It was odd, keeping up such a strict public formality with someone that in their heart, they knew they were still so close to. Perhaps some cats could have swallowed their emotional connections, could have forced themselves to practically forget months of memories worth of traveling together as one big family and both the numerous joys and heartaches that bonded them all together. Sometimes Bumblebeepaw could have sworn that most of their family had, and sometimes they were bitterly jealous of them for that.

"Yes. I heard the nursery needed more moss, and since most of the inferiors are out hunting right now, I thought I'd offer to take you or one of the other queens out to collect more. Do you have the time to come along?" The offer actually physically pained the apprentice, having to imply any other queen coming along would work as well, but they hoped that Marinewisp would catch their drift. This was how it had to be at least until they had made it out of camp, where the most prying eyes always proved to be.

Bumblebeepaw gave a careful nod. They had expected the answer to be yes, had hoped it to be a yes, but they were very heedful to make sure they didn't give that expectancy or hope away. "Well, then we should get going early then. We don't want to waste moonlight."Bumblebeepaw said, keeping their words firm but gentle. It was not, however, the gentleness that Bumblebeepaw would have normally given to the queen, it was far from the gentleness that was to be expected between a child a mother. No, instead it was the opressive gentleness that Nightclan expected be shown to queens; the sort of delicacy given because they couldn't handle anything too harsh, the firmness there because a she cat couldn't be trusted to make her own decisions. There was an art to that fragile balance between keeping up that mask of chivalry while firmly keeping up the boundaries that kept all she cats in their place, and Bumblebeepaw was nearing mastery in that craft.

"You can follow behind me." Bumblebeepaw gently offered, though it was really a command with the illusion of choice as the bengal apprentice padded towards the camp exit, allowing in true gentlemanly fashion for Marinewisp to step out first as the apprentice politely stood by the exit. There was such a twisted irony in it all, that small dance between gallantry and subjugation; it was a tragedy that Bumblebeepaw was too intertwined in it all, too absolutely locked into and trained by the system to see it -- otherwise they would have thought it hilariously absured.

it's fine! c: i do it all the time too, especially when i'm not being careful when combing through my recent threads list

Bumblebeepaw took the oppertunity to take the lead again, doing so with an almost natural ease as they began to guide the queen through the forest she was so often barred from seeing. "It is, and it's nice out tonight." Bumblebeepaw agreed, though despite the rather simple sentence, the tone of the apprentice's voice betrayed much more complex emotions. There was, somewhere at the edge of their words, a hint of guilt, an acknowledgement that the she cat following behind them spent every day of their life now cooped up in the nursery. Sometimes they wondered, though they dared not ask, if this was all the she cat hoped for when she joined the clan. If this was what she wanted, if she was happy. But they couldn't ask. Not because of Kier's reign, or how Nightclan dealt with dessenters, or because it would have brought up questions of both of their loyalties. Those alone would have been enough to never ask, but that wasn't why they didn't. It was because in some guilt-ridden hole in some part of their soul they tried to hide, in some part they worked so hard to cover under sheets and layers of pride and bravado, they already swore they knew the answer. And there was a part of them that was afraid of how they would act if they ever heard it; not about what they'd do, but more in fear of what they wouldn't.

They walked in silence for a while longer, if only because Bumblebeepaw had to swallow down the feelings of guilt to just feel normal again, to just feel grounded again. But after a while, they had managed to reassure themselves that right now, they were doing a good thing. There was no reason to feel guilt; this was just how life was and how it had to be. And really, if anything, they were doing something good. They were letting her have time out, they were risking things so they could have some personal time together; they shouldn't have to feel guilty when they were doing something good right now. It was that quiet reassurance that managed to, for the most part, stabalize them as they padded farther away from camp, farther out of ear shot. All the while, Bumblebeepaw making sure to follow through the paths of the forest less moved through, less known for having patrols and inferiors hunting through them.

When they figured they had gotten mostly out of ear-shot, the apprentice finally spoke up again, for once a bit of the airs they normally kept up dropping. At least, as many of the airs that were still airs, and had not been basically forged into their personality over time. "So, how have you been doing in the nursery? Kits aren't driving you and the rest of the queens crazy, right?" The tone was supposed to be joking and warm, but even Bumblebeepaw could tell the delivery of the question fell short their usual energy.

Those words bordered so delicately on the line of treason and on undeniable honesty that it uneased the apprentice, though they tried with everything in them not to show it. It didn't count as treason, shouldn't have counted; it was the truth. And yet the truth held little value here.

Admittedly, Bumblebeepaw was immensely glad they were out in some of the more lonely parts of the forest, where the chances of being heard by Kier's loyal soldiers were sparser. It was a weird thing though, to in this moment be nervous about that, slightly scared of it, even. It wasn't as if the apprentice hadn't been scared of it before of course, they were ever vigilant to keep up masks and personas, ever vigilant to keep up facades; and the fear of any of them slipping, there being cracks in their masks and their illusions coming down -- that scared them. Terrified them, really. But more often than they were scared, much more often than they were worried about being slipping up, they were being that perfect soldier. Had anyone else said what Marinewisp had said just now, Bumblebeepaw knew in that same dark pit in their soul that they would have taken a gleeful indulgence in realizing that the other cat might have had at least some traiterous intent, that they would have hounded them like a scent dog for his awaiting master; anyone else who had dared said what Marinewisp had said was just prey they would be waiting and watching to slip up further: An easy way of getting prestidge in Nightclan's heirarchy of sychophants and snitches.

But this was Marinewisp, and out of fear, that cold, icy fear in their gut that someone might, might be listening, they were quick to give her an easy out. "Well, queens will be queens. No offense of course but you know, you have kits, you get stuck in your ways, it gets hard to change. And you know, some of the violence. I mean, it's a necessary evil but I know you all have sensative hearts." The tone was warm, joking really, and though the sentence had started out a little anxiously by the end Bumblebeepaw was so lost in their normal humor and upbeat straightforwardness that it was easy to forget why they had felt the need to add in that sentence at all.

"But yeah, trust me I'm jealous. I wish my bedding was that nice, no one cares enough to bring me feathers to put in my nest. If I want it that soft I actually have to go out and get it myself." Bumblebeepaw continued, trying to now keep the tone more jovial and carefree. To pretend the darker implications of any trouble in their dystyopian paradise had never been mention at all. "And you know, I'm super busy with uh... "Classes". Yeah we'll say that. So there's no way I can gather that stuff myself, obviously." The apprentice threw a joking grin Marinewisp's way as they padded along, further into the barely touched areas of Nightclan's forest.

At the mention of their growing Bumblebeepaw turned bright red, giving out a small laugh. "Thanks. But honestly I hope I get another growth-spurt soon. If I get stuck at this height I'm not going to be super happy." They admitted. And they meant it. They were starting to feel smaller and thinner compared to their den-mates; maybe not necessarily frailer, but certainly more built for agility and speed than the brutish muscle of their other fellow executioners. It wasn't as noticible when they were amongst she cats; they were still smaller than most of them, sure, but they were naturally more athletic in build than most of them and that made up for it most of the time. The problem was, however, they stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the toms they struggled so hard to appear as. Even amongst some of the thinnest, frailest toms, they were still small and built in a way that, if you didn't realize the slight ripple under their golden pelt was muscle, they looked dainty and immensely feminine among their line-up. It was even worse, as previously mentioned, among the executioners, who were all for the most part built like tanks while Bumblebeepaw was built more like a fighter jet; lithe and narrow and made for dexterity. It wouldn't be so bad if Bumblebeepaw had stayed a reporter, or if they hadn't leaned so hard into their intense, jock-ish tough guy attitude. But they had, and now it was absolutely embaressing.

They were still in denial about it though, and it was easy to see it might be a denial they would keep for their entire life. And so, they waved it off and continued on to the other question at hand; their classes. "They're good, and I think I'm doing good in them at least. I try hard to." Bumblebeepaw answered in earnest. "Ratpaw's really the only one I think who is outdoing me right now. Man is built like an absolute unit, so like physically he's hard to out-do. But I'm trying. I've kind of accepted if I ever want to keep up I need to learn to out-manuever over trying to go off of raw strength." Bumblebeepaw answered, their size clearly still on their mind as they responded.

"Oh yeah, and I don't know if they told you, but Balloonpaw somehow weaseled their way to being a superior in the class. I dunno' how they managed it, I'm actually kind of jealous." And it was clear from their voice it was true, they were. What had they done that Bumblebeepaw hadn't? But they shoved it down, because they knew jealousy wouldn't help. They would just have to work harder, push themselves more. They'd make it, they were sure of it. "But I'm sure I'll catch up soon. I'll get them to tell me the secret to getting there, see who I have to suck up to more." They were only half joking; they were all too aware that being a sychophant was the quickest way to move up in Nightclan's hierarchy.

Once more Bumblebeepaw felt themselves grow hot under their fur, the compliments and the encouragements. It was so easy to pretend in the moment that it was all true. That somehow by sheer hard work, by sheer effort, they'd be great. That they'd do great things. There was a quiet purr that rumbled in Bumblebeepaw's throat, the kind they wouldn't dare share with anyone else. Not the cats they called friends, not even their siblings, just the she cat who was the closest thing to a mother they had ever known. It was a soft thing, a sacred thing, and the fact that it had even existed at all was soon to be a memory shared between just them, Marinewisp, and the quiet onlookers of trees and forest greenery.

But then Marinewisp reminded them of reality, that even now they were under the cover of false pretences and illusions, and their purr softly faded down again. "Yeah, you're right. We probably need to head nearer to the river, that's where more will be growing. Although I'll let you know when we get near there because we'll probably need to quiet down. More water means more prey and ergo more cats hunting there so like, better to be safer than sorry." They advised, though they kept their voice chipper as the padded along, trodding over dead leaves that crackled a soft percussion under their paws. "Also uhh, good question." They searched their mind for all the things that had happened the last few days. "Uhhh, well, it's not really a story but I guess I hung out with Brat." There was a pause, as they had to consider whether Marinewisp even knew that was what everyone called the kit. Without context it just sounded cruel. Actually, maybe it was even with context.

"...Well Royalkit. Everyone calls her Brat, I didn't start it. But yeah. She seems like she's dying to get into the apprentice den, it's pretty cute. Have you ever seen her running around the nursery? 'Cause I always see her out and about causing trouble and something tells me she doesn't hang around there as much."

There really was going to be no end to the amount they blushed today, was there? Bumblebeepaw had already accepted that. But beyond the embaressment, they knew she was was right; they remembered being an absolutely hellion of a child, full of energy, outspoken, ready to toss and tumble with all of their siblings. That felt so long ago now, in spite of the fact it really wasn't that long ago at all. They were still barely apprentice aged like most "apprentices" under Kier's reign, and they were still so much in the throws of growing up, still so young in so many ways. But Nightclan had made an awful good job at making apprentices feel like they ought to be very adult, or at least that being an adult was something to aspire and look forward to; after all, they had the weight of Nightclan's future and the entire continued power of the new regime on their shoulders.

"Heh, well you know, maybe one day when she grows up more she'll stop being such an annoying kit and end up more like me. You know, utterly amazing and strikingly perfect in every way." Bumblebeepaw said with a small laugh, every word light and joking. Even the part about Brat being an "annoying kit" with said with some degree of affection, tinged and laced with their same humorous note to their voice they said everything else in. "But in all seriousness, I think all kits are pretty naturally annoying, but they all grow out of it... Okay, most grow out of it. I don't know what went wrong with me." They added on, a wide, amused grin on their face as they spoke each word.

Bumblebeepaw had been just about to give a laugh, to throw back another warm, slightly dismissive comment about either the fact that they hoped so, or maybe a joke about the fact that if Marinewisp thought nothing went wrong with them they didn't know who she's been talking to this entire time, but it wasn't them, and it had all been lighthearted and prepped to be all humerous and all in good fun, but then the tone turned, and the sly grin on their muzzle that had been so close to opening and throwing back another sarcastic comment, faded away to quiet, concerned curiosity.

It would have been impossible to describe the swift, almost disorienting mixture of emotions that flooded and burned through them at Marinewisp's words. There was dread and terror, but it was equally resentment and bitterness, there was love and something akin to honor, but it sat right beside anger and insecurity. They couldn't know what they felt, there was really too much to feel to lay a name to it all; they only knew that Marinewisp's words made ever iota of their existence ache with so many emotions they couldn't lay a finger on. And it was funny, really, because when Marinewisp had first spoken up, first said, "If they ever find out about you..." they had been slightly confused, they had barely known what she had meant, until she continued. That was the odd thing about living a lie like Bumblebeepaw did, it was often easy to forget it was a lie. Even when they considered thing like their height, like their strength, there was of course, a tinge of fear to it all. A, "What if they know? What if they can tell? Are they smart enough to realize that this wouldn't just be the effect of being fixed?" , but really, those worries were often secondary to concerns of, "Do people think I look weak? Is everyone else stronger than me or do they just look stronger than me? Does being this short make me look less handsome?" The latter, of course, were childish, teenage affairs of self-conciousness, and much less pressing than the chance of having their entire life breaking down in front of them, but they were mostly what they found themselves worrying about because, at the end of the day, it was easy to forget that the former was a problem at all. It was addressed so rarely, and as time since they joined the clan passed, it became less and less serious of a concern with ever day that went by. Every day their facade was reaffirmed was another day they could nearly forget it could be exposed at all. That they even fully had to worry about it.

But Marinewisp made those fears real, made the feel more present and tangible than they had in a long time, and most intense reaction, after the most intense sweep of emotions had passed over them, was denial. "They won't, it'll be fine." It was said so fast, so swift, do definitive, that Bumblebeepaw barely knew they had spoken. Like that one sentence, if it was said soon enough, agressively enough, confidently enough, would somehow be the support structure that would assure it would never happen. As if believing wouldn't meant it wouldn't. But then there was another long pause, a thick silence that stretched a little longer than they liked as they grappled with the warring feelings that still trying to get themselved back in order, until another feeling rose up a little higher than the rest. Guilt, perhaps, in some ways, intermingled with a more violent sense of panic, and so they spoke up again because they felt they had to. "And if they did, I'd handle it. I wouldn't let you take the fall for me, not now or ever. But I swear, I have this handled, no one knows, they never will know, and even if they did, I mean come one, everyone loves me so like, no one would tell." The joke they made at the end was all too evidently choked out with distress, a sense of shame, a sense of guilt, a feeling so overwhelimgly unnerving that even though they stiffened themselved enough to speak it out, it still was obvious their throat had caught as they had tried to say it. Their facade of everything being fine had crumbled a bit, and that, to Bumblebeepaw, was reason enough to let it crumble a bit more; it had broken, and they didn't have it in them to build it up again. Not right now, at least. And so instead, they pressed softly again Marinewisp's side. They didn't bother to pretend it was for her, even though they wished it was; it was because, though they loathed to admit it, they needed the comfort, the reassurance.