Username;; SurgeFire
Cat Name;; Sootpaw
Gender;; Female
Age;; 7 Moons
Clan;; AsterClanRank;; Warrior Apprentice
Prompt;;// this is in the future, as the concept would be currently this age (7 moons) in my timeline //
she rose, paws anxious and unsteady.
the sudden realization she was dead hit, and sunk; this crimson blood, scattered in between and flowing through her fur, onto the grass.
she studied the face of her former friend. was it fear? honestly, before her death she wouldn't have cared; she craved fear in her enemy's eyes, vowing that anyone who would go against avocet would face the afterlife.
and yet it seemed she were neutral, studying heron's face with a cold interest. she felt no trace of empathy, but no trace of amusement. she felt nothing.
and heron ran off.
she'd never been good at deciphering other's feelings. perhaps that's what made her the perfect henchman, she supposed. henchmolly? and so in the fact that her lack of understanding made a weapon, one who didn't feel. she never minded that, actually. others may feel as it was a disgrace, something "lower"; it was better than being forgotten.
it was a way to Judgement, a path to an afterlife.
she never feared death.
was this regret? a haze of a cold void enveloped her; only nothing returned, and she mused if she felt anything it would be long-buried; like a love letter buried in a snow storm-- passion, memories, and a sort of love tied up neatly in a flimsy cover and buried in a layer of chilling ice.
and evidently, someone must've not cared.
--well, something like that, at least.
she tread the cloudy path. she supposed if she were still alive, she'd been muttering about walking for so long. she was always of a complaining sort; how anyone could have put up with her, she didn't know. it wasn't cute.
she never learned, though. a past without parental guidance, and a mentor who fled. she only did what she thought she could only do. she attached herself to someone who seemed to be a polar opposite; firey blaze with no direction (yet no intention of stopping) meets stagnated prickly ice.
he melted.
and oh, when he suggested a secret patrol to snatch up extra prey for them? a good idea.
when he suggested lying about rainfang's disappearance? a great idea.
when he suggested a revolution? the best she'd ever heard.
but her life didn't revolve around him.
she had to atone for her own actions.
perhaps it was to fit in, for once. to be not an underdog, but the second-in-command.
she craved a power. some sort.
and oh, she would do whatever; she regretted not being the one to feel the rush of thistlestar's last life pouring out of her veins, and it carried with her a sick sense of... comeuppance. if she couldn't get thistlestar, she'd get sunstar.
or heron.
evidently, with her neck in heron's jaws, this could never be.
perhaps in another life, she could have had a better upbringing; a better life out for her, and a better choice in a partner.
perhaps it would have been...
and her mind snapped to where she was now, facing a cold, black void.
perhaps she would be judged evil, for her cruel actions.
perhaps she'd be judged good, for her true intentions; how she never truly had a cold heart. how in her last moments she repented for herself.
her eyes glowed the same color as they were, and her scars remained on her ghostly form.
this ancestor is "neutral".
