[S0V0L0] Nuvole bianche. [PoppyxDove]

[Glowy]

Sometimes, when Dovepaw's mind was left to its own devices, and her soul left to wander, she imagined that she was a cloud. She drifted above the ground, helping to shield the poor, defenseless innocents from the burning rays of the sun. Of course, in the process, she got burned a bit herself, but she didn't mind. Clouds weren't meant to live forever. The things below would last much longer than she, anyhow. Now, after having escaped from the drudgery of Camp, she had nothing to do besides simply be, and she was a cloud. Not one of the dull gray ones that predominated in the winters here, oh no. No, she was white. For once, she felt clean. Clean and weightless and oh, so wonderful! As she gazed at the sky through the skeleton-like limbs of the trees, she found herself replacing the monochrome sky with a brilliant blue one, and the heavy clouds with light wisps. This morning had been too much. A pawful of her clanmates had been accused of... some sin or another. She couldn't even remember what they had been accused of, but accused they had been. Accusation brought immediate disgust from the Council members, which brought, when the time came to confess, an unavoidable punishment. Punishment, even if you were innocent, was a given. No matter how many ways you tried to defend yourself... nobody would believe The Accused. Today's Confession had brought feelings that she had managed to distance herself from for so long (it was why she had been doing so well, you see) back to her side again. Smokefur. Mentor. Trustworthy. Betrayal. Doubt. Half-belief. Lies? Sinner. Disgusting. Unworthy. Soulless. It had been all she could do to get out of camp before she'd broken. She had forgotten what a profound impact her moment of playing Benedict Arnold had had on her mental state. Her emotional state. Just herself in general. Bile had risen in her throat as the feelings of disgust had surfaced once more. She'd betrayed him. He would have protected her in a similar situation, but she had... they'd taken him. They'd taken him and they hadn't made her watch but she hadn't been able to move and they'd- Smokefur had nearly died. He'd just lain there. Oh, and the look he'd given her! "If looks could kill" didn't even cut it. To be killed by a glance would have been a kinder fate than being forced to endure the pain in his eyes. "Why? WHY?" she had cried to the clouds once she had found her voice. "He... nothing wrong... I..." Her voice had trailed off with the remainder of the morning fogs. She had not budged from her spot since then. Nestled comfortably in a soft evergreen bush, she had allowed her mind to become calm. She had bundled up her feelings and tossed them into the breeze, knowing that eventually she would have to confront them. Now was simply not the time. So calm was she that when the scent of one of her clanmates appeared in the wind, her heartbeat did not even increase. Let them take her back and punish her. There was nothing left that they could possibly do to her. Shame she had in a plentiful supply of her own making, and pain was but temporary. "Looking for me?" she called softly in the direction of the scent. No matter what happened, she would never let herself fall to the ground. Clouds did not belong there. speaking [bg=e0e0e0][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Pyro]

Code:

He could not stand to be in camp. Not today. Not when every wail was Pipitpaw's. Not when every blow was to her body. Not when a cat was nearly...Not when Smokefur nearly suffered the same fate she had. He hadn't even been openly...StarClan...Poppythroat leaned against an oak for a moment hoping to draw strength from its unflinching might. He imagined himself becoming a part of the tree. He could weather any storm as an oak. Weather it for a hundred years. "But the trees are broken in the steel cage..." Pipitpaw would not approve of his melancholy behavior. The tom shook himself. He was out here for a reason. Volepelt had been about to go after his apprentice, but Poppythroat offered to go instead. He probably shouldn't have ignored his leader's sharp 'No', but he had been desperate for a chance to leave the cloying aura of despair that hung about the camp. He would pay for the insubordination later, of that he was sure, but he had managed to convince himself that he did not care. It would be a nice change of pace from the usual persecution for having adopted his mother's beliefs. And speaking of reasons, there she was. "Ayah so...You could say that." he drawled. "But I could say that the usual desire of someone who has gone AWOL, would be to avoid getting caught. And yet here I am, and here you are." ------------------------------------------- words;; 239 notes;; ayah so = yeah music;; nooone [bg=2b2827][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Glowy]

Dovepaw allowed herself a half hearted smile. Although the distinctive scent of her mentor had not hit her nose, she had nearly allowed herself to believe that it had been he who had stumbled across her secret place. It wasn't him, though. It was just... oh... little Palekit's brother... what was his name? Poppy-something. She'd seen him a few times around camp, either being loud, boisterous, and not caring what anybody said about it, or being sharp and militant. Either way, he hadn't seemed too interesting. She had been much more concerned with putting on a show for the Clan that she had been in learning about any of their lives. That was her problem, wasn't it? That was what had gotten Smokefur into trouble, and why it wouldn't leave her alone. She was selfish. She was selfish to the point of becoming almost completely self-absorbed. How could she change that? That didn't matter now. What mattered was that this was an unusual side of Poppy-something, a side she'd never seen nor heard of before. In his last words... had that been a hint of ruefulness? Ruefulness was something that they could have in common. Funny. No. No, she couldn't let herself even start to hope for a connection with this strange tom. Alone was the only place you could be sure of never being betrayed. Why had he come? He had removed the only defense she had, and she'd not had time to put her walls back up. Out here, alone in the wild, she had no reason to protect herself from anything. Why did he have to come along and change that? Still, his last words... for some reason, they gave her a bit of hope. Probably because they hadn't been, "You are so dead, get back to camp this instant, so help you StarClan," or something of the sort. He hadn't judged her with his words or his eyes. His eyes were... were they honest? Could she say that, truly? "AWOL?"

[/b] she murmured curiously, head tilted slightly to the side. She'd never heard that term before. Was is something new the warriors had thought up to describe somebody who'd broken the rules?

Dovepaw was being too vulnerable. Too soft. She needed to show Poppythroat (that was his name, she suddenly recalled) that she was not weak. So she turned to face him, smiled mysteriously, and asked, "Well, then. You here to catch me, or just to find me?" Could she trust him? Why had Poppythroat come in place of Volepelt? His answer to this question would help determine that very thing. Ah, but he couldn't see her doubt. So she kept smiling, all the while trying not to let her inadequacies overcome her. If her smile wavered, she hoped that it was small enough that he would not notice.


speaking
[/center][/size][/color][/sup][bg=e0e0e0][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[Pyro]

"AWOL," he began matter-of-factly, "is to be absent from your post or duty without official permission, though not always with the intention to desert." the tom smiled with little humor. "My father taught me it...and then he provided a lovely example, although you probably don't care about that." And now he was starting to ramble in that slightly overloud voice of his. Oh well. Dovepaw's smile and the question that proceeded it caught him off guard. Catch or find? It was his duty to bring her in, so to speak, and he was inclined to value duty above all else. However, doing so would probably mean dragging her back for punishment (though she had offered no resistance so far). Could he do that? Could he knowingly send her to be beaten like some common dog? Not in good conscience. What would Volepelt have done to her away from prying eyes? Nothing as bad, he'd bet, as if they were in front of the clan and an example had to be made. Poppythroat would not be the instrument for more punishment. He did not want to be. Pipitpaw would not want him to be. "Well little miss, Volepelt had announced that he was going to go find you...and seesing as I so rudely stole that mission, I'd say the original parameters have been met." Clever corvid was he. But now that Poppyhroat had answered her question, he found that he had questions of his own. He knew why he had left, but why had she? As Volepelt's apprentice, he supposed that she must realize she had a certain appearance to maintain...so why had she left the confessions? Could it be that she too could no longer stand to see such blatant and unflinching violence in the clan they were supposed to call home? Perhaps not. Perhaps Volepelt had merely excused her, and when he had mentioned going to find her, it was only to bring her back. "Why did you do it?" he asked shortly. "Why did you leave, I mean?' --------------------------------- words;; 340 notes;; such short posts from pyro. she is sorry. :c music;; syndicate. [bg=2b2827][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Glowy]

Dovepaw nodded, mumbling to herself something unintelligible about permission not being needed nor cared about. AWOL. To leave without permission. There was a name for it? AWOL sounded more like a part of a building. A wall. AWOL. Heh. Funny. Going AWOL could put up a wall between you and those you left behind. Dovepaw knew something about that, come to think of it. Her family had probably long forgotten about her, since she had so cruelly deserted them, but she hadn't forgotten them. If she tried, she could still see the look on her sister's face. The confused, hurt, terrified tone of her cry could still be heard. Today was not one of those fortunate days when Dovepaw was able to escape from the past. Everything from kithood to Smokefur was flaring up in her mind. Her entire life was playing like one of the twolegs' moving pictures, and Dovepaw hated what she saw. It made her want to turn her face away in shame, but she couldn't. You can't escape from the past. Can you? If so, then how? The answer was a mystery to her. "Fair enough," she conceded, her voice carefully controlled. She kept her eyes averted. The eyes were the windows to the soul, or so she had heard. Since she didn't have a soul, perhaps they would show something else instead, like pain. Dovepaw wouldn't let anybody see that. Her one friend needed her to be strong. He wouldn't be able to deal with her pain. Volepelt either didn't care or simply didn't know how to respond the right way. Mousenose had deserted her. And her pain was probably the last thing on Smokefur... no, Smokepaw's mind. He'd been demoted. He'd been demoted because of her. Of course he wouldn't care. When Poppythroat asked why she left, she really did mean to conceal the truth from him. What would he care? He would probably just laugh at her. It was what the entire world did. But... somebody was asking, and even if he laughed, it would be better than everybody's ignorant, masked reactions to her back at camp. She would tell him. She would step out on a limb, spread her wings, and hope that when she moved she wouldn't simply plummet to her death. She was a cloud. A bird. Anything other than what she truly was. "You know what... okay. Smokefur. You know all about that whole deal with him, right?"

[/b] She closed her eyes and clamped her mouth, unable to speak the words. Unable to let him past the walls that she had let fall down in her solitude. When you were alone, it was the only time you could be absolutely sure of never being betrayed. She'd taught herself that well enough. "How much do you really know, do you think?"

A sigh exploded from her chest and her oh-so-carefully-controlled manner melted like the mists at the dawn of the day, or the last remnants of the snow as New-Leaf finished its morning stretches and began to walk across the planet. "It was my fault. Completely. I can't... you have no idea how deeply I... I just..." her voice broke off. "Can you ever forgive yourself for betraying and abandoning the only soul who gave a rat's tail about you? Everybody who saw me before he did left me, and I promised myself I'd never do that to anybody, but then I was so scared and everything went wrong and I let them take him away and..."[/b]

Dovepaw was on the verge of hysteria. Her entire body began to shake against her will and without her control. "When they purged... said I didn't have to watch... couldn't leave. I couldn't leave. I saw everything. And then this morning... I felt like it was all my fault again, and I couldn't stand it. Do you understand?" She doubted that he would. Nobody understood her, the Soulless One. Everybody else had a soul. They weren't worthless like she was. They were more than sorry little birds who jumped off of tree branches in an effort to fly.


speaking
[/center][/size][/color][/sup][bg=e0e0e0][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[Pyro]

Did he know the whole deal with Smokefur? Well gee. He knew enough to see, in him, Pipitpaw. He knew enough to see that she wouldn't be the last casualty in Volepelt's crusade against the impure. He knew enough to see that there were some cats in his clan, may their souls find rest, that not only did not care that they were seeing one of their own bashed and bloodied, but enjoyed seeing it. Oh but Dovepaw seemed to think that he didn't know the half of it. Well. He might not know the whole damn story but he knew the ending. And the ending was all that seemed to matter anymore. That's what everyone was looking for: the end result. Numbers. 'If I pummel my comrade-in-arms to the edge of death, how many souls will I save today? How many impures will see the light? How much praise will I get from my ancestors?' As if the dead wanted to see such mind-numbing violence amongst their kin. As if they wanted to see suffering. "I think. I know enough," he managed to grind out before settling down to listen. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the apprentice. Her fault? Oh yes indeed, it was her fault. She forced her clanmates to beat the living daylights out of Smokefur. Poppythroat couldn't bear to watch it himself--the sight of her controlling their movements like some twisted, ivory puppet-master had brought bile to his mouth. Right. No, what she had done was what she had been trained and brainwashed to do: stand there and take it. Turn your back on your friends, for their impurities will only slow you down. Ha, if that was what being pure was all about, then Poppythroat was dead set on finding a slimehole to roll around in. But he understood. He understood. For all his convictions and his promises to Pipitpaw, he hadn't been able to stop what had happened to her. He had just stood there, dumbly, as if he could just close his eyes and open them to discover it was all a dream. Or if by wishing hard enough, he could make it all stop. There were all kinds of betrayal. Perhaps the most rampant in FogClan was betrayal to yourself. But the council, Volepelt-they made it seem okay. They taught that it was only natural for to hand over one's fellows. And no matter how hard you wanted to rebel, you wanted to say 'No, you can't hurt him anymore', you couldn't. Because if you did, you'd just be beaten down yourself. Everyone was too afraid to take action. Everyone was too afraid to do much more than go off alone and think about how wrong things were. His father had taught him to respect his elders. To respect his betters. Volepelt truly believed what he was doing was right; that he was helping FogClan. Out of principle, Poppythroat should have agreed with him. But he couldn't agree...and yet he could obey. That wasn't right, was it? No it wasn't. For his mother had said that he should respect all things. Because all things had a soul. Because all things had worth. Volepelt was trying to take the worth away from those who were different. But he couldn't do that. no matter how right he thought it was, he couldn't take someone's worth. He couldn't take someone's soul. And it was not his place to condemn. He might have very well been the assistant to a cat who could have been StarClan's messenger, but that did not make him the world's judge and jury. The ancestors might reject nonbelievers. Or then again, they might not. They would definitely, of this Poppythroat was sure, reject murderers and the malignant. They would send them from their midst as soon as their paws touched the starry sanctuary, cast them out to live again as worms, or more likely- victims of the same closeminded and dogged crusade they had so lovingly clung to. Well that's what they would do. "But what are you going to do about it?" He padded closer, green eyes fixed on her face, though she didn't seem to want to face him. "You don't have to forgive yourself. But you have to make it right." Poppythroat snorted. "You think it does Smokefur a lick of good just to go off and think about what you've done? If you care so much, then why don't you apologize? And not with words either. 'Gee, Smokefur, sorry I betrayed you and watched you get your ass handed to you'. No. With actions." His expression softened somewhat. "I know. How hard. It hurts. To stand there and not do anything. To watch someone you care about be ground into the dust because you couldn't stand up." The tom's laugh was bitter. "I suppose that makes us both cowards and turncoats. But what do you say we work on that? It can be our way of apologizing to those we've hurt. It can we our way of getting on the road to forgiving ourselves." "And don't say you can't," he barked. "Cause you can. And you're all the worse for thinking you can't. So don't. It's not helping you, it's never helped me, and it certainly isn't helping the cats that suffer for it." ------------------- words;; 889 notes;; --- music;; --- [bg=2b2827][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Glowy]

"I think. I know enough." Dovepaw was intrigued. He thought he knew? He thought that, somehow, he could identify with The Soulless One? But he had a soul. He hadn't sullied its glow with the blackness of betrayal. At least, not in the way she had. If something had happened, it hadn't been him fault. He would never be half-respected by anyone if it had been. FogClan just didn't let you forget your faults. It magnified and then latched onto them like leeches, trying to suck every bit of your life's blood out of them. The darkness spread to them in the process, but could they see it? No. No, of course not, because who can actually see darkness? Darkness is more felt than anything, because darkness brings the cold. Dovepaw lived amongst the Frozen Ones. Like wights they were, not fully living unless they could steal life itself. And, like wights, they hated warmth and light. They fed off of the chilled depths of the night, and felt warmed by it. When you begin to freeze, your natural reaction is to try and stimulate more blood flow to warm yourself, so you remove as many barriers between the coldness and yourself that you can. That was FogClan. IceClan might work, except for the fact that ice was beautiful in its own dangerous, glimmering way. FogClan did not have enough beauty to warrant the name of the coldest thing Dovepaw knew. HateClan. DeathClan. DespairClan. The Clan of Thieves. SinClan. All of those and more. But, of course, Poppythroat had an answer. Everybody had an answer. Listen to me, do things my way, and everything will be fixed. She couldn't listen to herself, because she wanted nothing more than to pick up like Willowpaw had and just leave. If you didn't face your problems every day they might quit bothering you as much, and peace would come. Might being the operative, of course. Running away had no guarantees of peace, but it sure as the pit promised guilt. Did she need any more of that? No. She knew that if she abandoned her clan, she would be abandoning everybody who was innocent. Innocence had to be protected at all costs, even if it meant more pain for her. She simply couldn't leave. She couldn't stay and do nothing. She'd done that for too long. The things she was trying weren't working. Volepelt was being non-responsive to every attempt on her part to initiate a conversation that would result in him replying with something besides regurgitated doxology. Could it be that he was merely unreachable? There must be a way. Otherwise there would be no hope for anybody. "And what exactly would you propose I do?"

[/b] She had gone over this with everybody who had tried to lead her in the past. Mousenose had wanted her to run away. Smokefur had wanted her to challenge the Clan's doctrine, as if she hadn't been privately doing that on her own. Volepelt wanted her to ingest his teachings and vomit them into the minds of everybody around her. Poppythroat wanted... what? She was tired of everybody suggesting things for her to do. Did they think she was so unintelligent that she could not figure out a way for her to come to terms with herself? All she needed was time. She had already begun to figure out a possibility that was very appealing. Be a cloud. Shield the innocents from the burning rays of the sun. Take the heat in order for them to be protected.

She would willingly accept pain so that others might be spared. Oh, what a revolt that would be! It went against the entire concept of sinwounds, purging... the whole philosophy of FogClan religion got incinerated in the fires of her plan. To be a martyr...

"I can't run away. I've thought about it often enough. I wouldn't be able to deal with it. I can't fight an idea with more ideas, at least not in the way it's always been done. We know how that works out. And I sure as anything can not become like them."[/b] She drew herself up now, feeding off of her frustration. "Do you suggest that we team up to drive out everybody who's been taking away our freedoms and hijacking our souls? Eliminate everybody who doesn't fit our moral standards? That's what they're doing. We would become no better than them."[/b]

He wouldn't like the idea she came up with by herself. To him, it would probably look like she was giving herself over to them. It would look like she was surrendering. But... the intensity in his eyes... perhaps he would understand after all. "What I want to do is more subtle than that. Neither side of this debate in our clan is gaining any ground using their methods, they're just provoking one another further. The rebels make the Council want to purify even more, and the Council make the rebels even more devoted to their cause. It's a cyclical progression of destruction, getting worse and worse every time. Isn't it so?"[/b] She was on fire now. For the first time in... possibly ever, to be honest, she felt completely passionate about something. Her eyes lit up and she was able to meet Poppythroat's gaze with an equally energized one.

"What I'm going to do is I'm going to act in a way that completely defies the principles upon which The Doctrine is founded. Whenever I have a chance, I will not stand by and let somebody be punished. I will take their punishment. Blood must be spilled to pay for a 'sin,' but whose blood? I'll jump in and cover their body with my own. Maybe that will help plant seeds of doubt in somebody's heart. Because the mind isn't important anymore, you know?"[/b] She was smiling now. She was genuinely smiling. Dovepaw could not recall a time that she'd ever been happier.

"You want me to do something about everybody's pain? There you go."[/b] She walked right up to him, so close that their noses were almost touching, and grinned. "So, what's your plan? Or is it classified? It's hard to know who to trust. But we can work on it together. I'm sure that we can come up with something."[/b] Then, smooth as anything, she walked past him, continuing on her earlier path away from camp. A walk would be nice. She glanced over her shoulder, motioned with her tail for Poppythroat to follow, and then kept on walking.


speaking
[/center][/size][/color][/sup][bg=e0e0e0][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[Pyro]

"Yeah, you, me, and a wild hope fighting against the entirety of FogClan's zombies." he snorted. "Give me some credit. I'm not a complete hotspur all the time." The conversation didn't seem to be going quite as planned. Here was Dovepaw, like everyone else in the clan, denying that there was anything they could do. That the only option left to them was to grin and bare it. Try to pretend that they were above it all, even if doing so meant watching a friend suffer at the paws of self-styled prophets and the brainwashed zombie hordes that followed them. But wait! Perhaps he should not have written her off quite so quickly. He could only mutter 'ayah so' under his breath as she grew in confidence, her eyes filling with a passion he wouldn't have expected from the defeated figure he had first come upon mere minutes before. She was right-so right his chest tightened with almost uncontainable excitement. Cyclical. What a brilliant way to describe the spiraling descent the regime had taken. The regime could not gain supporters without giving more of their own over to the hot fury of the rebels. No sooner did someone see the light did someone else reclaim their soul to fight with the outspoken and bloodied rebels. No side was gaining but chaos. The more outspoken the rebels became, the more they denounced the words of the council, the harsher the council became, the worse the injustices they committed, the hotter the flame of rebellion grew, the more fervently its foes tried to stamp it out. The cycle would never end. No one was using any true meanings, only 'You are wrong, and I am right.' No one saw how wrong everything was. Oh yes, how wonderful that once again pockets of FogClanners were turning against their leader, trying to put one of their own in the coveted spot. But what would happen if by some miracle, the regime was toppled through violence? How would the regime's supporters be treated? Perhaps even worse than they had treated the so-called sinners. It would be the regime all over again, with the only difference being the message and the warcry. Violence to end violence would not cut it-not alone. But there was Dovepaw with the answer. "From the seeds of doubt, a break in the illusion will grow." He was grinning now, his smile matching her's as her words tumbled around in his head. It could work. It could really work. How long before even council members would begin to question their actions? So much self-sacrifice in the face of what they thought to be their righteous crusade...Could so many sinners really be worth saving, they might ask themselves, confusion plain on their faces. Could it be that someone thought it wrong of them to starve apprentices, to beat into submission those who dared to have an opinion, could it be that maybe...maybe they were not always in the right? Oh but Poppythroat knew it would take more than throwing themselves in front of the blows, more than taking the punishments for themselves. That alone would not solve everything, only perhaps hinder the confessions. There were other elements to be considered. The starvation. The implications of worthlessness. The open hostility toward PineClan. The opinions of the other clans, PineClan included, of FogClan's current state. They couldn't not know that something was going on. How could they not notice how the same faces continued to show up at the Gatherings. They couldn't help but notice how no FogClanner was without some collection-large or small- of scars. How the apprentices seemed sunken and unresponsive. How many of the cats who patrolled the border seemed battered and broken. They had to have some inclination of what was going on. What was his plan? Ha! A jest, surely, when she had just come up with the base answer to the best way to undermine the regime. From her words all other plans would spring, all other sensible ideas would trace their roots. "My plan is to copy your plan." he replied, finally locking eyes with the impassioned apprentice. Poppythroat followed Dovepaw without hesitation, for all the world her apprentice, though he was older, taller, and under normal circumstances: inclined to balk at allowing someone of lower rank take the lead. "But that's not all we can do. It's not all we should do." How quickly two had become one. "Sacrifice will not fill the apprentice's bellies, nor heal the sinwounds of those we can't protect. It won't be enough. And there are still those who will suffer. Still those who won't survive if they remain in FogClan..." that matter-of-factness had entered his voice again. "My mother used to tell Palekit and I the story of Fox and Rabbit, how Fox had trapped Rabbit in her den, and would eat her denmates if they dared to venture outside. So Rabbit, in her cunning, dug a tunnel clear to the other end of the world, and distracted Fox so that her brethren might escape." He was chatting animatedly now, it was so rare that he could talk freely with someone about...anything. It was only after he had related to Dovepaw the shortened rendition of his mother's story that he realized she might think he was crazy. "But uhm. Do you see how that might apply to our situation as well? We have to do more. Can you imagine? A network of salvation: sowing the seeds of doubt, undermining the regime's effort, returning cats' worth. Well...perhaps not returning their worth. You can't do that. you can't just take someone's worth. you can only make someone forget that they have it. So we'll just remind everyone who's forgotten. And just think! We can do it all without adding to the violence. Not war hawks, but peace doves." -------------------- words;; 975 notes;; poppythroat: not sure if visionary, or hopelessly delusional. music;; --- [bg=2b2827][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Glowy]

If Dovepaw slowed down, she feared that the weight of what was transpiring would settle on her and render her completely immobile. She would become nothing more than sludge at the bottom of a slow-moving stream, making no progress. Stagnation would become all she knew, and all hope of accomplishing anything would be lost. So she kept moving. She surrendered completely to the current of energy and thought that flowed through her. He was going to copy her plan. Something she did finally mattered to somebody. She wasn't entirely worthless. Even if he didn't care about her at all, he cared about her ideas. That was something that Dovepaw had not experienced in a very long time. Her ideas were always cast aside before they had been given the chance to grow and be expressed; a far superior philosophy was always being force-fed into Dovepaw's mind by somebody. But Poppythroat valued her ideas enough to follow her and even expand upon them. He was taking her ideas and helping her refine them! It blew her mind. Nobody had ever bothered with that before. "How much more can the two of us do? Or do you think we would be able to recruit more cats?" He was right, of course. They should do more. But they shouldn't do it all at once. Get the ball rolling slowly. A slow-moving object picked up much more material than a fast-moving object did, after all. This was going to have to be very carefully planned and executed if they could hope to succeed. "We should get PineClan involved. I know that Finchpaw is good friends with their medicine cat. Maybe he'd be willing to help heal the wounded? It would have to be secretive, of course. One of us should speak with him at the next Gathering."

[/b]

Yes, Crowflower. From what she'd heard, which was quite a bit (an advantage of spending so much time in the Medicine Den in her recovery from the fox attack, she supposed), he sounded like just the type of guy who'd love to help their cause. The tom was reputed throughout the clans as being an idealistic, feel-good, non-judgmental type. Those were precisely the ingredients they would need a recruited healer to have.

"To give them back their worth... it would be miraculous. Well, no. To remind them. You're right. An entire network..."[/b] She closed her eyes and sighed as she imagined what that would be like. Like a spider web, invisible, clinging to everything it met, and impossible to completely destroy. When a web was torn down, another always took its place. And, even better, when an unsuspecting insect came into contact with the web, it was impossible to escape. That would be incredible. A network of salvation. A network of hope.

"Peace doves. Hah, you did that on purpose, didn't you?"[/b] She turned to face him with a grin, eyes twinkling. "Dovepaw. Peace. How weird."[/b] It was probably just an odd coincidence of phrases, but she felt like it could become significant somehow. It was almost as if she might actually become that bird. A dove. A messenger of peace. The purest of all birds. It was so interesting that she had been named after one when she was anything but pure. Oh, one of life's little ironies.

"Can I ask you something, though?"[/b] She swallowed the saliva that had built up in her mouth, a nervous gesture preceding a question she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to ask. Would she like the answer? "Rabbit. In your mom's story. What happened to her? When she distracted Fox, what happened?"[/b] What would happen to both of them? If she died in the pursuit of purity (which was truly what her self-martyrdom was, a hope that if she saved enough innocents from pain, she might regain a tiny bit of her soul and therefore be worth something), would she... would it be worth it? Would it hurt? Would it be right? She could sacrifice herself to a certain point, but she was not willing to die for her clanmates. Not yet. Maybe in the future, but as things stood now? If she died, the clan would be losing its peace dove. And, aside from that, she was terrified that without a soul, when she died, she would simply cease to exist. She would not have mattered to anyone.

She needed this plan to work. She needed her soul back. Hope had lost its perch.

speaking
[/center][/size][/color][/sup][bg=e0e0e0][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[Pyro]

Everything was falling into place. Here was Dovepaw, agreeing with him. He just couldn't get over the fact that all this, everything they were planning...just. Might. Work. Yes, of course they'd have to start slow. If everything happened all at once the results could be extremely volatile. It might even trigger further, more violent action from the council, which of course, as Dovepaw and he had just gone over, would trigger yet more violence from the rebels-all culminating in an even more hostile cycle. Yes, slow was the way to go. Just the tiniest whisper, which would grow to a shout, until things had to change. Volepelt had a duty to his clan, just as he had a duty to StarClan. It was about time he was reminded of it. It was about time he was reminded that they had free will for a reason: and that reason was not so he could force beliefs and worship upon them. "I think that in time we will be able to recruit many cats. But yes, let's try to start with PineClan and Crowflower. It's about time they saw that not all FogClanners hate them. We can never have too many medicine cats on our side to help the wounded, and if we help the wounded, then perhaps they will join us as well." he winked at her. "And whatever gave you the idea that I did that on purpose?" Ah. The end of the story. Auntie Hawk Shadow had been fond of the end where Rabbit died to save her people. But then, mother always said she was more neo-tribe than anything. Traditionally, no tribe story had such a definite end, and that end was probably the best one for Dovepaw to hear. The one his mother told, and if she had heard Dovepaw ask, the one she would have given, he was sure. Ha, the only true problem was in the telling. One story led to another. If she was truly curious, Poppythtroat might have to spend hours relating the various tribe tales his mother and aunt (and occasionally father) had told Palekit and him during their time spent in the nursery. Hell, he might just end up taking her to Hawk Shadow. That of course, would be a last tale-telling resort. His aunt had grown increasingly un-fond of strangers lately. "Traditionally, Rabbit is saved by Badger, the result of yet another story. The tribe tales are like that. Where one seems to end, a thousand begin, and all are different, although there are similarities between many of them." Poppythroat smiled. Just like his mother, he could go on for hours about such stories. "Rabbit and Fox, for example, are often at odds with one another. However, they are both tricksters, so I suppose it is only natural...One would do well not to think one above the other though, considering Rabbit is just as capable of taking things too far as Fox." Probably best to stop himself now before they ended up spending the whole day listening to him prattle on about 'lore. And however much the stories had to teach a cat, there were more pressing matters at hand. Like...what would they do with the cats who could not stay in FogClan? Where would they go? Was it even wise to think they could help them escape? Would it be better just to help them try to survive in FogClan as best they could? And of course, how would they disguise the treatments of the medicine cats? 'Sinners', as the council was so fond of calling them, could not waltz around sporting bandages and salves, and any cat worth his salt could smell an herb, even if they didn't know which one it was. They would have to be as discreet as possible, utilize scent-disguises, maybe even send the treated cats back with samples of the herbs that had been used so that they could say they were just collecting herbs...not getting the medical help they had been so cruelly denied. "Going back to what you said before though, about the medicine cats, I do agree that we'll have to be as secretive as possible. It would mean no end of trouble for Brightnose and Finchpaw if Volepelt thought they were treating sinwounds." Damn she could walk fast. Even with his longer legs he had to work to keep up. "Perhaps we can set up a meeting place for those who need treatment? We could keep herbs on paw to give them to take back so that the council would not be suspicious of newfound herb scents on their pelts." --------------------------- words;; 771 notes;; so much planning. music;; --- [bg=2b2827][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Glowy]

"And whatever gave you the idea that I did that on purpose?" Dovepaw tried to contain a chuckle, which made it turn into a snort. How embarrassing. Pfft, what indeed. The symbolism was obvious. She just hoped that he didn't expect her to become the unofficial face of the movement or something. Sure, the dove of peace thing was cool, but... if anybody had to look to her for inspiration, they would find nothing. Absolutely nothing. She was the least inspiring figure she had ever seen. Granted, it is difficult to "see" oneself, but when had she ever done anything worthy of notice? Her gaze drifted down to the small bit of her chest that she could see. The fur had almost completely grown back over the scars from the fox's jaws, but she knew that they were there even if they were more difficult to see. Nobody had looked at her for a couple moons after she had come back out of the Medicine Den. She supposed that perhaps the sight had been too difficult for them to stomach. So, in saving her mentor's life, the one honorable thing she had ever done, she had still succeeded in making herself more repulsive to her clanmates. Joy. How could anybody look up to somebody like her? If Poppythroat expected her to become a Peace Dove, then he might have to drop the analogy entirely, as good as it was. She had no confidence in herself. It was why she had never acted alone. "A woman's intuition," she finally purred in response. The mood should stay light. Besides, it wasn't like he'd asked her to be the Dove yet. It was just a funny coincidence. She could bring down the mood if he ever brought it up, but it was too soon to mention the possibility to him. She shouldn't give him ideas. He seemed to latch onto a good idea like dust to a cobweb in the corner. ... She could be the Dove. It wasn't a bad idea. She just didn't know how. Would it be like that story she'd heard as a kit in the twoleg home? That nursery story about some man named after a hood, who stole from rich folks to give back to the people who actually needed it. He was named after a bird too. Robin. Robin Hood. Weird. "Badger. That's a whole other mess of worms, huh? Fair enough. You'll have to tell me that story some time. It's interesting."

[/b] Why had he mentioned his Tribe story in the first place? FogClan was hardly the place to discuss legends that came from -gasp- other sources. Who knows what horrid, Anti-StarClan gook might be hidden in the morals of non-FogClan stories? For a respectable warrior to talk about something that wasn't regurgitated doxology was a bit of a strange concept. The fact that Poppythroat was a warrior hadn't truly registered before now.

She was plotting the overthrow of the Regime with a warrior. He had power. What was this? This was madness. A good madness, but madness just the same.

She shook her head violently, pausing in her steps. Dovepaw had to clear her head. "Yes, the healing. It should be a neutral location. We want to help, not start a Clan war. It would be risky, though, to transport anybody too far. You're not supposed to really move much if you're being treated for an injury."[/b] She gave her scars a self-conscious lick. She knew all too well about the healing process. At least, she knew all about one kind of healing. The other kind she hadn't quite figure out yet. This was, admittedly, the first real process she had made toward emotional healing in moons.

"We can't ask Crowflower to sneak into out territory. At least, not very far. But how would we get those who need treatment out of camp? The herb packets are a good idea. I... I like that. They might just have to disappear for a few days. Hide out outside of clan territory in general so that they can heal."[/b] Dovepaw drew her brows together. This was a difficult issue. How could they heal their comrades without drawing attention to the fact that they were doing so, and still have the healing be done well? It took days to properly heal from any wound as the body mended itself. If the wound became septic, the process was even more involved and took significantly longer. They could try to prevent infection in the first place, but that still left Dovepaw and Poppythroat with the ordeal of getting them out of camp.

Maybe... if Dovepaw could become a warrior quickly... an immediately post-purging doctrine session would be in order. Volepelt could vouch for her improvement. She could vomit up FogClan beliefs as readily as any Council Member. The Council Members could take the wounded out of camp themselves, she supposed, but they would be sooooooo busy with maintaining the spiritual state of the Clan and handling other important Council things. They might even be glad of the chance to get rid of the task. Oh, she could make regular reports to the Council, and the sessions would be long. They might take an entire day, from dawn until dusk. And the herbs brought back could be a sign of their beginning repentance...

This could work. What would Poppythroat think of the idea? Her heart soared as she related her plan to him, hardly pausing to breathe between sentences. That could be what the Dove did. It could be her task. The Dove could actually accomplish something. Healing. Hope. Now all she had to do was spread her wings and hope that nobody saw the scars inside her transparent chest.

speaking
[/center][/size][/color][/sup][bg=e0e0e0][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[Pyro]

A whole other mess of worms indeed. You could not tell one story without the other. One day perhaps, when they could get away from prying ears again, he could tell her all the stories he knew. They were stories to all the things you might need in life: courage, cunning, strategy, perception...especially cunning. All the best stories were about the tricksters, those spirits of dubious and quick-witted nature. They would need courage to begin the soft resistance, and to keep it going, yes. But even more would they need cunning to keep from getting caught. One false move and it could come crashing down around their ears, leaving some worse off than when they had started...But just the thought of pulling the wool over the eyes of authority...it brought a certain kittish joy to the ginger tom. Brought him back to the days when pranking the council was his very life. This of course, was much more serious. And now, more than then, he had a respect for those above him. not enough to hinder what he had in mind, but enough to stop any foolishness. "I'd no more ask him to risk coming into FogClan territory than I'd ask our fellows to risk going into PineClan territory. You're right, the place has to be completely neutral. The Gathering Place, perhaps? Or, if we could find it, a little nook just outside the clans' lands? Not as far as the ranch per-say, but maybe in one of the little tree bunches surrounding it?" Dovepaw was right, again, about the healing. It would take some cats days to recover. And while the herb packets might disguise the treatment, they still wouldn't be enough of a reason for the cats to be gone so long. No one ever stayed out that long to look for herbs, or to hunt even. There was no president for it. To do so now would be more than suspicious, it could be considered treasonous. "They need a reason to leave camp for a few days."...some might be in favor of outright abandonment...but if too many cats started to leave FogClan, than that would be just as suspicious as a return after a few days of reprieve. If only FogClan had a tradition of vision quests. Mother had often spoken of those who would seek guidance form the spirits. Those who went on such quests often did not return for days- weeks even. It would have supplied the perfect excuse to get some cats out of camp to be healed. Wait a minute. Why couldn't they go on a vision quest? Well, not necessarily a vision quest, but why couldn't a cat leave the clan for a while to seek inner peace? To leave the distraction of clan-life to become closer to StarClan? They could present it as a way for the 'tainted' to come to the light on their own, with none of the temptation of their fellows to sway them. In the end, no matter how the Council and Volepelt persisted, a cat would ultimately come to StarClan on their own. "What if...What if these cats left under the pretense of seeking spiritual enlightenment? Surely Volepelt can't fault a cat for wanting to leave the temptations of every day life behind for a bit to become closer to StarClan. He might even be downright pleased that the sinners are finally taking an interest in StarClan's glory." ------------ words;; 572 notes;; sorry for the crappiness. ;; music;; none with this headache. |8 [bg=2b2827][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Glowy]

Out here, in the relative solitude of the woods, Dovepaw could almost forget that she was escaping from anything. How could any evil possibly mar the perfection of this place? Even in the cold, birds occasionally sang. Everything was still, untainted, and beautiful. This was the closest that Dovepaw was likely to ever be to paradise. She felt comfortable, which was a huge accomplishment for her. Was it sad that this was the happiest she ever expected to be? It was out here that ideas like these could survive, thrive even, and grow into something wonderful. Evil could not sink its fangs into anything in the quiet. She did not have to fear poison, so long as she was here. It was completely cathartic for her. If only the same thing could happen in the hearts of her clanmembers. "I don't think the Gathering Place would be a very good idea. It's too... it seems like it's too close. If we went outside the territory, we could even ask a loner or two to help us out, to watch the patients when Crowflower and the other healers aren't there. It would be dangerous to leave them by themselves. What if something happened and there wasn't anybody to fix it?"

[/b] Her skin prickled at the thought. So many things could happen... more things than just a medical mishap. Loners and rogues were resourceful, strong cats. If there were a few of them keeping watch over the wounded, it was unlikely that anything would try to attack them. The only thing would be getting any of them to help. They were loners for a reason, after all.

This task suddenly seemed much more daunting than it had at first. The Regime was... a formidable enemy, to say the least. Its tactics were thorough, and its followers devoted almost beyond reason. They believed they had a higher calling, that their organization was ordained by the Ancestors themselves. What did those like Poppythroat, Dovepaw, and Frostpaw have? Nothing that, at first glance, seemed as substantial as what the Regime had.

They had Hope. Hope, the things with feathers, that perched in the soul. Hope that sang a tune that needed no words, and never stopped singing no matter what came up against it. They had passion. Passion that, no matter how you may want to suppress it, opened its jaws and howled anyway, because it knew nothing else. Passion, the source of everybody's finest moments; the joys of love, clarity of hatred, and strange ecstasy of grief all came from this one thing. These things gave them power. These things gave them life. These things gave them vision. With these things, FogClan's blindness would be healed.

"Enlightenment,"[/b] she mused, nodding her head. She herself had almost gone on a journey seeking the same thing when she had been younger. Before the attack. Before Owlstar had been overthrown. Before everything had gone to pieces. She found it to be a suitable guise for their operation. Who were the Council to begrudge anybody this simple thing? "And imagine the looks on everybody's faces when they start coming back from their journeys almost completely healed of their wounds! Miraculous!"[/b] Closing her eyes, Dovepaw could practically see the shock spreading through the clan, could see the knowing glance that would pass between Poppythroat and herself, and couldn't help but laugh. It was almost as if the triumph had already happened and she and Poppythroat were reminiscing about "the good old days."

"Of course... we'll have to find a way to keep any Council members from tagging along. They might insist upon it."[/b] Maybe... if she or Poppythroat went first... alone... they could come back with all these stories of their wonderfully healing and enlightening experiences, spread them around camp, make a big deal of it, and then suggest the same thing to victims of the Regime's punishment! Of course, it had to be a solitary activity. Perhaps an escort to the edge of FogClan territory might be in order, but no further. Business between the sinners and StarClan was purely a private matter. In exchange for being healed, Dovepaw was sure that they would be willing to go along with the charade.

speaking
[/center][/size][/color][/sup][bg=e0e0e0][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[Pyro]

"Suppose we'll have to find a way to make contact with a few loners than. Are there any wandering healers about that you know of? All I have is my Aunt Hawk Shadow, and well, she was a hunter, not a healer." It would have been something indeed, if she had been a healer, considering the inner-workings of the tribe as his mother recited them. "If we had maybe one, two even, it would be most fortunate. The saying goes 'the more, the merrier', but the scent of too many cats, and so near the clans, putting into consideration that we'll need to set this place up relatively close by for the convenience of the wounded, might attract too much attention. On the other paw, we could have more helpers, but maybe move the location at random." Ah, so many things to factor in. This made the back of Poppythroat's mind prick with worry, for if things got too complicated and too big too fast, they ran a greater risk of being caught. It made him wish they had someone on the inside, a council member who was sympathetic to their operation. Someone who could make excuses for them, someone who could, on the council's level, begin to push the elite toward a more peaceful train of thought. Much like his and Dovepaw's healing operation it would have to start small, and go even slower so as to avoid immediate ostracization, but once it reached a certain point...well, if they could change the mindset of those at the top, then those at the bottom would surely follow, sheep that most of them had become. And they would follow even more readily, if they had already been worked on. Even as he thought about all this, Poppythroat knew he was getting ahead of himself. There was a long way to go yet before they could think of changing the direction of the regime, or even toppling it, and there was still much to be done before any of that could happen. And it might never happen. FogClan might always have to deal with the regime (certainly if it was removed, there'd still be the memory of it for generations to come), although perhaps to a lesser degree if Dovepaw and he were successful. Still, he could not help but wish they had someone higher up on their side. With authority came power, and with power came results. He resisted the urge to send a silent prayer to the ancestors...they need not concern themselves with the affairs of the living and he knew better than to draw attention to himself from the dead. If anything, it was the living who should pay attention to the lessons of the dead. But then, hadn't paying attention to the dead gotten FogClan into the current state of hyper-worship and given rise to the regime? Perhaps it was time to forget the dead for a while to focus on the living. Although, not where excuses for healing were concerned. The healthy state that the wounded would return to FogClan in would certainly cement the journeys of enlightenment. Clearly StarClan would have rewarded them for their newfound faith. And when they lost the weight gained? Become ragged once more while dwelling in FogClan? Perhaps then Volepelt would begin to see that there was something wrong with the way that FogClan was being run at current. Perhaps he would see that while the regime might have been founded with good intentions, it was not producing anything near as good. If anything, the regime encouraged such sins as pride, coveting, violence, and deceit. However it may have been in Volepelt's old clan, clearly that was not the best way of life for FogClan. But this was all thinking too far into the future. Poppythroat refocused on the current problem of derailing the council members' possible interest in what they were doing. "Spiritual enlightenment, ultimately, is a private matter. One may set out on the journey with companions, but when one finally views their ancestors they are alone." Ha! He sounded like such an expert. "At least, that's what my auntie says. We could encourage them to escort the pilgrims to the border, as a gesture of faith and luck-wishing, but insist that they must not follow them any further. Their presence might deter the achievement of inner peace, as of course the pilgrims will be gripped with the desire to please the council members, rather than with the desire for a connection with the ancestors." Someone would have to go first though. Perhaps without the Council's or Volepelt's permission. And then they could return, singing the praises of StarClan and enlightenment. That cat could then encourage others to make the journey, to take themselves away from the 'sins of civilization' for a while, at least until they saw the truth. The truth, was of course, that one could find aid outside FogClan, and that things did not have to remain as they were. Hm. That was a good name for it. The Truth. They could use that as a way to speak of the location without drawing too much attention. 'Oh glory, just another pilgrim speaking of The Truth they found.' "Maybe one of us should leave first. We could use the time to recuperate enough to support our claims, and to find a suitable location for healing." Even as he said it, he knew it should be Dovepaw. He'd insist it be her. The Dove: the first to come back absolved of imaginary sin, the first to sing for peace, the first to lead others to a place where they might find themselves again. How quaint that she was named Dovepaw, when she should...Well, he didn't just want her to go out first for the symbolism of it all, but because she was an apprentice. She was younger. Okay, not that much younger, considering he'd only been a warrior for a scant few moons, but his rank still gave him a sense of duty toward those below and above him. If he didn't get her out of all this alive and healthy, than who would? Yes, he was sure she was capable of handling herself, but too much self-sacrifice might ruin her. She needed to...she just needed to be healed first, alright? "You should go first, seeing as you seem to have more of an idea of who to recruit as far as medicine cats are concerned. You're probably the most likely to get invited to a gathering as well, being Volepelt's apprentice and all, and that means you can make contact sooner. They'll probably be more comfortable dealing with someone they already know than a stranger." -------------- words;; 1119 notes;; most fortunate. most fortunate, indeed. music;; comfort eagle--cake, ray of light--madonna [bg=2b2827][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Glowy]

"Are there any wandering healers about that you know of?" Dovepaw shook her head. Why would she know? Being a warrior, Poppythroat had more of an opportunity to do things like what it would take to contact a loner healer. Dovepaw was under constant surveillance, ideally. When she wasn't under the careful watch of her mentor or the Council, somebody was sent to find her. Poppythroat had his daily duties, but aside from those, he was free. He had no apprentice to tie him down, and he did not have the added tasks of a Council Member. He was everything that she wished she could be. His position in the clan was perfect for their plan, as far as she could see it. He had power, but not too much power, and very few responsibilities that were attached to his power. He was the ideal hero. What was she, when compared with him? What was she when compared with anybody, in truth? She was small. She was starved of everything- food, love, strength, worth. Ah, but not hope. Somehow she had managed to retain that spark, small and insignificant as it was. The fact that she had held on to it made it significant, though. For some reason, the Regime had not been able to kill it, as they had killed most everything else. Why was that? What was so special about hope? What made it so resilient? And how could she remind herself that it was alive? How could she hold on to her new identity as the Dove? She supposed that first, she would have to become the Dove. She could worry about keeping her identity once she had assumed it. Which would be more difficult? To become the Dove would take nurturing not offered by FogClan's ways. She wondered whether it would come gradually or all at once in a dramatic snap. She also wondered what becoming the Dove would do to her. Who would the Dove be? What would she do? Would she like it? Would she even accept this role? She already had. Despite her trepidations, she finally had been given a way to regain her worth. The spark of hope inside wouldn't let her pass this by. To let it pass would be to completely surrender to the Regime, to admit that she was worthless, and to give herself entirely to the effects of Volepelt's ideology. By refusing that fate, she supposed she was already setting herself apart. "Precisely what I was thinking,"

[/b] she said with a nod of assent. It was strange how like-minded she and Poppythroat were proving to be. "How will we set that precedent, though? I highly doubt that the Council would appreciate being ordered about by a young Warrior and an Apprentice."[/b]

"Maybe, one of us should leave first... you should go first."

"Oh. That way I can... oh. Yeah. If the privacy thing hasn't been handled by then, I think I could take care of that. You should be in the patrol, though, to help sway whoever else is there."[/b] And because I wouldn't be able to do it without you. I need you if I'm going to become the Dove. After all, it was your idea. Dovepaw averted her eyes. The realization was embarrassing. She barely knew the tom, and already she felt like she needed him. What was wrong with her?

speaking
[/center][/size][/color][/sup][bg=e0e0e0][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true][/td][/tr][/table][/center]