Part 1: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1238395125/ Part 2: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1238425608/ Part 3: Masks Fire-Lilypaw awoke abruptly with a gasp, scrambling to her paws with her fur and feathers bristling, her cheek fluff damp from tears. Her chest was heaving as she sharply inhaled every breath, her heart racing as she tried to control its fast-paced rhythm. She was awake. In her nest of the apprentice’s den. She sat there for a moment, her head swirling and reeling with the weight of what just happened settling on her shoulders. How pathetic, was it really? Pathetic yet woefully fitting. For her to drive away even the things that weren’t real yet somehow cared about her? Her orange gaze flitted from her front paw as her claws dug into and shredded the edge of her nest across the den, onto the back of a certain brown-feathered apprentice. Her gaze hardened, and with a quiet snarl she stormed out of the apprentice’s den, gliding down the tree and stalking into camp. … The moon was high in the sky still, her pawsteps echoing around the empty clearing. She paused, glaring up at the starry heavens with an expression that could only be described as hateful. Starclan *despised* her. No, starclan probably wasn’t even REAL. It didn’t matter to her either way, because if there *was* a starclan, she had no place in it. And she didn’t care that those starry ancestors, if they were up there at all, looked down at her with hateful eyes. Because as she turned her gaze down to a puddle of water at her paws, her own face rippling along the surface, she found that no cat had ever, no cat *could* ever, look at her with the amount of loathing in the eyes of herself. Fire-Lilypaw gave a long exhale, staring at the water’s surface for a moment longer before swiping her paw across the surface, sending droplets flying and distorting her reflection. Her reflection… Stars. She couldn’t stand it. Fire-Lilypaw swiped at the water again, this time with more force behind her blow, stomping down directly where her face was through the ripples. And she did it again. And again. And again. She couldn’t stand the look of herself. She hated it. She hated it so, so much. Because all that she saw? When the water calmed again as her face became clearer? Was a monster. A vile, hideous creature with a heart as black as night. With a tongue laced with potent venom, ready to poison whoever had the displeasure of speaking with her. She looked at herself and she didn’t see herself. She didn’t even see a cat. She just saw all of her mistakes and misfortunes. Her sins. “..I hate you.” She growled, glaring down oh-so *hatefully* down to the water’s surface, and watched as her reflection glared back. “I HATE YOU!” Fire-Lilypaw’s voice rang strongly around the clearing, high and shrill, fracturing from the weight of unsung guilt, grief, pain and emotions. It was a wonder how she didn’t wake anyone else up. Or maybe she did, and no one cared. The apprentice stood there, panting and glaring down at the rippling water’s surface, before with a snarl she swiped at her reflection one last time and turned on her heel, stalking off. But it was not to the apprentice’s den in which she returned to. Ohno. Fire-Lilypaw refused to go back there. She refused to sleep among her peers. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. So instead, Fire-Lilypaw stalked to the outskirts of camp, and came to a halt by a giant tree. She remembered this tree clearly, one in which she and Water-Lilypaw often played by. The bark and leaves were illuminated by moonlight, and she could have sworn she heard the laughter of better times long since forgotten, and watched the spectral forms of herself and her best f-.. Of Water-Lilypaw as kits, running and playing. She dug her claws into the bark as the memories flowed like a torrent, like a river without a dam. She could still smell the faint lingering scent of honey as she climbed up the trunk. Something sweet and innocent, long since taken by time. But as she pulled herself inside the tree’s hollow, she paused. It was not quite as empty as she had thought. For inside the hollow, there was a mask. A black and gold beaked mask. Fire-Lilypaw stared at it for a good moment. Then another. Then she slowly reached out, hooking the back of the mask with a claw and pulling it forward, the glare of the lenses and the sheen of the metallic pieces catching the moonlight. It was hideous. Monstrous, even. Like the face of a beast or demon in the leathery flesh. …Like… …Like a monster. …And yet somehow? It was a thousand times better looking at it then at her own face. And so… That was all the reasoning Fire-Lilypaw needed to raise the mask to her face..
…And fasten it on. The air was stuffy inside the mask, the leather strange on her fur, the world oh-so different looking behind the lenses. Darker, bleaker even. Like the color had been sucked away, tinted with darker hues. But she didn’t take it off, because somehow? Wearing the mask was still now better than facing the world without it. Fire-Lilypaw curled up in the tree hollow, no nest to lay on and keep her warm, no sounds of pleasant dreams from her peers to lull her to sleep. It was like living in exile in her own clan. The sort of the apprentice’s den would be nice… But Fire-Likypaw didn’t quite deserve nice things, nor could she take the feeling of existing in other’s space for any longer. So she curled up as tight as she could, her tail taught around herself as she waited for sleep to come… …It never did. … Krakenvirtue gasped as he emerged from a starry pool of water, pulling himself out and up onto the soft grass of Starclan’s plains. He gasped and panted, his paws trembling. Slowly he went through every memory, every moment. Slowly, the full realization of what had happened settled onto his shoulders. “N-No…” He took a step away from the pool, then another, before his shaking limbs folded out from under him, and he collapsed to the starry ground with a shutter in his breath. “No..” He lost her. Fire-Lilypaw. His firelight.. His purpose.. …His daughter. “No.. No no no no no…” Krakenvirtue’s voice hitched as he bowed his head, before he raised it and let out a loud, mournful wail that he was sure the entirety of silverpelt could hear. And for the first time, since the day he arrived among the stars all those moons ago… Krakenvirtue felt entirely hopeless.
