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gold (grabs your face) you are physically barred from replying to this
Brat was crawling through the NightClan ceilings. Let me explain: the stone above the camp was just as filled with twisting tunnels as it was below — but the main difference was that where those were fit for a cat of any size to walk through with ease, these were tight, suffocating things, more claustrophobic gaps in the stone than actual tunnels, as if worms had eaten through the rock and left trails behind. Vents, if you will. But Brat loved the claustrophobia — loved the challenge, the knowledge that she wasn't meant to be up here; that if she got stuck and starved to death, no one would even think to look up here for her corpse and it would rot in silence. The morbidity of it was playful — don't get stuck, then. Despite the freedom of her life, the ignored bastard daughter of a tyrant, she knew it wouldn't last. Even as illegitimate child, she was still a bargaining chip, still a blood relation: sooner or later, when it suited Kier, when he needed some offering to secure some alliance or to further his as-yet-dormant imperial expansion — when his future legitimate daughters had already been wedded, he'd fumble about in the dark and haul the last resort out into the light. The prototype; the first go. He'd apologise for her unsuitableness, brush his paws over her fur with such embarrassment, offer a discount price for a discount bride.
It was like a vague date on the distant page of a calendar, something that hung over her subconscious, some friendly thing that haunted with daily reminders instead of dark threats. She didn't dread it — it would be another adventure. She loved her dad, for whatever reason, didn't resent him or the inevitability of an arranged marriage; it was all she knew. But it did mean that she had to make the most of her youth, of her freedom, before she was married off.
Her tongue was bit between her teeth as she squeezed through the tiny stone tunnels, all un-ladylike inelegance and messy, determined concentration. And then, suddenly, she couldn't push herself any further. The stone was too tight and she was trapped, her limbs pressed haphazardly against her body and the walls. The time had finally come; now onto a slow, painful death! It had been a good lark while it had lasted. "Well!" she greeted a mouse as it scuttled over to her and sniffed her harmless nose. "Guess it's just you and me, huh? Wanna play a game? Do you like—" The mouse turned and scurried away, disappearing round a curve in the tunnel. "Okay," Brat called cheerfully. "Bye!" Then she flopped her head against the stone floor and let out a contented sigh. "I wonder how long it takes to starve to death," she said to no one. Her voice echoed. She'd seen cats walking around with their ribs jutting out and their ankles knobbly, on orders from her father. But she'd never seen any of them fade so much that they died.
Unknown to Brat, though, she was actually just directly over the camp, and Kier could hear everything she was saying. He went on with his business meeting, but he kept twitching and growling as his daughter's melodrama echoed down from the roofs overhead, muffled by the stone. She honestly thought she would die alone, that they couldn't just reach a paw up and grab her. Let her spend a night there, then.
"Should we perhaps haul her out, or I could arrange some sort of toxic fumes to shut her up." Lilacpaw offered from where he lingered, off to the side of Kier and casting dark glances towards the ceiling. "Perhaps permanently." He added under his breath, bitter and sullen like a teenage sulking at being forced to suddenly accept a new younger sibling. He of-course wasn't Kier's son, he had no relation to the leader after all, besides all that he would not want to be Kiers blood relation regardless. But he hated his bastard kits all the same, he already had to share the others attention to begin with, why should he be forced to share with even more cats. It mattered little that he often paid them no mind, because their very existence was a threat in Lilacpaw's eyes; briefly he wondered if there was a way for him to arrange a little unfortunate accident. Then he thought of Kier's deterioration at Eris's miscarriage and quickly chased such contemplation away.
As Brat's lamenting went on he folded his ears back, it might have been the stone, but it sounded truly dreadful. The siamese tom chose to assume it was simply lack of talent. "Shame that she doesn't even have a good voice to make up for her lack of common sense." He chimed in cheerfully happy to point out faults in the kit. Some might be ashamed to so readily pick on those younger than them, Lilacpaw lacked all of that shame.
He wondered how Brat was going to get out as he was rather sure Kier wouldn't leave her up there to die, if only that her corpse would rot and the smell would be truly unbearable. But Kier might leave her up there for a day or so to teach her a lesson, he supposed it depended on the others mood. But Lilacpaw was too short to retrieve her though he might still be small enough to get enough of his body in to grab her; not that he would every do that. No he was content to leave her up there as well and perhaps find some moss to stuff in his ears to block her out.
"Mmm," Kier replied, too distracted by paying attention to what the other cats in the (exceedingly boring) business meeting were saying to properly listen or respond to what Lilacpaw was saying. He wasn't even really supposed to be here, and yet Kier, for reasons that were never explained, never made him leave when he tagged along to things far above his pay grade; more than mere tolerance, it was like he was fond of his presence, of his company, like it was almost a comfort to him, to have that visible support skulking after him. But at perhaps permanently, when the words soaked in after a moment or two, he hummed a deep little breath of laughter, shoulders shuddering with it for a single second; it was straight-faced, and he didn't look away from the other cats speaking, but it was still a noticeable laugh. He was completely oblivious to the apprentice's rivalry with his children. Completely oblivious to any redirected paternal feelings he might have had for him.
"Sorry—" Kier broke the other cat off to quickly turn to Lilacpaw, eyes still slightly glazed; he was in such a business headspace that he hardly saw Lilacpaw, trying to keep the numbers in his head until he could get back to the meeting. "Go get her, would you?" His voice was more polite, more gentle, than it usually was; talking numbers always did that to him. He couldn't focus on anything but them, not even on being a tyrant. With the order given, the order that he wouldn't even remember giving by the end of the meeting, he turned back to the discussion.
Brat, hearing all of this but pretending not to, so as to continue her fantasy that she was far beyond reach, called down in an echoing, deeply Southern accent, "is that mah saviour? Oh, Lahlacpaw — could that be you?" The back of her paw pressed to her forehead could almost be heard in her voice.
Lilacpaw grimaced towards Kier's now turned back huffy and aggravated but wouldn't dare make a bigger scene with a refusal to do as asked. He wasn't the brat after all, he possessed some respect for the leaders dealings. Looking up towards the ceiling he supposed he would have to figure out the closest access point to yank her out. He stood and moved from the group he had be skulking near as an unspoken attache to Kier.
Moving down he kept his eyes on the ceiling until he finally saw a small hole near the wall, it wasn't so far from where Brat was continuing her dramatics. He frowned as he considered it and before he could let himself talk himself out of it he was using the rocks on the wall to make his way towards it, a delicate balancing act and the most athletic thing the medicine cat apprentice had done in moons. Taking a deep breath he popped his head into the hole and as his eyes adjusted was able to see brats tail not to far ahead and the tunnel she had gotten herself stuck in, shoulders to wide to pass through.
Pushing forward he rose on his hind legs to get his front half up and then managing to snag her tail gave a vicious yank, interrupting whatever nonsense she was spouting at the time. She didn't move far but she moved back enough for him to see some space around her, implying she was loose. Spitting out her tail and making a face he called "can you back up little hellion?" If she said she couldn't he was determined to go back to Kier and report he had tried his best but the little thing was doomed to an early death, how sad, how tragic.
The tunnel had enough space that if she could back up towards him more he could tug her out the hole, or if she could managed to turn around she could slip herself out head first. If he had to tug her out he was going to drop her, on accident of course.
When Lilacpaw bit her tail, interrupting her cheerful funeral lament, Brat let out a piercing shriek; it quickly turned to wild laughter as she was yanked in bursts back through the tunnel — stopped, then dragged, stopped, then dragged. Her sides scraped against the dusty walls until finally she could expand her ribcage without it pressing completely against them. Can you back up little hellion? "Possibly," she replied, whimsical and needlessly cryptic. "But I still had a whole route planned! Did you know," her voice had dropped to a whisper; she was still facing away from Lilacpaw, her tail swishing obliviously in his face, "there's rumours there's some hidden pool. Yeah, I know," she added, as though Lilacpaw had made some amazed sound. "I can't reveal my sources — it was the mice — but they say if you go deep enough into the roof tunnels, you get to this cave with a secret lagoon, all blue, and there's no other way into it. Like a nut shell when ya split it open, y'know? And the tunnels are the split."
Shuffling around, she managed to turn completely, smiling at Lilacpaw — and then she suddenly grabbed his scruff and hauled him up into the roof space. She was moons younger than him and nowhere near as strong, but her sharp kit teeth were insistent enough that compliance was more out of annoyance and scrabbling desperation to make her stop than actually being forced. "Wanna join me?" she asked in a grinning, tricksterish whisper, wide eyes almost pressed against his. Without waiting for his reply, she scrabbled back around and squeezed once more down the tunnel — only this time, she hauled herself up into a smooth, completely vertical tunnel branching off this one, climbing like a spider. "If ya don't, my dad won't be half pleased," she called down to him, singsong voice echoing. Even if she was a bastard royal, she was still a royal, and she had still grown used to having escorts and forced chaperones. Many a fearsome Executioner had found themselves playing cards with her just because they were too afraid to check up on the protocol of just how much deference was owed to Kier's daughter. And even if she played dumb, she was aware — and she exploited it.
Lilacpaw heaved a breath as he entered the tunnel and wanted to scream in frustration as he watched her disappear once more. Her words rang true but the debate to leave her behind regardless and then just hide until it all blew over still occurred to him. Squeezing forward he looked up the tunnel she had disappeared and wondered if he could just sit and wait for her; a sigh escaped him before he even finished the thought. It would be boring to wait and honestly he was a little curious.
Though, "there is no way a secret pool is going to be above us of all places you ingrate." Regardless of his scathing words he still squeezed up on his hind-legs and started the ungraceful scrambling after her. Having more trouble due to his larger, though still small, size. Being careful to test his clearance, knowing that if he got stuck he would probably be left to starve to death. "And I think Twilightdance should prescribe you some herbs for your brain, clearly it's defective."
