Larkwing

Larkwing is a black tom with amber eyes.

## Personality

He tends to seem rather reserved and serious due to his quiet nature and rather stoic resting expression. This isn't entirely untrue, as he isn't one to make conversation with cats he isn't at least acquaintances with and he can be rather private about discussing his own thoughts and feelings with others, but he is really a pretty laid back cat. He isn't one to resist change too much, as he is pretty adaptable and resourceful, and he can deal with most situations adequately, plus he pretty much just lets insults and the like roll off his back without thinking much of them. He's perfectly able to register when a cat doesn't like him, and can be pretty perceptive if someone has bad intentions in approaching him or others, so he's smart enough not to provoke others, but he's generally very levelheaded and doesn't rise to others' bait. He's a very honest cat, sometimes to the point of bluntness or insensitivity, and he has very little patience for liars or theatrics, usually rolling his eyes and telling others flatly if he doesn't believe them or that he'd like them to speed it up, he has places to be, thanks. He generally displays a rather apathetic and almost lazy attitude, preferring to sunbathe or sleep to conversing with most other cats, but he isn't one to shirk his duties, either, attending to training, chores, or anything else that may be required of him diligently and punctually. He tends to look down on anyone who doesn't do the same. He often seems unsympathetic towards other cats because he distances himself from them, and is often very businesslike, not offering consolation to upset or injured cats in favor of presenting very logical statements, but this isn't because he doesn't care; if he himself is upset, he prefers to take comfort in physical contact rather than words, tending to get irritated if someone tries to comfort him verbally, so he tries to comfort others the same way more often than not. He does have a soft side towards some cats, but he does not believe in coddling, and he won't sympathize with someone over anything he considers a "bad habit." Though he often chooses to silently roll his eyes rather than waste energy speaking up about something, he can be very sarcastic and sassy, and has no problem calling others out on their foxdung. Though he can seem rather abrasive and serious, he isn't humorless, despite popular belief - he actually uses his more serious persona to his advantage, blankly stating things in order to trick other cats; he'll spread false information or make claims that aren't true simply to get a reaction when others find out he wasn't serious, as it's very difficult to tell when he's lying and when he's not. When others fall for his tricks, he usually cackles to himself about it but doesn't care much to share his humor publicly, instead simply amusing himself and dealing with others' reactions without flinching, even if they happen to get angry. He does like to play around and explore a bit at times as well, but he's pretty low-maintenance, and is fine not doing much of anything if there aren't any duties for him to do.

## History

Born to Jaggedstar and Swiftheart after his half-siblings, Shimmer and Bright, left the Clan with their mother, Thunder. With his immediate family within the Clan consisting of Jaggedstar, Thornfire, and Shardheart, he spends a great deal of his time rolling his eyes and sarcastically remarking on how "extra" all of his family is. He thinks his mother, Swiftheart, is okay, but if she starts being dramatic she'll probably get the same sarcastic and exasperated treatment as the rest of the family. Sometimes he laments that his other half-siblings left, as he thinks they "were probably the only reasonable ones in the bunch anyway." He still loves his family, of course, but... he lives in a constant state of "why me / this is my life."

## Long Posts

Larkwing trotted swiftly across camp as soon as his patrol was dismissed, all but throwing his prey into the fresh-kill pile and ignoring the sharp bark of reprimand from Icebreeze for the action as he moved away. His focus was solely on the medicine den, approaching it with his tail swishing behind him. He'd earned more than a few disapproving looks over the past few days for his distracted behavior, but the worry he'd felt more than justified it, as far as he was concerned. He'd kept his mouth mostly shut instead of complaining constantly, trying to be strong for his Clan and for the rest of his family, but he was always anxious to be done with his duties for the day, always anxious to get back to camp and check in with Pebblenose about the status of the sick cats. Or one in particular, at least.

When he reached the entrance of the den today, though, he didn't see Pebblenose anywhere. She was usually hovering over her patients, or moving about in the den to and from the water cave, pressing to moss to their heads to bring down fevers or urging them to drink when they were conscious. Today, though, she was nowhere in sight. Ottersplash and Cliffrunner were both in the same nests he had seen them in before, and Scalefang had apparently come down with something - maybe the same thing - as well, as he was in another nest made up on the side furthest from the entrance. The black tom stepped further into the den, pricking his ears and calling out, "Pebblenose?"

There was an immediately shuffle from the back of the den, and he turned his head to watch the medicine cat scramble out from the herb store, her eyes wide and frazzled. "Tell me you're not sick too," she demanded immediately, approaching him swiftly and starting to sniff for illness before he could even open his mouth to respond.

Larkwing gave a small shake of his head. "I feel fine," he mewed briskly. "No symptoms of anything." Pebblenose seemed to relax at that, drawing back, so he went on, "I just came to check on Ottersplash."

Immediately, the medicine cat tensed again, her expression pinching sorrowfully. Larkwing felt his stomach drop at the expression.

"She's..." the tortoiseshell faltered, biting her lip. "I haven't been able to move her, yet, but... She didn't make it."

The black tom folded his ears back slowly, shaking his head. "No," he breathed out, nearly inaudible. Pebblenose's expression crumpled further, and she opened her mouth to say something more, but Larkwing swiftly shook his head and whirled away from her, marching his way over to Ottersplash's nest. Her name came out of his mouth involuntarily, sharp and almost angry, but for the hoarseness of it. "Ottersplash?"

But she didn't move.

Larkwing stared down at Ottersplash's body, eyes nearly blank and jaws slightly parted in disbelief. He kept staring at her flank, expecting her side to move, but it didn't. She didn't move at all: no acknowledgement of his presence, no stirring, no signs of breath. Still, he kept staring, waiting for *something*. *Some* sign of life. There *had* to be something...

She couldn't be *gone*.

"I'm sorry, Larkwing," Pebblenose's soft voice reached him faintly, though it took several moments for him to actually make sense of the words. "...She stopped responding this morning, and she passed just a little while ago. She's with StarClan now."

*No. No, that can't be right,* Larkwing thought hazily. He could remember when Ottersplash was a kit. He could remember when she was not even a moon old, a ball of fuzz and energy he'd had no idea how to keep up with, even then. He remembered internally panicking every time she found a new high place to fling herself off of, but still laughing, a little exasperated, when she would inevitably get back up again and grin like she was on top of the world. He could remember her buzzing around her siblings and prodding laughs and smiles from them, no matter how grumpy Finstrike was acting, or how serious Deerpool was behaving, or how shy Eaglesong was feeling. He could remember the time he had prompted her and the rest of her litter to tackle Brownfeather all at once, remembered how Ottersplash had led the charge, hooting and hollering the whole time, grinning like she'd already won even when she lost. He could remember every time he had rolled his eyes but silently appreciated her boundless positivity, every time she had made a bland day better, every time she had gotten him to actually laugh out loud. He remembered how proud he had felt when she and her siblings had gotten their warrior names, how loud he had cheered and how bright she had grinned.

He remembered practically raising her, even though he was only an apprentice when Ottersplash, Eaglesong, Deerpool, and Finstrike were born. He remembered being startled by how much he *cared* about all of them.

And now Ottersplash, with all her limitless energy and mischief and optimism, was laying still in a nest, not breathing.

"I'm sorry," Pebblenose repeated quietly. Larkwing could only shake his head numbly, nausea building in his stomach. This wasn't like when he'd seen Jaggedstar get dragged down by the riptide out on Thundering Stones; he wasn't waiting for her to resurface from the churning waves, or reappear in camp, or just *be okay* again. Ottersplash didn't have lives to spare.

Ottersplash was *dead*.

Larkwing didn't notice his own trembling, slowly lost his sense of any of his surroundings; barely heard himself make desperate, quiet pleas as Pebblenose began to usher him out of the den, barely heard her uttering apologetic sentences about how she couldn't risk him getting infected, assuring him that he could be there when she was buried (*buried*, oh StarClan, he had to choke back bile that rose in his throat at the idea). He couldn't think at all, standing stock still outside of the medicine den when Pebblenose retreated back inside, shaking ceaselessly. It wasn't raining, but he felt as numb as if he had stood under a freezing downpour for hours, weighed down like his pelt was soaked, water streaming down his muzzle like raindrops.

He didn't know he was crying until hours later, when his tears ran completely dry.