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wrenpansy cascade and bumblebee ! i apologize in advance, i dont rp her a lot so she's less second nature than other cats i have oops i can't decide if this should be set before or after the second trial so uhhhh if u have thoughts
She sat on the edge of the waterfall, close enough that the cool water splashed back at her, but not close enough that she was likely to fall. Not that she was sure she would have minded plummeting into the cold depths; she would not have been the first cat to be killed by the water, and she wouldn't be the last. Perhaps death would be an easier outcome. It most certainly was, really. All she had to do was take one step too far, and it would be over. Her torment would cease. The gnawing guilt would be over. In death, she would not have to guard herself. She wouldn't have to think three steps ahead lest her own thread of fate be cut by the hand of another. It would just be ... over. She closed her eyes for a moment, considering what that would mean. No more trials, no more betrayal, nothing more than the expanse of nothingness that she was sure awaited her on the other side. It was an enchanting idea, if she was being honest, but an idea that would never be more than that, an idea. A fleeting thought, a defense mechanism to combat the fact that her life was falling apart. She'd never act upon it, though. She had done too much to be here. If she wanted to lie down her own mortality, she would have done it at that first trial. If she really, truly wanted things to end, she wouldn't have fought so hard to ensure that they didn't. She was in too deep now. Blood had already been spilled. It was too late to have second guesses, too late to want to slip into nothingness. Cascadepaw had to survive, if for no other reason but to prove that she could. She was smart enough to: smart enough not to break rank, smart enough to say exactly what she needed to when she needed to with an air of truth to her words, smart enough to survive. It would be a waste of potential to give it up now, no matter how loudly the siren call of the water was.
Perhaps that was why she sat near the precipice; the siren song of the water had at one time been an integral part of the NightClan existence. Before Kier, they had all been taught to stay as far away from the water as possible. It wasn't safe. Even at Aspenstar's most deranged state, she had made her orders clear: do not visit the waterfall. Perhaps that was exactly why she was here. She was banking that the old superstitions were still poignant, even after leadership change, banking on the fact that she would be completely alone. There was no other place in the NightClan territory where total isolation was likely, no other spot where for a moment, she could let her guard down. She came up here nearly every night for precisely that reason, because it gave her a chance to take off the mask, to slump into herself, to let the feelings that bubbled deep in her chest out for a moment, only a moment. Of course, her time outside of the camp was always brief; she couldn't stay out for too long, lest others caught on. Well, lest specifically Kier or Snowblister caught on. Truthfully, she didn't care if anyone else noticed her comings and goings, even though she was certain that perhaps she should. All it would take was one single cat to accuse her of disloyalty, and she would be back on the podium where her life had almost ended. Her survival instinct told her that going to the water was clearly a bad idea. But the part of her that was still alive, that was not simply a shell, knew that if she stayed in the camp forever, if she never let herself feel things, there would be a moment that she would snap. That snapping would be even more dangerous: not only would it show weakness, demonstrate the fact that she was impacted by it all, but it would certainly be her end. It was better to take the time that she needed to feel.
Cascadepaw sighed again, her thoughts crashing into each other in the same way the water crashed down the fall. There was a heaviness to the sigh, a heaviness that could only be prompted through pain. She was in pain. No matter how she acted around the others, her soul was being slowly crushed under the heel of Kier, of NightClan. Her loyalty to her home had not changed, she didn't care enough to hate those around her, but pain still lingered. Most of the time, she kept it locked deep within her chest. But when she was up here, alone with her thoughts, she could let the ice melt, could let the floodgates open. She could face the very things she refused to face in camp: the reality that she had betrayed her mother, her siblings; the reality that she was no further than two steps away from her own execution; the reality that her world was crashing down around her and she was completely helpless to do anything but watch it burn.
A single tear fell down her cheek. Believing she was completely alone, lulled by the crash of the water, Cascadepaw let herself fall apart.
uhhh maybe before the second trial? just because it might be easier since i know a lot of things are going to happen to probably both characters right after it
The waterfell held little meaning to Bumblebeepaw. They'd come into Nightclan in a time after Aspenstar, after those warning had fallen away to just repeated saying that a few cats old enough, or who cared enough, to repeat them on the occasion. But Bumblebeepaw had never been one for following warnings or rules, or even wise guidances. Truth be told, wisdom wasn't their strong suit at all. And yet, in spite of that very lack of wisdom, they had at least, in so far until that very day, been wise enough to not wander out to the waterfall. After all, very rarely did they have a reason to wander all the way out there, and they weren't the wandering type either; they kept themselves busy, kept productive, they could barely stand still and doing nothing at all drove them stir crazy. But recently exploring the tunnels around the camp had become a more familiar thing to them, slipping through the back and dark parts of the caverns, weaving through the old tunnels they'd never really bothered to before. It had become one of the few hobbies they bothered to do when there were no classes going on and no superior had the mercy to drag them off to do some job for them.
The waterfall was one of those few well known places Bumblebeepaw could say they had never truly bothered following through the tunnels to get to. Of course they knew that it existed, they were very well aware of the fact that there was a waterfall nearby that if one navigated a small sum of collpased tunnels you could get to it, but for reasons above they'd never been so inclined to visit it. It was actually hard to say what possessed them to do it now; there was no reason really, other than it was lead to by a series of tunnels, and they had nothing better to do.
As they finally stepped out of the tunnel system, giving a small shake of their pelt to clear off any rock, dirt, or debris that might have landed on them in their little journey, they were slightly surprised by the sight. There was of course the waterfall; that they had been prepared for, and it was admittedly very pretty. Grand, in a way. It was hard to imagine it as the grave site for who knows how many cats that had gotten a bit too close to the edge and fallen to their deaths; but that was often the case with natural wonders. The awe numbed out the horror of many lives lost, or made it feel like a casualty of stupidity, of not respecting the grandness of nature.
Either way though, that wasn't what truly surprised them. Instead, it was the visage of another apprentice sat near the edge of the waterfall. It wasn't hard to tell who it was, the faces of all three of Primrosetuft's kits was burned into their mind, and so they stood there awkwardly, silently frozen in place. They never knew how to deal with the three now, it didn't seem like any apprentice in camp did. It was easier, in some ways, to pretend all of them had died that day at trial, to ignore them and keep up the illusion that they didn't exist at all, rather than fully come to accept the fact that they had all cheered on their deaths. There was a moment where Bumblebeepaw considered just backing out slowly, acting like they hadn't seen a thing at all, or even just walking past the she cat and keeping up the illusion that she wasn't even there. But then they noticed the tears, and the fact that Cascadepaw was actually crying hit them.
They wanted to pretend like that didn't matter. They wanted with everything to act like they didn't care. But a wave of guilt washed over them, and although they would never admit it to themselves, they did care. They did feel bad.
Taking a hesitant step forward, one that was held by both shame and the bitterness to towards themselves that they even cared at all, they tried to force a friendly, somewhat welcoming smile on their face. It was pained, it felt and looked fake, laiden and pulled at the edges with guilt and chagrin, and they knew it was a pathetic attempt even as they tried so hard to tell themselves it wasn't. But at this point they had committed to it, there was no backing out now. "Hey there," It was as strained of a warm greeting as the smile they were flashing her way, but it was the best could manage. "you doing okay?" It was a pointless, inane question and Bumblebeepaw knew it the moment it left their mouth. Of course she wasn't doing okay, who would be? Who could be? But what else was there to say?
The moments inbetween their question and Cascadepaw's answer felt crushing, and they could only thank the sound of crashing water from the waterfall for being some pitiful background noise to keep away the otherwise stark silence that would have otherwise followed.
She had been deep within herself, the weight of the upcoming days heavy on her shoulders, when she heard the sound of another voice. Instantly, her blood ran cold; it was her one duty to prove that she never felt anything, and now, someone had caught her in the act. Her mourning was sacrilegious. No real NightClan cat would mourn a traitor, mourn their lost innocence. She had made it so clear that she didn't care, that nothing mattered to her, and it had saved her skin. Now, now another cat knew that the icy exterior was just that, an exterior, one that was prone to cracking at any minute. Her jaw set into a tight line as she gulped down the emotions, once again placing them into their rightful place, deep within her chest. Her paw reached to her face, wiping the last tear from her eye. It didn't really help, though. She'd need to fully groom herself for the faint tear-streaks to fully be eradicated from her visage, and she didn't have time for that, obviously. She had to collect herself, and quickly.
The moment that she gathered herself drug out a little longer than it should have, but then, and only then, did she turn her head. A thin smile crossed her face, but it was clear that it didn't reach her eyes. The faint blue pools still couldn't help but radiate a sadness, even if that sadness was much less profound as it had been a few moments ago. As composed as she tried to make herself, there was a part of her that had failed, a part of her that didn't even want to try to save face. What was even the point? a part of her asked, the part of her that thought this was all so stupid, the part of her that wanted to offer her throat to the funeral pyre. There was none, really. No matter what she did, while her mother stayed alive, there was no way to escape the reality that she was a traitor's daughter. Of course, her mother's existence was quickly coming to a close: the following night, the next trial would begin. This time, instead of being the accused, she was to rise to judge, a final arbitor of her mother's life. Maybe then, she'd be able to outstep her mother's shadow, secure her survival. Or, maybe she wouldn't. Only time would tell.
"Why wouldn't I be?" she meowed after another moment, her head tilted to the side. Of course, there was a pretty strong irony to her statements; there were plenty of reasons that she wouldn't be okay. But, distancing herself from her emotions, lying through her teeth, it was natural to her. After all, no one needed to know what was going on in her head. "I just like to come out here to watch the stars. They're pretty this time of year." She made no mention of the obvious tension that resided in the air, the fact that the other had been one of the cheering crowd. When she was alone, sometimes the chants flittered through her memory, sending a chill of paralysis through her bones. During the trial, she had no time to pay attention to the apprentices that applauded their end. With the trial over, now, the circumstances had changed, and the sound of the cacophony that had presided through that night was much more pressing. She didn't hold the others responsible, though, not really. They, too, were doing what they had to do to get through this. Who could blame a child for rooting on the potential bloodbath, when every other voice did the same? She probably would have had push come to shove, if she had been in the audience and not the one whose life hung directly in the balance.
"I wasn't expecting anyone out here, but you are more than welcome to join me," she meowed, her tone as deferent as it normally was. "I apologize for how dishevled I look. It isn't very becoming of a lady, hmm?"
To some extent, Bumblebeepaw was glad that the real cause of tension in the air was avoided. Sure the silent denial of it was heavy, uneasy, filled with a tacit deceit that both of them knew was flagrantly placed like a wall there for a multitude of reasons, mostly as protection for both of their egos and as a way of buttressing up both of their facades. But it at least meant avoiding the elephant in the room, and it did its job well. What she had said was certainly a lie, but it was easy to go along with; to act out a part rather than face some moral quandry of reality. In this fake version of the world Cascadepaw had spun up in a second, she was just an emotional lady, perhaps overwhelmed by recent events but not mourning a traitor, not distressed by the situation. In fact, because it suited them better, Bumblebeepaw was willing to pretend her sobs, her tears, were out of the unfairness of it all; that she, a loyal Nightclan she cat, had been forced on stage all because of her monsterous traitor of a mother, and they were merely a kind gentleman checking up on her to assure she was well. It was the sort of thing that could have played out in a 1950s movie, a poor, unfairly treated lady sobbing under the starlight, and a kind gentleman stepping in to gently stand by her side. It was a lie of course; complete fiction, because both knew the truth about the other. Cascadepaw likely had a mixture of feeling, likely cared for her mother, likely hated what had happened, perhaps, as far as they knew, hated them for having been part of the crowd, and they themselves had been just another spectator in the audience, cheering on their execution from the viewers stand. But little lies formed together could create a pretty illusion, a 1950s perfect americana dream out of a dystopian nightmare they lived in, and Bumblebeepaw was happy to play along to achieve the former.
"No no, it's okay. You can't look perfect all the time." They said, following it with a small laugh they forced not to sound as strained and awkward as they felt. They were almost able to play it off as sauve, if only because they, like most cats in Nightclan now, had been taught to respect the gender roles of the lady and the gentlemen, and it was far too easy to live in the fantasy that Cascadepaw's former tears were just feminine whims, emotional little displays all women were prone to at the slightest little thing. And, it was their role, as the man here, to be firm but gentle, to not humor the irrationalness of it all but understand that sometimes, women just had to be women, to know they could be so overly sensative that way. "But it is nice out tonight, you're right. The stars are pretty on clear nights like this." They added, as if to fill space, the words a prelude to personally invite themselves over, as they cleared the small distance between them and the she cat, taking a slow, slightly uncomfortable seat near -- but not necessarily next to -- the other apprentice. There was a while, a fairly substantial while, as they sat there looking at the stars nearby the she cat, where they thought they could just let things be. They could hand-wave it off. They could sit and look at the stars for a second, maybe make strained small talk, and then walk away like this encounter had never happened. But then the silence felt more deafening, and so, too, did the heaviness of a guilt that they wanted to deny they even felt turn crushing. And so, in spite the fact they knew they didn't want to, and probably shouldn't have even spoken another word, they turned their gaze back to Cascadepaw. "I know you said you were okay, but just so you know, if you need to talk about anything..." The words slightly trailed off, but they were as genuine; the blunt, direct, sort of "real talk" way they handled any situation where a more sly sort of charisma seemed too indirect. But this time, for the first time in a long time, it was tinged with sympathy.
