Without Threat For Once [Elmstar]

[Petrichor]

Flowerfur loved the mudpools. Not just for the obvious healthy purposes, but she just knew in her heart that once, long ago, the ThunderClan cats walked the earth, like WindClan and RiverClan and BloodClan. Not like ShadowClan, but still. That the trees had always hung overhead. So, by walking at the bottom, near the mudpools, Flowerfur felt closer to her ancestors. And it was always when she felt closer to her ancestors that she truly felt a part of ThunderClan. That's not to say that Flowerfur wasn't a born ThunderClan cat; no, her family had been around for a long time. Her heritage was firm in its place. But lately, in recent events, she felt a bit ostracized. The way cats continued to look at Elmstar; respect, devotion. Not undeserved, but Flowerfur knew that she would always have that spark of caution about her when she looked at her leader now. When she was a kit, Elmstar had seemed so awesome to her, and not in the oft-used sense, but in the way it was meant; Elmstar inspired awe. He always seemed to know what to say, what to do. He never broke down in front of the Clan, and always had a comeback to the other leaders at the Gathering. So it was now, that Flowerfur knew his darkest secret, that she was most confused. He had murdered his predecessor, lied to the Clan, and was only looking back sadly on what he'd done now that he faced StarClan. But at the same time, he was a good leader, and as much as she wanted to demonize him, she believed that he truly believed that what he had done was for the good of ThunderClan. Flowerfur could respect that, and so, in some strange way, Elmstar was still her hero, even if he'd lost his mind. Flowerfur lowered herself into the mudpool and sighed, letting the warm area of the earth encompass her. It was cold higher up, even among the dens. She feared that soon Elmstar would grow ill, and, of course, she had promised to... but at the same time, she knew that he would not die until RiverClan was no longer a brutal enemy. Damned Elmstar and his complexity. Flowerfur suddenly looked behind her, recognizing the figure of a cat in the shadows. She could tell by the shape, posture, and scent who it was, but she didn't want to believe it. Why must Elmstar slide into every part of her life? In an act of frustration and more than a little pettiness, Flowerfur turned back around and sighed, waiting for Elmstar to start the conversation, if he even wanted to talk. He probably would. Sadly.

[Mama Oak]

He had exerted intent care in the grooming of his fur before leaving his den, but it really was of little use. The whole clan knew that their leader was fading away, and even with a well-collected pelt, Elmstar’s appearance was not a promising one. Sickness had consumed a lot of his already-sparse muscle and the white mottling of his pelt had increased substantially in the past moon, most prominently around his eyes and upon his muzzle. The tom’s fur itself had seemed to grow more dull and brittle; as if the color was slowly leaving him as well as life. But the tom’s eyes remained sharp and intelligent, and every day he left his nest. So long as his mind was still working, Elmstar did not intend to remain idle in his den. He would be up and moving, no matter the pain in his joints or the tightness in his chest. Today, however, the ThunderClan leader was feeling better than usual. Almost as if he had taken a long, deep, and rejuvenating breath. The illness that had settled permanently into his very marrow wasn’t as chilling, and his pawsteps were light and without the sticky sweat that had become typical. Picking his way toward the Mudpools, Elmstar’s mind was the most clear it had ever been. With the ever-present shadow of Lionstar and RiverClan, his own looming death, and the reoccurring hallucinations of Redstar, it was difficult to have a moment without troubled conscience. But the tabby tom was strangely displaced from his usual mindset, and as he came upon his destination, his keen, olive-hued eyes found the yellow pools of his deputy. It appeared Flowerfur, too, had sought the secluded quietude of the Mudpools. She turned away and Elmstar proceeded toward the pond calmly, settling down at the mud’s edge and not missing his clanmate's audible and frustrated sigh The tall, sickly tom flicked an ear in acknowledgement, but said nothing. Nor did he feel a twinge of insult or anger. Really, the ThunderClan leader was not unsympathetic. The eighty-something moon old tom was well aware he had taken Flowerfur from her comfort zone when he appointed her as Quailfoot’s successor, and in the moons to come, delegated a lot of responsibility to her shoulders. Not only were there the obvious strains of her new position, but he had also trusted her with the burden of his singular secret; a heavy truth to say the least. With the added weight of his sporadic spikes of illness, impending death, and the ever-looming threat of war, Elmstar could understand that he was not exactly a cat she was entirely enthusiastic to see. For StarClan’s sake, their last conversation — aside from the usual and frequent collaborations that were necessary between leader and deputy — had ended with him asking her to take his own life when the time came. No, Elmstar was not annoyed. He knew very well that the pressures he continually put on his deputy, the expectations and the responsibility, were enough to tax any feline. But, at the same time, Elmstar knew that the brown tabby warrioress was more than capable of handling it; that she was stronger than even he could guess and she could believe. The ThunderClan leader had complete faith in the she-cat, and as he wrapped his tail neatly about his forelegs and glanced at the inviting brown pool, he nodded a small, respectful greeting; his words addressing her unhidden exasperation at his intrusion, his voice ringing with a forward reassurance, and tone very nearly apologetic. ”Don’t distress yourself — I’ve no intent to ruin your evening with the usual theatrics of confession and expectation,” he mewed plainly, before daintily slipping his long, thin body into the mud. He knew when he got out, the gluey brown mess would make his pelt stick to every knob and angle of his frail, elderly body; making it even more painfully obvious how much he had deteriorated. But all he could think about was the warmth as it cloaked his body. With a content sigh, he offered his champagne-colored gaze to his deputy and blinked. ”We can just... co-exist... for now. For a moment... simply two clanmates. Think it’s possible?” Words: 705 Tagged: Trix/Flowerfur Status: Private/Closed Muse: Notes: Can I just tell you real quick, that I missed these two terribly. o__o

[Petrichor]

For a moment, Flowerfur thought that Elmstar was going to ignore her, pretend she wasn't there. She wasn't sure whether she was grateful or insulted about that, but her worries / gratitude was quickly washed away when he spoke. She smiled wearily as Elmstar admitted that their conversations had been stressful, and breathed a very visible sigh of relief when he proposed to just speak. Like leader and deputy are supposed to. Flowerfur looked up, staring Elmstar in the eyes. While she wasn't in as much pain or as sick as her leader, she definitely looked exhausted. She was slowly getting used to her duties as deputy, but she still didn't like the thought of being responsible for every cat, and her promise had kept her up at night. "I believe it's possible, but I'd not shove all of my certainty into it quite back," she jested lightly, but she couldn't handle humor lately. With Elmstar ill, she led some of the patrols, and had thus run into some RiverClan patrols. She had to stop an all-out fight from occurring more than once. Flowerfur shook her head slightly at smiled at her leader, as genuinely as she could manage. Which wasn't completely genuine, but it was close. "So, what did you want to talk about? I'd ask what's going on with you, but..." Flowerfur gestured with her tail at Elmstar's figure. "It's pretty clear to see."

(Aaaagh sorry it's so short, but Flowerfur really doesn't know what to say.)

[Mama Oak]

Elmstar’s yellow-green eyes softened, his brows pulling upward at the corners as he searched the lines and shadows of his deputy’s face. She looked so tired, and quite abruptly, the tabby tom wanted, very briefly, to apologize. For he knew better than anyone how pressing the weight of their responsibilities could be. He had been a new deputy once too, many seasons ago, and had to juggle an entire clan while Redstar’s mind withered away. He had been the one to saddle her with the heavy burdens and he knew that his own time in this world was almost over; that things would only grow more stressful for her. In a few words, he also wanted to thank her. For Elmstar really was grateful that she was handling things, and the truth of it was, she was handling it well. But Elmstar said no thanks and no apology. The unspoken words gleamed from his sickly-tinged gaze, but when his maw parted, different words found their place on his lips. ”I’ve nothing... in particular... to say, Flowerfur... if... that’s okay,” his mew was cautious now, venturing, and addressing how rigid and expectant his deputy was. ”I mean, clanmates don’t always know what their conversations are going to revolve around, do they? I wasn’t seeking you out with any point of discussion fixed and rehearsed.” The tabby shrugged, a soft smile unfolding at the corners of his lips. It was laughable almost, to imagine the two of them talking about whatever came to their minds — what did two clanmates talk about, even, when not harried by the concerns and responsibilities that a deputy and leader possessed? Elmstar couldn’t remember. ”How are you, Flowerfur? Really.” Elmstar flicked an ear, his prodding gaze deepening as his head dipped in a tilting nod. ”Not asking as your leader, but as a clanmate. How is Flowerfur?” How long had it been since someone had just asked her how she was doing? It was one of the sacrifices of being a leader or being a deputy — it was your job to watch out for everyone and make sure everyone was okay. It was trusted to you to be the strong one. A leader and a deputy was forever ensuring the well-being of their clanmates, but only seldom were the roles reversed. Words: 386 Tagged: Trix/Flowerfur Status: Private/Closed Muse: Notes:

[Petrichor]

The deputy of ThunderClan felt like it was forever until he responded. He had looked at her so intensely, studying her as much as she had studied him, to find the answer she now wish she hadn't pursued so heavily. This time, Flowerfur didn't tense up at his gaze. From what she could gather, this was simply his way of communicating, like being sociable was a game of chess - Elmstar would gaze at his "opponent", and respond as best he could. It was pretty sad. Flowerfur was rather surprised to see Elmstar be hesitant about what he had to say; usually she was the one slipping over and around her words. She had to suppress a laugh as he spoke of not having a particular subject in mind; it seemed unlike him. Sometimes Elmstar was so rigid and absolute that he seemed without sentience, and sometimes Flowerfur had to remind herself that he was a cat, too. It was what he asked that caught Flowerfur off guard, though. She hadn't expected for Elmstar to, well, even care how she felt. She didn't really think him heartless, truly, but she had never thought that he would straight out ask. Flowerfur had to think about her answer for a second before responding. "Truly? The Clan refuses to rest, with tales of war lacing the air. I've had to stop war from breaking out on a couple of patrols. But you know that already." Flowerfur smiled to herself. "Under the threat of war, however, cats continue to live. Queens nurse their kits and warriors hunt. The elders gossip and tell stories and the medicine cats still gather every half-moon. Life goes on, and... I suppose that means something to me. I never thought myself the leader type, and it's uncomfortable standing above my Clanmates, but at the same time, you were right all that time ago; they're all my children, in a way. And -- don't you dare ever tell anyone else this -- It... feels right. Cats always told me that I would make a good mother, because of how protective I was, but I guess I had better things to do." Flowerfur chuckled. "So, in less words, I'm doing okay. It's stressful -- incredibly stressful -- but the reward is worth it."