- Aug 4, 2022
- 211
- 35
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THERE'S A HOLE IN MY SOUL ( CAN YOU FILL IT ? )
siltcloud | 13 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #905d5d
siltcloud | 13 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #905d5d
This is far from the first time siltcloud has haunted the twolegplace, a dust-colored ghost stalking through the shadows, and certainly far from the last. Daylight, nighttime - it no longer matters. How much time has she spent her, compared to her own home? But within shadowclan she is just another face, one no one ever misses. It's always been this way, but now that she's out of her mentors control she's no longer confined to trailing along like a helpless kit.
The steady drip-drip-drip of blood as it trickles down to splash against the sidewalk echoes loudly, even amongst the usual nighttime sounds of insects and twoleg-monsters that pass by. Slim frame is hunched over her kill like a demon in the night, green gaze flickering coldly in the harsh light.
The kittypet had simply been there - the right place, the right time. Easy pickings, easy practice. It'd taken such meticulous planning - hiding her scent, traveling far from home, making sure granitepelt was distracted by his... wife - all of it, for this. And this time, her hard work had paid off - with results to show for it. And yet -she feels... nothing. No real sense of pride, no disgust, no guilt - just emptiness.
Another day, another death.
Muzzle streaked red, paws stained crimson, the young warrior simply stares down at the collar lain loosely around her limb - a trophy. She won't be able to keep it, no that'd be to suspicions. But perhaps she can leave it somewhere she can find it later.
By the time daylight creeps into the alleyway, she is long gone - the only things that remains is a cooling body laid out upon a dumpster lid, throat slit neatly and collar long gone. Her calling card? A neat, five-toed pawprint left behind in the blood, the strange number of toes matching that felines wounds perfectly.
They'll never know her name, or even her face, but she can certainly make them remember her.
// TW: death/dead body
silt is long gone, it is unlikely anyone will recognize her disguised scent or the five-clawed wounds except yewberry
The steady drip-drip-drip of blood as it trickles down to splash against the sidewalk echoes loudly, even amongst the usual nighttime sounds of insects and twoleg-monsters that pass by. Slim frame is hunched over her kill like a demon in the night, green gaze flickering coldly in the harsh light.
The kittypet had simply been there - the right place, the right time. Easy pickings, easy practice. It'd taken such meticulous planning - hiding her scent, traveling far from home, making sure granitepelt was distracted by his... wife - all of it, for this. And this time, her hard work had paid off - with results to show for it. And yet -she feels... nothing. No real sense of pride, no disgust, no guilt - just emptiness.
Another day, another death.
Muzzle streaked red, paws stained crimson, the young warrior simply stares down at the collar lain loosely around her limb - a trophy. She won't be able to keep it, no that'd be to suspicions. But perhaps she can leave it somewhere she can find it later.
By the time daylight creeps into the alleyway, she is long gone - the only things that remains is a cooling body laid out upon a dumpster lid, throat slit neatly and collar long gone. Her calling card? A neat, five-toed pawprint left behind in the blood, the strange number of toes matching that felines wounds perfectly.
They'll never know her name, or even her face, but she can certainly make them remember her.
// TW: death/dead body
silt is long gone, it is unlikely anyone will recognize her disguised scent or the five-clawed wounds except yewberry