a big hunk of irrevocable nothing [BrightxFinch]

[Whiskers]

ooc// This roleplay directly follows the last journal here

Oh and the title is from an e.e cumming's poem: my mind is...

bic//

Finchpaw did not look at anyone when he re-entered camp. His body moved of its own accord, and the only thought lodged in Finchpaw's brain was to head for the medicine cat den because he was bleeding, bleeding, bleeding. And every drop of blood that fell from his neck, that dribbled down his chin, felt heavier than he would have ever imagined. If cats called his name, tried to stop him, Finchpaw did not notice. His wound had his full attention at the moment.

He entered the den and immediately swept the area for cobwebs, but once he found them, he did not move toward them. His paws were stuck to the ground, his eyes blinking and seeing only the shape of Brightnose in front of him. Brightnose. Brightnose, that's right, his mentor, who happened to work in the den also. There was no possible way that Brightnose would not see his wound. He did not know how bad it was himself (certainly not very), but it was obvious there was something on his face.

She would ask. He would have to answer.

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[Cloud of Diamonds]

Little truly surprised the calico. And what did, did not usually surprise her much.

But this did.

Blood upon her apprentice's face. A truly shocking sight. The first feeling that rose up in her, even over concern, was anger. Who dared attack a medicine cat, one protected by the warrior code, and StarClan? Even a PineClanner, surely, would not be so foolish. After all, they followed the code too, despite their atheism. It must have been some rogue who was barely worthy of life.

"Who dared attack you?" She meowed in almost a growl. That voice, so often either flat or practically emotionless, was imbibed with cold, furious anger.

She knew she should feel only contempt, but this anger was too hard to suppress, for some reason, so letting out was a way to cool it down, and now she was back in control. Perfect.

And the tricolored she-cat realized the lack of sense her question had. As the attacker was almost certainly a rogue, it was useless to ask who it was. But time would be wasted apologizing for that, she turned quickly and swiped some cobwebs from the rock she ketp supplies in, hastily wadding them into a passable binding. Though the wound was not deep, she wanted to stop it as soon as possible. He might also need thyme for shock, she noted, and tugged a few leaves out.

Taking the binding and the leaves in her mouth, she turned again and spat out the leaves, then applied the binding to her apprentice's head and neck. Most likely a claw wound, she noted. Bite wounds were almost always deeper than this, and they were usually smaller.

[Whiskers]

Thank the earth for Brightnose or Finchpaw would have stood in the den, unmoving, for hours upon hours, his mind locked on the event that had just transgressed him. But it was her voice that awoke him, almost immediately, from his obsessive replay of Firepaw's ruthless attack. It was Brightnose who reminded him of his injury and her voice, appalled and shocked, also reminded him of the sting on his face. Thanks to Brightnose, he would not just stand there; he would treat his wound.

He entered the den a few steps before he heard the echo of a question snap through the quiet tense air. Who had attacked him, is that what his mentor had just asked? That was the question any sensible cat would ask. Actually, most cats would ask "are you okay?" before pursuing the answer to the cause of the wound. How often had he heard cat upon cat ask that question, nag their friends to give them their answer? Being in the medicine cat den, he heard it from nervous mothers to concerned mentors. Will she be okay? Is he going to be okay?

Brightnose did not ask this question.

And Finchpaw was hurt by this. It was a shock, a cold, unseeing force that scratched at him again. Sharp, steady, very effective. Why should it bother him that Brightnose did not want to know if he was okay? He was okay. He wasn't dead. He had a wound and it hurt, but he would survive. It really was unnecessary for him to feel this breaking sensation inside of him, to want someone to ask him that question. Better to put the notion away-- in fact, best not to make a big deal out of this whole situation. He should dismiss Brightnose, and avoid her question.

"It's not that bad," He meowed to Brightnose, once he finally noticed she was treating him. His tone dry, lifeless. He didn't even have to try to put on such an unfeeling persona. It was natural, probably because of the shock. He'd get over it soon. "According to the amount of pain, it seems that it is not so deep a wound that I will bleed to death, so the application of your knowledge and medicine, while certainly appreciated, is not..."

Finchpaw completely stopped and he felt his normal calm demeanor crumbling. He had been fine but a moment ago. But now there was no suppressing it, it was a rumbling inside him, a choking of his throat. He couldn't do this. The events of the last ten minutes hit him full force with the ripping pain of Firepaw's claws.

And Finchpaw, despite how he visibly struggled to keep it together, let out a kit-like whimper and his whole body began to shake

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[Cloud of Diamonds]

The calico ignored her apprentice. She would tend to him, even if for strange reason he did not want it. Mouse-brain. Surely he knew that even if it wasn't serious, it might get infected if she didn't act? Even with all his training. He disappointed her.

A tiny flicker of compassion struggled to breathe. It floundered against the ice around it, trying and trying and trying to live, send its frail message out in a world made cold and stone. But it was crushed, quelled, made silent. Brightnose did not have time for pity or sorrow. Such feelings were for lesser cats, not her. Besides, practical procedures produced such better results than weeping and moaning. That was why she was a medicine cat, after all.

"Surely you know there's a risk of infection if I don't treat it. Don't be stupid, Finchpaw, I know you know this. Or, you should." She said, tone flat but with a hint of irritation.

She realized that he hadn't answered her question of who'd attacked him, but she realized it was silly now. The compassion struggled again, and she gave in. Just the smallest amount. Softening her tone a bit, she added more gently, "I'll notify Miststar right away. She'll want you to describe the rogue who attacked you." Though the words were meant to be comforting, the tricolored she-cat could not help but suppress her lip curling back a bit at them. Their new, so-called StarClan-chosen leader. StarClan would have never chosen such an illogical mouse-brain, no matter how loyal she was. And they would have notified her, anyway.

StarClan, had they actually intended a new leader for FogClan, would have notified her and Owlstar first, then the chosen cat, had them meet together, and work things out. It was so obvious. But no, more than half the Clan believed the deluded she-cat. Morons. They just wanted to be able to say they were behind a chosen figure, that was all. Weaklings.

And here sat the son of Rowanheart. Though he was not as silly as his father - it was hard not to be - she still could not trust him. He might have some of that stupid thing called family loyalty and then where would she be if she confided in him? How good that she'd managed to squash that idiot softness that had shown itself before in her and was even now bothering her like a fly!

[Whiskers]

Brightnose was literally an inch away from his face. She had never been so close before. He could smell her scent-- primarily herbal, though there was something underneath, something cleaner-- he could see the exact color of her eyes. His eyes were wide open and he was staring at her. But he could not see her.

She worked with sharp skill. Her paws moved with perfection. Her eyes were concentrated. But they were also blank. And he had never felt someone with such cold paws. There was no emotion, there was no care-- he could not sense it in her and he was very perceptive. Whatever thoughts or feelings she might have she kept them so locked up that they never broke the surface, probably hardly even registered on her sick radar.

Brightnose really didn't care about him. And Finchpaw knew this, it was practically being forced into his face. And he also knew that, the pathetic thing was, he actually cared about her. He felt guilty when he made her upset. He felt sorry when he did not study. He had been worried when he had walked in, worried about what she would think or feel or say, hoping that she wouldn't be too fretful-- but now all he wanted was a cuff on the ear. A little "How are you? How badly does it hurt?" Instead, all she was thinking was "Oh look, a mess I have to clean up."

Anger. Hurt. Loneliness. Finchpaw felt it all, looking at his unfeeling mentor, hearing her harsh words, spoken not out of love or compassion, but with annoyance and disappointment. Anger. Hurt. Loneliness. Finchpaw wished Firepaw would claw him again, just so he would be distracted from it all.

Anger. Hurt. Loneliness. He wanted Brightnose to feel it too.

He snapped away from her, jerking his head back, backing away from her. He would not let this cat touch him. And he was not going to hold back. This time it was a conscious decision. He would be irrational and emotional, like his brother and his father. Anger. Hurt. Loneliness. He'd show Brightnose it all, every word that he said, every moment that he blinked, and maybe she'd realize, in a tiny nook in her brain, that she was missing every single one and that she didn't deserve to heal.

"I'd rather treat it myself. Good practice, don't you think?" he snarled at his mentor, eyes bright with passion. "Because that's what you want from me, yes? To practice, to be your student. That's it, the end, nothing more. I'm just an empty shell you can fill with your obnoxious prattle, not a cat but a drone. And yes, maybe it's your job to teach me about herbs and Starclan, but if that's all you teach me, then you are one hell of a bad mentor. And I haven't been the best student, but I'm trying-- yet it so happens I was just attacked by my brother, so excuse me for not being perfect, for actually feeling something, and for wanting some comfort. At least I've learned something-- you're not a cat I can count on for any of that."

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[Cloud of Diamonds]

It was like a mixture of dream, memory and impossibilities. Anything could happen - laws so firmly set could break, orders could be reversed, and minds made null. It was a dream and a nightmare. For a moment the calico felt so light-headed it was as if she were a member of StarClan.

But then she hit earth.

She could not hide, could not run; there were no lies for safety, no shields of words. There was no reassurance that it was all in her head. There were no allies, no arguments. There was only he and her and the words they spoke, darker than night, more painful than fire. Even time did not seem to exist, for all the memories the speech evoked seemed to live again, passing before her eyes in the den, out of place and out of time.

"You're not my sister, you freak!"
"You failure."
"Go away, Sunny - you don't live here now."
"Stop asking questions!"
"Uncivilized creature!"
"Don't touch that!"
"You never loved me - all you care about is your dumb plants!"

Tortoiseshell and tabby and white, black and white and mottled - pelts and voices rose in a swarm - accusing, shouting, yowling, all the phantasms of memory attacked as one. Beat her, fight her, make her remember! They yelled.

The cold rationality that so often assumed itself as the only facet of the medicine cat was long gone.

And in a single painful moment, Brightnose fully accepted the truth.

The shock nearly killed her.

Her eyes, so often full of pointed, cold intent, became blank. She forgot she was angry at Finchpaw, forgot how out of line he'd acted, forgotten what power was...all she could do was answer him simply.

"That was true. And I cannot be forgiven. But you can. You're not broken yet."

The plain and simple truth of those fifteen words spoken in an honest voice crashed down around the calico. Though her meow was simple, her eyes held the utter pain and realization of truth. And without remembering why she kept her distance, why she never touched another cat, the FogClanner lay down at her apprentice's paws, eyes still wide and blank, her head mere inches from his feet. She looked at him through hazel windows. "You're hurt. By your brother. What can I do?"

But she said it as she'd never said it before, wonder and fear in her voice, with a true question in it; what COULD she do? She could not heal him; she felt like she could not ever heal again. Well, no. But she felt like...she would have to heal herself before she healed others.

[Whiskers]

Finchpaw caught the sag of the shoulders, found the glimmer of emotion in Brightnose's eyes before it exploded, becoming bigger and blunter than ever before. At first he was astonished, blown back, almost, his own eyes wishing to close to block Brightnose's face from his sight. It was too pained and bewildered. It probably matched his own.

He had succeeded, then. He had sculpted a perfect mirror image, infected Brightnose with his rage and his hurt. He was sharper than he even thought he was, with the ability to inflict a wound so deep that it shook his mentor to the floor and made her calm, pitiless face bleed with emotion. He had done what he had set out to do; hurt her. As petty as it was, it was what Finchpaw had been seeking when he had crafted his verbal assault, a clever and well-executed attack. It reminded the tom how much words really could hurt someone. Words could cripple dreams, spirits, realities. The truth could be just as poisonous as an adder bite. Wasn't that what made Frostpaw's, well, methods, so effective? She had the tongue of truth and she used it mercilessly at times. He saw now, echoed on Brightnose's face, how his father might feel when Frostpaw shredded him with nothing but sentences and sneers.

Seeing his attack hit, seeing the damage spread, watching his mentor fill up with emotion, only to be drained of it seconds later-- Finchpaw was swallowed in guilt, and a single thought: She didn't deserve all that.

He really had acted just like Firepaw and he had done so intentionally. His guilt and self-hatred grew. You are better then this. How could you? This isn't you, none of this is you, or at least, not the you that you should be.

It was stress and fatigue and, of course, all the emotions. He had attacked like an angry, temper-tantrum throwing child and because he had done that, he had revealed that his wounds were inflicted by his very own brother. He needed to fix this-- all of this. Now.

Finchpaw let out a long sigh and he lay down opposite of Brightnose. The awkwardness between them was unavoidable, the tension suffocating, yet Finchpaw inched forward and nudged the dropped herbs to Brightnose. She was not...right for the job of comforting another. He could see it etched in every tired line on the older she-cat (strange how pain could make a young cat look so much older). But he was good at it. He knew just how to calm down Firepaw...usually, and he liked to think he made Frostpaw happier. So he would comfort her, and maybe she'd learn that skill from him.. Besides...he did not need comforting. It would be nice, but in the end, Finchpaw was a big boy and he should take care of his own problems.

He nudged the herbs closer to Brightnose, until they touched her paw. He caught her eyes, refused to let her gaze drift. And he spoke to his mentor.

"You can heal me," he murmured, gesturing down to the herbs. "I'm afraid I can't actually apply them to myself...I'm just not that flexible," Finchpaw half-smiled and hoped he would earn some sort of amused expression from his mentor.

Now the apology.

"What I said...I was angry. At myself. Not at you, you're just doing what a good medicine cat should do and that's all I should ask from you anyway. I just needed something, or someone, to yell at. I'm sorry."

[/size]

[Cloud of Diamonds]

She nodded numbly, hardly even noticing how close they were now. Picking up the herbs in tired jaws, the medicine cat got up, stretching, and bent down. Chewing the tangy plants, she shoved down the rest of her emotions for now. She'd deal with them later, when she was alone and there was no one, not even Finchpaw, to see her pain. The calico had only revealed a fraction of it to him - and even that felt crippling, harsh, like she was laying bare her very soul. If I even have one, Brightnose thought bitterly. Maybe I'm only memories and logic.

Wordlessly the FogClanner licked the poultice onto her apprentice, her light amber eyes half-closed. Luckily she knew this procedure so well it required almost no thought at all. Thought. Just the word made her feel like groaning. For once, she didn't feel like thinking. She just wanted something else to be lead on, no matter how unreliable it was. No matter stupid it seemed to go by.

So, when she was done, Brightnose sighed, then stood up straight. She'd hardly paid attention to her apprentice's words when he'd said them, but now they penetrated her exhausted mind.

"No!" She hissed, then guiltily stopped. "I'm sorry, Finchpaw...but I can't accept your apology just yet, because I don't deserve it. I need to earn your forgiveness. You're not the one at fault, Finchpaw. You didn't lie to yourself for moons." Brightnose said the rest of her words more gently, though was grim in her final sentence.

Feeling her tiredness even more, she laid down, putting her head on her apprentice. It was not even meant to be a gesture a comfort; she was tired, so tired, and he was relatively soft.

[Whiskers]

Finchpaw drew back, his ears flattening against his head at Brightnose's unexpected hiss. Eyes wide, a hesitation tensed Finchpaw's muscles and he was worried that she was going to yell at him for-- what? Thousand of questions rustled and took flight, a flurry reflected in the depths of his dark amber eyes. At his jerk backward, the wound on his face and neck engulfed itself in new pain. It throbbed. So did Finchpaw's thoughts.

Brightnose's snapping tone was gone though and she was calm again. And strange enough, she was rejecting his apology so insistantly that Finchpaw wondered if Brightnose had lost her mind. The Brightnose he knew was rigid. Stubborn. A little conceited. According to previous behaviors, she should have accepted his apology. But she did not.

This meant that he had actually really hurt her. Deeply. This was no surface wound, like the one on his face. It did not sting or burn-- it ached. It was on a different level, one below the surface, the type of wound that one could not heal with herbs and cobwebs.

His guilty conscience grew more heavy. No, this is not what he wanted. He did not want to have Brightnose grovel and "prove" herself to him. He did not want her to owe him anything. His forgiveness was earned already, the second he saw how hurt she felt. If anything, the pain just showed that Finchpaw's words had really gotten through.

The last words she said however, shocked him again and he could not hide this. He blinked rapidly at how wrong her words are. He had done nothing but lie to himself-- and to others-- for moons.

Yet her spontaneous show of affection was even more shocking. Was that what it was? The way she laid her head against him was sudden and gentle and, dare he even say it, sort of how a mo... no. Finchpaw stopped his own mind, put up a brick wall so he would never go to that place. He didn't get to go to that place. She was just, finally, trying to be a better mentor, one closer to the pupil.

He felt the urge to give back to her, an increase in his heartbreak that raised his secrets to the tip of his tongue. It pounded and hissed and begged him to be released, finally. After today, he had to say something. He couldn't just keep it all in or he would implode.

So he said something. After a long period of stagnant silence, he broke it with his own whisper, fear stirring as only the tiniest bits of secrets were shared.

"Firepaw attacked me because of Frostpaw...well, no. Not over just her. But it was mostly her. He thinks I'll lose my soul to her and he thinks I like her better than him... I'm not supposed to like Frostpaw." It was all a jumble. It was not in the right order. It made no sense. "My dad says so. My brother says so-- I just. I don't know anymore. But I do like her. I shouldn't have lied to Firepaw. So it's my fault."

All wrong. All coming out wrong. Brightnose would just think he was a babbling fool.

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[Cloud of Diamonds]

The light amber eyes with flecks of green held, so unusually, surprise in their now more...almost more innocent...depths. It was like a new cat had grown from the ice that so often filled the space there, pretending it was all there was. Or - no. Not a new cat, an old one. The cat the calico had been so long ago, before her interest in herbs lead her into FogClan and logic. Not that she was completely returned to the way she'd been - no, there was plenty of her old self remaining. But it let in old things, things so long forbidden she'd almost forgotten what they were like. It was like waking up from a blizzard to find yourself in the middle of greenleaf.

"Frostpaw?" She echoed. It was true Finchpaw had an inexplicable liking for her which defied rational explanation...but his father and brother's anger was misdirected. Maybe it was sinful not to believe in StarClan, maybe it wasn't. Brightnose didn't know and she honestly didn't care. As long as StarClan was there to help the Clans for emergencies, she didn't care who believed in them and who didn't.

But saying such things when there was nothing wrong with Finchpaw being friendly with her was wrong. Yes, she didn't like medicine cats for some stupid reason, and yes, she could be harsh, but only fools would try argue with her and change her. She was something best left alone and treated as a mystery of life. If Finchpaw was friendly with her, kudos to him for figuring out the mystery. He should not be punished.

The medicine cat snorted. "Then Firepaw is an idiot. Lose your soul to her? What's she going to do, rip it out of your body and munch on it? I doubt it. I really have no opinion on Frostpaw other than that she's a mystery best left untouched and frankly I'm amazed she even lets you talk to her. Like her better than him? Huh. Well, if you do I don't blame you, I like almost everyone more than I liked my sister. Why you're not supposed to like her, I don't know. I think it's a sign of progress you can even talk to her. Rowanheart's wrong, Finchpaw. It was bad that you lied to your brother, but then if Frostpaw's better than him, I don't blame you. "

Perhaps she shouldn't be so blunt...but it was hard to let go of all her habits at once.