Drag Path - A Weaselstar SRP

Instructions

= A drag path, etched in the surface / as evidence I left there on purpose = (Some brief disclaimers! The dream mentioned in the SRP or in any Weasel rps is NOT a dream from Starclan! It was a meaningless dream he falsely interpreted as being Starclan given. Additionally, Weaselstar is an unreliable narrator who views himself as being justified and in the right, and his words and thoughts match that way of thinking. Have fun reading!) - ----------------------------------------------------- - Being stuck in the medicine den had left Weaselstar with a lot of time to sit and think. Granted, the dizziness and the sharp pain in his head /was/ a bit distracting, but it would heal with time. He’d return to the leader's den soon enough. He’d spent most of his time healing trying to process what had happened. It was almost too much to think about at times. One moment, it had been the perfect ceremony. Poppypaw was Poppymorph now, the clan was gathered to hear it happen, it had been almost /perfect/. The only thing that could have possibly made it better was the presence of Orchidpaw, but she was still lost, wandering lands Weaselstar wasn’t aware of. Maybe she’d meet Stingraypaw out there and the two sisters would finally come home. He missed Stingraypaw. But then? Then Marmotbane had rushed in and ruined everything. /That/ was the part he was stuck on. The why of it all. Why she had thought to do that, why she had to mess everything up. Wasn’t it selfish? Ruining such a beautiful ceremony with her theatrics and /hate/. He’d tried to tell her his side of the story. Couldn’t she see it? He’d told her everything, confessed the fears that had plagued him moons ago, told her of the solution he had been offered to his nightmares. That dream was real and worth understanding, but she had paid no mind. Had she even /tried/ to understand it ever since their first fight? Clearly not, if she thought taking one of his lives was an appropriate thing to do. He wasn’t sure what happened after. One moment, his head was colliding with the Spire. The next moment, Civetguard was next to him, and Marmotbane, Wolverineriot, and Poppymorph were nowhere to be found. He knew nothing of what happened in the time between Marmotbane’s attack and when he woke up, all he knew was that this was /her/ fault. She’d done the unthinkable! She’d spilled the story of his woe and terror to the clan after she had /sworn/ to keep his tale a secret until the time was right, then she had taken one of his lives! The cruelty of it all was unfathomable. Why couldn’t she see that his story had value? He’d hoped to tell his story on his own time, but instead, he’d had to listen to her tell a skewed version of his truth, built on lies and bias that made him look frankly illogical. She’d said he didn’t care. He did care! He cared enough to let her find her own Starclan given destiny. He stayed in his own lane, wasn’t that caring enough? But why paint him in such a way? His dream had said it, all he had spent the past several moons doing was following it? That was the furthest thing from Illogical. He hated the helplessness of it all. He hated listening to a version of his story spoken by the words of a biased liar. He hated losing a life. He hated the ruined ceremony. He /hated/ her. How dare she tell a twisted version of his story! How dare she paint him so badly. How dare she do any of this when she should have just /listened/ to him! But still, she was his daughter. She was right about one thing. He couldn’t hurt her. Not seriously. Maybe he couldn’t raise a paw to her at that moment because part of him still saw her as the tiny kit that used to curl up in his paws, who listened to his stories and woke him from his naps by pouncing on his tail. Well… No longer. Marmotbane was his daughter still, to deny as such would be to admit to some part of himself that perhaps he had /failed/ in some way. That wouldn’t stand. Weaselstar hated Marmotbane. But Marmotbane was still his daughter. So perhaps he had simply misjudged what place she was supposed to hold in the grand scheme of what he interpreted from his dream. He’d always assumed that out of the two kits that decidedly weren’t in any sort of ‘heir’ position, Marmotbane was the one with a mysterious destiny left untold and Civetguard was the one with an entirely blank slate. Perhaps he had been wrong in that aspect. Yes... Yes, that was the case. He should have known. It had always been /Civetguard/ with a mysterious destiny, surely that was right! And Marmotbane was the one with no definite story to follow. He couldn’t imagine why such mystery would be granted to a cat so willing to be so cruel. Yes. That was it. He’d have to make it up to Civetguard for being so mistaken. [cont]