what are kings but perfect shadows? (stag/magpie)

It was funny; all these years, he had come to think of this spot by the water as his own particular thinking spot, and it had never occurred to him that anyone else would come by to do as he did, to stare out across the tranquil river, to be lost in thought. So when he heard the sound of a approaching pawsteps, he was jerked rather suddenly out of his mix of present-day concerns and long-ago memories, and he peered apprehensively in the direction of the newcomer. In his present mood, he wasn’t sure if he would be any sort of cheery company for anyone, and he half-considered slipping away to go brood somewhere else (for brooding was what it was, really, and not even he could deny that). But before he could get to his paws, a familiar face appeared among the reeds, followed by a familiar, tired body. Out of reflex, Whitewater leapt immediately to his paws in the presence of the cat who was not only his elder, but his leader as well, moons of training making the respectful gesture second-nature. As he dipped his head gracefully, Magpiestar greeted him with a low rumble that was at once familiar and strange – though it was a voice he had heard almost every day of his life, he was unused to being addressed so closely.

"Isn't it funny? We can yearn for something our whole lives, yet fear it with such fervor when it is finally granted upon us."

When he looked up again, Magpiestar had crossed the remained ground between them to stand calmly at his side, and Whitewater found himself to be envious of that tranquility that the other tom seemed to give off in waves. Though it did its part to help calm his frayed nerves, he also found himself wondering if he would ever be able to project that calm into someone else. Before he could work himself into a state again, he turned his focus to Magpiestar’s words instead, and found himself puzzled. It was as though the black-and-white tom had reached into his very thoughts to pluck out the thing that was concerning him the most, and suddenly, the old warrior felt bared and vulnerable under his leader’s knowing gaze. “Be careful what you wish for,” he tacked on quietly, returning his gaze to the water that ran smoothly by, unconcerned by their presence.

Whitewater may have been old, but Magpiestar was older still, and he knew that, nine lives or not, the odds were in his favor if it ever came down to a physical altercation. But somehow, sitting here beside the thick-furred tom who was the cornerstone of the Clan, perhaps as great as the river itself, he felt weak, small, and inexperienced. Like a clumsy apprentice who had stumble eagerly among a grand old group of legendary warriors at a Gathering. His leader’s mere presence burned a hole in his side where their fur hardly brushed, and Whitewater finally swung his head around to catch the other’s eye once more, turmoil causing his stomach to turn over. “I’m afraid,” he confessed, feeling raw at such an open display of weakness, and in front of his leader, no less. But Magpiestar, he knew, was wise. He was understanding. And as deputy of the Clan, it wasn’t as though he could unburden his troubles on the warriors under him now. Throughout his life, he had always trusted Magpiestar, regardless of his rank, had always looked up to him admiringly even as an apprentice. But this was a different kind of trust, a vulnerable baring of his worries and his faults, something that he rarely did for anyone, if he had ever done it at all. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to give them what they deserve. The Clan wants a deputy they know will commit to the Clan, and they aren’t wrong for it. But…” he trailed off, swallowing thickly as his shoulders sagged under the weight of the Clan’s expectations. “Such pressure, I admit, is…intimidating.” Applepaw’s expectant face swam to the forefront of his mind, and Whitewater bit the inside of his cheek to dispel the memory. It wouldn’t be the first time he had failed someone who had depended on him. He kept himself upright, forcing himself to hold his head high, but he wanted nothing more than to crouch at Magpiestar’s feet to beg off wisdom.

How do you do it?



tagged: stag
notes: sorry if there's any typos or nonsense, it's early xD

From apprentice to warrior, Whitewater had been on the receiving end of many different salutes, the level of respect in each greeting elevating as time went on. As a young tom, still wet behind the ears and filled with the warmth of a mother’s love, most warriors had written him off with a flick of the ear, a casual acknowledgement to an apprentice that wasn’t truly worth their time. When his training days had been put behind him, he exchanged the faintest of nods with his peers, and bent his neck to his elders and those in positions of authority. These days, as the oldest warrior RiverClan had to offer apart from Magpiestar himself, more often than not other cats stopped in their tracks to pay respect to him, but his leader, of course, had never been among them. To see Magpiestar now, greeting him in a way he might respectfully acknowledge another leader, was exhilarating and strange in its unfamiliarity, but still filled him with a sense of wrongness. The day he would be able to exchange greetings with Magpiestar as an equal would come, he supposed, but for now, it was still an anomaly that would take some getting used to.

“I know. And you should be. That fear, that uncertainty, that awareness - it is what will make you a strong leader to the ones you love…It's part of why I chose you as my deputy."

At Magpiestar’s good council, the knot in Whitewater’s stomach that had been wound so tight since the evening of his ceremony lessened somewhat, and he breathed deeply for what felt like the first time in days. The RiverClan leader’s intense gaze compelled him to return it in earnest, and the pride he saw reflected back at him in Magpiestar’s green eyes filled him with warmth and rejuvenation, as though he had taken a sip from a shallow pool on a hot summer day. The uneasiness he felt at spilling his deepest fears and uncertainties lingered still, but at the older tom’s understanding words and gentle praise, the weight on his back suddenly seemed less intimidating, an easier burden to carry with the promise that he would not be shouldering it alone; Magpiestar would not leave him to flounder in his self-doubt and worry.

He nodded slowly at his leader’s words, turning over a response carefully in his mind. Magpiestar waited patiently in silence, seemingly to let him answer in his own time. “Fear is a powerful motivator,” he agreed with a slight inclination of his head, “if processed through the proper channels.” Fear could make one tuck his tail between his legs and flee from battle, but it also had the power to straighten resolve, to put steel in one’s spine. “Everyone experiences fear, but it’s how one reacts to it that matters.” He paused for a moment with a telling tilt of his head, thinking deeply as his eyes wandered from Magpiestar to take in the wide expanse of the river. The blue ribbon wove steady as ever, snaking peacefully through the two opposite banks. “I know my fear will inspire me to protect the Clan. I know that everything I’m afraid of…everyone I’m afraid for…will only serve as a reminder for what I’m fighting for every day.” In his mind’s eye, all of his fears surfaced from the shadows and into the light. The scent of circling madness, the old nightmares of Foxpaw passing away, the retreating form of Snowcloud’s back…the death of young soldiers on the battlefield, their phantom cries echoing in his ear. He would do anything to prevent such things from coming to pass. And from that will, he would reap his greatest strength.


tagged: stag
notes: this post fought me tooth and nail, sorry for the wait