Eventidecavern SRP

Instructions

Not th best but whatever fly my little Eventide Eventidecavern hadn’t spoken much since returning. Scarred, soaked, and silent, she moved like a half-finished thought, trailing behind conversation, blinking just a second too slow, her ears always twitching as if listening for something no one else could hear. The fall hadn’t left her limping, but something about the way she walked made others nervous. Her paws landed too lightly, too precisely, like she was afraid the ground might vanish beneath her again. Her eyes, her rose coloured eyes which once had a shine of hope, or perhaps even a slight sense of wonder, were dry and dead, looking off to nowhere. The clan said she was lucky. That StarClan had spared her. She disagreed. She found out about her father, how Evedaisy had died while she was gone, while her body lay mangled at the bottom of a cliff her mentor had smiled at her from. The body to mourn left rotting in the medicine den. No words left behind. Only a cold absence, and her name no longer spoken like it belonged to someone real. And then came the blood. Eclipsingfate’s claws. Two lives, taken from Helleborestar like petals torn from a flower, slowly, intentionally. Grief made monsters. Eventidecavern believed that. She had seen it firsthand. Grief had fangs and sharp angles. Grief drowned you, but made you feel like you deserved it. Did angels grieve? Had Eclipsingfate grieved her mother’s death? More than Eventidecavern? Had Kalopsiapaw, a pure angel, not a mechanical one, grieved Helleborestar? The reflection of herself on the blood pool had widened eyes and messy fur. She couldn’t help but ask: “Will you be here when I return?” Kalopsiapaw still smiled at her, that soft, uncertain kind of smile that trembled at the edges, like it knew it was temporary. The apprentice’s words were warm, careful, measured. And yet, when he spoke, Eventidecavern flinched, like kindness might bite harder than cruelty. She found Nightshadejest by the river. The water had turned his fur into strips of shadow and flesh. His eyes, once sharp and cunning, were wide now, not with fear, but with a terrible kind of stillness. The current hadn’t washed away the bruises along his throat. She stared at him for a long time. Longer than most would have. Not a word. Not a tear. Only the occasional blink, as if something in her mind had snagged and refused to let go. That night, she dug her claws into the earth until they bled. Not out of rage. Just to feel the dirt. Just to know it was still there. She began avoiding camp. Stopped sleeping in the den. Her ears twitched at shadows no one else noticed. She watched Kalopsiapaw too closely, too often, like waiting for something awful to happen, or maybe waiting to prove that it already had. There was something in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. A sharpness. Wild? No. Not angry. Ah… alert. Constantly alert. More than ever. Her theory had been proven a fact— the world had proven it could turn on her at any moment, and she’d decided never to blink again. She settled into something colder. Quieter. Deeper. And no one was sure if the cat who crawled back from the edge was the same one who had fallen. Because who is a cat if not a result of it’s surroundings? The violence felt strangely familiar, no longer a stranger to her kit self’s soft paws, but a warning of how real the world could get. She was a warrior now. With cold claws that could tear up the sky itself.