The Clan Renaissance

An Alternate Universe Warriors Roleplay

Violet had never really stopped to ponder how different tellings of the legends of the Clans varied; she had always assumed that the stories Flare and Shellspots staked their respective dreams on were the same. But now, listening to Shellspots explain the stories to Miles, she wondered if perhaps this was a mistaken assumption. The pared down version Shellspots was espousing now was basically what Flare knew as well, but it was such a simplified explanation that any nuances would surely have been lost. Violet resolved to bring it up later. Right now, they had Miles to deal with.

And dealing with him was definitely a light way of phrasing it. The young tom was almost laughably distractible. In fact, Violet might have actually laughed if not for her confusion and discomfort. This conversation really was not going where she had expected it to.

Still, at least Miles seemed to be inviting them to talk more, if his interest in folktales was any indication. Violet was a little fuzzy on the details of the Clan stories herself, but surely Shellspots would be able to back her up.

"Like I mentioned, we are members of RiverClan. The original RiverClan lived in these very woods," Violet began, gesturing vaguely to the land outside of the barn. "They were the best swimmers, and were experts at catching fish—"

"Fish?" Miles seemed to perk up—for him, this was still at a lower energy level than most cats' standard—at the mention of the word. "Fer eatin, like? Slimy, I reck'n."

Violet gulped.

"Well, uh, I suppose so. We eat—and they ate—other food, too." Violet herself was not especially partial to fish, but it occurred to her that maybe the Clans' dietary habits were not the most enticing way to tell the tale. She hoped she wasn't hurting their chances at recruitment. Although, maybe Miles was not the ideal recruit either.

The nervous churning in Violet's gut was not unlike what she would expect of the feeling of a fish flopping around in her stomach. How apt, she thought distantly.

This whole conversation had gone off in a direction she had not anticipated—multiple directions, if she was being honest. And sure, she hadn't known exactly what to expect, but this was certainly not it. Had she started off on the wrong foot? No, Miles was impossible to predict, and even Shellspots was vacillating somewhat alarmingly between pride and condescension.

Violet wasn't entirely comfortable with the turn that Shellspots' argument had taken. She had, after all, 'taken food from upwalkers' for most of her life. Her time with her housefolk had not been so terrible, although their eventual betrayal would always sit heavy in her heart. But her experience was by no means universal, and Violet had never held a grudge against her old neighborhood friends for staying in their nests.

The sharp touch of Shellspots' retort and the tension obvious in her posture seemed to finally break through Miles' shell of nonchalance—Aha, there's that survival instinct! Better late than never—and the young tom shrank back a touch. "Not meaning to offend, ma'am. Just sayin' it how I see it. I don't care if ye eat yer fish 'n all that."

I can't imagine that will help matters, thought Violet despairingly. Time to try and smooth things over. She took a calming breath. "What Shellspots is trying to say is that, as part of RiverClan, we follow a certain way of life. It's not for everyone of course, just like your way of life isn't for everyone either. Why, just look at me!" Violet gritted her teeth at the comparison she was about to make; she didn't think she and Miles had very much in common, but she was trying to make a point. "I used to live among the upwalkers, but now I'm a part of the Clan. Fish and all!" A self-effacing laugh—those were always good for lightening the mood, right?

Her eyes darted to the barn windows, taking in the darkening sky. "But we shouldn't take up too much more of your time. If you're at all interested, or if you have any friends who might be, ah, we will be in the area?" A glance at Shellspots for confirmation. How did she follow up, typically? Did she tells cats where to find her? Did she come back to talk to them again on their terms? Please tell me we aren't going to have to talk to Miles again. She thought she had found her stride there for a minute, but the conversation had gotten away from her yet again.

Oh, thank goodness we're leaving.

Violet felt a little guilty at how relieved she was at the prospect. This whole outing had been a bit of a wash, and an awkward one at that. Not that Miles wasn't pleasant enough, but...he wasn't exactly Clan material, and their recruiting efforts had been haphazard at best.

The idea of not being Clan material would have been complete nonsense to Violet once upon a time, and she laughed at herself internally for even thinking it; who was she to judge how other cats chose to live their lives? Especially with her own origins, it was hypocritical to look down upon those who chose a more comfortable life, and Violet had prided herself on not thinking herself better or worse than any other individual. After all, how was she supposed to make friends if she was so busy ranking others in comparison to herself?

Shellspots' closing statements engendered some renewed sense of purpose in Violet, and she nodded kindly to Miles. "Sorry to disturb your sleep." As Shellspots padded away, she added, "I promise that if you do come to find us, we won't make you eat fish." It was not a hard promise to make when she suspected this would be the last they saw of Miles.

"Oh, not fer me, I think." replied Miles, seeming somewhat more relaxed, now—though not entirely as worry-free as when they'd first found him. "I'll pass yer message along, though. Good luck 'n all that." With that clear dismissal, he returned to his nest.

Well, so much for that, she thought, and took her leave, following Shellspots' path out of the barn and back into the refreshing air and waning daylight. Her paws were less clean than she would like, but Violet figured there was little she could do about it, judging by the trouble Shellspots was having dislodging some of the muck from her own paws. It was almost amusing, until she started in on the self-deprecation.

"Nothing's the matter with you," Violet chided, coming to stand beside her. "And anyway, of the two of us, I definitely made some worse arguments." I talked too much about fish, for one, she thought moodily, remembering her parting words to the young tom. "But being part of RiverClan is not for everyone—and that's a good thing! If everyone was the same, then there would be no Clan, no point to it all." It felt like the right thing to say, but she was suddenly reminded of similar discussions with her younger litter, advising them that while yes, Flare was a wonderful older brother, their own unique attributes and quirks were what made each of them so special. She didn't want Shellspots to think she was condescending to her, though, and tried to appeal to one of their commonalities. "Surely you've told Heronpaw and Minnowpaw that a hundred or so times?"

As unfortunate as the attempt at humor was, Violet felt obligated to return the favor. "That's the spirit! And if we're extra lucky, we'll find the other three before night falls." The darkening sky loomed overhead, as if in silent judgement.

Shellspots seemed to share in the sky's silence for a moment until she spoke again, forfeiting the false lightheartedness for a more introspective air. Violet listened, then let the silence return as she mulled over the best response. "I think," she said, at last, "That there is a common misconception. You'd think everything would be easier with more paws on the ground, the responsibilities spread among a larger group. But that way of thinking neglects the fact that we are beholden to each other. Each new member of a group brings new responsibilities, new commitments. You are tired—we are all tired—but that work is what we put in because we care." She smiled. "And it will get easier."

Violet worried that she had not actually addressed any of her friend's specific concerns; she had not offered solutions for planning out patrols or apprentice training, and Canarypaw's prophecy was a whole other hurdle that she had little idea how to approach. Hastily, she added, "Judging from the stories, though, leadership is a burden to be shared. And a prophecy, vague and frustrating as it might be, certainly smells legendary enough to me." Another thought occurred to her. "And surely some of the work of recruitment will become less necessary, or at least less involved on our part, once word spreads. There, at least, we've made some progress with Miles." Though I'm half-convinced Miles will think the whole encounter was a dream, Violet tactfully did not say.

As Shellspots finished off her list of grievances with a mention of Heronpaw's recent troubles, Violet restrained an inappropriate bout of satisfaction; it had taken a while, but this was what she had wanted! To open up to each other, confiding and having deeper conversations than most of their interactions thus far. That said, she wasn't really sure what advice to give for the situation. None of her own kits had had a sullen phase—Yet, she thought darkly. But Violet had imparted enough of her wisdom tonight, wanted or unwanted, and figured a little humility was in order. "I don't really have a comparison, I'm afraid," she admitted. "My younger litter have all grown to idolize their older brother, which I thought might eventually fade, but it still hasn't seemed to. I've always thought it relatively harmless, of course, so I haven't done much to dissuade them." She thought about her kits for another moment. "Although, I don't think trying to dissuade them would have helped. Honestly, it might have just made them more stubborn." She shook her head at the thought of her three youngest being more enamored of Flare.

Well, enough bragging, Violet thought, somewhat embarrassed by her tangent. She tried to shift the focus back to Shellspots. "Has anything new come up with him recently?"

A vigorous nod seemed the best response to Shellspots' somewhat mild acquiescence to Violet's optimism; more cats would come, fast or slow. Violet could control the pace at which that happened no better than Shellspots could, but she what she could do was try to keep the other queen's spirits buoyed.

The task seemed much more daunting, somehow, when applied to the issue of motherhood over recruitment. Dealing with strangers was one thing, but your own family? Sure, Violet had plenty of experience as a mother, but every individual had individual needs; what worked for one cat wouldn't work for another and what worked for that one wouldn't work for another...

"Is it only you he's short with?" Violet asked, a thought suddenly occurring to her. She herself had very few interactions with Heronpaw, and she mostly saw him and Minnowpaw together, although their exchanges had never seemed too strange to her. Maybe he chafed at authority? She would have to ask Flare about it, see if he had any similar issues with the young tom. Or would that be overstepping?

She tried a different approach. "It's not the end of the world if the Clan doesn't inspire as much passion in him as it does in his sister or you or Flare." Violet privately thought that Flare's passion bordered a little too closely on obsession, in spite of all that they had achieved, but she thought it wise to keep that opinion close to her chest. "We all have different interests, and it's likely there is something that will spark his, even if you—or he himself—don't know what it is yet." She shrugged, wishing she could offer better advice. "I think the best thing you could do is give him to space to figure out what he needs for himself, as hard as it is to see him struggle with that question."

The ground seemed to bear the greatest brunt of Shellspots' frustration, and Violet felt the faintest bit of relief that she herself wasn't the target. How difficult it must be, she thought, to shoulder all the responsibility without another's aid. She felt a rush of gratitude towards Jay, for sharing the burden of parenthood with her. Doing it alone was unthinkable, to Violet, and yet that was what Shellspots had done, was still doing. No wonder she was so distressed.

Violet hummed an acknowledgement to show she was listening, but didn't respond right away. "That is tricky," she said, finally, unsure of what other advice to offer. "I wish I had better advice." True, but not necessarily helpful. "I think...well, as much as we want to see ourselves in our kits, they'll never be exact copies." Privately, Violet thought Minnowpaw was about as close as one could get to an exact copy of Shellspots, but saying so probably wouldn't help anybody. "I know it's not exactly the same, but it took awhile for me to realize that my second litter were not all going to be little mini-Flares." Ultimately that had been a relief, but still a shock at first, against all logic. "It took a while to get to know them as separate, unique individuals. Which is not something I usually have trouble with—" Oh dear, that sounds rather arrogant, doesn't it? "—Nor do you! You wouldn't have been able to build up such a large Clan, otherwise." Nice save. "But for some reason it's harder to do with our own families, I think. We already know them, in theory, so why should we get to know them?"

The question hung in the air. Violet sighed. "But we should get to know them, weird as it seems. Not that you don't know Heronpaw, because of course you do. But sometimes when we think we know someone, or something, we forget to ask the right questions." She smiled sadly.

Shellspots other concern seemed more accessible for Violet. This was something she had only recently come to terms with, but still. "I don't think kits ever know the full extent of the sacrifices we make for them. Do you know, I don't think any of mine have asked me about my life with the twolegs? It was comfortable, and I have to work so much harder now not only for them but for myself. Not that I mind of course, but it is frustrating that they take it for granted. I think, though, that we just have to resign ourselves to a little ungratefulness. Maybe they'll grow up and have kits of their own and realize, and apologize, maybe? I can dream." She laughed at the idea. "But that's part of being a mother, I suppose. We don't do it for the recognition, after all."

Violet nudged Shellspots, hoping to relieve some of the hopelessness and stress that seemed to seep out of her silver fur. "Listen, everything seems a little more impossible in the dark. Everything will seem easier in the light of morning, I promise."