- Sep 9, 2022
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PERFECT LITTLE PUNCHING BAG
periwinklekit | 03 months | demi-boy | he/they | physically easy (pacifist) | mentally easy | attack in bold #ccccff
Sometimes, peri wonders why he was born this way.
Pale gaze stares at the stars, unseeing as he gets lost in his thoughts, in his mind. He's always been different from the very start - his odd pelt, his sleeping sickness, his weakness. He'd always looked up to moonshadow, to hyacinthbreath - even before he'd known the latter was also his mother. He'd seen sootstar and mallowlark and coldsnap and only thought how great would it be to be a warrior someday? And then he'd seen the violence - the bloodshed, the tears. The expectations. And reality had come crashing down upon him with all the force of starclan.
Kestreltalon had been maimed. His mother, his hyachinth had been maimed. Honeytwist was gone - the cat who had nursed him back to health in his illness not even a whisper on the clans breath these days. Another - emberfang, he thinks had perhaps been her name - had been tossed away too, after a battle that left him hiding, trembling, fleeing to the safety of the nursery, rocking and mumbling to himself that it'd all be okay.
It wasn't. It wouldn't be.
He'd known, he'd always known, that he was different than them. He'd never wanted to fight, to be strong. He'd wanted to be a great hunter, to provide food for hi family. For the family he wanted to have someday, the family he already had, the family that wasn't all blood. But a warrior who couldn't fight - who wouldn't fight.... what use would sootstar have for him then? Would he be cast aside to? Thrown out like rotting prey. What would moonshadow think? What would hyacinthbreath think? what would dustpaw think? Would they hate him too? Think him weak?
He doesn't know, but he does know he can't change it. He won't. The thought of fighting leaves his very soul feeling ill, and he knows with absolute certainty that this is the one thing he will never do, the one line he won't cross. He'll just have to be smart about it. He can only hope, only pray to starclan, that he won't get caught.
He watches the stars above him twinkle, as though starclan is laughing at his predicament, claws gouging holes into the earth as he scoffs, turning to slip back into the medicine den. Perhaps sleep would find him tonight. He can only hope.