time to learn to be a father, and maybe he’d never truly be one - maybe he’d just stay the clumsy, heartsick young tom who happened to have children he loved but who were more friends to him than anything. But whatever their relationship would become, he wanted one. He wanted his daughter in his life, to love and to know and to watch live her life and succeed at whatever she attempted. He wanted to learn who she was, to watch as she learned it too. However close or however distant she would have him, he wanted to be there.
Post by goldcrest on Sept 26, 2021 13:02:58 GMT -5
She let out a laugh, a crackly, sharp thing that was filled with anything but humor. It was emotional, filled with years of anger and grief. "You have—you have no idea!" She could attest. Despite Beetuft, before they died, claiming they were nothing but angels, talking about them whenever she could, bringing them up in every conversation, Lilydawn knew it wasn't true. It was some act, some play, she was sure. She'd never think to hard on how she knew that, why she assumed, her reluctance to get to know them at all so she could keep her bitter view of them. Because what else were they supposed to be? It wasn't like she could really love them, and it wasn't like they liked her much at all. And somehow she knew all that without having said a word to them in months.
Lilydawn, that’s not fair. She wanted to interrupt him, voice more of her issues, rub all her hurt in his face, but Lilydawn stayed silent. And she listened, for once, because he was right. And she didn't want to admit it at all, that he knew what he was talking about. She'd always known the truth was painful, but she didn't know it would hurt this bad. She lay on her stomach, legs feeling too weak to hold her up. Indignantly, she focused her eyes on the ground just in front of her paws, catching glimpse of her claws digging into the grass before she forcibly stopped them. Not so close to her siblings. They didn't deserve that. She was always so caught up with herself, and she didn't want to change it. Anything else, anything besides the grief, was terrifying.
No matter what you do or say or feel, nothing in heaven or hell could ever change that.
There was silence, a long and drawn out nothingness that, despite the wordlessness, spoke of so many things. She wanted to react with anger, as she always did. But it didn't come. Lilydawn was worn out, she was tired, she was scared, and she didn't know what to do. All those terrible feelings, thoughts, bubbled deep down, rose higher and higher until it flooded her eyes. She wasn't the crying type, hadn't done so in forever, but today she decided she earned it. It wasn't noticable at first—quiet, inaudible, until the sound of a single hic and a sniffle escaped.
"It's not fair," she mumbled, so similar to a young child who simply hadn't gotten what they wanted. And she felt like it. Young. Like she was lost in a store, "this is so, so, so stupid." Her voice grew louder, had a shakiness to it that she didn't bother to push down. She'd done so much of that. She wanted to blame them all, let herself fall into the victim role even if she hadn't been. But Doe was right. She didn't know them, not really, and everything she'd ever said and thought was based on some fabrication of them, filled with resentment and sourness and everything terrible she'd ever felt. It stopped her from blaming herself for it all.
Even when he watched his daughter sink to her stomach and bow her head to the earth, sniffling, and even as his heart broke with her, he didn't stop speaking. It needed to be said, for her and for him. One final unkindness to close the wound; one last brutality to cauterise it.
When he finished, a long silence followed. Doefreckle continued to watch his daughter for a long time, crouched down miserably at his side; his expression was just as unhappy, his jaw set in a look of determination like he was holding back his own tears and now allowing himself to cry. After a long while, with the quiet breath of a sigh, Doe turned his head away and instead gazed down at the graves in front of them.
Then, after so long, Lilydawn spoke. It's not fair. This is so, so, so stupid. Doe held back a soft laugh, almost relieved. Instead, finally, he braved the sting of rejection and rose to move closer to his daughter. He sat down at her side, looking down at her and running his good paw tenderly over the soft fur behind one of her small ears, again and again. "You'll get through this, Lil. We'll get through it. Together. I'm not going to leave you again, not for a long, long time. Your time being alone is over." He bowed down and touched his muzzle gently to the back of her neck, resting it there for a moment in that thick fur that smelled of snow and his daughter before slowly rising again.
"Now," he continued in a quiet murmur, brushing his paw over her fur once more and looking down at her with a small, sorrowful smile, "I think there's something you might like to see." He stood and, still smiling down at his daughter, tilted his head slightly towards the SummerClan camp.
Post by goldcrest on Sept 27, 2021 21:49:14 GMT -5
It was stupid to think it would all be better with a simple snap, a 'you'll get through this, Lil,' but perhaps, in the same stupidly hopeful way, it left room for more. Maybe it could all be healed—not yet, but soon. One day.
Crying always made her head pound, never lasting more than a few minutes at most, so she stopped, and despite herself still shifted away when Doe pulled his nose from her neck. It was progress, but progress came in small steps, and Lilydawn was especially hesitant. Finally, she got to her paws, face setting as if nothing had ever happened in the first place. Though, her posture was a little less defensive. And when he reached for her again, she didn't bother to move away. She looked towards the heart of Summerclan, knowing where it led. She was reluctant—Lilydawn had never really wanted to go near it again, prefered the isolation of Winterclan, the lack of familiarity. Even though she had lived there, briefly, as a kit, it was nothing like Summerclan.
"Are you sure?" She raised an eyebrow at him, not moving even as she got to her feet. Summerclan territory had a restricting feel, too cramped, too warm and humid, too flat and quiet. She preferred the way the cold air burned her lungs, the mountains, the snow, the lights. Even though she knew every step, would try to find secrets and places just for her, she was hesitant to go forward.
"Yes," Doefreckle replied warmly, looking down at his daughter. He wasn't upset by her moving away; he knew this would take time, and he had all the time in the world now. "About this I'm absolutely sure. Come on." He gestured with his head towards the direction of the SummerClan camp where he knew Shadedsun would be. He knew it would be hard for Lily, incredibly hard, being near the place of such trauma, and he wanted to be patient, didn't want to push - but it was her birthright just as much as it was his home and he couldn't bear it if the two would always be separate. Maybe he was hoping that if she saw the territory through adult eyes, she'd decide to come back. But he knew, logically, that that couldn't happen anymore than he could move to WinterClan.
Still, he reminded himself, stopping after two steps, he couldn't force his will on those he cared about, not anymore. As much as that frustrated the part of him - the dominant part, really - that was so carelessly used to others just giving in to him. Turning back to her, he added more gently, "but if you're not ready just yet - or-or ever - then you can wait here. It's your choice, my love."
Post by goldcrest on Sept 29, 2021 20:13:28 GMT -5
". . . Fine." Hopefully one day she would be able to see the beauty in Summerclan again, but today, right now, she couldn't. But she followed anyway, head kept low as it usually was.
"I know that." She set her mouth in a line, a look that told him that she knew she could leave whenever she wanted, would if she pleased. They had some progress, of course, but any toe over the line could turn it all to dust in mere seconds. Lilydawn let him lead the way, gaze cast towards her paws—which had never seemed more interesting than they did in that moment.
“Okay!” Doe exclaimed excitedly, like he had been expecting her to agree to stay behind and was completely thrown - and delighted - by her coming with him. “Good! Alright! Uh - follow me, then!” Giving her another few quick, beaming looks like he couldn’t believe she was actually going to tag along with him, Doe resisted a little skip and instead just hopped to his paws, cheerfully leading the way to the SummerClan camp with his tail held high and waving in the flower-sweet air. Bees buzzed around him and he could have greeted them one by one he was so happy.
“Oh! And I should have said something earlier, but my name is Doefreckle now, not Doestar. So- just so you know. Good! Okay!” He was grinning from ear to ear like an embarrassing dad. The grin settled into a wide smile that stayed on his face the whole walk back to camp. It was only when it came within sight that he realised how potentially hard this would be and started to slow down, growing more pensive and serious. Drawing up beside the outer walls of the camp, Doe stopped and looked doubtfully at his daughter, trying to see whether she was okay being this close to her childhood home, and whether she would be alright with coming inside or if that was a step too far, too soon. He imagined seeing their old beech den that Shadedsun had once decorated with flowers and that he had decorated with mandarin trees, and potentially her half-siblings, and being confronted by all the familiar smells and sights and sounds would be too much. But he also hesitated to make that decision for her. God, it was going to take a lot to learn how to be a father, especially to an adult. “You had better stay outside, I think,” he told her at last, his voice soft and sombre. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Turning reluctantly and casting one last glance over his shoulder at his daughter, Doe limped around the curve of the wall and slipped in through the entrance. Shaking scraps of honeysuckle from his head and twitching his pelt to get rid of any others, Doe quickly scanned the clearing, feeling both comforted immediately by being somewhere that felt so strongly like home and sickeningly anxious, and then hurried over to the warrior’s den. “Shaded?” he called a moment before he poked his head inside. “Can you come outside for a sec?” He kept talking as he backed out, all his doubts about his behaviour suddenly spilling out of him. He hardly looked at Shaded as he spoke, just looking around at the ground anxiously. “Alright, fair warning, it’s Lilydawn - Lilykit,” he added quickly with a look at the black tom, though he hardly took in the sight of him. “I haven’t told her you’re the surprise. I probably should have. God, I should have. I don’t know what I’m doing. This isn’t the kind of thing you spring on someone. I told her she’d like the surprise. I’m so stupid. Who just wants to suddenly have their dead dad sprung on them? Two dead dads in one day! Could be worse - could be four. This is going to go terribly. Oh my God, what am I doing.” He suddenly looked up at Shadedsun, seeing him clearly for the first time through huge, round, mortified eyes. “I think I’m gonna pass out.” Doe slumped his head forward in panicked defeat, leaning almost all his weight on his forehead resting on Shadedsun’s chest and getting effectively lost in the fluff. “Shaded, this is a disaster. How do I be a dad?” His pitiful voice was completely muffled by his husband-or-whatever-he-was’s black fur, his whole head barely visible. “What do we do? Wait, no, just hold me for a second. I don’t wanna leave the fluff.” The real world didn’t exist in there. It was the most comforting warm abyss.
She hated the way the grass felt beneath her paws, the way the flower scent was too strong, the buzz of bugs and bumblebees. The change in temperature was more noticeable than it had been before, giving Lilydawn a crawling, uncomfortable feeling, like there were bugs in her fur.
but my name is Doefreckle now, she gave a hum of acknowledgement, something that sounded almost uninterested, bored, distracted. It wasn't the best name, not really, she could probably think of a million different names that fit better, but she digressed. She would have to get used to it. He was no longer the leader of Summerclan, she probably should have realized, and he was no longer her dead father, and he was no longer. . . much of anything, really. She couldn't quite not call him her dad, but he wasn't really a friend, or an acquaintance. It left them in a strange spot, because what was she supposed to call him?
I’ll just be a minute.
"Alright," she stopped, took a slight step back. For a brief moment, only a second, fear gripped her. What if he didn't come back? What if he was going to leave and she would be all alone again, she couldn't handle it a third time. But just like that it was a gone. A fleeting thing it was, residue memory from moons and moons and moons passed. She didn't like the way he said it, like she couldn't handle it, like she was made of glass and the second she stepped into that god forsaken camp she would shatter. But he was right, she didn't want to go in, not really. She was already trespassing enough, this wasn't her clan anymore, nor was it her home. She was as much a stranger here as she was in any other place. So she waited, a little impatiently, tail flicking in a mixture of anxiety and irritation.
And in the warriors den lay Shadedsun, stretched out, dozing slightly in the comforting quiet. Can you come outside for a sec? He didn't get up, didn't really move from where he was, belly up, but he did open his eyes, tilted his head slightly. For a moment he didn't hear the anxiety, the worry, didn't suspect anything was too out of the ordinary.
"Of course?" He gave a slight nervous laugh, rolling back onto his stomach and in a sitting position. Before he could say anything else, even dare to move from his spot, Doe continued—Alright, fair warning, it’s Lilydawn - Lilykit—and briefly, the world stopped. He hardly heard Doe's rambles above the slight ringing far off, absnently placed a paw on his back when suddenly he was in front of him. Time caught up not long after, and he was left with the feeling of slight dread. He thought he'd be ready, to hear her voice, to be standing in front of her again. But now, as he was faced with it, he floundered. He'd pestered Doe about it occasionally, always wondered how she was, but perhaps there was a reason he hadn't gone to find her himself. He was scared. How would she think of him? How would he think of her? He struggled to find his words.
"I—I'm sure it's. . . it's fine." His reassurance was empty. "I didn't—I didn't expect this, really," he exhaled sharply. He supposed they would have had to get it over with sooner or later, their eventual reunion. Shaded knew he wouldn't be able to stay ignorant forever, always wondering what she was doing but never actually knowing.
