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  • Pierce hadn’t had the greatest day. It hadn’t been bad, but it’d been stressful. Blizzardclan was at war with the Cartel, newcomers he was expected to watch over were pouring in every day now, he had a new child he’d taken as a loose responsibility to look after - Frisk -, the kittens were coming any day now, and he was all alone. Hana was really all he had left. No Robbie, or Rid, or Everett, or even his dearest sister, who had been beloved by many, Lottie.


    God, he missed her. Missed her soothing voice, the gentle words she would spare him that could carm even the harshest of storms. Her soft, gentle touch, the smell of herbs and sugar and earth that always clung to her fur. He missed being able to spill his guts out to her, to be able to hold her tightly in his embrace, for even when everything was falling apart around him, he had had her. His anchor.


    But one day, just like that, she was gone, just another tragedy added onto the list of many in Pierce’s life.


    At first, he had been numb. He hadn’t been angry or distraught when the Ruiner told him and the others about the former Head Medic’s death; it wasn’t until days later, after Chesspieces filled her place, that it all really set in. She was gone, and this time, she wasn’t going to come walking out of the bushes in a new body. She was dead, and it was that realization that smacked him in the face with all of it - the pain, the loneliness, the fear of a world without his big sister. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t imagine his life without her.


    Though, after he had spent a few days locked in his den, not leaving for anything, he had reemerged, and life had started up again. All day, he was distracted, not able to sit around miserably and instead keeping his mind off of the Maine coon. It wasn’t until he climbed into bed each night that she crept back into his head, plaguing him with the intense loneliness and wish for the simplest thing- to have his sister back-, but it was never happening. He was never going to see her again.


    The effeminate boy still wore that bandana. That blue bandana, though stained with dirt and her very own blood, that he had found at the scene of the indident, which he wouldn’t think about. Every day, he had it died around his neck, or his leg, or the strap of his leather satchel. It was like having a piece Lottie with him, a sinplistic, and kind of silly, though comforting thought. She still crossed his mind, from time to time - when he passed her old hut, or went into the medic’s den for treatment, and whenever he took the moment to glance doen at his bandana. Hhe pain of her loss had subsided now, only hitting him in his lowest of times, leaving him only with the happy memories of his adoptive sibling.


    Today, however, was a low day. He wanted his boyfriend to come home, he wanted Rid, and Witchy, and Mie and Robbie back. He wanted his sister to come back to him, to pull him to her chest and express her love, her pride for him, to walk him through the terrifying steps of pregnancy and help him to look forward to his babies, with or without Ev there. He knew, were she present, that she would be his biggest supporter, but the thing was, she wasn’t, and it hurt like hell.


    He crashed into his bed of pillows and blankets for an early night, half wishing he had taken the trek through the cold to sleep at Hana’s instead, but he didn't have the motivation. Tugging off his bag and scarf, he tossed the satchel to the ground and pulled a fuzzy blanket over his dappled form, untying his bandana from his neck and holding it by his cheek. Although incredibly faded, Pierce was certain he could still pick up traces of Lottie’s scent on it, a comforting thing in the moment where he felt so alone and afraid. He could almost hear her voice, feel her paw brush against his cheek as she assured him everything would be alright.


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    Next thing he knew, he was standing... somewhere unfamiliar, with no snow or floating islands at all in sight. It was a tiny bit hilly, covered in green grass and assorted wildflowers. A tree or two dotted the landscape, but over all, it was very... weird. He was taller - in his male body, no doubt -, and everything was a little surreal, suggesting the dream, but he, naturally, ignored it, wandering the meadow until he caught sight of a familiar spotted grey form through the tall grass, his breath momentarily hitching in his throat. Was it her? It... it looked like it. But how could he ensure it was-


    “Lottie?” he uttered, voice smalland hesitant, as if she would turn around and turn out to be someone else. But, no, he knew his sister when he saw her- but how was she here? What had happened? Where was here? Maybe she would be able to answer his questions.


    ISELOTTA   Quill  


    //mobile & hhh rushed a lil at the end

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  • Lottie wouldn't be the first to say that her life hadn't ended up the way she had imagined it- the way she had planned out in her head. Her life hadn't been sunflowers and daises towards the end. She had many regrets. She lived many losses. She abandoned the people who needed her most when her own mind slipped slowly from her grasp, tendrils of memories and anguish that grew steadily like a stream, ripple after ripple until it was a waterfall, cascading down the steepest cliff and into a depth so far below what the eye could see that anyone who dared look for too long would surely be lost within the foam of nothing. But what did she regret the most, one would wonder? Was it that she couldn't protect her children from being murdered, from watching her husband die? Did she regret attacking Jersey, abandoning Alastor the moment she had become remotely afraid of him? Did she regret leaving Pierce behind? Her Medic Team without a word? Did she regret trying to poison and innocent person?


    Did she regret not killing Riddlersgame and sparing Pierce from having to do it himself?


    Lottie's last few months had not been happy ones, yet, no one seemed to remember them. They forgot that she had been a tormented woman, who had lost everything in the span of a few months, more than her heart could take. First her husband, then the man she had fallen in love with; then she had had her youngest son, Victor. But even then he had been subjected to torture at such a young age; her eldest cubs dead before her eyes in the same way that she had tried to kill Bucky by accident. Poison. All of her children. All of her babies. The people she cared about. In her sorrow she had forgotten the one person that still needed her most, that hadn't given up on her, that hadn't abandoned her. She hadn't tried hard enough to pull herself out of the grips of insanity and grief, holed herself up in her den, let her mind twist itself to tell her that everything that had happened would never heal, that it would always be an open wound, tearing into her chest, letting her bleed out onto the ground below, and even as she lay dying, over, and over, and over, they would never come back. It would never heal. No one would help her. No one could help her.


    But was she dead? The question was... convoluted. Of course she was. Even she, a medic, couldn't survive her throat being slashed open by Bucky. Perhaps if she had tried harder to heal her own wounds, to eat, and to take care of herself, she would have stood a stronger, fighting chance, but she had not. Her Bandana abandoned when it became too stifling to have around her neck, as she crawled her way away from the scene of her own crimes, to the horrors that she committed. She did not die in peace. She did not die at an old age, surrounded by the people she cared about most, by the people who loved her. She did not get to watch her children grow up. She did not get to watch Pierce live his life, find someone who loved him, who he loved; to see him get married, as silly as the thought was. Lottie had always believed that one day, she'd be the one to stand there at his side, walking him down the aisle to some kindly man. Instead, she died alone, cold, shaking, a skinny form on the ground in the middle of nowhere, scared, and confused, tears streaming down her cheeks, screaming in anguish for what she had done, for the pain that she was in.


    But her death had been quiet. There were few tears for her in BlizzardClan, her memories distorted and faded. No one remembered the Crazy lottie. They remembered... Her. The Medic who always smelt of herbs, no matter how she tried to get it out of her fur at the end of the day. The Medic who had seen so many young faces, taught so many that had faded in the passage of time. Kamari. Eren. Wisteria. Eggpaw, and Celina, and Sylmae, all of her apprentices that she had tried so hard for, had been so proud of. She had even missed Chesspieces becoming Head Medic in her stead. She would have been proud, but now.. now she never had the chance to say it. For she was dead, but... Lingering. Her spirit nothing more than a faint apparition, stuck in the veil. Her regrets hung to her like a heavy weight, tethering her to this place that she had left long ago. Pierce. She had to see Pierce.


    A field. A large one, full of wild grasses, the sweet chill of a slight spring breeze, just trailing towards Winter; the dots of wild flowers, bright and cheerful nestled within the earth that she had always loved so dearly. Comfort. Comfort, and her family. Lottie? A voice sounded from behind her and the snow leopard took in a breath before she rose to her paws and turned, to see the tall form of Pierce standing before her. "Pierce," she'd sound softly, a whisper of a word as her gray-hued gaze swept over him, checking that he was okay, that he was healthy, the subtle action that Lottie could never stop of her own volition, even when she knew it wasn't necessary. She took in another breath, and with it, the wind seemed to shift, picking up slightly before it all suddenly went.. still. "Que c'est agréable de te revoir," she continued on, the Fresh smoothly sounding from her lips, her voice light and airy as if it hadn't been more than a few days since she had last seen him. How nice to see you again.


    Lottie moved slowly, stepping forward towards her little brother as a warm smile found its way to her lips, the sort that crinkled the corners of her eyes and made them glow with a gentle sort of light to them, an unexplainable joy that was much akin to glee. "Tell me, Pierce. How are you, hm? What's been happening?" she continued, moving to sit down next to him as if they were simply talking about the weather, her gaze lifting to the clear blue skies for a moment before she turned her gaze to her little brother, a hesitation lingering in the air before she gently lifted a paw to brush his cheek, a familiar action, certainly. "I know I'm dead, Pierce. I'm sorry," she added carefully. Then again, if this was nothing more than a figment of Pierce's imagination, why wouldn't she know that she was dead? "I hope you can forgive me."

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  • Perhaps some had forgotten what had happened to Lottie, or blocked it from their minds, but the memory remained prominent in Pierce's mind. Her growing more and more reclusive, to the point that he never saw her. Bucky, coming telling them all about what she'd done to him, and him and Aleksei stumbling upon the scene of what she'd done to her den; it had been torn apart, with her belongings scattered everywhere including a few letters, written shakily, though clearly in her hand. It wasn't that he had forgotten, not at all, it was just that he chose not to think about it. That wasn't the real Lottie, not the one that had taught him French, or how to bake, nor the person who had patched up his wounds, or held him close to her chest as all of his worries spilled past his lips. The real Lottie had been kind, gentle, not the kind of person that would ever lay a paw on an innocent. It had been a mistake, a misunderstanding in her scrambled mind, but it had cost her.


    The memories Pierce held onto, though, were not nearly so bitter. He missed his big sister greatly, but he didn't let himself get upset about it, not when there were so many good things to remember about her. From time to time, he would still be hit by the loneliness, the grief of living without his big sister, but it passed. It always did.


    The femme before him was not the one that had attacked Bucky, neither in physical or emotional form. The slender form of the snow leopard was not one he had seen in a long time - one that had been slaughtered, gutted, Iselotta returning though in a far different body. It wasn't that he preferred this body over the other - he hardly even realized - but it was the one he had first known her in; the one that he had grown to know as his sister. Pierce's thin coat was ruffled slightly by the cool breeze, a rather noticeable difference from the harsh winter back in Blizzardclan, though it was welcome. He was motionless as she greeted him, amber gaze silently flitting over her form, disbelieving. This wasn't real. He knew it couldn't be. But at the same time- her voice, her face, her presence all felt so familiar, surely not something he could dream up after all this time.


    "Que c'est agréable de te revoir,"


    Was she really glad to see him again? After everything he could have done for her, but failed to? If he had just been there for her, she'd be alive today, wouldn't she? Of course she would. He knew that. It was almost as if she didn't realize it was all his fault. If he had only paid attention to her problems instead of focusing inwardly on his own, she could still be here, Head Medic of Blizzardclan. Hell, maybe she would've even been promoted to Deputy, or something. It was a dream that had once been possible, but was now lost, out of their grasps. And why? Pierce had tried so hard to take care of her, to protect her, in their day to day lives, but when she really needed him the most - when she was going through the worst time of her life -, he had disappeared to deal with his own issues. That wasn't how it was supposed to work, though; Pierce had always put everyone else before him. So why did that change with the one person who mattered most to him? Why was it that he failed only when he really was needed?


    He didn't return the sentiment, not verbally. Of course it was nice to see her again - though that was a vast understatement -, but in the moment, he could feel nothing other than self-hatred, disappointment and anger at his own failure. A failure that could have very easily been avoided, and had cost his dear sister, his only sister, her life. The serval watched Lottie's movements as she approached, scrutinizing them, trying to find a way to prove that this was fake, but he couldn't. He was either soft, blinded by both his anger with himself and his relief at seeing her again, or maybe, just maybe, there was real. People came back, didn't they? His sleeping mind couldn't notice the differences, nor did he really want to.



    "Tell me, Pierce. How are you, hm? What's been happening?" Her voice taunted him, hauntingly real, familiar, so accurate to his memories that his brain was screaming at him to turn and look at her smiling face, though his gaze simply flickered down to his paws. Pierce could feel her settling herself beside him, her larger, stronger form close to his. Tears flooded his eyes, but he somehow managed to hold them back. He was tired of crying - it was something he had grown far too comfortable with, almost an immediate action whenever anything overwhelmed, or upset, or angered him. Though, when he felt her paw brush his cheek, a familiar contact that he hadn't felt in so, so long, he could help but close his eyes, feeling the warm tears trickle down his freckled cheeks as he took a deep breath.


    The tom raised a paw to his face, wiping it hopefully before Lottie noticed. "I'm- I'm okay," he answered softly, his gaze roaming the sky and surrounding area, though still not resting on the former medic. "Things have been, uh, kind of crazy, but it's fine. I'm fine." He didn't wnat her to worry. She didn't deserve that. When she went on to mention being dead, his jaw tensed. Was she a ghost? A figment of his imagination? He couldn't help but hope for the former- but would that mean she had been here this whole time? Why was she only showing up now? "You're sorry?" Pierce couldn't help but ask, a slightly bitter tone to his words as he finally turned to face his sister. She looked exactly the same as he remembered, with her soft dappled features and kind grey eyes. It was her- it had to be. Nothing could ever be so accurate to his Lottie, could it? "You never did anything wrong," he went on, his tone and expression softening. "I'm sorry, Lottie. I- I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." He could have been, but he was going to try not to think about too much. Swallowing his guilt, Pierce stepped forward, silently leaning into her form. He couldn't quite wrap his arms around her body anymore, but he only sought her warmth- and it was there, all of it. Her soft fur, the heat her body gave off, even the familiar scent on her fur that he had nearly forgotten.

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  • Oh, her sweet Pierce, always caring so much for the other people around him, often ignoring his own problems for it. Of course, it wasn't that he didn't have any, nor were his troubles any less valid than someone else's, but for him to carry the weight of her death, the guilt of the what ifs, what he could've changed, could've done; the what if of saving her life before she had fallen off the rails. I'm okay. "Okay," she echoed softly, testing the word on her own lips as if she wasn't quite ready to believe the shakiness in his voice; she knew him far too well for that, her gaze dropping down towards him, rather than the scenery as she looked him over, exhaling slowly for one long moment. Her little kid brother.


    A smile flickered back on her face as she leaned in to nudge her shoulder softly against his, rather cheery despite the weight of her words- being dead, and knowing that she was, at least within Pierce's own mind- but to be met with Pierce's bitter tone made her brows raise slightly as she paused and allowed her smile to relax, waiting for his tone to relax as it always did, each word carefully planned, each action carefully thought, tiptoing on a field of eggshells; the boy who cared with all of his heart, and loved even more, the one who she could watch every day and never cease to be amazed at how fully he loved life, every moment of each passing day like it was a catalyst for some grand adventure that only he were privy to.


    "I've done plenty wrong, Pierce," she answered with a small moment of hesitation, her words soft, but her gaze unwavering. "I may be dead now, but one cannot refute what I had done when I was alive. I abandoned my husband the moment something happened that spooked me. I abandoned my children, and let them get kidnapped, killed, by Riddler. I let my own son run off without even trying to find him. I was abandoned, again, and again, but those who abandoned me were all by my doing. The people I could not save, as a Medic- a mother, a wife- that's on my paws. I will not deny what I did to that poor man, either.That BloodClan man; I abandoned my own Clan, my own Medics, and my own family," she added, though of course unaware of the name change that had taken over the desert territory. "I have many regrets, Pierce. I will admit to those mistakes, those regrets, and hope that those I hurt will one day forgive me for them, as much as it hurts me to think I've harmed someone else, I know it's the truth."


    Her gaze softened as she looked down as Pierce pressed himself into her side, a smile gently finding its way to her face as she moved to wrap her arms around him instead, holding him close. "But you never abandoned me, Pierce. You are not to blame for what I did, and for what happened to me. I know you tried; many of you did. I just... stopped listening. Don't hold guilt for something that never happened. I'm sorry I left you, Pierce. But... It's time for you to start healing. The people in your life whom you've loved and lost; remember them, cherish it, but don't hold a weight on your shoulders. It's never your fault."


    For a while, she went silent, allowing the breeze to ruffle her fur as she rested her chin on the top of Pierce's head, contemplating before she started laughing slightly, more of a whisper of a sound that lightly shook her shoulders. "You know... If I could go back, and do it all over, change everything I ever wanted to change, fix my mistakes, live a second life... I'd name my daughter Clementine." She had ever only had one daughter, after all. Desirae. A bold name, a strong one for the black-furred child that had taken so much after Alastor. Sometimes, she wondered the silly, little things; as if having a softer name, a gentle name, would have changed her fate at all. "'Merciful. Mild...' Heaven's knows my kids had no end to their energy," she would chime, her laugh growing more genuinely; at times it seemed her kids ran over her more than she had any actual influence over them, always so rambunctious and wild.


    She paused again, though sighing this time as she looked down to the form of Pierce in her arms. "You know I'll always be with you, right? That I never left you? I'll always be there to look after you, and protect you."

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