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You must hurt or be hurt.foxfor puzzlemaker and Kier. this post kind of sets up where I'm going with it.
He approached the border on soft steps, the pines looming above him and moon a hollow light to guide his path. There was no warmth to be found under her glow, but the tom didn't seek the moons warmth nor did he expect it. For all he guided his clan under her precepts and her rules he laughed at them in the warmth of the mornings glow, in the privacy of his rooms. All a means to an end, all in the name of keeping his own secrets buried in there graves; to never see the light of day for generations to come.
It was under this farce he found himself seeking the Nightclan leaders council. The news he had been given by Twilightpromise was damning and he would need to make an example out of the problem maker themselves. But some things would be easier if he could meet with Kier himself and sort out an avenue of strategy before hand. The unwanted kits would be easily dealt with if he could hand them off; he only needed a few to raise as an example of how a parents transgressions could ruin their childrens very futures.
There was also the matter of nipping the problem of Nightclan cats even being willing to associate with Moonclan in the bud. As far as Puzzlemaker had understood it the Nightclan warriors shouldn't have even contemplated mating with a cat in Moonclan. And yet he was faced with the news that one of his few adult hunters left was pregnant with some Nightclan toms get. He had so few to begin with and now he would have to loose another in the next Vesper; a shame truly. But he couldn't allow such code breaking to be met with anything less than execution, couldn't let the young cats under his watch grow thinking they would get leniency.
Upon reaching the border he simply sat and curled his tail around his paws, ready to snag a Nightclan cat to fetch him Kier. Perhaps he should have sent a runner ahead but in truth he didn't yet trust anyone outside Ratking or Windsweptashes to be given such a task and he couldn't afford to let them know of this problem quite yet. Nor could he allow them to know he was meeting with a cat from a clan that they so readily painted as monstrous, that he so readily used as justification for the isolationism. Besides, his patience had grown leaps and bounds since he first started this complicated play, he could wait.
When the sentry came to fetch him, Kier was lounging atop his pillar in the centre of the cavern, chatting freely about lewd, denigrating things with a few Superiors looking up at him from below. His paw hung down from the top of the pillar as he spoke, waving to and fro as he used it occasionally to gesture while he spoke, talking far more informally than he often did nowadays in the wake of Snowblister's dissent at the trial. Since then, he had grown far more withdrawn, cold and lordly and paranoid; but if there was one thing that never failed to draw him from his lofty throne, it was crass talk. Now, his eyes were bright and his grin as casual and charming as it had ever been. When the sentry interrupted him — pardon, lord, but the MoonClan Minister is waiting at the border — he didn't even look mad; he just listened and, when he was done, thanked him with a smile. "Business calls," he told the toms with an easy, crooked grin, standing in an arched stretch and they laughed like it was some noble thing he was doing, going to meet with the lesser leaders.
He knew nothing of what Puzzlemaker wanted to discuss, knew nothing about what the Superior toms in NightClan did in their free time, knew nothing about any bastard kits that might have been born out of tawdry wedlock — harmless fun, he would have said; if a she-cat with soft hips was offering, why not blow off a little steam? It was the one endeavour he encouraged derelictions of duty for, a sure-fire way to get an angry Kier off your back and turn him into a grinning, proud one, if pride were so vulgar: tell him you'd been off on some illicit assignation with a she-cat from another Clan and he'd brush you off so deferentially, so apologetically, say 'well, well, don't let me keep you! I know how crabby they can get when attention directs itself elsewhere. Go, go!' Didn't matter if you were a traitor, then; he'd just be seedily delighted that NightClan was making its mark on the others. But, irregardless, he was tremendously happy that Puzzlemaker had taken the initiative to come and see him first — he'd been wanting to meet the new MoonClan leader since he'd first risen to office. He never took a Clan's persona at face value, just as he imagined any self-respecting leader might not take NightClan's the same way — being a liar made him naturally generous to the lies of other leaders, presuming they were always quite different to the face they put on for their own Clan. There was always a certain amount of distraction, a certain amount of playing to the masses — Kier kept NightClan busy with violence and sycophantry so he could be free to pursue his own aims above the din, the clamour, of blood and shouting and accusations; he assumed Puzzlemaker was pursuing something similar with MoonClan.
No cult leader really believed in the cult.
Really, he was as pleased about the direction the Clans around him were taking as he was about anything — not too long ago, three of them had been run by, he shuddered to think of it, she-cats; now, the three surviving ones were under the dominion of toms, and who knew where SunClan had run off to with their tails between their legs. When the Clan had been collapsing, fleeing in desperate droves from the volcano spitting poison ash and fire, rather than helping their neighbours escape and offering them shelter, Kier had exploited the opportunity. His queens hadn't been doing their duties fast enough, had resisted the advances of perfectly fine NightClan toms, and so he'd sent a gaggle of cruel apprentices to turn the disaster into a selfish solution. Kier had watched from a distance, like a general at war, and it had been one of the most gratifying sights he had ever seen: they'd preyed on the chaos, darting black shapes against an orange-red, burning backdrop, picking the kits off one by one so that when the mothers looked around, they were vanished into thick, choking air. Disappeared. The mothers wailed and searched, the kits were silenced in the shadows of the desert rocks as the apprentices watched and waited with their paws over their mouths, and the volcano raged on. Finally, in the molten aftermath, nothing was left. And the kits had been carted home. Positively spine-tingling.
Now, Kier padded from the trees with no small amount of confidence, a welcoming smile plastered on his face as he approached the MoonClan leader. "Ah, Puzzlemaker!" he greeted. "So nice to have another leader around who rejected the -star. Your moon goddess doesn't approve of it?" He grinned, prying, a little taunting, tilting his head slightly like he was saying come on, you can drop the act now. If he really did turn out to be a devout cult leader, he'd be inconsolably disappointed. "What can my humble self do for you?"
The older tom watched the young upstart approach him and could only think of the carrion birds that used to be found around the roadkill in the cities, that would linger and pick at the remains on the blacktop right until the car almost hit them. Pushing and pushing, evermore daring to feast on the kill until the last very possible moment before death would take them as well. It had been an amusing pasttime to watch the crows and the ravens bicker over the scrapped remains of some animal, rancorous in their revelry, not caring for the maggots and flies that feasted besides them. A smile quirked his features when Kier spoke and he found himself chuckling before the other even finished his words.
Ah, to be young again. So flippant, so uncaring, eager to offend; eager to puff their feathers and start a fight that might lead to a fresh-kill. Puzzlemaker remembered fondly those days, where he flitted from territory to territory young, dumb, and often 'in love'. Time and circumstances had changed his path but the destination was still the same. In truth he had heard little positive about Kier, and when something was spun with a positive light one could easily see the nightmares it was trying to veil behind the pretty spin. Before he himself had settled firmly as Commissioner he had been delighted with the company of some vicious vultures that wandered in the toms shadow and he had found them an interesting sort of company. Now though he was Minister and while his feet still took him wandering he often didn't trust the volition nature of the Night to deem them worth the risk of mingling among.
"Star, what is a star but something that tries to steal the moons glow?" He replied with a crooked twist to his lips, perhaps there was some bitter little sting hidden among the words but the shadows of the night didn't quite allow one to peer under the surface well enough to tell. Shaking out his pelt he let out a scoff and shook his head, in truth he could take the suffix any day he wished to, no one would challenge him, but the time to make the journey and try was not yet something he wanted to bother with. Puzzlemaker would want to make it an adventure, and escape, which meant being careful who he brought along and candidates were still being weighed and evaluated.
"I want you to take some pests off my paws when the time comes. A favor is you so will, though from the way rumors whisper it might be more of a favor from myself to you." He finally addressed, thinking of kits easily treated as scapegoats, as examples. It was an appealing thought and perhaps he would keep a few, experiment, see if he couldn't twist them so thoroughly they saw even their siblings in Nightclan as monsters, it was an interesting idea to keep in mind.
Kier smiled, wide and toothy, unmoving — the sort of dangerous smile that said not only was he irritated, but that he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was so far-fetched, being suddenly commanded to do something by someone he didn’t know and who had been, if only by a matter of days, leader for less time than him, that he could do nothing but be amused by it. To Kier, Puzzlemaker was the upstart. He was so used to being placated, to being flattered, that it had become second nature to expect it — even if it annoyed him at times, all those cloying paws, it was still his utter privilege to be able to snap and wave them off, and he took it for granted. To be faced with something other than that, to be met with dismissiveness… In only a few short months, Kier had become so tainted by sycophantic tyranny that he’d forgotten the outside world, forgotten reality, and being faced with it felt like coming up for air from a comforting, stifling sea, a sea he owned, a sea of warm black treacle and sticky words and cats with guilty crushes he was more than happy to indulge, and meeting the cold deprivation of his kithood again. The contempt with which Puzzlemaker treated him — it was precisely because Kier had once been so used to it that it made his blood so quickly boil; to be treated like he was idiotic, like he could be stepped over, like he was less significant than this cult leader so smug in his prayers — his chest flooded with slow hate, so hot it was cold. The only difference between the frightened, angry little kit he had been and the despot he had become was that now Kier had an army that said he didn’t have to put up with it.
This wasn’t off to a good start.
“And why would I do that?” he replied at last, still grinning that venomously polite grin, and his tone said please. Go ahead. Explain. Be my guest.Make me understand. Despite being a question, it wasn’t asked like one — it sounded like disdain, a foregone conclusion, going down at the end in a pitch calmly lower than Kier’s usually slightly high voice. It was pure arrogance. Deadly violence that only needed a step put wrong. “What pests?” Now a shard of his irritation broke through, splintering the grin and leaving a slight tightness of anger, the hint of a sneer, in its wake. He spoke cryptically, easing and hinting around the soft, sensitive truth like a purring sophist; he hated when others did it to him. Hated being left in the dark over something so stupid and insignificant — just spit it out where he can both see it, he wanted to snap. They were both equals here.
"You mean you don't know?" Puzzlemaker replied with a raised brow, "I was under the impression you knew." The tom could see the boiling dangerous waters hidden behind Kier's narrowed eyes but paid it no mind. It only occurred to him that perhaps he himself was the cause when Kier asked who he refereed to as pests. It was interesting to contemplate, that Puzzlemakers assumption that Kier knew all that went on in his lands was misplaced. Or perhaps Kier liked kits and didn't appreciate them being referred to as pests, but that seemed even more unlikely than Kier not knowing all the activities of his warriors. The sort of worlds the two of them were building for their clans, those sort of machinations only came about because of two reasons. To either hide something, to bury it so deep no one would be able to find it, or through insecurity that drove you to control the aspects of those around you down to every minute detail. Puzzlemaker knew where he fell, knew that the farce he was building was a simply protection for himself, an armor against discovery, and perhaps if he was being narcissistic just what Moonclan had needed. It drove him to aggravation of-course, had him seeking out company from outside the clan to simply have some adult conversation, but during the quiet nights when he retreated to a desolate area covered in the ash blown over the Sunclan border he was reminded what it was all for and stood resolute in his choice. This venture, this quest of his, was just another loose end to be tied up, an opportunity if he spun it in a golden web. So it was a shame that Kier seemed either resistant to his words or simply out of the loop.
"One of my... misguided she-cats has had a dalliance with one of your toms. She won't name which one and truthfully I don't much care who it was." He finally expanded tone lackadaisical and eyes half lidded as he watched Kier. "Because in the end the outcome is all the same." He didn't elaborate on what that outcome was, not willing to come right out and say she would likely be exiled and then executed quietly, or executed publicly depending on how the Vesper went. "I cannot, no, I do not want the full litter in Moonclan." he was careful not to say the reason, let Kier make his assumptions on why this is or the state of Moonclans inner politics. "I would like to give you most of them, or half depending on circumstances." He used the word give, like the kits were a gift and not just pawns in a bigger game.
Kier’s entire demeanour immediately changed. “Well!” he replied, wide grin welcoming, conspiratorial, and eyes utterly friendly — it meant go on!, and this time it was completely genuine. He sat down, sweeping his thin tail around his paws. All his animosity was gone; he was relaxed as could be. If there was one thing he loved, it was a bit of gossip — and the fact that this was being done behind closed doors, just between the two of them, making sordid business deals in the dark for the benefit of each other and at the expense of individuals, of their very Clans, private life events made into bargaining chips by selfish, uncaring leaders; oh, he adored it. The hypocrisy of it. The fact that he could impact the life of a she-cat he didn’t know, that he could ruin her life by doing nothing more than signing his name to a document spread over a table by candlelight. He might have been offended at the jab at his not knowing, but he wasn’t. “I,” he laughed, touching his paw daintily to his chest and giving Puzzlemaker a faux-humble look, “I like to let my upperclass toms have a little freedom. Good for morale, you know.”
In so many ways, in spite of and precisely because of the violence, Kier was a brilliant leader — a genius with a propensity for numbers, for chess-games planned thirty steps ahead, for hard, sleepless work until everything lined up, for order and structure and incentives. An understanding between when terror was the greatest propellant, and when a sweeter touch was needed. What other leader, so young and with no experience, could have crept his way to a throne under the guise of being the little one no one paid attention to, and instated a functional, stimulated reign so well-established in so short a time that there might as well have existed nothing before it? It worked — NightClan as a tyranny had become a cocky, powerful entity, perhaps too arrogant in their strength but bloody all the same. And yet if there was one glaring weakness, disregarding the fractures in the inner circle, disregarding the bitter, stewing fear, it was the old boys’ club freedom he gave the toms — he was utterly indulgent of their laziness, of their vice, of their lack of inhibitions. It was a terrible place to be a she-cat — but, oh, it was a wonderful place to be a tom.
As Puzzlemaker went on, Kier’s eyes narrowed, dark and sultry, and he leaned forward; his voice was sly, difficult to tell whether he was joking or not around that smile. “Well, NightClan toms are irresistible; we can’t blame the little minx too much for being enticed. You know how she-cats are. Now much strength of will — I’m sure she put up an honourable enough mental battle before she succumbed to her coarser impulses. They’re quite primal underneath all the finery and lace.” He laughed, like he was remembering some happy memory, and leaned back. It was rare he met a tom he felt he could say these things openly to and perhaps be met in kind. Kier sounded almost proud of whichever NightClan tom it had been; he was growing more and more NightClan every day. And then, after a moment’s musing, he seemed to think of something. He grew more excited. “Tell me,” he leaned forward again, licking his lips and lowering his voice like they were discussing delicate things, “I hear that in MoonClan, mothers have complete say over kits’ lives. Doesn’t that strike you as a little perilous? After all, they’re not particularly known for their intellectual acumen, are they?” He gave Puzzlemaker a knowing grin, looking up at him from where he was still slightly leaned forward — like he was expecting the other leader, as a fellow tom, to laugh along and join the old boys’ club. It felt like faint pressure. He had been gratified indeed to learn that MoonClan took kits from birth mothers just the same as he did; clearly, he had been utterly correct in his estimations of a she-cat’s negative influence.
I cannot, no, I do not want the full litter in MoonClan. I would like to give you most of them, or half depending on circumstances. Kier leaned back again, nodding as he ran the numbers in his head; his gaze wandered slightly away, and for a little while he was silent. “You don’t want to just kill them?” he verified, eyes flicking back to Puzzlemaker. Clearly not. He turned slightly back to him. “I suppose you’ve heard about our queens not…” He waved a vague paw, his face growing slightly taut like he suddenly didn’t want to say it. “No, well, I don’t want you to think you’re doing some sort of charity work, you understand — we have kits enough. But of course I’d be happy to take them — anything for a fellow leader.” He smiled, like they were making some greasy backroom deal. “Tell me, will this,” again, he swirled his paw vaguely, like he was trying to think of the word, “become a regular thing?”
Already the gears in his head were turning. A mutually profitable exchange. If kits proved ineffectual for indoctrination in NightClan, or if she-cats showed themselves to be infertile — or simply not worth the cost it took to feed them… If they became an issue… They could be quietly gotten rid of. Passed across the border to somewhere they could be of more use to a fellow leader, a fellow tom. It was no use killing them after a certain point; one or two here or there, you know, to make an example of what happened when one shirked their duty to the Clan. But after that… Well… There was an idea.
No use making an enemy of MoonClan, certainly. Not when there could be a below-board alliance.
Puzzlemaker nodded to his assured words of keeping his 'upperclass' toms happy expression placid and clam like a lakes surface on a still summer day. He knew, intellectually, that if he were to have settled into Nightclan instead of Moonclan he would not have been among those numbers of upperclass. He would have been on the bottom not bother to scrounge for favor when he could just as easily move onto greener pastures, which made him curious how Kier was keeping those he deemed inferior in camp. In the end he supposed it didn't matter, he had his disciples, his little ducklings; falling into line. There was no reason for him to occupy himself with thoughts towards what exact Kier's long term goals and plans were. Already it was clear the pair of them took very a different approach to very similar results, which was fine. There was no shame in going about solving a problem in a different way, but Puzzlemaker also knew objectively they were both walking the wire.
He bit back a bite of laughter at Kiers assertion that Nightclan toms were irresistible knowing that Lotuslake could have just as easily ended up with any other tom as the father of her kits. Her own words were admittance enough, her very nature in the moons he had dwelled in her company evidence enough. It was the reckless tinge of danger that had driven her not some mysterious allure of Nightclan, but he kept that amusement snuffed below an iron paw and simply nodded along. It was interesting in truth to hear Kier's views on she-cats, made more intriguing by that fact Puzzlemaker knew his deputy was a she-cat herself. The curiosity about what had caused these views in the young tom was there, biting at his heels urging him to question to poke and prod but he bit it back. He could only think of Beldam with her trail of dead bodies, all the toms who thought she loved them and then she so easily erased from her life. All the kits she left abandoned and lost for her brother to round up and find places for in this world. This time he did chuckle at the thought of Beldam meeting Kier and didn't bother to bite it back, let Kier think he was laughing in agreement at the prospect of she-cats worth.
“I hear that in MoonClan, mothers have complete say over kits’ lives. Doesn’t that strike you as a little perilous? After all, they’re not particularly known for their intellectual acumen, are they?” Puzzlemaker tilted his head and let the tom continue his words already turning the prospect over of explain a Mother's true role to the tom, trying to guess how he might react to it. The siamese tom could only assume he would find some joy in it, but perhaps not as Moonclan did not restrict she-cats from the role. The criteria for mothers was nothing more than a firm spine and a callous willingness to do what needed to be done; to be able to make hard choices and not flinch in the face of them. Though a lot of Moonclan was built as such now, and Puzzlemaker could only hope that the children being raised in this new age all grew to have spines of steel and a sneer that could silence an argument with one appearance.
"Killing kits, it's not something I'd prescribe to." He ventured slowly tossing a sideways look towards him and then glancing towards the sky meaningfully. "They are born from sin and will need strict lessons to be pulled from their mothers lingering influence but they are still redeemable."
Kiers words continued just as quickly after his own and he listened to the claims of charity and then watched him lean forward, watched as a sleazy air seemed to overtake him. His own lips twisted in shared amusement, content with this little backdoor dealing. In truth it felt rather freeing to be speaking to someone outside Moonclan and so eager to just be direct with their words. "I can spare a few kits here and there if that is what your asking. After all, I would hate to overwork my Mothers." He replied with a boyish little grin, eyes crinkling at the corners and he peered at Kier.
It could in truth be a delightful little arrangement, after all who would stop them? Sunclan was in ruins and Dayclan was about as relevant as a washed up actress. He had heard barely a whisper from that direction in ages and had written them off as a non-concern. The two clans of the forest that roosted in the dark could rule the nights easily, without challenge. Puzzlemaker had no dreams of grandeur to stretch his claws into the light, but he could say nothing for Kier. And wasn't that a fun consideration, that Kier's goals for the future might lead him to trying to pull the cover of Night over everything.
As long as Moonclan stayed clear of the ruin he didn't care what happened around him. His concern was with these future generations so gently cradled in the nest he had built until they could take flight on their own. Let the sky burn down around them as they soared to better futures.
At Puzzlemaker's laughter, not knowing he wasn't laughing with him, Kier's grin grew and his eyes brightened, pleased by the perceived lowering of the final wall between them.
Killing kits, it's not something I'd prescribe to. "No?" Kier replied, sounding genuinely, innocently surprised, like he were turning down an hors d'oeuvre offered to him on a platter and not refusing infanticide — not pressuring, just that sort of 'oh? You're sure?' tone. His head had tilted slightly; now his voice dipped lower, like he was imparting caution. "Kits grow up, you know."
That was one thing Kier didn't have patience for, and perhaps all the more vicious facets of his leadership — the rigged trials, the executions — were precisely because of that youthful impatience. He would spend years on numerical problems to build infrastructure, but he wanted the fleshy things, the bloody things, done quickly: maybe cats put to death long ago could have been reformed; maybe all the kits of bad blood needed was a bit of re-training, but he didn't have the patience for that. He had the patience for other things, things that seemed virtually inseparable: he was playing the long con by raising the kits of Moonblight, a traitor, to be utterly loyal to him — but that was for personal, twisted revenge; he was manipulating the amnesiac Sagebristle — but, again, that was for sick pleasure; he was raising kits and apprentices to be devoted, to cast aside their birth families, to report their mothers and fathers for infractions, to live and die for the tyrannical state — but they were untainted. Everything else came down to that simple philosophy: kits grew up. Why wait about to see if they became a problem, why expend valuable patience there, when he could just nip them in the bud and avoid having to ever find out? Why pour patience into that experiment when he could instead pour it into indoctrinating blank canvases? He would leave that test up to Puzzlemaker and watch the results if they went poorly with knowing satisfaction, and if they went well with bitter jealousy that he had mis-stepped and lost out on a similar prize. But for now: kits grew up. It was his driving wisdom.
I can spare a few kits here and there if that is what you're asking. The usual grin spread back across Kier's face, twice as wide, and turned a little more sinister and narrow-eyed just to join in with Puzzlemaker's own when he returned the smile. He leaned back, utterly satisfied — surprised, too, by what a fortuitous meeting this had ended up being, out of complete thin air. The sinister air left as quickly as it had come, his eyes relaxing again. "Good!" he replied, and that pleasant surprise at how easily everything was going coated his voice. "Well! I must say, I hadn't expected to make such a beneficial friendship when I woke up this evening, but I'm hardly complaining." He smiled for a moment.
"But going back to that matter of sin..." From the way he said it, Kier was clearly doubtful — disdainful, even, but trying, for one of the first times in his life, not to outright offend the other party. He wasn't an atheist, but the beliefs he prescribed to had no concept of sin. He looked him in the eye, unblinking, truly curious. "You don't really believe that, do you? Surely you're just saying it to keep them all in line — religion works wonders for fear and discipline, I know from experience."
While Kiers words held merit Puzzlemkaer wasn't worried in the least, the kits might grow up but they would grow up under his watchful eye. Even if they chose rebellion, even if they skulked in the shadows; someone would know of their disingenuous hear and report them. More than that, if everything were to fall apart Puzzlemaker could just as easily go find something new to toy with and leave this chapter unfinished. He could make a show of giving up the reins to Windsweptashes who he's sure he can puppet through leadership. One cannot plan for all eventualities but if one expects the unexpected then it is also no longer unexpected.
"Belief is a funny thing, such a wide concept to wrap ones head around isn't it?" His blue eyes sparkled as he looked at Kier, eager and teasing all at once. "Who doesn't want to believe in a higher power when times are hard, who doesn't have thoughts towards what the afterlife will be like when death stares them in the face. Everyone wants to believe in something, who am I to deny them their faith."
Leaning back and looking towards the sky he continued in a more wistful tone, "after all, it takes true bravery to stand for what you believe in, even if you stand alone." Tail twitching his eyes cut downwards again towards the Nightclan leader. "I'm sure when you started your journey in Nightclan you had a vision, and I'm sure only yourself and perhaps a few others believed in it. But that did not stop it from becoming a reality; others lack of faith did not hinder you in the least, because when one believes in something it is just a real as anything."
His lips twitched in a crooked little smile, pleased and happy to be able to speak on the topic to the other. Even if all he did was dance around the question and never come right out and answer. He had confidence though that the other tom would get what he was trying to say regardless of his nature in replying.He always enjoyed playing with his words, dancing around questions. He had learned quickly that sometimes to say something outright was to lock yourself into regrets later down the line. While Kier and himself seemed like like minded individuals he would still rather dance the line and lead Kier to make the right conclusions rather than just gifting him the answers to his more daring questions.
it was 3am when i first wrote most of this and i could barely see straight and there was only feel good inc by gorillaz on repeat and kier was- what’s kier doing? he had the reins and even he didn’t know, kier baby that’s a cliff you’re driving us over. oh boy howdy. apparently he decided he had a crush, im just a vessel for this demon from hell. anyway i think you’ll be able to tell what i wrote with a clear head LMAOOO <3
Kier found himself grinning faintly in return as the other leader looked at him, something fluttering in his stomach. He stayed silent, for once in his life just listening, his eyes staying on the Minister for a long few moments after the other tom raised his muzzle to the night sky, before finally tipping his own head back as well and gazing up at the stars. He blinked slowly, and it felt like he truly saw them for the first time in moons. Beautiful and vast and pale. After a little while, Kier looked down and, standing, quietly padded around to sit beside Puzzlemaker. Then, still silent, he raised his eyes back to the stars. They reflected in the blacks of his mismatched pupils. He felt suddenly very small and very young, something he never felt anymore. He always felt old, tired, hunted. Out here in the cold, fresh air, he felt infinitesimal and achingly young. Young as anything. And through it all, this regard for the other leader that had quietened from cocky disregard to shy admiration.
It wasn’t that he would have fallen into Puzzlemaker’s cult if he’d stumbled upon him before coming to NightClan — Kier wasn’t the cult sort, at least not any cult that existed outside stone circles and deer gods and hearts eaten under the moonlight. He was too in love with his own mind, his own potential. Too free. But it was nice… To be understood, at least a little, and however patronisingly. To have a leader on the other side of the border who was somewhere near as cruel as he was. Rather than feeling threatened, he felt faintly comforted. Less alone.
When the Minister looked down at him and spoke to him, Kier followed suit a moment later, wandering his eyes down from the stars, wider and more guileless — more innocent — than they usually were, to meet his gaze. He was tall enough that he had to tip his head back; but then, that was a normal feeling for Kier. “Ohh,” he replied, strangely humble, strangely bashful, feeling himself flush at what felt like a compliment. Like praise. He received that so rarely. Kier’s little grin wasn’t what it normally was; it was slightly upturned at one corner, crooked enough to be sheepish, his head tilting slightly to touch his cheek to his shoulder and his eyes darting down to the ground before meeting Puzzlemaker’s again. “A vision…” He gave his head a little shake, looking down with that little grin still on his face; he brushed his paw back and forth across the earth without really realising it. Himself at the top, because he was nothing, because he had always been nothing — was that a vision? The way Puzzlemaker said it, it felt like it was; the memories themselves twisted into a new shape in Kier’s mind, becoming, briefly, something venerable where there had only ever been tyranny. “I suppose I did…” Like the Minister were forcing this bashful arrogance upon him. It sounded like he was trying to deflect the compliment — something he would never have usually done. Usually he would have lapped up and paraded any allusion to his conquering of NightClan, would have prompted the other for more. He looked up again with that same grin. “Well, there’s no lack of faith that a bit of violence and ingenuity can’t overcome. What god can stand up to slaughter when there’s no one left to worship them?” His eyes didn’t waver, didn’t blink; it sounded almost like he was waiting for approval. “Then we’re the only gods left.”
Then I’m the only god left.
The Minister had had some stupefying effect on Kier, some effect that would hit him in the middle of the day when he suddenly jolted awake next to his mate, flooded by clawing, self-conscious humiliation like he’d just slept off the buzz and woken up with the hangover. With the cutting clarity of what a demeaning, belittled idiot he’d made of himself, enough to make him furiously angry, enough to make him dangerous in camp — more dangerous than usual — for the next few nights. But right then, grinning up at the other leader, he felt dopey.
And then, like he was sobering from the brink of tipsiness, he snapped back to reality slightly, swaying for a second and with his pupils briefly contracting. “Yes,” he agreed, and his voice was more brusque, more Kier. “But our situations are markedly different, wouldn’t you say? If I’m trying to start a cult, it’s not for any deity. You want to manipulate them with your god, I want to be…” He trailed off, his mouth still silently pulled back, frozen on that word. He couldn’t say it. That was a private, desperate hunger. Then he smiled and looked up again, like he were closing the door on those grand topics and moving things back to pleasant nothings. So he could breathe. “You know, I think there must be something in the air. By my estimation,” and he was just a nerdy mathematician at heart, “all the leaders of our little ménage à quatre aren’t originally from their Clans. You, I, DayClan’s bumbling oaf — no doubt whomsoever ends up leading SunClan back from the brink. It’s a very good thing, I feel. A very fine thing. Lots of room for… change. Innovation. Where would any of us be without change? Stagnation is the enemy of any great leader — until you’re at the top.” He flashed Puzzlemaker a grin. Then Kier seemed to think of something and his expression grew more serious, back to business; he leaned in, like they were back to discussing more tawdry things not fit for polite ears. “Tell me — this deal of ours, how close might we call it to an alliance? Keeping NightClan isolated is good for me, you know, as I expect doing the same for MoonClan is good for you — but we’re rather short on friends. Not my doing, you know,” he hastened to add, “ — my predecessor’s. A she-cat.” He pulled a face, tilted his head briefly to the side before righting it again. “Not that I don’t encourage my apprentices to run amok — why shouldn’t the strong take what they like from Clans that can’t stop us. But all of that rather limits available… avenues. And in the event that something untoward were to happen, would we…” His eyes flicked up, held his gaze. They were like splinters of bright white ice in the moonlight. “Be able to rely on each other?”
okay but i'm loving the school yard crush vibes ahh. except with a kinda more sinister tone. was real tempted to have him call Kier sweetheart.
The brown shaded toms smile turned indulgent as Kier spoke, “Then we’re the only gods left.” It felt almost comical when just moments later Kier stopped himself from finish his sentence. "You want to manipulate them with your god, I want to be…” He had rather given himself away on how he wanted to finish his words only moments ago. But Puzzlemaker said nothing and simply hummed, warm and agreeing as the other tom spoke. Kier reminded him of the rouges he used to run with when he was bored of touring the clans, of the scrappy little things that would take your tongue before they let you speak down to them. It was a rather nostalgic feeling that had him leaning towards Kier and opening up more than he perhaps would have otherwise. He had always loved dangerous cats, though he had also always fell into love quickly and just as fleetingly. Already Indigocrown was learning how fleeting his affections could be when things didn't turn out the way he wanted them to, when one grew predictable, boring.
His eyes sharpened though at the others sly questions and he let out a short laugh, "ah Kier, my friend, of-course I would help you if you were backed into a corner." He let out a breath before continuing, as if sharing some large burden, "but we both know that your forces are stronger than mine. In truth I worry I would not be much help other than to shelter refuges or share supplies. For what use would Moonclan be in a fight were Nightclan in her fierceness was already being pushed back?"
In truth the phrasing of the others questions worried him, it sounded as if the other already saw a fight on the horizon which was bothersome. Puzzlemaker was well aware that Moonclan's state wasn't quite weather to weather another storm, their numbers were all young and their minds still impressionable. But he did like Kier, found him a charming sort of murderous and felt the need to indulge him as he had indulged others in the past.
Thus he didn't let his own doubts stop his next words, "do you foresee trouble coming soon? Perhaps we can think of something that might forestall a battle or give you an upper hand before things ever begin. A poison if you have a target or perhaps a destabilization of their clan so they would have true difficulties mounting an offense?" As Kier had mentioned Puzzlemaker had not started in a clan or a group. Had started humbly with his siblings and had grown making hard decisions his whole life; he felt no shame cutting a sleeping threats throat if it saved a large conflict down the road. Though he preferred to end most things with words and stalemates before it ever grew to violence.
