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She gave herself three days to mourn publicly, telling herself that after those three days had passed, she needed to pull herself together. To move on. She was still the Gold-Water and her tribe still needed her.
The first day, the day it happened, she fled the territory as soon as the last good-bye was given, seeking solace in a place relatively untouched by the now poisoned pawsteps of her memories. Deep, deep into the forest she fled, until the smells of Fire-Tribers became more prominent than those of Water-Tribers. There, she stopped, head bowed and flanks heaving, anger in her heart. It seemed almost suddenly that the brilliant gold tattoo upon her shoulder illuminated, sending a stone flying and building the pressure in it until with a bang it exploded into millions of shards. Her teeth bared, her eyes narrowed, Lyra flung herself into the madness, clawing up trees with razor-sharp claws, splintering rocks, branches, roots, anything her paws could locate. Fueled by anger, by hurt, by betrayal, the feline kept up for hours, until finally, finally she collapsed where she stood, painful sobs racking her small form now covered in grit and splinters.
She must’ve fallen asleep like that, because when she woke up the piles of broken sticks and twigs and rocks had been moved away and there was a body crouched next to hers. It took a couple of moments for the feline to recognize the smell of that of the Gold-Fire, and in a pitiful attempt she struggled to rise herself to her paws, to assure him he didn’t need to worry, she was fine; she’d only come out here to let off some steam. Maybe it was her messy fur or tear-stained face that caused his disbelief, maybe it was the tremor in her voice, but after a moment the paler feline stumbled back into her former crouch, the tears coming hot and heavy once more. He was there until the sky was dark and she decided it was time to return.
She tried to slink in to the camp unnoticed, ashamed at her appearance and ashamed at having been abandoned in such a state. Weaving a new den at the edge of the camp out of what reeds were there, the thought of returning to the den where she’d curled up in a nest next to him to painful to bear. She knew she couldn’t avoid it forever, but for the night…
She knew the den she’d woven was lousy. How could she truly expect to put effort into it after a day like this? But she couldn’t go back into the old one, she couldn’t find solace there, nor in the nursery, nor in the Crystal Caverns… everywhere was poisoned, now. Poisoned with memories of him. Of memories of them.
This had not been what she expected when she woke up this morning.
But now the noises of their goodbyes echoed in her head, the warmth and love she’d felt for the tom she’d curled up to the night before, turned as cold and bitter as the space next to her now. She could see his reasoning, yes, but it hurt. She loved her daughters, but it hurt. Despite what they’d said, she didn’t think they’d ever tried. Didn’t think they’d ever wanted to. And why was leaving the spirit damned territory gonna help? They were gonna be alone, far away, unable to seek help from healers when injured or ill, unable to turn to their mother when they needed guidance, to have a whole tribe of cats fighting for them.
It was these thoughts that caused the tears to come once more, her sobs muffled by only the fur on her tail. Sleep was no easier to come by than earlier, but when it came, she relished it’s presence.
On the second day, she woke at dawn. She had not expected it to go unnoticed that his smell in camp was stale and she had moved to a nest alone, and while she didn’t want to speak the words she knew there was one cat who needed to know. She sought out the kind green eyes of the silver-Water and tailed him to his nest, fur still rumpled, ungroomed from the day before.
There was an air about her, perhaps, or a desperation in her voice, maybe it was even the sight of her messy fur, usually so groomed or pristine, or perhaps all and none, together, but she knew the silver-water could sense her distress, her despair, her desperation. With a plead in her voice for him to not ask - though she knew it would not be long before he learned - she asked for two days relief of her duties, with the promise that on the moonset of the second, she would return to them. Relief washed over her small form as her request was granted.
Upon exiting the den, the Gold-Water’s paws set a course different than the rampage of the day before. This morning, it was to Void-Tribe she ventured, even in her desolation she had a plan in mind. The golden fur of her eldest son caught her attention rather quickly, and it was with him she spoke first, tears brimming in her eyes, a whirl of nerves emotions. He had grown, so, so much since he was a kitten and she recognized that, now. Recognized the image of herself in him, too - perhaps not in the way he carried himself, but in his stature, in his shoulders, in the eyes that were mirror to her own in all but the emotion they showed. His words were of reassurance, she could see there was sadness in his gaze, but a flicker of confidence as well.
”It’s b-better than if th-they were dead.”
For some reason, she couldn’t find herself able to agree with his words.
Another son was there, too, the tattoo on his head white rather than pink, his gaze blue rather than golden. Her sickly sons, the ones that had been the weakest, had the most illnesses. Here, together. There should be another. But she had gone.
Twining her tail with his, the Gold-Water sought reassurance in her tabby son’s presence, her voice thick and cracking as she praised him, as she sought to comfort him as well. The sadness in his eyes proved to her that he, too, was bearing the weight of their loss on his shoulders, and it was with a strike of pride that she found he, too, was bearing it better than she. She needed to do better. They are still here. She hadn’t been entirely abandoned.
But she could not deny that there was pain stubby her heart with each paw step she took, an ache after those who had left, an ache after the one who she’d thought would walk beside her forever, the one who had turned and left.
It is good to see some of us remain loyal.
The trek her paws took on now was more immense, the territory she ran over farther from here than from perhaps any other point in the land the tribes covered, and by the time she arrived to the edge of the shadowy territory,the sun had commenced it’s decent into the sky.
She waited until a dark form pushed through the bushes to step foot inside he boundary markers, wary of everything despite what the spirits had decreed. With eyes closed the tom flicked his ears at her request, padding back away into the bushes and returning with a form far more familiar, far more dear to her.
She only had one daughter left in the tribes.
The mis-matched eyes were the first to catch her attention and with a small cry the older of the pair flung herself at her daughter, wrapping around the slightly-smaller form. Saphiria had been through more than the others, she knew, especially where matters of the heart were concerned. I never want you to feel this way. If nothing else, the determination to protect her only remaining daughter was growing like a flame in the middle of the flood. She would not let Saphria suffer as she was, it as a vow that burned inside her, turning her blood to fire and making her stronger.
Beyond that, there was more. A pang of heartsickness for her patched tabby daughter, mingled with a flash of hope, a quiet tugging at her paws that signified relief. Overwhelemed as they were by other emotions, the Gold-water buried her head into her daughter's fur, a whimper mixing with a broken purr of encouragement.
She feels as I do.
Maybe they were more alike than she had ever guessed.
The stars were in the sky when she made her last trek of the night, paws weary but driven forward by the torrent of emotions that had not grown less intense or stifled in the past hours. Finally, finally, her paws hit the smoky smells of her destination, and without hesitation she padded through the borders, a few words exchanged with the silver and gold before her paws raced desperately form one place to another, the need to find the last fare more intense than anything else.
Finally.
Crawling into the nest beside her youngest son, the petite feline wrapped around him and buried his face in her fur, actions only mirrored by his own. It was here she found the most comfort, here she let herself feel every emotion in it’s raw intensity, grief, fear, loss, longing, betrayal, hurt, and more, until her emotions twined with the toms own and with tear-stained faces the mother-and-son duo finally drifted to sleep.
She doesn’t remember the third day. It has to have been filled with more grief, more pain, but she can’t remember it. She only remembers waking up in her nest back in Water-Tribe, the grey form of her Orange-Water friend curled with her, and knowing she must return to her duties now. Eyes weary, she pulled herself up and managed to give herself a few swift licks before slowly crawling out of her den, paw step by painful paw step.
She had had her time to grieve, no longer could she allow herself a break. Nights would still be painful, waking up with either the comfort of the Orange-Water or of the Silver-Water by her side, but days she had to be put together. She ad to prove that she could still do her duty.
Because, despite everything else, the Gold-Water still had her tribe. And what was more important than that?
The first day, the day it happened, she fled the territory as soon as the last good-bye was given, seeking solace in a place relatively untouched by the now poisoned pawsteps of her memories. Deep, deep into the forest she fled, until the smells of Fire-Tribers became more prominent than those of Water-Tribers. There, she stopped, head bowed and flanks heaving, anger in her heart. It seemed almost suddenly that the brilliant gold tattoo upon her shoulder illuminated, sending a stone flying and building the pressure in it until with a bang it exploded into millions of shards. Her teeth bared, her eyes narrowed, Lyra flung herself into the madness, clawing up trees with razor-sharp claws, splintering rocks, branches, roots, anything her paws could locate. Fueled by anger, by hurt, by betrayal, the feline kept up for hours, until finally, finally she collapsed where she stood, painful sobs racking her small form now covered in grit and splinters.
She must’ve fallen asleep like that, because when she woke up the piles of broken sticks and twigs and rocks had been moved away and there was a body crouched next to hers. It took a couple of moments for the feline to recognize the smell of that of the Gold-Fire, and in a pitiful attempt she struggled to rise herself to her paws, to assure him he didn’t need to worry, she was fine; she’d only come out here to let off some steam. Maybe it was her messy fur or tear-stained face that caused his disbelief, maybe it was the tremor in her voice, but after a moment the paler feline stumbled back into her former crouch, the tears coming hot and heavy once more. He was there until the sky was dark and she decided it was time to return.
She tried to slink in to the camp unnoticed, ashamed at her appearance and ashamed at having been abandoned in such a state. Weaving a new den at the edge of the camp out of what reeds were there, the thought of returning to the den where she’d curled up in a nest next to him to painful to bear. She knew she couldn’t avoid it forever, but for the night…
She knew the den she’d woven was lousy. How could she truly expect to put effort into it after a day like this? But she couldn’t go back into the old one, she couldn’t find solace there, nor in the nursery, nor in the Crystal Caverns… everywhere was poisoned, now. Poisoned with memories of him. Of memories of them.
This had not been what she expected when she woke up this morning.
But now the noises of their goodbyes echoed in her head, the warmth and love she’d felt for the tom she’d curled up to the night before, turned as cold and bitter as the space next to her now. She could see his reasoning, yes, but it hurt. She loved her daughters, but it hurt. Despite what they’d said, she didn’t think they’d ever tried. Didn’t think they’d ever wanted to. And why was leaving the spirit damned territory gonna help? They were gonna be alone, far away, unable to seek help from healers when injured or ill, unable to turn to their mother when they needed guidance, to have a whole tribe of cats fighting for them.
It was these thoughts that caused the tears to come once more, her sobs muffled by only the fur on her tail. Sleep was no easier to come by than earlier, but when it came, she relished it’s presence.
On the second day, she woke at dawn. She had not expected it to go unnoticed that his smell in camp was stale and she had moved to a nest alone, and while she didn’t want to speak the words she knew there was one cat who needed to know. She sought out the kind green eyes of the silver-Water and tailed him to his nest, fur still rumpled, ungroomed from the day before.
There was an air about her, perhaps, or a desperation in her voice, maybe it was even the sight of her messy fur, usually so groomed or pristine, or perhaps all and none, together, but she knew the silver-water could sense her distress, her despair, her desperation. With a plead in her voice for him to not ask - though she knew it would not be long before he learned - she asked for two days relief of her duties, with the promise that on the moonset of the second, she would return to them. Relief washed over her small form as her request was granted.
Upon exiting the den, the Gold-Water’s paws set a course different than the rampage of the day before. This morning, it was to Void-Tribe she ventured, even in her desolation she had a plan in mind. The golden fur of her eldest son caught her attention rather quickly, and it was with him she spoke first, tears brimming in her eyes, a whirl of nerves emotions. He had grown, so, so much since he was a kitten and she recognized that, now. Recognized the image of herself in him, too - perhaps not in the way he carried himself, but in his stature, in his shoulders, in the eyes that were mirror to her own in all but the emotion they showed. His words were of reassurance, she could see there was sadness in his gaze, but a flicker of confidence as well.
”It’s b-better than if th-they were dead.”
For some reason, she couldn’t find herself able to agree with his words.
Another son was there, too, the tattoo on his head white rather than pink, his gaze blue rather than golden. Her sickly sons, the ones that had been the weakest, had the most illnesses. Here, together. There should be another. But she had gone.
Twining her tail with his, the Gold-Water sought reassurance in her tabby son’s presence, her voice thick and cracking as she praised him, as she sought to comfort him as well. The sadness in his eyes proved to her that he, too, was bearing the weight of their loss on his shoulders, and it was with a strike of pride that she found he, too, was bearing it better than she. She needed to do better. They are still here. She hadn’t been entirely abandoned.
But she could not deny that there was pain stubby her heart with each paw step she took, an ache after those who had left, an ache after the one who she’d thought would walk beside her forever, the one who had turned and left.
It is good to see some of us remain loyal.
The trek her paws took on now was more immense, the territory she ran over farther from here than from perhaps any other point in the land the tribes covered, and by the time she arrived to the edge of the shadowy territory,the sun had commenced it’s decent into the sky.
She waited until a dark form pushed through the bushes to step foot inside he boundary markers, wary of everything despite what the spirits had decreed. With eyes closed the tom flicked his ears at her request, padding back away into the bushes and returning with a form far more familiar, far more dear to her.
She only had one daughter left in the tribes.
The mis-matched eyes were the first to catch her attention and with a small cry the older of the pair flung herself at her daughter, wrapping around the slightly-smaller form. Saphiria had been through more than the others, she knew, especially where matters of the heart were concerned. I never want you to feel this way. If nothing else, the determination to protect her only remaining daughter was growing like a flame in the middle of the flood. She would not let Saphria suffer as she was, it as a vow that burned inside her, turning her blood to fire and making her stronger.
Beyond that, there was more. A pang of heartsickness for her patched tabby daughter, mingled with a flash of hope, a quiet tugging at her paws that signified relief. Overwhelemed as they were by other emotions, the Gold-water buried her head into her daughter's fur, a whimper mixing with a broken purr of encouragement.
She feels as I do.
Maybe they were more alike than she had ever guessed.
The stars were in the sky when she made her last trek of the night, paws weary but driven forward by the torrent of emotions that had not grown less intense or stifled in the past hours. Finally, finally, her paws hit the smoky smells of her destination, and without hesitation she padded through the borders, a few words exchanged with the silver and gold before her paws raced desperately form one place to another, the need to find the last fare more intense than anything else.
Finally.
Crawling into the nest beside her youngest son, the petite feline wrapped around him and buried his face in her fur, actions only mirrored by his own. It was here she found the most comfort, here she let herself feel every emotion in it’s raw intensity, grief, fear, loss, longing, betrayal, hurt, and more, until her emotions twined with the toms own and with tear-stained faces the mother-and-son duo finally drifted to sleep.
She doesn’t remember the third day. It has to have been filled with more grief, more pain, but she can’t remember it. She only remembers waking up in her nest back in Water-Tribe, the grey form of her Orange-Water friend curled with her, and knowing she must return to her duties now. Eyes weary, she pulled herself up and managed to give herself a few swift licks before slowly crawling out of her den, paw step by painful paw step.
She had had her time to grieve, no longer could she allow herself a break. Nights would still be painful, waking up with either the comfort of the Orange-Water or of the Silver-Water by her side, but days she had to be put together. She ad to prove that she could still do her duty.
Because, despite everything else, the Gold-Water still had her tribe. And what was more important than that?
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Lyra/Elliott's reaction to their family leaving.
Elliott is mostly glad they're still alive.
Lyra feels as if she's been abandoned/betrayed; she'll be a wreck (in private) for a little bit.
1,765 words
Lyra, Elliott, Kyer © Me
Levi(Implied/Mentioned), Saphiria © Karmatastrophe
Opal(Implied/Mentioned) © rrath
Stevie(Implied/Mentioned) © sshoes
Cyrus © Prawes
Lully, Locke © Snowwire
Kendis © :devsilvibilli:
Elaine © Blizz-chan
Elliott is mostly glad they're still alive.
Lyra feels as if she's been abandoned/betrayed; she'll be a wreck (in private) for a little bit.
1,765 words
Lyra, Elliott, Kyer © Me
Levi(Implied/Mentioned), Saphiria © Karmatastrophe
Opal(Implied/Mentioned) © rrath
Stevie(Implied/Mentioned) © sshoes
Cyrus © Prawes
Lully, Locke © Snowwire
Kendis © :devsilvibilli:
Elaine © Blizz-chan
© 2015 - 2024 viovinn
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Khepri's there to support Lyra to ;w;