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Oleanderpaw didn't get why she always felt so alone, even in the crowd of apprentices she tried to force herself to be friends with, even though she still, reluctantly, hung out with Leveretpaw, even though she always drew attention to herself. It was almost ridiculous, the things she would do to feel seen. In the moment, it was fun, it was exhilarating, to be stared at even if she was being embarrassing, but it always left her feeling much worse afterwards. It was a battle with herself. She hated it. It was worth it. Just be nice. Where will niceness get anybody here? She remembered what she had said to Leveretpaw, then just a kit, that he was too nice, that she didn't understand, and the same still stood now — she wouldn't admit it, not even to herself, but she worried for him. Oleanderpaw fit into Nightclan because she could make herself fit into almost anything, Leveretpaw wasn't that flexible. She enjoyed trials, but she wasn't sure how she'd feel when he was put on the podium next. If he were executed, who would she share her woes to? He was the only one that could stand to listen to them. Maybe she should branch out, just in case, but then she was reminded that that's what she's been trying to be doing. And it was failing.
But if Oleanderpaw was anything (and she was a lot, mostly good things), she was persistent and she was stubborn. After her morning grooming and fur-care routine, she spent the rest of her time until the afternoon going over every apprentice, judging their flaws, their good qualities, their appearance, until she decided on the perfect friend. They had to be popular. They had to be funny, charming, adventurous, able to keep up with her. They had to be Bumblebeepaw. The moment she could, she stormed up to them, stomping so determinedly that she looked angry, backing them into a corner of a cave wall and standing over them with the fire of the sun burning in her amber eyes. And then she smiled, bashful but awkward. She felt nearly nervous all of a sudden.
"Hi. You're my friend now, I've decided. Congratulations. Let's hang out."
A soft, slightly annoyed sigh had escaped them as they had caught the approach of Oleanderpaw from the corner of their eye. It wasn't for the reasons most cats might have sighed at her approach; her forcefulness, her braggadocio, her incessant need for attention-- Bumblebeepaw didn't really know Oleanderpaw well enough personally to have any feelings any which way on that. They had heard about her through second hand gossip, but that didn't matter to them really. No, the only reason they really cared about the she cat coming over was the way she stomped up to them as they they were just minding their own buisness, like the were about to get their ear chewed off for something they had no clue that they did. Bumbleebeepaw was already planning any number of excuses or re-directions; maybe a very sarcastic, "I'm so sorry, I really will never do X again." if it was even a legitimate complaint, but they were even more-so prepared to tell her she'd gotten the wrong person. They couldn't even manage to think of what they had possibly done to tick her off, but they were prepared to get an absolute earful.
And then, Oleanderpaw threw them for an absolute loop. "Hi. You're my friend now, I've decided. Congratulations. Let's hang out." Bumblebeepaw slowly leaned back a bit, almost touching the stone wall that sat right behind them, as they looked Oleanderpaw up and down. Their expression wasn't hostile, it was downright confused, like Oleanderpaw had grow three heads or asked them if their fur was blue, like she was talking absolute nonsense; their eyes squinted in some sincere mixture of suspcion and confusion, but after a while, when no punch-line came and it didn't seem like this was some bizairre prank, they just awkwardly accepted this was what it was.
"Yeah sure, why not?" Bumblebeepaw said, with about the same brazen carefree acceptance as if they had been told any number of mundane things. Because really, what were you supposed to say to that? No?... Maybe. But at this point they already said it, and they weren't taking it back. Besides, they figured at this point this could only end interestingly. They flashed a slightly dry, still slightly bewildred grin, that was truly the face of a cat that had no clue what was going on but they'd decided they were along for the ride. "What did you want to do?"
Yeah sure, why not? She relaxed, leaning back with a new purse to her lips as if she had found their answer unexpected, and truthfully she had expected them to say something along the lines of 'no,' or, 'busy, sorry,' and scurry off. She hadn't planned this far. Still, she was irked at their initial confusion, but it could be brushed aside because he had accepted. Oleanderpaw fell silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, eyes not leaving Bumblebeepaw, though she seemed to look through them, and it was only when their question registered in her brain did she find the words to speak. "I don't know." She sat down, still not moving to let them out of the corner, "usually I make friends by going on some life-threatening, terrifying adventure. Terrifying for them, because I don't get scared much. I heard the thunderpath is pretty empty though, and I haven't been there yet."
Finally, she seemed to realize where she was seated and stood up, taking a few steps back to give them some space. She felt suddenly nervous, and even though she said she never felt fear, the lie was obvious and she hadn't yet convinced herself it wasn't. Clearing her throat again, she leaned in, voice lowering to a whisper, "I hear it's haunted. And spooky and stuff." She leaned back, shrugged as if she hadn't just proposed the one thing every mother told their child not to do: play in traffic (even if there was hardly any; a road was still a road). In true Oleanderpaw fashion, she hardly waited for an answer before turning on her heel and, incredibly slowly because she still wanted to walk with Bumblebeepaw and take the lead at the same time, padded towards the exit of camp, trying to pick up a conversation. Usually, she amazing at those, at talking somebody's ear off in a one-sided discussion (her favourite kind of discussions), at filling the silence with the sound of her own voice just because she loved hearing it. For the most part, she didn't care what others said in response. But Bumblebeepaw always seemed too chill, too cool, confident, like they didn't take anything seriously at all and, somehow, Oleanderpaw was nervous. Somehow she had finally admitted to herself that she wanted to be liked by those around her, that she cared more than she thought.
Bumblebeepaw had opened to their mouth to answer, only to be casually walked away from. Biting back a small sigh, more so at the oddness of the situation more than at any real feelings towards it, the rose to their own paws and took their place beside Oleanderpaw, although in spite of what she might have preferred, they pulled ahead a bit, attempting to walk a tiny bit in front. It was only natural, really. She was the girl here, they were the guy, and leading was what they were meant to do here, even in a friendly, casual conversation. At least, that was the way they saw it. Not to mention, to follow along behind a girl would have been embaressing. They could almost feel the gaze of the superior toms in Kier's close crowd who would have gladly laughed off to the side if they had caught a tom following a she cat around like the were her little lap dog; beyond perhaps if it were under the guise of some little romantic tease.
Either way, as they casually set what they thought was a fitting pace, they finally turned their head back to Oleanderpaw to answer her question that they figured didn't really matter; the answer of "Sure." had been pressed upon them whether they like it or not.
"Yeah, the thunderpath sounds cool. I've been there before like twice, the last time under less-than-great circumstances. Place might be unlucky but I doubt it's actually haunted though. Then again, I might just be unlucky." They tried to shake bitter flashbacks to a scene of rainfall and a painful chase that was not all that long ago out of their heads. There were a lot of unresolved feelings there, and they probably weren't quite ready to address them just yet. So instead, they just flashed a half-joking grin at Oleanderpaw, a facade over what was an uncomfortable rise of emotions they tried to play off as just vague amusement at an urban legend.
As they got to the cavern's exit, Bumblebeepaw sped up a bit, taking a pause to let Oleanderpaw out first. It was the typical sort of Nightclan chivalry, the sort of polite thing that one did for ladies that Bumblebeepaw barely questioned; they did it because it was the socially the right thing to do, you just did it.
As they moved ahead of her, she blinked, dumbfounded, for a moment, completely forgetting what her place was supposed to be in Nightclan's society — she-cats at the bottom, to bare kits and be silent wives and helpers, not leaders. She moved up so they walked side-by-side. I've been there before a like twice, the last time under less-than-great circumstances. Her tail flicked in excitement, hitting them on the back, "oh my goodness, I totally heard about that. Or, like, everybody did," she snorted, "that somebody got away." She put on a sing-songy voice, far too loud and far too embarrassing. "But anyway, it's good for you that I'm like, a natural good luck charm, so if you are, I'll repel it." She gave a grin of her own, feeling a little less nervous now they had a back-and-forth going. When Bumblebeepaw stopped at the exit, she gave a slight, bashful giggle and padded ahead, taking the lead until they eventually silently, unknowingly fought for it again. For the most part, she didn't like the idea of what Nightclan wanted a lady like herself to be — she wanted to be in charge, she wanted to be listened too and adored — but she supposed some customs rooted in those ideals worked in her favours, like the giddiness she felt at being practically bowed out the door (even though they hadn't really). She felt queenly.
The night was rather warm, the air fresh as they left the stuffiness of the caves, and she couldn't help but breathe it in deeply. "What if it is haunted," she steered the subject back, tilting her head skywards, "and we run into, like, a ghost or something. What would you even do? What do you say to a ghost? Sorry you're dead? Personally, I think that if somebody is dead there's obviously a reason, like stupidity. But, y'know, maybe I wouldn't say them to that." She probably would; Oleanderpaw wasn't one for politeness.
Bumblebeepaw almost didn't bother humoring the comment she made with a response. It wasn't that they had nothing to say, they certainly did. Especially to the last comment about her being lucky, they could have figured a thousand quips and remarks to go off that. But the first one, the loud, sing-song reminder about that night, spoiled the air a bit. They didn't dare want to admit it, that most of that night was shadowed in memories of grey rainy haze and the sound of pathetic cries to the backdrop of a quiet thunder; tainted with feelings of frustration and guilt and desperation that, usurprisingly, left a bitter taste in their mouth. Instead, by sharp contrast, were eager to pretend it didn't weigh so heavily on them, and so they briefly addressed the mention of it with a nonchalant laugh that betrayed a bit more of their restlessness than they intended it too. "Yeah. It was quite an adventure." That at least they were able to hide under the veil of sarcasm, so slick with it that it was hard to tell what that even meant. Was it sarcasm heavy with enthusiasm, with distaste, with regret? It was hard to tell, the meaning lost in the much more humerous overtones.
As they padded out of the caverns, their competition for who pulled ahead got a little less agressive. Of course Bumblebeepaw still tried to take lead, that was what was expected of them, but they didn't feel half the intense need to do so as they had felt back when the entire camp's eyes had been on them. It irked them still, sure, but it wasn't anything worth complaining about, and the moment Oleanderpaw brought up a fresh topic of coversation any thought of it for the most part fell by the wasteside.
"Eh, to be fair there's a thousand reasons why someone gets killed, stupidity is just one of them." They said, a lazy nonchalantness to their words. "But I'd argue if they died on that thunderpath they'd be pretty darn stupid. It doesn't seem like monsters run down there too often, and even if its coated in fog, fog doesn't make you deaf. Seems like you could here it coming a mile away." Bumblebeepaw continued on, the same casualness in their tone as they padded along deeper into the forest, the sounds of camp becoming mute with the growing distance.
"But anyways, I guess if I did meet a ghost, I'd probably just talk to it like a normal cat. I mean honestly? Assuming ghosts can do any sort of terrible things to you, no point in not trying to get a word in edgewise before they do it. At least get a witty comback in before they kill you or do whatever else they want to do, I mean why not at that point?" They said, a clear note of amusement in ever word they spoke. The idea of meeting a ghost seemed pretty ludicrous to them, a funny sort of fantasy that kits told back and forth to scare themselves. But they decided to humor the idea, if only because it kept the conversation going.
Her steps were bouncy, her white pelt standing out starkly against the backdrop of intimidating pines and dark woods. But I'd argue if they died on that thunderpath they'd be pretty darn stupid. She laughed, not at the fact that what he said was anything particularly humourous, but at his usage of the word darn, as if damn was just too much for him to handle. Oleanderpaw almost pointed it out, but kept the words out of her mouth, conjuring something else instead. "Yeah they're, like, super loud." It felt like what she did when around Leveretpaw, the one and only cat she would hold back on, keep half of her mean words to herself and tease with not force behind it — she preferred annoying him instead, and though she didn't keep it a secret that she found the guy incredibly lame, her strange sort of friendliness to him (which wouldn't be seen as friendliness to anyone else) didn't go unnoticed. With Bumblebeepaw, she felt similarly, except where Leveretpaw was the pinnacle of lame, Bumblebeepaw was the pinnacle of cool, of charming, of popular. They were what she wanted to be. Except it didn't manifest as any sort of jealousy, not like it usually would have. It was fascination.
She led them towards the river, winding through clumps of ferns and thin trunks until the sound of the water grew louder, turning north towards the border. "I'd ask them what it's like — like if it was painful or cool or something. I've just always wondered." The river bubbled beside them, and distantly a waterfall roared.
Bumblebeepaw had no context for the fact that she was more laughing at them than at their comment, though to be fair they probably wouldn't have cared either way. Darn, buddy, bucko', 'aight, those were their 'isms and they would use them any darn way they pleased, and they would have said as much with a unpurterbed grin on their face. But without knowing the fact that Oleanderpaw thought anything of it, they were perfectly content to think that they were being as obnoxiously amusing as ever, and so the continued on the conversation with no thoughts given.
"Well I mean, I imagine they're not exactly vibing. I think the entire M.O. of ghosts is that they're miserable and can't move on." Bumblebeepaw said as they padding along with her, only half aware of where they were even heading anymore. "Honestly it always sounds to me like ghosts are less like, the full spirits of cats that haven't moved on and like, weird warped half-versions of what they used to be. At least the kinds mentioned in any scary stories worth their weight. Like at the point where they're haunting cats and working to make them suffer and occassionally directly or indirectly killing them, it seems like they've completely lost their humanity. But like, that's probably the point. Because that's what makes it scary, they aren't relatable anymore they're just like... Ghosts of themselves." There was a paused, as if just to let that bad pun settle as Bumblebeepaw walked along, clearly getting too much of a kick out of it than they should have been.
"I think they should find something better to do. They've got, like, an eternity to do whatever they want and they choose to be boring and haunt people? Kind of lame." She pulled ahead slightly as the roar of the waterfall got louder, and soon enough the river widened to make room for the rushing water. It tumbled down the side of a hill and, just beyond, laid the thunderpath.
Oleanderpaw paused at the water's edge for just a moment, admiring the way the waterfall fell, before looking back at Bumblebeepaw. "Oh!" She exclaimed, so sudden and loud, rushing back to their side and moving them along towards the thunderpath once more. "You totally have to tell me everything about that night — I forgot I wanted to ask. Leveretpaw's been a nervous wreck ever since, thinks he's going to go on trial, but he's thought that ever since they started happening. I keep telling him he's fine, but I don't think he believes me. I'm sure this won't get him in too much trouble." There was a slight edge to her words, like a warning, but it was quickly brushed aside, replaced with her chirpy tone, "spare no details. It'll pass the time anyway."
"To be fair, being dead is kind of lame in general." Bumblebeepaw added as they continued along the path, a moment away from speeding up to catch up with the she cat once more and and closing the distance, when Oleanderpaw did all the work for them by turning and hurrying back. For a moment, they were slightly dumbfounded, completely confused what that shocked "Oh!" had been for, but then she continued, and the confusion faded a bit, turning into a newfound reservedness as Oleanderpaw continued on.
It was probably a good thing Bumblebeepaw didn't catch the hint of the warning to her words, so wrapped up in how to possibly spin that night into something so boring and mundane it would kill all curiosity, remove any hint that anything more interesting than, "It was a cat hunt." They already knew too well Oleanderpaw and Leveretpaw -- in spite of the near-bullying level treatment the latter got from the former -- were close, and they were hesitant enough already about trying to tip-toe around what had Leveretpaw so shaken since that night. But had they caught the note of a warning, the edge to the she cat's tone, that innate hesitance might have turned a little more churning, a little more paranoid. They had been loosely aware of that sensation twice before in their life; of being out somewhere lonesome, quiet, just them and one of their clan-mates, struck by just how easy it would be for one of them to just decide to end the other's lives if it better suited them. Both times they had met the feeling with dismissiveness; with humor or with an accepting apathy, but those sorts of feeling, those sorts of stresses, they weighed and wore. If they had noticed, if they had heard it, that would have made three, and what an unsettling third it would have been. Once is always a fluke, the second a coincidence, the third, however, is never quite so easy to dismiss.
It was a mercy really they were spared the insight to catch it, and so instead they were set looking for words to describe something they would have nearly rather plunged into the waterfall in front of them than have tried to recount; it was probably by some frail bit of whatever common sense the apprentice had that they didn't, but it certainly in the moment seemed more pleasant than bringing to mind something they had been so diligent in trying not to think about at all.
"Eh, to be fair it was pretty uninteresting, but I can see why it got under Leveretpaw's skin; the guy seems really sensitive." Bumblebeepaw said, their words, despite the dismissiveness about them, were noticibly laced with a touch of wariness, and the way they seemed quick to pass any mention of Leveretpaw was likely telling enough in its own right. "Anyways, I hate to disappoint but really it wasn't all that thrilling -- you'd think it would be given the way everyone talks about hunts, you assume it's just like this cool all-out chase where you get to explore the territory outside of Nightclan, and then no matter what happens you at least get a cool story. And I mean, that's kind of true, but the three of us got the short end of the stick. The traitor decided to make their grand escape when we were like four hours or so into a patrol so we were already tired and miserable, and then it up and rained on us so we were stuck out in that. Really it was like, the worst series of events for it if I'm being honest."
The guy seems really sensitive. She nodded, though it wasn't callous — it was more amused, because it was a fact she'd long accepted about him, and though it certainly didn't fit into the atmosphere that Nightclan produced, it was fresh. Of course it annoyed her at times, she was a cat who had never found herself truly nice to people, and even when her words were friendly there was always a hint of venom or a teasing remark underneath. She held little care for anyone outside of her sphere and even then she still had to be above them. For the most part. She regarded Bumblebeepaw as on the same level as her, bright and smart and natural leaders, those who know the ropes. The only difference was that people fawned for them, while she was stuck with the low lives, practically alone. Their friendliness wasn't forced like Oleanderpaw's was, and somehow they had turned it into a strength rather than a weakness.
She giggled. "I'd like to go on a chase — a real chase, not a tired, muddy, sad one," she gave them a grin, "and, if it makes things better, I doubt she got very far across the border anyway. There's all sorts of things out there." Perhaps her words weren't the best choice when they were going to the very edge of the territory on a death path, but Oleanderpaw's self-preservation had always been rather low.
She led them — by an inch of her muzzle — past the waterfall and into the woods beyond, though the trees grew sparser and smaller. Her tail waved with every step as if it were the most dazzling of adventures. The smell of asphalt and gas seeped into the air around them, choking in its growing intensity. She gagged but didn't say anything, instead looking towards Bumblebeepaw. "You aren't from here, right?" It wasn't accusatory, "so why were you guys brought here? Or did you join on your own? And why are you all named like that. All cutsey," she snorted. "I wasn't from here either," her words grew awkward, almost shameful, "but I was brought in as a little tiny kit by. . ." a sudden unease crossed her features as she thought of Moonblight for, possibly, the first time in moons. Where she used to admire him, thought of him as some twisted sort of father figure even if he didn't feel the same way towards her, a saviour, now he was someone distrusted and disliked. The previous Loyal Guard, Aspenstar's pet, a traitor that had to be beaten down and ruined. There was a sense of guilt that crawled in her gut, the same kind she got when she saw his kits, begrudgingly — though that was mixed with bitterness towards them, for a reason she'd rather not face. Oleanderpaw shrugged, "doesn't matter. But I was so young I may as well have been born here. But it's cool because Kier wasn't born here either, so it's, like, a kinship. Maybe not that. But you get what I mean." A mist grew around them.