Crowfeather/Leafpool basher #1: Caricature of Intimacy

By: Amelia.

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Well, she's not bleeding on the ballroom floor just for the attention.

The light brown tabby's fur shifted up and down, slowing the pace with each heave and fall of her fragile lungs. All over there was blood–fresh cat blood on her maw and body. The white fur that used to accompany her looks and good posture was now crimson-stained and imperfect. Her blood-shot eyes gazed wearily up in horror and shock. She tried to speak but ended up choking on her own saliva mixed with blood. She was helpless. She was the victim. Meanwhile, a dark gray shape loomed close to her nearby. It was a youthful tom with pale eyes, scorching ash fur, and strong muscular build. Along his dirt-covered face there were trails of what seemed to have been tears by the markings on his face. His dark paws were stained with blood as well and he was blind at the spot.

Cause that's just ridiculously on.

Her eyes gazed from side-to-side, trying to find out exactly where she was. "Crowfeather," her voice was struggling against her vomit that was on its way out. "Tell me you're there." A spasm shook her body before it relaxed again. She was dying.

"I am," the dark tom answered her sympathetically. This wasn't the first time his secret lover was dying. This wasn't the first time he chose another Clan's femme over his own Clan's selection. This wasn't the first time he had broken the warrior code. And it sure as hell wasn't going to be the last. He knew it. She knew it.

"Crowfeather… I'm dying."

The dark tom glared at her through slits for his eyes, lust for her and anger for his choice to do what he did mixed together. He was the murderer.

Well, she sure is going to get it.

Another feeble dark ginger female was behind Crowfeather, gazing in horror as Leafpool was making her passing onto StarClan. Although she wasn't for certain that the MedicineCat would make it all the way there. Her fur was ruffled; paws touched the blood from her kin and made a mark onto her fur. She watched the whole scene, the murdering, the denial, taking advantage of what was left. She was the witness.

Here's the setting: Fashion magazines line the wall.

It wasn't always this whole drama-eats-drama-eats-drama scheme. Oh, no, it goes back before that. Back to the time whenever Crowfeather cornered Leafpool. Whenever he told her he loved her, as just cheap talk. Whenever he took advantage of the fragile femme because he was still struck over Feathertail. But it was even more than that. Squirrelflight promised her sister she wouldn't tell Firestar about anything of the sort. Leafpool loved her for that, her loyalty to her own sister. But she didn't understand the meaning of loyalty at all. In reality, Squirrelflight was a caricature of intimacy for Crowfeather–her love for Brambleclaw died and so she forced herself to make him jealous by giving herself up to the WindClan warrior. Behind her sister's back she walked beside him in secret, not speaking a word about it all to anybody.

The walls line with bullet holes.

Leafpool found out about it. She was insane. She raved to her sister and said that she would tell Firestar everything. As much as Squirrelflight pleaded her not to she wouldn't budge. Not that it really mattered anymore though. Leafpool went to Firestar and told him every little detail. So Squirrelflight fled with Crowfeather to Fourtrees. Although that didn't stop them at all. Firestar was on his way to Fourtrees, angry as hell itself and Tigerclaw in it. Crowfeather demanded to know why Leafpool told on them. After all, he had loved them both. He had Iloved/I them both and he felt they were traitors. He hissed at Squirrelflight, slashing at her cheek to make it enough to bleed open.

Have some composure, where is your posture?

Squirrelflight fled away from him, yelling curses as much as she could. She hadn't mattered to him; he hadn't mattered to her. They were just trying to get love in their lonesome lives because there was nothing left for them to love. Pawsteps grew in the distant though; flimsy as they were the dark tabby fur gave it away quickly. Leafpool's terror-struck eyes as she saw Crowfeather there with blood on the ground were filled with tears at once.

Oh no, no; you're pulling the trigger all wrong.

She flung herself onto him, tearing at his fur as much as she could to let out her anger. Leafpool was no warrior, she was trained to become a MedicineCat, not to defend herself. Crowfeather flung her into the corner near the Great Rock. He cornered her again, hissing at her through bloody fangs. She shrieked as he toppled on top of her, shredding what bit of life she had left within her.

Give me envy, give me malice, give me your attention.

Go back to the scene. Leafpool sitting there, choking back tears and blood from her eyes and throat. She's lying there, dying. Squirrelflight's watching it all from her secret lover's side. Crowfeather's blind by now in one eye. Leafpool had gouged it out in their fight. By now Firestar's already on his way. How do you explain this? I was in love with your daughters, Firestar. I was in love with Iyour/I daughters, Firestar. Perfection. Although not for now, Firestar bounded up the side with Graystripe beside him. His eyes and heart stopped on the second whenever he saw Leafpool's body. Or what was left of it. Now here we are again: the murderer, the victim, the witness. Everybody's just begging for attention. Talk to me, speak to me, comfort me! I'm the one who suffered the most out of this! I'm insane. I'm doomed. I'm dead.

When I say "shotgun" you say "wedding".

Between this drama-eats-drama-eats-drama, Leafpool looks over through her blood-shot eyes as she lies there–dying. "Do you love me?" she asks the two there. Squirrelflight and Crowfeather, side-by-side, being asked the question of doom together. "Do you love me?" her meow was barely heard as blood was coughed out from her. "Please…" But Crowfeather kept his jaws tight. Squirrelflight just stared. Nobody spoke. Nobody knew what to say to a dying cat mixed up in the affair in an affair. She heaved another breath and looked over at the two still, blinking back tears and crimson droplets.

She didn't choose this role; but she'll play it and make it sincere.

Everybody's heart skipped a beat. Crowfeather flung blood from his face. Leafpool still lay there, bleeding to death right in front of everybody and nobody did anything. The mutilated tom brushed his side up against Squirrelflight, eyes darting between the two of them cautiously. Leafpool understood. He loved Squirrelflight. Squirrelflight didn't love her sister. She was dying. Nobody was going to help her survive by now. She was the victim, doomed to death just for drama. She lightens the mood by showing somebody else's suffering instead of those watching.

So you cry, you cry; but they believe it from the tear & the teeth right down to the blood at her feet.

Tears ran down Squirrelflight's face, choking them back only kept her from speaking to the dead. Crowfeather licked them from her face, trying to comfort her now even though it was no use. Here she was, twenty-some moons old watching her sister die because of her affair with her sister's boyfriend. She killed her sister. Not Crowfeather. She could've saved her sister from him but instead she just watched. She didn't move to help her sister from his claws. Because she knew if she helped her sister then she'd be alive and Crowfeather might love her again instead and leave Squirrelflight. He was the only love she had now and she didn't want to lose him. Even if it meant to kill her sister for him. She was the hidden murderer, the witness. Crowfeather was the assassin for her.

Boys will be boys; hiding in estrogen and wearing Aubergine dreams.

The tormented she-cat moved forward, sitting down by her sister as she lifted her last breath. Crowfeather shrunk back into the shadows, now watching her as Firestar approached. He screamed at Squirrelflight, wanting to claw her fur out at that moment. Crowfeather just watched. He was the witness. She was the victim. Leafpool was dead. And all was well.