Warrior Cat Clans 2 (WCC2 aka Classic) is a roleplay site inspired by the Warrior series by Erin Hunter. Whether you are a fan of the books or new to the Warrior cats world, WCC2 offers a diverse environment with over a decade’s worth of lore for you - and your characters - to explore. Join us today and become a part of our ongoing story!
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Doe's pelt wouldn't stop twitching as he stalked towards the edge of the SummerClan border, head thrust forward and fur pricked up along his shoulders and the back of his neck. A growl that had rumbled in his throat since he left camp was still there. Sunpetal - Sunstar he sneered mockingly inside his head - had insisted on an escort, more for the degrading shame of it, the final indignity of an unwanted traitor, than anything, but he'd snapped and snarled that he knew this territory better than anyone and that right now, he had no desire in bleeding hell to stay. SummerClan could erupt into flames and he wouldn't care; he'd cheer on the fire. They could all burn. He'd stalked out of camp, past everyone he loved, past the clamour of protests and shouts and pleading, and he hadn't looked back.
It was only when he neared the border that the grief, the fear, the great, yawning emptiness of having nowhere to go, of losing Shaded when he'd only just found him again (and wasn't that their great tragedy), of losing his kits, his home, started to collapse over the rage, the nasty, narcissistic indignation. His eyes softened from a glare to something so young, so sorrowful, so broken. The familiar landscape - the meadow grass growing dark and brittle from the dawn frost; the last of the morning's mist hanging in the dips of the moorland and in the shadows of the distant treeline as the sun rose; the far-off grave of his son that Lil tended to - sprawled around him. The territory he'd stumbled across by accident all those moons ago and made a home in after searching for one for so long. He had never realised just how much he'd taken it for granted, even under NightClan - it would always be there. Now, he wouldn't be. He was losing this. This home that he'd laid down in with such grand, casual indifference - oh, yes, SummerClan, isn't it lovely - because he'd never though that this beautiful, peacefully, happy home would some day be beyond his reach. He'd always worshipped it. He'd just never realised how much until he was thrown out.
He slowed to a slow, limping walk, and then to a full stop, standing there in the fields he knew, looking around in the early morning as grouse burst from the golden grass and took to the low, grey sky in a chaos of feathers and noise. His Clanmates would hunt them later today. He wouldn't. He would be gone. The fur along his neck slowly flattened, like a melancholy defeat. And that was when he started to cry. That was when the grief, the guilt, outweighed the defensive anger that said it's their fault; I did nothing wrong. It wasn't. It was his. He was losing this because of himself. Doe sat down a little way from the border, shoulders hunched, small and miserable, and he cried. He didn't want to go.
And then, drifting on the cold, quiet breeze with the birdsong, he caught a scent. He raised his head, still sniffing and gagging on his own sobs, and wiped his eye with the back of his good paw. And immediately, though his throat still worked against quiet chokes, wet and breathless, his tears stopped brimming; he blinked them away. So tired and guilty and grief-stricken, already in such a state of disbelief from his exile that the sun could fall from the sky and he wouldn't flinch, Doe just got to his paws and slowly limped to the border. And there was the tom he'd thought he'd never see again.
Letting out a disbelieving burst of a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, Doe limped closer and stopped exactly on the border. His expression was all tired wonder and grief, trying to smile and laugh at the absurd joy of Hywel being there at now of all times. After a moment of just staring at him with a disbelieving, crooked, open-mouthed smile, his cheeks still wet with tears and his eyes so tired they looked slightly delirious, he laughed so softly, "hi." And it was the most absurd, tender sound in the world. He could have almost started laughing; it was just so inconceivable that he was there.
He didn't want to break the fragile, holy beauty of Hywel's presence, knew he probably still hated him, knew he deserved it just as much as he deserved Sunpetal's wrath, but at the same time, with the horror of his exile rendering everything else in the world, everything in the past, so insignificant and small and faded, all he wanted to do was hug him.
That night, when they had left without a single glance back at each other, Hywel felt like he had split into two. There was one side of him that was so utterly furious. He was done with Doefreckle. He was done being played. All he wanted to do after was to sleep his sorrows away, and pretend that nothing had ever happened. He'd fall off the beaten path, hook up with whatever toms would take him in the dark alleys of the city, and soak his troubles away in whatever vices he could indulge in. He could pretend none of this ever happened, and push all of this anger and frustration and pain down as if nothing had ever happened.
Yet there was a part of him, however small, however childish, that he tried to stifle, to crush lest it got a hold of him, that still held that longing. That truly grieved the loss of this relationship, this connection they had. That despite all the red flags and betrayal, still looked upon the tom with those rose-tinted lenses. It was the problem, wasn't it? Red flags simply looked white if you wore those rose-tinted glasses all the time, and he was aware of that. Gods, he was so aware of that, and still...he missed him. Missed the company Doefreckle provided, missed the way they had connected, felt that he couldn't possibly love anyone as much as he cared for Doefreckle. The way he had comforted him after Rhiannon's outburst, the way they had both been such outsiders, the fact that they held secrets that others just couldn't understand...
It was hard to find a kindred soul, and it was that kindred soul he had mourned. When Doefreckle never returned, he had accepted it with a heavy heart, that this was the end. He hadn't allowed himself to mourn it, not properly at least, but he had drowned it in whatever he was doing, whether it was that murder he was hellbent on trying to figure out, or just finding another fight to get into, another fling to throw himself in...
He had found himself here that evening, after having a conversation with another cat, a fair friend of his that mentioned with amusement how the clan cats were tearing each other apart, something about the NightClan leader being insane and taking over SummerClan...he had stopped in that moment, asking to clarify. SummerClan. Doefreckle's clan.
As much as he had tried to stifle those feelings, as much as he was still absolutely furious with the other cat, he couldn't help but worry. The two sides of him had fought bitterly. Why should he care? He had his clan, he had his flings and lovers and it wasn't like he would've done anything for him. He had left when the tough got going, after all, why should he care?
Then again, he had never been good at separating himself from any situation that his heart was involved in. That was how he ended up here too, with Rhiannon. He had never been able to say no. He didn't think the other tom would be around; from what he had heard, the cats around that area were still...well, at war, but he just wanted to check, maybe make sure that he was still alive for gods' sake...when they found themselves staring at each other.
Hi. Hywel was frozen in the spot, his baby blues looking so hopeful and relieved that Doefreckle was all right, he was alive...before the part of him that often took the steering wheel found itself in the driver's seat again. The look of hope disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by the reproachfulness as he hesitated, wondering what to say.
"I..." he cleared his throat, "I just wanted to make sure you're fine." His voice was gruff, as he tried to pretend he didn't care at all. "I see that I didn't need to worry about you at all, so I guess I'll be taking my leave." His words were so stilted and formal it barely sounded like him.
Doe had lurched forward before he even realised it. “Wait,” he blurted out desperately. Limping quickly around, he cut Hywel off, looking up at him with pleading, tearful eyes. “I’m not fine. Everything has been awful, Hywel. I made a terrible mistake and now I have nowhere to go — my friend hates me, my Clan doesn’t want me, everything I’ve built for myself is just gone.” The word came out in a sob of disbelief, like even he couldn’t comprehend it, like it was still such a raw wound that hadn’t sunken in yet, that wouldn’t truly sink in until he was lying alone at night with his own grief. He took a step closer, looking up at Hywel with his brows drawn up and together; he knew how pitiful he sounded, how desperate he looked, but he couldn’t help it. He was those things. “And I— I miss you, and I’m sorry, and I would do anything to take back the way I treated you. But I can’t. All I can do is beg you for another chance — if not— if not to be your lover, then to be your friend.”
He knew how bad this looked. How much it seemed like he was only pursuing Hywel’s favour again because he had nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to, how much it seemed like he’d had no interest in him until he’d been abandoned and all other doors had closed to him. And because Doe was fundamentally self-serving, there was a small part of him that was thinking like that — Hywel just happened to be here; Hywel was susceptible to him, he could be worn down, he wouldn’t turn him away, not if he grovelled and pleaded and cried; Hywel was the perfect answer, the perfect saviour.
But the majority of him wasn’t thinking that at all. The whole of NightClan’s occupation, he’d been too highly strung with paranoia and guilt and fear to give much thought to Hywel beyond the faded image he had of him in his head late at night, or at soft, beautiful moments when he felt a sudden jolt of yearning in his chest because he wanted to show it to him, wanted to share it with him. But now, seeing Hywel when everything had been stripped away from him because of his own selfishness, he’d been confronted so suddenly by what he truly wanted, by the only other thing that mattered if he’d lost everything else. Denied everything else, he’d seen Hywel for the first time and it had felt like the most radiant burst of pure, innocent, aching wanting, like the silver tom had a halo around his head.
But he wouldn’t see that. Hywel would just see the tom Doe had always been, using everyone else. Even when this was the purest thing Doe had ever felt, even when his clear, pleading eyes were looking up at him with not a hint of deception in them, even when his heart was glowing in his chest with the magnitude of what he wanted, Hywel wouldn’t believe it. And he couldn’t blame him.
“I’m sorry, Hywel. Surely this is punishment enough for what I did to you — for what I’ve done to everyone who’s cared for me. But if it’s not, I’ll do anything to make it up to you — anything. Please.” His brow was creased with a begging frown, eyes so tired and sad and afraid. I love you, he wanted to say, but he didn’t. It would be too unfair. Too cruel a pleading point, too sharp and low a weapon. And it could undo everything, could make Hywel scoff and snarl and turn on him. He was walking such a deadly tightrope with a yawning chasm on either side; one wrong step, one little fumble, one expression out of place, and he fell in. And so he stayed still and quiet and desperate, waiting.
He didn't know what to believe. Gods, seeing him like this broke his heart. As much as he had told himself how much he hated Doefreckle for what he did, there was a part of him that cried for him, that bled whenever he spoke so tearfully, that still wanted to take care of the other cat. He hated knowing that Doefreckle was hurt; that was why he was here, wasn't it? Because he had felt so worried that the first thing he did was to immediately head towards the border of a warring clan just to see him? Just to make sure he was okay, damned be the consequences?
Yet, he knew deep inside that Doefreckle's words weren't some metaphor for his life falling apart because they were separated. He didn't know the whole story, but the other cat wouldn't be so desperate if he had nowhere to turn to. The rose-coloured glasses had hidden plenty in the past but he had taken them off, and now he saw things for what they were, and part of him, however much he pretended otherwise, knew that Doefreckle was begging for him because there was no where else to turn to.
What was better? To not have the one you loved, or to know that you were only ever a last resort?
You're better than this, a voice in the back of his head spoke loud and clear. You deserve better, he would've told anyone if this was a story he had heard from another cat's mouth...and yet when Doefreckle said the three words, I miss you, all of that flew out of the window. He wanted to believe it. Gods, he so wanted to believe it. He was falling all over again, for a cat he knew didn't give a single [bleep] about him other than a warm lay and a place to rest his head when the rest of the world was against him.
If Hywel had any sense of self-respect he would've walked away, but still, he stood, frozen, unable to decide. He had always been a softhearted cat, and for once, there was a tiredness in his eyes, one that seemed worn down, because he'd never admit it but no one had worn him down quite as much like this....whatever this was with Doefreckle.
It was a self-inflicted hell, to take back the cat he had loved knowing that there'd never be anything there. Knowing that at the end of the day, the other would not, could not, love him. It was punishment, all right, to love someone knowing they could never love back. Perhaps the gods really did want to punish him for slaying their prophet years ago, for not resigning to his fate. His heart ached in his chest. He wanted to hope so badly, to relish in the possibility that maybe Doefreckle really could love him back but...
"Come on, you look exhausted," he spoke quietly, "I know a place you can stay, though you'll have to speak to management first." He gestured for Doefreckle to follow him, but his eyes refused to meet the warm brown ones. He was strangely polite, removed from the situation because as much as he wanted to trust Doefreckle, wanted to open his heart once more, the walls had been built already, miles high into the sky as they walked together, separated by an invisible wall.
Doe hardly dared breathe as he gazed up into Hywel's eyes, waiting for him to make a choice. And when he finally did, when he spoke, Doe let out a tearful, relieved burst of breath that was almost a laugh, his expression so weary and broken and disbelieving. Come on, you look exhausted. He just nodded, not daring to speak, not even to say the thank you that was burning a hole in his throat. He was too afraid to say a word in case it was the wrong one, in case it shattered this delicate peace held together by mutual pain and kindness Doefreckle wasn't owed.
He limped along quick enough that he caught up to Hywel and fell in beside him, looking down at his paws as they walked. Despite all the terror, the grief, the guilt, his mind was strangely empty; he just limped along at Hywel's side, feeling cold and quiet and hollow and so oddly, bleakly unaffected. It would come later, he supposed, in the night or in a week. And then he'd break. He was always so good at holding it together at first. But all that did was give the heartache time to fester and grow until when it finally ruptured, he couldn't cope, couldn't push it back down, could only weep in confusion and fear as all that pain exploded around him.
Finally, though, he slowly dared to raise his head to look at Hywel beside him, eyes miserable and soft. "I really am so sorry, Hywel," he murmured, voice so quiet. "Pushing you away was what brought me to this point. If I'd just stayed, if I'd just..." Let myself love you. He hung his head, suddenly so weighed down, so defeated, by all the mistakes he'd made. "If I'd just been what you deserved, this wouldn't have happened. But it did. I ruined it, and now everything is destroyed. Because of me. Because I was too stupid." On the last words, Doe's voice was so hatefully bitter, practically spitting them. His face twisted into a snarl, broken by all his hatred, all his guilt, all his contempt for himself. He'd been good - he'd been good - and he'd squandered it. Finally, he looked away from Hywel, still too emotionally repressed to not feel embarrassed, vulnerable, self-conscious about his own feelings, about the cracks in his perfect facade.
But for once, Doe wasn't saying the words for pity, for assurances to the contrary - he was saying them because he knew they were true. He was being honest, was holding himself accountable, was grieving his cruelty not because it had backfired, and not because he was humiliated by the shame of who he was, but because he had done wrong. And it was the most painful feeling in the world, this openness he'd been running from all his life.
Post by achromatic on Dec 11, 2021 18:49:15 GMT -5
He didn't really know why he was doing any of this; his heart ached so strongly right now, and he felt so many emotions that he truly felt numb to it all. The rage, the fury, the frustration, the longing...all of it was overshadowed by this feeling of awkwardness as they walked together. What could he say to make things feel right? It wasn't his place, it wasn't even his responsibility anymore. Doefreckle had told him he wasn't interested and gods, as much as he tried to forget it all, he was fixated on it. He couldn't take his mind off of the words the tom had spoken the last time they met, about how he had never loved him in the first place, how the other tom didn't feel anything at all for him, and how utterly broken he had felt afterward.
Love really was cruel, he thought, still feeling that hollowness in his chest. When Doefreckle's apology began, he listened, despite his downcast look, but even if Doefreckle hadn't meant for these words to be self-pitying at all, it sounded all the same to Hywel, as if it was his fault. He wanted to comfort the other cat, to say that it wasn't his fault, but his tongue had a mind of its own.
"Yeah, I guess you were exactly what I deserved," he spoke, sounding just a little too bitter as if the other cat was pouring salt on a fresh wound. The silver tom immediately clammed up, cursing his own mouth for speaking too quickly. He shouldn't be hitting another when he was already down, and Hywel knew it was cruel, to take someone in when they had nowhere left to turn to and to still let that bitterness manifest within him, like a plague across the landscape of his own mind, poisoning every fiber of him with that hard edge where everything had once been softness.
Still, he couldn't ignore it, couldn't ignore the elephant in the room. Sucking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes, slowly letting it all out once more, before finally turning to Doefreckle with the same tired look, the hollow expression still evident in the dark rings around his eyes. "Let's not keep lying to ourselves," he replied quietly, "you're tired and you have nowhere to go and I'm not going to kick you out into the cold even if you don't return my feelings, so you don't need to backtrack on what you said last time. I remember what you said and I get it. You don't need to keep lying to me about it. You knew exactly how I felt about deserving each other, and I don't know what else to say to you about that, okay?"
His expression did soften. "I didn't mean to snap at you and I'm sorry, but you tearing apart your life right now isn't going to help anyone. You can tell me tomorrow, but not when you're tired. You're more self-destructive when you're tired." He had noticed that, after all, how the tom seemed to turn his back on everything and tear everything apart when the day was over, and while he had tried to–god forbid–save the other cat, or fix him or something back in the day, he wasn't the same idealistic love drunk tom he was moons ago.
The mansion came into view, and he looked around, wondering if anyone was going to stop them. When no one appeared, he gestured towards a back entrance. "Come on," he murmured, "we can talk to someone about you staying here tomorrow morning, all right? Are you hungry?"
Yeah, I guess you were exactly what I deserved. Doe seemed to shrink into himself, visibly hurt. As Hywel continued, he could only stare back at him in plaintive, unwilling silence; he wanted to cry but I do return your feelings, but either he knew it would be the cruelest time to say it, and that he wouldn't be believed - there was a terrible, helpless certainty about that, like being faced with some insurmountable barrier between them - or he was too afraid. Either way, as much as he screamed at himself to, he couldn't choke the words out.
You're more self-destructive when you're tired. He flinched slightly, an odd combination of pain, poisonous anger (what do you know?), and the guilty knowledge that he'd seen through him so easily roiling in his chest. They'd only known each other a few moons and already Hywel understood him, understood all the worst parts of him. And he hadn't said anything, the whole time they'd been together - he'd just filed away the irritating, frustrating, painful parts of him and still loved him, still smiled, still accepted him. And he'd thrown that away. The knowledge hurt even more now. Doe looked down, swallowing quietly. "Maybe," he muttered softly, still not looking at him. The shame of being known - the terrifying vulnerability of it, the vulnerability that always made him run - was far stronger than the comfort of it.
When next Hywel spoke, Doe raised his eyes miserably to see where they were - and was confronted by the Mansion. He suddenly stopped dead, eyes widening and flooding with terror - with pure horror. Obviously he should have known where Hywel was taking him, but he was so drained that he'd just fallen in beside him like a dog on a leash, blind to their surroundings. Now, though, it all came crashing down. "Hywel, I can't be here," he babbled in a panic, knowing how nonsensical, how ungrateful, it was to throw his offer back in his face when he had no where else to go - but he hadn't expected to be led into the heart of the League. He looked like a deer in the headlights, but less frozen stupor and more pure, frantic fear. With all the ways the League had ripped his life open, he'd never been to their camp, never been anywhere close to it; now, to be surrounded by their scent, to see all those black, gaping windows and imagine all the eyes glinting out, seeing the soft little SummerClan exile - it was horrifying. "I told you what they did to me," he pleaded with Hywel, his voice desperately, senselessly afraid. "You might not be afraid of them but I am. Please..." He took a step back, eyes still locked beseechingly with those of the tom he loved.
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Post by achromatic on Dec 13, 2021 7:37:46 GMT -5
He knew he was being unnecessarily cruel, but Hywel honest to god didn't think twice about bringing Doefreckle to his home. The silver tom was tired, and he was frustrated and confused with all the feelings rolling inside of him like an unresolved puzzle he had thrown against the wall out of anger, only to see it smashed to bits without another thought. He had never felt so unhinged as he did now, and he was almost scared of himself, of how he was snapping without thinking and how he stood out like an exposed nerve, painful and vulnerable.
Hywel's anger was resolute. There was nothing about this situation that had lessened it. Even seeing his lover like this–begging him to take him back, seeing him so broken and hurt over this–provided no enjoyment, no sense of smug satisfaction or spiteful fulfillment. Instead, Doefreckle's acceptance of it all made him even more upset at being stuck in this impossible situation, wallowing in a bitterness he couldn't seem to get out of.
Yet the moment Doe's horrified babble came out of his mouth, that anger dissipated as if nothing had ever happened, and his expression only changed to one of concern. He had forgotten. The tom cursed under his breath; how could he have forgotten? Did Doefreckle think it was something he did on purpose? To punish him? He hoped not. His baby blues blinked at Doefreckle, before glancing back at the mansion helplessly. Where else could they go? "I–" he started, looking at the stone walls of his home, "I didn't mean to...I uh...where else can we go?"
He gave it a thought, before looking around as if the forest would speak answers to him rather than stay silent, stone-faced at their misery. "Do you...we could..." There was an old house, a haunted one up in the mountains, but he had no desire to go there at all. "There's the city..." he muttered, "but there's not a lot of places in our territory that are as comfortable...we could avoid the other cats if we go into the basement..."
He gave Doefreckle a concerned look. "Would the city work for you?" he offered, "the church..." He swallowed thickly. Gods, were they really going back there? Where they had once whispered sweet nothings to each other, reminding him of all of this once more? He felt an itch in his coat at the mere thought of returning back to where they once dwelled, as if the ghosts of his past would simply catch up to him there. "I can bring you there but I don't want to stay in the city," he mumbled, lest he fall victim to his vices once again, because the gods knew he could really use something to take the edge off right now.
As Hywel stammered for a solution, Doe just gazed at him miserably, frozen in place and hunched into himself. He wanted to overcome his fear of the League, wanted to know the place that Hywel called home, even if it paralysed him — but he couldn’t now, not now, with the night sky looming over them and danger all around and exhaustion making his thoughts fuzzy and fearful.
The church… Doe nodded for the first time; as Hywel listed all the other options, he’d just stayed silent, expression so childishly, tiredly stricken. Now, the memory of a safer place filled his chest with hope like light made liquid; he didn’t have the same painful memories of it as Hywel did, still held it as a special, loving place and not one tinged with heartbreak. Maybe that was the perk of being the heartbreaker. “Yes,” he agreed immediately, voice quiet, barely more than a whisper. “Please. Maybe in the morning we can… come back.” He dared to glance around the dark, shadowy clearing the Mansion lay in, shrinking down further as a shiver threatened to ripple through him, his ears pinned back slightly. “But not now.” Distantly, he was comforted by the fact it also meant he wouldn’t have to deal with Hywel’s sister if they shared a den; he could stand up to her usually, but now he thought he’d crumble if she poked at his wounds. He wouldn’t say it, but he was afraid of her.
He stayed where he was, hunch-shouldered like he was in pain, offering Hywel a small smile from beneath anxious, tired eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I don’t want to be a burden, but… thank you, Hywel.” More quietly, guiltily, he added, “you don’t have to stay once we get there. I’ll be fine on my own.” It wasn’t true — he wanted him there more than anything — but none of this was fair. Perhaps it wasn’t selfish to let yourself lean on someone when you needed it, but Doe thought it was; everything he did was selfish and cruel to him, and forcing his presence on the tom whose heart he’d broken was no different. But at the same time, as he imagined a lonely night in a cavernous cathedral, alone in the echoing dark with unknown sounds, starting and looking about anxiously at every distant fall of a candle or clatter in an alcove, he would have given anything for Hywel to be there with him. To feel safe and warm with him. But maybe, he thought, numb with grief and guilt and self- bitterness, he would have yearned for that from anyone who happened to be there.
The tom was almost envious, of how relaxed Doefreckle seemed as they spoke of their old haunts, as if the city wasn't just crawling with bad memories and temptations for him to drown out all the noise. Then again, it was Hywel who was the one who always seemed unaffected by life, who was so naive to think that this place could be more of a home than anywhere they had stayed. He sighed; eventually he'd have to get over it. After this, he could just pretend that none of it had happened and go back to his moping...except...
As he gestured towards the city's direction and they walked, he realized that if Doefreckle did find some type of...solace? Sanctuary in this place? That he'd have to see him more than he ever had, and wasn't that just as painful? To confront the cat who had smashed his heart to pieces, a cat who deep down inside, he still had feelings for, and to see him grow? See him flirt with others, even fall for others when he had been not enough?
For a moment, the bitterness welled up once more, and gods, even in his lowest moment, Doefreckle had someone to fall back on. Perhaps he would've thought so of himself but these days, he wasn't so sure. Rhiannon barely spoke to him; who else did he have? He had been supported by his sister for so long that this was...new. There wasn't anyone pulling him out of the darkness he found himself falling into. For Doefreckle, he was almost glad that at least someone out there had help. For everything else, all he could feel was an overwhelming feeling of being lost, unable to grasp onto anything that'd give him a direction.
His own thoughts were dark enough to make him shudder, only broken by the quiet thank you leaving Doefreckle's mouth. A burden...was that it? What Doefreckle assumed he was? He wanted to argue, to say that of course not, he'd never be a burden, but he knew that it wouldn't sound sincere from his own mouth. He only gave the other cat a stiff nod, as they neared the brick walls that marked the city, the spire of the cathedral standing so tall in the distance.
The city was often different at night, every silence felt longer, every noise felt louder. As they ascended the stairs of the cathedral, and he gestured to a few bins by a backdoor that was the perfect way to climb onto the stone slopes that led towards a window, he paused, wondering whether this was too difficult a climb for the other cat. The church should've been safe but Hywel knew better than to expect anything in these streets and alleyways. Even now, there was an urge he had to protect the other cat. Would he stay? He knew the temptations to make sure the other cat wasn't alone, but gods, he'd curse his own name if he was falling for this again, to just be another warm body for a cat who didn't care about him, as if he hadn't done the same to so many along the way.
"Do you need help?" he asked quietly, interrupting his own thoughts, "there should be an entrance to the top from here."
Doe scuttled forward to fall in close beside Hywel, slinking along hunch-shouldered at his side; he cast a last, fearful glance over his shoulder at the Mansion as it faded behind the dark undergrowth, imagining that he saw all manner of beasts peering out at him from the black windows. Turning his head back the way they were going, he moved a bit closer to Hywel, brushing their fur together for comfort.
He limped in silence beside the other tom as they left the woods behind and the city began to rise around them; his eyes stayed on the ground, hardly registering the change from earth to concrete. With the promise of a place he knew and the night assured to be more or less safe, all the energy that had been keeping him going had trickled out of him; he was left numb and quiet, the horror of a life without SummerClan still not fully sinking in. He just felt tired - one paw in front of the other until he could lie down. When at last Hywel spoke, Doe hadn't even realised they'd slowed to a stop; he started his head up, glancing at the other tom before turning his head this way and that to look around at the alley. Then Hywel's question registered and he raised his head to look up at the window; to any other cat it wouldn't have looked high at all, but to Doe it looked like trying to climb to the sky itself, an impossible ask. His heart sank with the familiar quiet shame of being so useless.
For a long moment, his old fear, his own stubbornness, threatened to overwhelm him again; he never asked for help, never mentioned his paw at all beyond vague, sheepish requests to slow down or crass jokes at his own expense, like the thing that had thrown his whole life off course, the thing that he hated only second to himself, the thing that kept him awake at night with grief, didn't bother him at all.
But then, finally, in a quiet voice that was so hopelessly pitiful, so apologetic, so ashamed, he replied, "yes. Please. I'm sorry-" He suddenly backed away, shaking his head and forcing a more cheerful note into his voice, like he wasn't bothered at all; it just made him sound more desperate, "I can just stay here. This is fine. I don't need to go into the church." He let out a breathy laugh, not looking Hywel in the eye in case he saw just how much he didn't want that, how frightened the prospect of spending the night in an alley made him. The fact was, if that truly was the easiest way inside, Hywel was probably going to have to haul him up by the scruff like a kit - and that indignity, that prospect of having to ask the tom he loved to do that, that embarrassing, terrifying vulnerability of relenting his own self-imposed distance and putting himself in someone else's paws when no one would ever want the burden of caring for a broken cat, had his throat nearly closing up. He looked down at his paws, eyes darting unseeingly and cheek dimpling as he smooshed his mouth to the side to stop himself from crying.
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Post by achromatic on Dec 20, 2021 14:06:09 GMT -5
Hywel's gaze turned to the boxes that stacked up on the bins, too full to be stuffed inside. Despite Doefreckle's protests, he preferred to help, and at the end of the day, thinking of a solution to a tiny problem–getting up to the window of the church–was easier than actually confronting the turmoil of his own churning mind. His steps were light despite his heavy heart, as he leaped atop the bins, before pushing the cardboard boxes off of it, allowing them to tumble down to the ground, one of them landing on the ground next to the bins, another flattened one creating a sort of ramp.
It wasn't perfect, and it wouldn't make it an easy walk; the path was still not exactly step-free access, but it'd be easier for Doefreckle at least. "Is this better?" he asked, looking at the other tom, for the first time allowing their eyes to meet, before he looked down, almost sheepishly. "It's going to be cold out here and you never know with the cat catchers, it's better if we stay out of the wind. Don't want you to have to go to Charlotte; she's not exactly the best healer when it comes to getting sick I'm afraid."
He knew Doefreckle must hate it, asking for help. In fact, the other tom seemed to hate asking for anything at all, as if any sort of request or emotion other than flippant apathy was something distasteful in his mouth, but at least it didn't mean Hywel would be carrying him on his back or something, right? Frankly, he wasn't sure how the other cat would react; even in the past, their little flirtationship had been unpredictable to say the least, but after their last meeting...Hywel didn't seem to be able to read anything. He approached this like approaching a wounded animal, unable to turn away from helping and yet, wary that the elephant in the room would lash out at any minute, from either of them.
Hywel hated seeing Doefreckle cry, however silently he seemed to do so. Even after all the frustration and anger, he cared so, so much about him. He didn't know whether to cherish that part of. him or to hate it. "Hey," he spoke quietly, "I don't know what happened back home but...things will get better, okay? Tomorrow it'll be a new day and the sun will be up and you'll have time to...think about what you want to do next. Let's just get some rest tonight, it'll be better tomorrow, I promise."
When Hywel created a path for him, a path that he could use without having to put his dignity in someone else’s paws, for a long moment Doe just gazed at it, so overwhelmed by the simple gesture that he looked almost forlorn. It was so small, so seemingly meaningless, but to him… No one aside from Shaded had ever cared enough to give him the consideration, the chance, to do something by himself by just making it easier for him. Finally, pulling himself together enough to snap out of the daze of grief and heartache and gratitude, Doe raised his head to look at Hywel and gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he murmured quietly. Looking down again with a little frown to focus on where he was putting his paws, he limped tentatively up, pausing every time it buckled under his weight to readjust himself and move slightly to the edge or to the centre — and finally, after a few minutes that might have felt humiliating at any other time, being watched while he struggled, but that now just felt like pure freedom, Doe made it up and stopped in front of Hywel, raising his head to fix him with a smile brighter and beaming and more proud than it had looked all day. “Not so awful,” he greeted him, and his voice was so quiet, little more than a small, smiling breath.
Let’s just get some rest tonight. For the first time since he’d started his limp up to reach him, Hywel’s words truly sank in. “So… you’re staying tonight?” he asked, and his sounded slightly fearful, because it had bloomed hope in his heart and he was so afraid that if he said the wrong thing, if he pushed the issue, Hywel would change his mind and leave him here. With a single small, jerking step, Doe bridged the distance between them, his eyes never leaving Hywel’s, his head tilted back slightly so the sides of their muzzles were only separate by the faintest graze of fur. Doe opened his mouth slightly, feeling faintly desperate as he looked up at him; he could feel Hywel’s warm breath on his face, could feel his own hitting the silver tom’s cheek and washing back over his fur. “I’d like it if you did,” he breathed. There was nothing flirtatious about it, nothing seductive; it was just yearning eyes and soft brows and a last attempt to reach out and grasp this love they’d had.
It was the wrong thing to say — he knew it even as he said it; knew it would only frighten Hywel off, make him close up again, open him back up to the possibility that Doe was lying again. But he had to say it, had to tell the truth, had to show him he wanted to try again, wanted to make up for all his hurt, even if his method of doing so was throwing himself at Hywel’s paws and at his mercy when the both of them were so tired, so drained, so lonely. When they were in such a vulnerable place. He gazed up at him, eyes darting between Hywel’s gaze with a desperate sort of question.
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Post by achromatic on Dec 21, 2021 19:03:23 GMT -5
He hadn't intended to stay the night at first but seeing how wrecked the other cat was, he couldn't help the tug at his heart. The soft thank you made his chest ache, as he watched the other cat follow behind, finally looking away after a couple of moments, once he was certain Doefreckle would be fine, he meandered towards the window, using his paws to push it, enough to create a gap for them to slip through, only to walk back towards the other cat as he made his way to the top. Not so awful, Hywel could agree with that. He gave the other cat a nod, a brief smile gracing his features even if it didn't quite reach his eyes.
The tom had still not figured out what the plan was, but Doefreckle's quiet question made him realize that there was a choice to be made. Was he staying? He glanced towards the direction of the forest, of the mansion that seemed so damn far now. When he turned back to look at the other cat, he was so close he could feel the other cat's breath on his whiskers, the dark, imploring eyes wide as his namesake, and Hywel couldn't help but take a step back, too surprised to react.
He wasn't rejecting the notion, not yet, but he couldn't be so close to the cat of his desires, to the cat his anger and frustration and yearning belonged to. He couldn't quite meet Doefreckle's eyes, but he couldn't say no either. The few moments in between seemed to last forever, but the answer had been predestined from the start.
"Yeah," he replied quietly, "sure I'll stay." Just to make sure you're all right, was the unspoken word. Just to make sure you're safe. Nothing else. He felt his cheeks flush regardless, as he cleared his throat, before looking towards the window. "Come on, let's get out of the wind," he didn't want to get close in case he was burned again, but there was a part of him that fell into place as they walked side by side, as if nothing had ever happened between the two of them.
Doe smiled, staying silent. That smile lingered on Hywel for a moment as he passed him, before his attention turned to the window and he led the way through it and into the cathedral, hauling himself over the windowsill and scrambling down to a wooden cabinet on the other side. It was the only time Doe didn’t look elegant, when he was doing any physical activity; then he looked clumsy and soft, all his attention focused on keeping weight off his paw. Once he was safely on the cabinet, he searched about for a way down to the flagstone floor and saw a red-padded kneeler pressed up against it. Crouching at the edge and reaching down with one paw to touch it and get his balance, he dropped the rest of his body down a moment later, after a few tentative, nervous shuffles to test and readjust his weight. But once on the floor, he straightened up and looked around, saying nothing about it; it was just a daily part of his life.
At night, the cathedral was both eerier than it had been when they’d first been there, and far more beautiful. It was haunting. Black and silver and grey; towering ceilings and empty air; utter silence. Moonlight melted in through the arched windows, but with all the places for shadows to hide — beneath the pews, among the carved wood of the pulpit, behind the mounted cross with Christ bleeding out upon it — it did little to dispel the vast, echoing darkness. The galleries felt endless. Velvet cloth lay draped along the length of a table near the altar, laden with unburned candles for the next morning’s service; no wax pooled at their bases, no smoke drifted from their wicks. It felt like the world was frozen in time, like without any human eyes within the cathedral, it had fallen silent and still, the very dust motes suspended in place until next the doors opened.
Standing there among it, Doefreckle felt impossibly small, impossibly unimportant. It both hollowed out his chest with grief and gave him an indescribable, melancholy comfort. He let out a breath and breathed in another, the air cold and sweet in his lungs. Finally, breaking the spell, he turned his head and looked up when he heard Hywel clamber through the window after him. “It’s even more beautiful than it was the last time,” he whispered; though there was no need to be quiet this time, it still felt like a sin to raise his voice, like the very air of the cathedral was owed deference, submission, love. He’d never known fear to feel so much like the latter.
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Post by achromatic on Dec 22, 2021 19:52:39 GMT -5
The church was a familiar space to him too. Once he had entered here for a sanctuary, to get away from the world and all of its troubles, and now, he wasn't so sure what it was. As they stood there, in the soft chiaroscuro light of the moon, seeing the tall ceilings in such a different light than when he first did. It once was a temple dedicated to the sun, and now it was hallowed ground in the moonlight as if they had walked into a room that demanded silence.
It felt like he was watching the world pass in slow motion.
Then again, it always felt like that when he stood with Doefreckle. Time always moved differently with him, after all. For a moment, the cathedral felt haunted. It felt like sitting in a space, empty but for the feeling of being lost in space, in the universe itself. There was a darkness here that was so different than in the day. There was an emptiness, a feeling almost oppressive in only how vast it was.
Hywel too felt impossibly small, but if Doefreckle thought it beautiful, Hywel felt the opposite. The moment Doefreckle spoke of last time, the tom's throat tightened. He still didn't know what to feel about the other cat; the last time they spoke there had been so much anger, so much rage. He had lost the ability to read him, and now...
"Please don't," his voice was but a whisper, as if afraid that they'd end up as two lost souls reminiscing over how much fun they had together as if the weeks ago were just good old days to be laughed at as if they never hurt at all. It wasn't the kind of joke he wanted to make, it wasn't the kind of laughter he wanted to hear, it wasn't the kind of self-deprecating humour he was ready to share, as if his unfortunate love life was something to be tossed around and dismissed as naivete. He wasn't ready for all of that. Oh, how the tables had turned; he was once the one so bold and Doefreckle the one who felt the need to stay hushed, and here they were, taking completely opposite stances.
He shook his head, giving the other cat a weak smile as if to pretend that his moment of weakness had never happened. "Nevermind," he mumbled, looking around, "I've just...never seen this place at night." As if what pained him wasn't the fact that his mind was running that date, over and over again. He looked towards the front pews, brightening at the sight of a blanket, tucked away to the side. "Look," he gestured towards it, "that'll make a comfortable nest...at least for tonight."
Doe looked like he had been hit, immediately closing his mouth and growing silent. But he nodded, a small, single movement, guilty and sorrowful, and dropped his eyes. He was used to anger, to disapproval, being painful, broken bones and bruises and teeth, but somehow his pleading hurt more. Because the other tom was hurting, too. When Hywel spoke, with that cheer forced into his voice, Doe raised his head and followed his gaze to the blanket. Unbidden, he remembered the date he had set up for Chim, the one-eyed tom’s trepidation about the twoleg comfort. That felt like lifetimes ago now, and in a way, it was. Doe just gazed at it for a long moment, both rooted so sad and glum and quiet in the present and miles away in the past, before he finally looked back to Hywel. “Sleep in the same nest, you mean?” he replied quietly, sounding fearful and taken aback in such a monotonous, tired way, like talking, feeling, treading over this hurt between them was draining what little life he had left in him. “I thought you’d want to be as far away from me as possible.” These words were quieter, impossibly so. Ashamed.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Hywel,” he continued quietly, still gazing across at him. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay with me if you don’t want to be here, much less share a nest with me. You’ve done your part — it was more than you needed to do, and I’ll be grateful to you for the rest of my life. But you don’t need to stay.” He looked down. I want you to, he added to himself, but he was too tired to say the words aloud, didn’t deserve to say them. I want you to more than anything. “You can go,” he murmured, but it was clear from the way he gazed at the floor that he was hoping against hope that he wouldn’t.
It was selfish, Doefreckle knew that. He was horribly selfish for wanting this tom to stay with him for his sake after all he’d done, to keep him company, to stop him being afraid in the night, to offer him warmth. But this brand of selfishness, this love, was something he couldn’t shake. Head still bowed and eyes not on Hywel because he didn’t want to watch him walk away, Doe limped over to the pew and hauled himself up with exhausted, fragile weakness, pawing the blanket into a makeshift nest and lying down squeezed against the corner of the back and arm. Blinking sadly down at the blanket, he rested his cheek on his forepaws, careful to keep only the light weight of his muzzle on his broken one; it was something that was muscle memory by now. He waited to hear the sound of Hywel leaping back up onto the cabinet and disappearing through the window into the cold night. The sound would break his heart, leave him shivering in the icy, echoing quiet, but it was the closure Hywel was owed.
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Post by achromatic on Dec 28, 2021 15:03:56 GMT -5
He didn't know what to think. He had been so hurt and now Doefreckle's quiet tone made him go over his own words again and again as if he was in a loop. "I don't know," he admitted finally, the cheeriness leaving his cheeks. It was just a lot to take in. "I..." he hesitated, sucking in a deep breath before slowly releasing it. "To be honest I don't know why I'm here," he finally admitted, "it's not...you, I just...I need a little time to think. It's a lot....a lot to process right now, you know that, right?" His baby blues stared into Doefreckle's searching, as if still not trusting that this was all just one big lapse of judgment, and wondering if he was right to be here. Was he taking advantage of Doefreckle's situation now? Or was he so lacking in self-respect that he'd do anything for a cat who rejected him? Or was this truly love, to accept a cat no matter what, to desire the best for them even after all that had happened?
These questions weren't the right ones for a tired cat to think through. "I'm sorry I'm not...being the version of myself you knew me as," he replied tiredly, "but that doesn't mean I'm going to leave you here on your own. You never know around these parts," –and not to mention last time, you were scared of the city, he thought to himself. That certainly didn't seem like it'd change overnight. Still, he wasn't sure if he was ready to sleep side by side with the cat he still couldn't wrap his head around, not when he felt like this. Doefreckle was like a glass of poison to a man in a desert, so tempting to drink even when he knew what could happen.
"You can sleep first," his voice was soft with both sleep and in an attempt to provide a kindness at least; Doefreckle didn't need to blame himself for anything more, even if he still held that whirlwind of emotions for the other cat, "I can keep watch for a bit." He wouldn't have wanted to be alone in a mindset like that either, and he'd be damned if he let another cat suffer that way.
Doe listened in silence, and when Hywel asked ’you know that, right?’, he smiled, eyes closing as he gave a little nod, pretending to be happy and unbothered — no, yeah, of course — and not in terrible pain. I’m sorry I’m not… being the version of myself you knew me as. I love you in every version, he almost replied. But he bit it back. Instead, he just smiled again, this time more sympathetically, his eyes soft and his head tilted, and murmured, “you’re wonderful in every version. I’m sorry I’m just terrible in all of them.” It was a joke, a poor one, and he gave a little grin and a little breath of laughter.
At his offer, he didn’t bother arguing. He just gave a thankful, quiet smile and rested his chin on the soft fabric. And when he slept, he dreamed of honeysuckle and claws in his paws, of icy sapphire blue eyes and teeth snarling exile, and as he dreamed, tears slipped their way down his cheeks, warm amid all the echoing darkness of the cathedral. He wasn’t home. He wasn’t alone, but he was; there was no one around him, no warmth. And far away, on his Clan slept, without him.
When he woke, for a long time he didn’t open his eyes. He just lay there, curled up against the blanket, listening to the coo of the doves far above him on the roof and the distant traffic noise beyond the cathedral walls, feeling the warm yellow light flooding through the tall windows and pooling against his closed eyes, smelling the sweetness of the incense that was so unlike the sweetness of his home’s flowers. There was a wet patch of tears under one of his cheeks; he knew what they were, but still he didn’t move. His eyes felt sore and dry from crying. And yet he felt strangely peaceful. He didn’t know if it was just the numbness, the exhaustion of not eating, or if the tranquility of the cathedral had lulled him into calm.
Finally, he blinked open his eyes and, still, just lay there for a long while. It could have been half an hour. He didn’t really think much at all, and what he did think — they’ll all be up by now; I slept late; Shaded might be talking to Sunstar; he won’t get anywhere; the sunhigh patrol will have left already— was, again, calm. Like his grief was faded by the warmth of the sun. But maybe that was just numbness as well. He had no grief left to feel.
Then, at last, he raised his head. He felt heavy, the sort of aftermath of a deep, sad sleep that felt like waking up with a cold. “Hywel?” he asked into the warm, yellow emptiness of the stone beyond the pews. His voice felt lonely, small, and yet too loud. And he felt nothing about that either, except a certain tired confusion. Everything was silent. Everywhere was still. He couldn’t see him anywhere. He wondered if he’d left, but all he felt at that thought was a distant, child-like feeling that was more like a question than true sadness. This was acceptance, he thought, or it was shellshock. He’d never known shellshock could feel so bewilderingly like happiness, if happiness were upside down. He felt strangely like he was ready to seize the day, like he could run a marathon and not realise that halfway through he’d broken all his bones. He felt like… cotton. Air.
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Post by achromatic on Jan 12, 2022 15:12:11 GMT -5
His only response was a tired smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, as he bid the other cat goodnight, sleeping a little distance away from the tom, except that night, he couldn't sleep. There was that ringing in his ears that happened when things were too silent. He could hear Doefreckle's breathing, and the walls felt like a cage to him. He tossed and turned, almost falling asleep finally when the chirp of a bird woke him. Irritation flicked from his ear and he groaned to himself; it wasn't even light yet. Why were the birds still awake?
Eventually, he began to pace, and after giving Doefreckle a soft look, he turned to leave the cathedral, unable to pace for the rest of the night.
That didn't mean he wouldn't come back; when Doefreckle woke the next morning, he was already back with breakfast. There had been a couple of mice, an easy catch for the tom, now set on the ground next to the bench in which the calico tom found himself curled up on. He had found himself lying in the one patch of sunlight up on a bookshelf, perhaps finally being able to sleep, his eyelids slowly growing heavier, and heavier...
Hywel?
The soft voice shook him out of his morning nap, as he looked down from his perch to the confused tom who was finally awake. Leaping down, his steps were soft when they finally landed on the ground. "Morning," he spoke with a yawn, trying to keep it casual, as if his anger and frustration and emotions from last night were a fluke in the system, now behind a wall of a personality he could manage to pretend to be. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, polite but not overtly friendly yet; part of the silver tom was still wary.
"I brought you breakfast, in case you were hungry," he offered quietly, finally looking Doefreckle in the eye for a moment, before gesturing towards the catch, placed neatly next to him.
