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screaming, it wouldnt let me have 'she needs to learn she's only skin, the next girl's waiting for a spin' but that's the true title, amen. okay how the hell does kier talk goldcrest
Things were going wonderfully. Splendidly, even. Though he'd had his brief, sentimental foray into imagining he might be content to bide his time as Aspenstar's deputy indefinitely, that had faded; yes, they shared similar philosophies, but in this dog eat dog world only one was ever going to be allowed to come out on top - and Kier was determined it was going to be him. It could be fun - very fun - to have his fall from grace so early, but though Kier had spent his entire youth in pursuit of wonderfully fleeting things, terrible fun for the sake of terrible fun, something darker had begun to prickle of late. Something older, more mature. He wanted to be the leader. He wanted to be the king. And though he smiled about it, even to himself, even to Eris - though he pretended it was the same light-hearted ambition as it had always been, easy to shake off when it began to lose its appeal - on the inside, there were no smiles. He wanted this, wanted it sombrely, joylessly, violently. And it frightened even himself. This was no longer a child playing at royalty; this was a tom who had almost reached maturity, handed a crown and unwilling to ever let it go.
And so, the first step was to find a Court. He had few supporters in NightClan, he knew that - Moonblight and Sagebristle, damned though they may have been, were influential. The rest were either afraid of him, or openly derisive. He had thick skin, but it was thinner than he pretended; and though the jibes never hurt, they angered him. A list inside his own mind was quickly growing longer and longer.
But there was one warrior who showed promise: Snowblister. A liar by trade, he knew when a cat's eyes didn't match their smile - and hers were haunted. Savage. Cold. But not ambitious - no, not ambitious. She was a follower. And what a wonderful coincidence it was that he was determined to be the opposite. She seemed devoted to Aspenstar, in a strange, conditional sort of way; and, oh, he loved conditional, because conditional could be turned.
So, one black night close to a red, burning dawn, Kier found her. Despite barely being a NightClan cat, he showed no signs of being exhausted by the nocturnal schedule; if anything, his eyes were brighter, sharper, than ever. His blown pupil had always struggled in the sun; now, there was no pain. It was fate if fate had ever existed. Just outside the entrance to the subterranean camp, with the crickets and night birds chirping and hooting around them in the cold, fresh air and the black pines reaching up to the sky, the deputy padded up and sat beside Snowblister. There was a bit of a size difference between them, but Kier was used to that. "Tell me," he said by way of greeting, gazing up at the trees like he hadn't already burned her expression to memory, "are you pleased with your home? The direction it's heading in?"
It was simultaneously a harmless question, small talk easy to refute the implication of, and violently bold. His eyes stayed on the trees for a moment longer before he finally turned his head to look up at her, barely blinking and yet unnaturally calm. Around them, the night sounds continued.
There had been an overarching, unavoidable anxiety the moment Kier had shown himself, the moment Aspenstar had pronounced him their deputy; she could feel it, the tension, the water that was rising and rising and nearly touching their noses as they tried to keep it desperately above the surface. Soon enough it they would be submerged, and Snowblister was simply biding her time, waiting until the pin dropped, the first gunshot sounded. The outsider had intrigued her. What a small, weak thing he was, and with the size of his ears and the thinness of his limbs, he looked no more than a kit. But she knew their leader had lost it long ago, and strangely she almost trusted him. Almost, for she didn't give that up so easily. When she caught him around camp she would fix him with a deliberate, curious look, and occasionally he would meet her eyes. She could see the demons within them. There was a potential in him, something dangerous, something cruel, something sharp, but part of her rationalized that perhaps it would be good for them. Summerclan had defeated them easily, that traitor had done his way with their leader and ever since she had viewed her clanmates in an untrustworthy lens. They didn't seem to realize what Nightclan needed.
Snowblister usually stayed up longer than most of her clanmates — it all added to her sunken, ghastly look, and yet despite the messiness of her being, she still seemed nearly put together. It didn't negate the off-putting feeling she gave, the way her eyes bore and stared and pulled, like they were constantly searching. She knew Kier was there before he even sat down, and she looked down at him with a wide-eyed, slight smile. There was a hint of almost offense at the sudden intrusion.
"A silly question game? I can play along," she could see his shadows moving just behind him, she ignored them, "I think we're in a weak spot. Aspenstar will burn us to the ground and will not realize until she's playing in the ashes." She gave a soft snort, but there was nothing funny. "I'm not sure you could fix us, what makes you believe so?"
"Oh, I don't presume to speak ill of our leader," Kier replied sombrely, bowing his head like he was ashamed to even be within earshot of such insolence. And then he realised that slipping into a character was both pointless, since she'd seen the mostly-real version of him already, and unhelpful - and yet he couldn't precisely be honest with her, because until he worked out was precisely her doctrines were, what drove her, every word could be a mis-step. So, he had to walk the knife's edge. Raising his head to sit up straighter again, in that odd way of sitting that was both slightly slouched and unnaturally still, he relaxed his lies and turned his gaze back to the tops of the black, watching trees. His voice changed when he erred more towards honesty, too; less practiced.
"If we're already at the point of you knowing I want to," for a split second, he almost choked over the taste of the word, "fix us, then I suppose pretending to be devoted to Aspenstar is beside the point. So thank you, Snowblister, for that brief freedom." He gave her a sardonic little smile. And then he fell silent for a few moments, either to gather his thoughts or to pretend to; either to feel the dark weight of what they were discussing wash over them, or to pretend to. Finally, he spoke. "I'm concerned that her tyranny is entirely self-serving, and not for the good of NightClan. Tyranny in and of itself is not necessarily always a bad thing - if your beliefs are for the good of them all, then sometimes children need to be guided. Leadership is no different to being a parent, but more than just protecting them from war and disease, you are protecting the very sanctity of their souls. NightClan's morality is at stake." He suddenly looked up at her, solemn gaze boring into her own. He'd picked up enough about her that he hoped he was pushing in the right direction; if he had to be a Thomas More, burning heretics at the stake, to win her support, then a murderous saint he would be. Catholic guilt would look good on him. There was not a hint of insincerity in his mismatched eyes; they held all the fanatic, sombre, desperate grief of a Christian martyr. "And so, Snowblister, it becomes not a matter of fixing our current instability, as fixing the very future of our Clanmates' virtue."
She could gauge how he played about it, and so when he spoke, she could only muster a look of suspicion, and when he admitted, it turned into a slight glint, pleased. There were only a few secrets she kept, and her opinions were not among them. Just because they had a star in their name and a few extra lives, little blessings from cats just like them who had once walked this world, she didn't believe it garnered them immediate respect. They were the same flesh, blood, bones, sins. I'm concerned that her tyranny is entirely self-serving, and not for the good of NightClan. She hummed in agreement, stared up at the stars above, ignored the shadowed faces that poked out from behind the towering pines. It was quite obvious how he worked, how he was playing her, how she still found herself agreeing. He was tricky, and perhaps her knowledge of that fact was why she didn't fear him. She stared down at him again.
"They are lost souls," her voice was low, a whisper, and there was something incredibly sad inside of it, a reaping, desolate feeling, "poor things. They don't seem to know the extent of their own corruption. They move on with their lives as if it doesn't matter. I can't blame them, ignorance can be comforting." The two, sitting side by side, didn't have the comforts of such things, did they? Her tail twitched.
Her lip lifted in a scowl, "they don't believe me when I tell them, they don't like the way I look at them. I believe they think it's easy to write off the things they don't understand," she hummed again, a quick, exasperated sound, "what do you propose, then? It's in the roots, is it not?" She was Eve taking the apple, and Kier was the devil in her ear, a slithering being, nothing but smooth words and deceit. She was a fool for listening, really, there was always that voice that told her she knew better, that she wasn't as bad as she believed she was, that there was something more for her. Snowblister could be happy, if she listened, but she turned a blind eye. Nightclan was supposed to be a clan of loyalty, a tight-knit community that only shared themselves with each other, cunning and intelligent and strong. She could take the chance if it meant they could build it back up again, and in the process perhaps she could put her own demons to rest.
He didn't miss how she used the word them. "But we're different, aren't we?" he asked with a wry smile, leaning forward to catch her eye. "You and I? I must say, it's a bit of a relief - most would treat a familiarity with one's own corruption as the worst sort of complacency. I think it's the only way you can get better. If you don't know what's wrong, you can't possibly know what you're fixing. I believe our philosophies are rather similar in that." It was true, if you twisted the truth a little: Kier did favour cats who, like himself, were on an intimate basis with their own wrongness. It was so much easier to stomach than hypocrites who believed themselves so much purer and still committed the worst cruelties, all the while lauding their own kindness. That's what his relationship with Snowblister would end up being, he imagined: this strange blend of complete honesty and pretend, three parts truth and one part lie, a friendship built on mutual understanding and mutual distrust - and what is mutual distrust but the ultimate sign of respect of each other's capabilities? All it means is you have to work to meet their expectations of you to keep them on your side - and what better way to ensure a mutually beneficial, productive partnership than that? If you could lose them, by God you'll work not to.
What do you propose, then? It's in the roots, is it not? He sat back, looking up at the trees and letting out a tentative little hum. "Roots can be pulled up, can't they? If Aspenstar were out of the way," he was careful not to imply their involvement in any unfortunate happening that might befall their leader, "NightClan would be vulnerable. They would be lost. They already are - Moonblight and Sagebristle have their youthful fire, but all the rest are tired. SummerClan destroyed their belief in themselves. All they need is someone to reignite it. If that someone did, they would be too grateful to have a strong leader at the helm to give two thoughts to where precisely they're following them to. And frightened sheep can be led anywhere." It was the most open discussion of villainy he'd ever had, and yet with Snowblister's silent, inscrutable judgement making him feel an unfamiliar, wide-awake, and rather addictive buzz of anxiety, like one wrong step would lose her approval, it felt more like religion than monarchy.
He'd never known someone who could keep him on such a straight and narrow path towards what they both wanted; with everyone else, aside from Eris, it was about bending them to him - but with Snowblister, he felt that for the first time in his life, he'd have to be careful. Out of no particular liking for each other - just because they needed one another for their entwined end games. They both knew it. And he liked it. The icy, upfront, transparent danger of it.
They were not different in the fact that they were better, nicer, absolved of corruption. No, they were the ones who had realized it, took advantage of that awfulness, harnessed it — they had different motives, she knew, but Snowblister let herself be strung along. He gave her some new perspective. The entire time she had been worrying about everyone's underlying evils that she hadn't thought about how she could fix it, aside from violence. But how would they learn if she were to force it instead of guide them, show them, how would they be better? She wasn't sure of his plan or his priorates just yet, because something told her the words he was saying weren't completely true, but she was fine to let him rage on, let it all click into place until she finally understood. There was a moment of confliction at the very mention of taking down Aspenstar. A small, subtle flick of her ear that showed almost a hesitance. What good would it do to keep such a tyrant in power, but she was blessed to lead Nightclan, and Snowblister's priorities, surprisingly, lied within her clan. Part of her wanted to see the leader continue on her rampage just to see it all fall down in front of her, watch her sanity fall. NightClan would be vulnerable. Her eyes narrowed slightly. That wasn't exactly what she wanted either. There was even less good in replacing one tyrant with another, but still she nodded, slowly, still suspicious.
"I see where you're going with this," she gave a laugh, but it was half a scoff, "they're supposed to be built up, eventually. What happens when they get too strong for you, Kier, what happens when you exhaust them too? What happens to those sheep when they regain enough to grow stubborn? You can't match them with cruelty. People are going to revolt, especially in the face of despotism, and it's them versus you." She laughed again. What good would all that do her? They wouldn't be better if they were trapped under another cat with a power trip. Kier made her curious, she wanted to pick his brain and whatever it was that went on in there, and perhaps her words were meant to hold no real water, a test of sorts, to get some sort of confession, maybe, to tear down the last remains of the walls they had around themselves. He was trusting her with this knowledge, assuming she wouldn't run back to Aspenstar and offer it all up on a platter, there was no reason to hide his real intentions. Snowblister was many, many things, but she wasn't ignorant, and she didn't take things at face value.
For a long moment, forced yet again to re-evaluate his approach, Kier just peered up at her with narrow eyes and an eerie stillness, something like resentment on his face. Nothing before had ever been this difficult. Then, finally, the last of the lies melted away.
“Fine,” Kier ceded, and now it was completely him. And honest Kier was an ugly, poisoned, painful thing. “I couldn’t care less about their souls — let them rot. I don’t want to fix them, I want to own them. I want the power I never had as a kit. I want the stability I was denied because my mother didn’t love me, and I want it for entirely selfish reasons. I want to plug this ache inside me with complete and utter dominance. And if they try to stop me, I want to hurt them — I want to hurt them anyway, because I like hurting people. I like hurting people because it’s the one time I’m in control, and because I’m so angry all the time, and because I hate every single one of them, and because it’s the only fun I can have that doesn’t make me sick. And I want to use you because your obsession with morality makes you easy — or,” he narrowed his eyes, “I thought it did.”
“So, Snowblister, with everything on the table, let’s discuss business. My reasons are not yours, and your reasons are not mine. But still I think they could align to serve both our interests. I crush them to my will, and when they’re crushed you nurse them back to health with whatever twisted version of goodness you think will make them better. When I’ve broken them, they can be built back up to whatever you and I want them to be. I want to see them suffer, and you want to see them saved — and so, each feeds the other. Aspenstar will never give you what you want because she has fallen so deeply out of love with her Clan that she won’t stop until they’re nothing but ash and bones. Because they disappointed her. I want them ruined, but what happens to them after that is of absolutely no interest to me — you can have them. You can fix them.” He said it with open disgust, open, sneering contempt. “If you want the greater good, Snowblister, this is how you get it, by throwing your hat into the ring of an insane man. Everything we do will be brutal. It will be cruel. It will be senseless violence. But if you want redemption,” he hissed the word, leaning in closer to her and looking up at her with undisguised viciousness, undisguised dislike, enmity, raw, wild, howling agony, “this is how you get it.”
Fine. The smile she gave him was pleased, all smugness and a gleeful sort of satisfaction. Now she had a clear view. Now she had almost every part of him read like a book, laid out like pieces of a puzzle she could now fit together. Perhaps the worst part of it all, the part that made her smile falter only slightly, was the fact she related. She understood. She had the same pull. It manifested in a different way, of course, but at the barest of bones, they both wanted control. Her own anger at the world was anger at herself, guilt projected onto everyone to make herself feel better, so she didn't have to feel so alone, and she wanted to fix others because she herself felt so unfixable and so broken. There was a difference though, and it was the fact that Snowblister didn't find it fun. She found it burdening, and yet she continued anyway, she couldn't imagine any other life.
"You seem to forget you'll find others who are on your level, above you, even, despite how on top of the world you may seem," she purred.
There was a sick part of her that grew excited as he continued, but her reasonable side agreed. As long as there was suffering, there would be something to save; Snowblister could be their messiah, and Kier could keep them in line. He would destroy them, she would build them back up, the cycle would continue until they were dependent, instilled into their bones and their blood and they wouldn't even question it anymore.
She tilted her head towards him, leaned down just a little to get closer to his level while still keeping herself taller, still looking down on him, "I think you underestimate what I can do. I'm not above that, I don't have anything that could get in my way." The only attachment she truly had was Nightclan, and she was doing this for them.
Kier’s eyes stayed narrowed, slitting further at her satisfied smile. He didn’t trust her, and frankly he felt slightly nervous in her presence — he trusted most others precisely because he knew he could outwit them, but she made him truly uncertain. There was far more to her than he had expected, and, beyond the wariness, a faint hint of respect was also growing. If anyone in the world could bring him down, it would be Snowblister. And that feeling, though frightening, was also once in a lifetime. “On my level, maybe,” he conceded, voice quiet and cold. “But not above me.”
But then, the fear passed. A grin spread across Kier’s face, the familiar light returning to his eyes. When she leaned in, looming over him, he just met her gaze with that same, unchanging grin, listening to her gleefully. This was the beginning of extraordinary things. Together, they would be the heat that would bring NightClan to boiling point. “I think I have,” he agreed, still leaned away from her at such an angle that he could barely be described as sitting anymore, his back almost touching the ground. “So we’re in agreement then, my—” He wanted to say ‘my dear’, but the words grew cold on his tongue, his grin almost bashful; he snaked up a paw and tapped her on the nose, head tilted, “fine martyr friend? If something were to befall Aspenstar, you would be my deputy?” His grin widened. “Theoretically?”
His back was beginning to ache from leaning away beneath her, but he didn’t mind; it would be a perfectly painful reminder of the beginning of everything worth having. Eris, and this crown, and their fear; they were the only things that mattered.
Is that why you're scared of me, she wanted to say, rub in the fact that she did indeed believe she was above him, that she was always a few steps ahead, arm outstretched in greeting to meet him, but she kept it to herself. Perhaps it wasn't wise to come off so strongly, especially to someone such as Kier, because while she was confident in herself, she didn't doubt him.
If something were to befall Aspenstar, you would be my deputy? She felt the need to toy with him a little longer, ask an entourage of invading questions, but she nodded, "yes, if the time were to come. How unfortunate that would be." There was a glint in her eyes, a smile on her lips, all speaking to the fact that she expected it, the tragedy, Aspenstar's demise. She stared him down for a few lasting seconds before suddenly whisking away, nodding for Kier to follow, almost giddily. She never thought she would get to be in such a position of power, and the thought of it was almost intoxicating. Snowblister never thought of herself as a leader; she was loud, she was intense and strong-willed, but she had never thought of ruling, of being in charge of her clan, only of providing for them. Only of fixing them. And now she would get to do both, whenever the time came. Whenever Aspenstar was out of the way. She almost pitied the leader, her descent into insanity. She didn't wait much for the tom, moved over the ground like an unstoppable force, crushing the dirt and ferns and making a path of her own. The business deal was set, now she wanted to pick at him.
Kier's grin only faltered when she broke eye contact and turned away. He'd been enjoying the moment. He frowned after her for a moment, disappointed and bewildered and mildly annoyed, which he felt would become his general feeling towards her, before finally pushing himself to his paws and hurrying after her. He was small enough that as she forced her way through the ferns, they slapped back and hit him in the face; he growled quietly to himself, having his own private battle with nature as he tried to ignore it all and look at least slightly dignified, and by the time he caught up and forced himself in beside her his face was stinging from being whipped so often.
"Where are we going?" he finally snapped, very unused to not being the one directing the plans. Losing his temper completely, he slapped a fern frond away with such force that it split off and was crushed into the damp dirt beneath his unsheathed claws. Not being in control made him incredibly rude, like a child who hadn't gotten his way throwing a tantrum. It was the fear of it. The terrible uncertainty of floundering, of not having everything laid out before him for assessment. His power was the only thing that made him feel safe, stable, secure. "I thought our business deal was done. Not to be impolite, Snowblister, but you're not precisely the sort of she-cat I'd seek out for companionship."
She found a certain entertainment in seeing Kier of all cats struggle in the undergrowth, began purposefully stretching branches and ferns to their limits so they'd hit him harder, because she may as well have some fun before they had to actually be coworkers, associates. For now, they were clanmates, hardly at that.
"Wherever we end up, I've got no place in mind particularly." She tossed her head slightly to grin at him, "you don't seem to fond of any sort of she-cat company, not quite the charmer are you?" She mocked, but it was said almost like a genuine concern, like his social life mattered to her in any way. She could imagine him with company of any kind just as she could picture herself with some — none at all.
There was the distant roar of the river, quickened with thawing ice and snow melt at the very beginnings of spring, her favourite season. Just ahead would be the bridge. She continued, "well, I can't imagine you with many cats. Do you chase them away, Kier? Or do you hold them at arms length out of fear?" She chuckled, a high-pitched sound, "me too," her smile made it seem almost playful, but there was something hidden beneath it. She enjoyed how quick he was to push, to prod, how irritable he got when she moved for something more, when their conversation didn't end at a single deal. Why, what were two rulers without some semblance of communication? If he was trying to write her out, she would force herself in, for Snowblister either put her all in or nothing at all.
Kier's expression was somewhere between an affronted glare and genuine, wounded bewilderment. He was charming... He stared after her, open-mouthed, and then hurried to keep pace with her once more. It was confusing, what this made him feel - a wild sort of frustration, like he had to prove her wrong. These sorts of comments, they were part and parcel of his youth - but he'd outgrown them. No one made them anymore, no one except Moonblight, and he already had his plans for him. No one dared. To have someone so carelessly flout his authority... It was both infuriating and addictive, if only because he had to show just how utterly wrong she was. No one else had ever made him feel so small - so normal - not even his siblings. He hated her as much as he respected her for it.
Well, I can't imagine you with many cats. Do you chase them away, Kier? Or do you hold them at arms length out of fear? "Neither," he replied coldly, eyeing her with taciturn, narrow-eyed stillness. He refused to play this game, to give her anything - if she was stubborn, he was twice as much. He ignored the roar of the river completely. "I'm flattered you're imagining me with other cats at all - a little strange, a little pitiful, but loneliness does strange and pitiful things. Regardless, NightClan cats are very plain; no one's of any interest to me. And anyway, I'm here for business, not pleasure."
He didn't know why he was explaining himself to this she-cat. Didn't know why he was talking, why she had gotten to him, why he felt like he was on trial in front of a judge with an icy half-smile, why he suddenly felt like his pelt was too tight under her unrelenting stare. It wasn't even like there was any truth to what she was saying; he had no insecurities about that area of his life. All he did know was that his voice had become slightly defensive, a little too quick, a little too over-eager to correct himself, and that knowledge made self-conscious anger roil in his gut. "I haven't seen you with anyone, either," he snapped to finish, aiming for something personal to disrupt the inquiry into his affairs.
I haven't seen you with anyone, either. She could only laugh, "of course not! That would be rather silly — my only friend is my," she gave a particularly airy wheeze, "is my aggrieved mother and she doesn't even like me." Maybe she minded more than she thought she did for the simple fact she was mentioning it at all, "but really, it's not so much a bother, I've got much more free time." She hummed and continued on ahead until they came to the slightly crumbling bridge that stretched its way over the river. She slowed down, jumped and scrambled her way onto the edge of it until she could look out forward, where the water continued to flow.
Her tail tapped the space beside her, inviting Kier up — if he could reach, he was rather pitifully small. She was excited, but it had settled slightly as she watched the moving of the water. A distant shape moved in its depths, but she turned away.
"I don't think Aspenstar will go so easily," she chided, tail moving to loosely wrap around her paws, "what do you propose then? Hope something natural befalls her? An unfortunate accident? Something brutal? I need the details Kier, you can't leave me out of this now."
"Yes, girls and their mothers," he sneered quietly, as if he weren't a messed up boy with a messed up mother. When they arrived at the river, Kier just gave it the cursory, judgemental glance he looked at everything in NightClan with - like there were far finer rivers elsewhere, like this one was lacking, like it needed to be dammed up and replaced - before flicking his eyes over to watch her leap up. When she tapped her tail, like he were an obedient lap dog, he curled his lip and growled quietly in his throat - but still obeyed. Because what was he supposed to do, talk to her over the rush of the water from down here? Damn her for making practicality look like compliance; somehow she was already winning this little battle of theirs and he, for the first time in so long, was lagging frustratingly behind. No, not frustratingly - murderously infuriatingly.
"I wasn't planning to leave you out," he replied bitingly, even though he absolutely had been; nothing aggravates a liar more than someone saying they're lying. He wrapped his own tail far tighter around his paws than Snowblister had, yet another sign that she was getting to him; it was like he was hugging himself, or like he wanted to hit her and was physically restraining himself. The river raged beneath them, the cold spray misting his fur. He hated it. If he'd been with Eris, he would have liked the wildness of it; but with Snowblister, he hated it. He hated everything on principle, just because he was so on edge. "I'm not stupid enough to start planning an assassination before I have support; I haven't thought about it yet. Is that alright, Snowblister?" He kept half-glancing over his shoulder as he spoke, his frown growing deeper and deeper. "Is that to your liking? Or would you rather— what do you keep looking at?" The final question came out as an aggravated blurt, like he'd been growing more and more bothered by it and finally snapped. He looked pointedly over his shoulder, looking terribly annoyed; his nerves and temper were at their very end and Snowblister constantly looking just behind him like she could see something he couldn't was his final snapping point. Truthfully, though he would never say it, it was freaking him out. He hated not knowing something, hated being on the outs, hated having someone know something he didn't.
He was met with a scathing look, but said nothing more.
When he sat down beside her, begrudgingly, still obediently, she smiled pleasantly, and a few shadows morphed to sit beside them. Her grin turned sarcastic, mocking, unbelieving and untrusting of the words he said — with good reason, she believed, because he was just so easy to see through he was practically transparent. She found a joy in his annoyance. What a brat. She looked down at the river again, "I have, but I guess we can't all be winners — but you should hurry. I'm rather impatient." She leaned forward slightly, watched the water as it misted the air around them, let it cling to her long, wavy pelt until it was damp. She dragged her gaze away, to the space just over Kier's shoulder at the sitting shadow.
what do you keep looking at? She was genuinely taken aback, because nobody ever wanted to mention it, how her eyes always found things that weren't there, the things around them. At first, she had thought everyone was oblivious, that it was some joke to make her believe she was losing it, but she had been on edge then, the death of her sister a fresh, gaping, self-inflicted wound. For the first time since meeting him, Snowblister's face fell. It didn't take long until, after a few miliseconds of thought, her features brightened again, and she fixed him with the same grinning, hubristic look.
"I have a little ghost problem." It wasn't spoken like it was a draining thing, and she would never admit it was. The constant torment, it was exhausting. It was difficult to remember what she looked like when every reflection wasn't that of herself, but of a kit, when even the shadows betrayed her.
And now the tide shifted again and the pendulum of their game crashed back down in his favour. Now, however briefly, he had the upper hand again, something to rattle her comfort with, something to derail her superiority over the hypothetical assassination with. "Ghost problem?" he echoed, and whatever mock sympathy he had been aiming for was lost around his huge, victorious grin. Someone else might have doubted her entirely, but not Kier; he believed in magic, in omens, in ghosts. No, his ridicule came from the weakness that must have been festering within her to be so haunted.
"What ghosts, specifically?" His tone was irreverent, belittling, rude, like she was being over-emotional about a simple thing. "Are they random or do you know them? Are they scary ghosts," the word was almost a coo, "or friendly ones? Are they helpful or monstrous? Do they give you little riddles and show you buried treasure they lost when they died?" His nasty grin grew, eyes never leaving hers.
She grew irritated now, and though she hated the thought, she realized he was getting to her. She adjusted her posture, sat up a little straighter, towering over him as much as she could without falling backwards. "Everyone has them," she didn't hesitate. Her tone stayed level, she refused to allow any sign of unease seep through, "especially you. What ghosts do you have?" His was a hunkering thing, a tall, almost sickly figure with a face of only teeth and nothing more. She always viewed them just as she viewed her own, a haunting, their wrongs following them until the end of their days.
"They don't say a thing; they follow," she narrowed her eyes. It wasn't difficult to tell it was a touchy subject, her trigger, her button, and though she tried to appear calmer, smug, controlled, there was a new twitch to her tail, and her claws flexed occasionally. The only one who truly knew was her mother, and at this point Snowblister was surprised she hadn't yapped to anyone about it yet, just to spite her, but she had kept her mouth shut. Perhaps she was afraid, maybe she had seen the guilt and had taken pity.
"We don't want you treading waters you shouldn't be, Kier." Her gaze flicked towards the river, because how easy would it be to knock him over, tumbling into the waves and rocks below. It was spoken like a warning.
"Well, I don't know," Kier replied immediately in that same derisively relaxed tone, completely unbothered - though it was unclear whether he genuinely was, or if he, like her, was too stubborn to let her see she was getting to him. He certainly was superstitious, and the idea of things haunting him was... unnerving. He could already tell he was going to be glancing over his shoulder every time he was alone in the dark, and that knowledge, the knowledge that Snowblister had wormed her way into his psyche, infuriated him precisely because it frightened him. His gaze stayed on her, tilting his head back slightly to maintain eye contact as she rose taller. "My father, I'm sure, for one. He did die so messily - but he'd been sick for a while, so I'm sure the natural order would have thanked me." He grinned, but it was more forced than the others and his eyes were darker. It was still a sore subject, even if he tried to joke about it. The very fact it was still sore frustrated him immensely; it should have been healed by now. He kept ignoring the scab, never picked at it, and yet it wasn't gone yet.
They don't say a thing; they follow. "Ah," he continued, hatefully mocking. "So not the fun sort, then. What's the point of a ghost that follows? Whatever you did to become so haunted," he said it like, again, she was being hysterical, "I'd venture a refund."
At her threat, he turned his head to look at her once more from where he'd followed her gaze out to the cold, raging waters. Everything was so quiet around them; even they were like two incorporeal, temporary beings hardly visible from the ends of the bridge, cloaked in swirling mist against the dark, unloving pines. The grin spread across his face again, but it was icier, a warning of his own. "And we don't want you getting ahead of yourself, Snowblister," he replied, so icily polite. "This can all be taken away for the price of a little unflattering insolence." A sneer entered his voice. "And no one would miss the Clan freak, the nobody, who sees her lonely little ghosts."
Snowblister thought her thoughts, she let them sit and stir and sizzle, spun over the impulsive ones into something premeditated, something planned. She never acted first, but at this moment, with Kier attempting to get the upper-hand on her, which wasn't working (it was working), she wanted to. She wanted to just let it free once, give his frail little body a push and go back to her regular, dull life. Her face was set in a scowl. There was a certain, strange jealousy, that he was able to admit it all without so much of a sick look or reproach, despite the darkness in his eyes. Instead, Snowblister kept her own secrets so close to her heart they began to impale it, leaving a gaping, unhealed wound. She sat back, judged him for a moment, let the silence settle as she studied him, read him. There was a point to it, she had to disagree, and it was to just make her feel bad, to remind her of her guilt, to steer her onto this very path — make everyone else better first, focus on herself later, she could get messier, she could get worse, she didn't need to get better when she couldn't be left alone, when she was always reminded. It wasn't supposed to be fun.
"I'm not," she said, honest and simple, still keeping her keen eye on him. And no one would miss the Clan freak, the nobody, who sees her lonely little ghosts. Her eye twitched. She would never admit it stung, even if only a little, because it was something she already knew, already mulled over time and time again. Her mother would remind her every so often, thinking it got to her, and Snowblister had taken it as a challenge to not let it. Obviously, she had failed. He gave her no sense of fear, of dread, only a growing, prickly annoyance, a distaste.
She stood up suddenly, still balanced on the edge of the bridge, and took a few steps towards him, pupils slits in her dull blues, "you need me. Good luck finding someone as capable as I, as willing, as ready and as strong enough. Everyone knows you can't fight for yourself, look at you, and those strong enough here would pass over you like crowfood. You said it yourself, you want control because you were denied it, because you went unloved your whole life, and who else is as willing as me to help you get it? Nightclan only has so many that would truly be on your side."
She leaned back, wound her fluffy tail around her paws much tighter this time, and looked down at him. "You know Kier. We're a lot alike, I'm sure you can see that," there was a slight laugh in her voice. It was true. They were both unloved, they both felt so out of control that they craved it, that they would turn to violence to get it, they would do anything, and they were two desperate, haunted souls. "I'm sure this partnership will be a great one, but I have standards. I listen to you just as much as you listen to me. This is an us thing, not a you thing."
