pafp another one bites the dust | murder

[Fleecefur]

The Moonstone was just some glamorous rock that let you talk to StarClan, as far as she had gathered anyways. It had meaning enough that the only way she would know for sure if the lives bestowed down upon the heavens were true was to wait for Pitchsun's return and she had already decided how she would go about testing her theory. The rest of the clan was continuing their vigil for Briarstar of sorts, what remained of her buried and their sleeping forms back at camp awaiting the return of their newly appointed lord. If she had the sense to care she might have tried to get on his good side prior to all this. Plotted becoming his deputy so that there would be no question when she took over after he had a few accidents, but no matter. This would work too.
Fleecefur moved along through the tall grass leading to the stone, attempting her best at stealth though it was not really her thing to begin with but the less she was seen prior to acting the better. When the dark tom came into few she did not hesitate even a moment, springing from her spot to throw the full weight of herself into his side and send them both tumbling tail over paw until she'd twisted around to pin him; knowing he had brought his medicine cat with him she acted with the swiftness and precision of a surgeon and raised a clawed paw into the air. It was a messy affair, cutting a throat. She'd done it several times before in her life and had still not quite gotten it down to an art form where she would not be sprayed in the face by the burst of red blood that gushed from such a wound; the amount of grooming required to clean up after such kills was her least favorite part of the act.
But it had been quick...somewhat. Cats did not often die immediately so she waited, pushing her dark, clawed paws down onto his chest to keep him from pushing away as the life slowly drained out of him drop by drop.

"How dissappointing..." She purred out, tone indifferent to the cat gurgling on his own blood and fading fast beneath her claws. He was losing the strength to fight back, so she raised one bloodied paw to examine the curve of each ebony dagger with a sigh as if given her least favorite kind of prey and not her merciless act had not gone as she expected. As Pitchsun grew still she stepped back to get off the tom, shaking her head with a sneer and glancing upward as if challenging the very stars themselves with her piercing blue gaze. How irritating to be lied to like this, so the nine-lives thing was mere words meant to fool them? Her aspirations crumbled in face of this news and she lowered her gaze to glare at the motionless dark cat before her; he had died so quickly too. All of this fuss and for what? There was nothing of interest to her in the clans any longer and chances are they would not take kindly to this act either. She hooked one of her claws into her own mouth, picking at her teeth with the bloody and dirtied tool in a nonchalant manner. Well, whatever-she would leave then. If her goal of obtaining these nine lives from StarClan was not meant to be then she would rather be a loner once more than continue the fake pleasantries that clan life forced her into.
Fleecefur turned then to leave, getting only a few steps before pausing in her tracks to the sound of labored, wet breathing behind her and she whipped her head back around in alarm; blue eyes widening. He'd been dead. She had been assurred of it and now it seemed the crumpled form of the ShadowClan leader was struggling to rise back up. A smile flitted across her face and she moved back toward him, feeling a surge of adrenaline coursing through her that she could only assume was the excess life that had been stripped of the tom by her own claws filling her own soul; she would have her nine lives then...by taking each of his from him one after the other.
"Oh? I suppose it DID work did it? That's quite nice to know, do us a favor dear and don't make this difficult will you?"

[ooc: Note for after @PITCHSUN posts, you are free to try and claw her up everywhere except the face please (dont make me have to redo icons I'm begging)! She's meant to just barely survive escaping!]
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[PITCHSTAR]

The trek back to the camp is a grueling one; Pitchstar's entire body feels as if it'd been set ablaze. The after-effects of receiving nine lives, he supposed. But he keeps pushing forwards, even when Bonejaw falls behind him.

The territory is safe, provided they steer clear of that wretched Thunderpath. Pitchstar does not have to worry about either of them straying towards that deadly asphalt trap, though — the mental wound of Briarstar's death still too fresh.

The territory is safe. Such a beautiful lie that is. Pitchstar trods through the marsh, unaware of the huntress stalking him like prey. It isn't until a sudden weight crashes into his flank that the illusion of safety is shattered. His alarmed yowl is cut short by his breath being forced from his lungs once his back connects painfully with the peaty soil; the two felines tangled together as they roll down a small decline. At the bottom of this decline, Pitchstar is caught beneath his attacker, the face of a she-cat he'd called a trusted clanmate coming into view. Fleecefur. "What-"

His question is cut short. One unsheathed paw raises, and the world slows. Pitchstar does not fight — he does not think he would have the opportunity to do so even if he wanted to. The rosette tabby stares back up at her, that question reflected between two contrasting pairs of eyes. Does he have nine lives, or has StarClan lied to them again?

Pitchstar is back on the Thunderpath, then. Tinnitus ringing in his ears as he cradles his mother's corpse, thinking that maybe death would be more merciful than to continue living. If a monster killed him then, would it really be a tragedy?

Perhaps it would be better that way.

At least he wouldn't have this overwhelming ache in his chest.

Now, Pitchstar is faced with the threat of another monster, but one disguised in curls of soft fur. And he does not fight. Call it morbid curiosity or a frayed psyche, Pitchstar does not move. He watches as her paw raises, claws poised to strike.

Pain blossoms across his throat, tearing deeper, deeper, until he swears that he could feel claws scrape against bone. The reaction is instantaneous, his body moving on it's own accord as he spasms. Blood spurts from broken arteries, coating his fur, making it's way up his ruptured throat until he's choking on it.

Ink-dipped paws hold him in place as he continues to convulse. Pitchstar gargles, a feeble attempt at words, and maybe that's for the best; what would he say while they are dying with their killer watching coldly from above, anyways? Why did you do it? Or perhaps an eloquent, fuck you.

Whatever the answer may be, Pitchstar would never know.

His vision begins to blur. He doesn't know if it's from the tears welling in his eyes or the life that's quickly draining from him and pouring crimson onto the earth.

The leader continues to choke on his own blood as his eyes roll into the back of his head. Soon after, his body stills.

He's back in the starlit marsh. The she-cat who'd given him his first life stands before him — or, in her case, a little ways below him so that he must duck his head down to meet her gaze. She is laughably short.

A scowl twists her facial features. Pitchstar frowns at her as she begins to scold him as if he were a misbehaving child.

"How could you allow yourself to be murdered so quickly? Please use your other lives wisely; I will be watching you closely from now on, you got that?"

Pitchstar only has time to roll his eyes before his consciousness is being forced back into his body. As if he'd breached the water's surface after nearly drowning, Pitchstar awakens with a sharp gasp. His lungs ache for the oxygen that he so gratefully sucks in through an open mouth, the crumpled leader coughing and spluttering.

Fleecefur no longer stands above him. His shaking forelegs push himself into a wobbly sitting position, his head lowered as he continues to breathe heavily. One paw rises to clutch at his throat. Blood still stains his fur, but where the wound had been is now smooth scar tissue.

He's alive. He's alive, and he isn't dying all over again.

Pitchstar's shock does not last long; Fleecefur is approaching him with the murderous intent of a viper, her sickly sweet words taunting. She plans on killing him over and over again. She wants to watch him bleed out nine times over until there is nothing left.

She's his clanmate. Someone that he'd thought he could trust with his life.

Instead, she'd stripped him of it.

"Back the fuck off," Pitchstar hisses through a raspy voice, spitting leftover blood that clings to his tongue as he speaks. The leader staggers to his paws, the world spinning, but he forces his own claws to unsheathe. "Before I return the favor."​

 

[Frostbite]

Icy blue eyes filled in an instant with wrath and hatred. From the undergrowth he had been lurking in, observing Fleecefur ever since she left out of suspicion, he bolted forth with claws unsheathed.

He bore his teeth and lunged at her with a vicious yowl.

"WRETCHED SNAKE!"
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[CHILLEDSTAR.]

the feline was cold. they gave others the cold shoulder, building walls being making damned sure to keep others away from them. it was the only way they knew how to act. but one thing they did not do, was lie. lying was evil. disgusting. despicable. and to be quite honest, lying pissed them the fuck off. how dare anyone fix their face to lie so easily, they didn't know.

the goddex slowed their pace from amongst a patrol, fur prickling up in worry. fear. the scent of blood hung within the air like a thick cloud, and chilledgaze's eyes widened. fuck. not even thinking to speak allowed ( because if their clanmates couldn't smell the all too familiar copper scent then, they did not need to be within shadowclan's ranks ), they darted off in the direction, coming to a halt when their gaze lands upon the scene. betrayal. disloyalty. hissing quietly, they subtly glance over pitchstar. no matter how anyone else felt about that, pitchstar was their leader now. and a leader that chilledgaze would die to protect. they could not have another briarstar. they just couldn't.

their claws eagerly push from their sheathes, chilled's lip upturning in a devilish snarl. how desperately their brain eggs them to tear this cat limb from limb, they couldn't afford any more deaths ( not that they believe that fleecefur could even land more than a simple stick-cut of a scratch ).

"nothin' more i hate than a liar. may starclan have mercy on you, because i sure as hell won't if i ever find you back in this territory ever again."

they snap in her direction, watching frostbite leap towards her.
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[ NOBODY ELSE MATTERS, GIRL ]​

 

[turtlenose]

What had brought her out here was a feeling. Unable to place her paw on it, she followed it. Deeper into Shadowclan territory, until finally she came into sight of Fleecefur. Hesitation would cause her to wait, not knowing what force seemingly prevented her from approaching her clanmate. Nothing however, could prepare her for the sight she was about to witness.

Horror would once again race through her bones as Fleecefur leapt, landing on a form she was unable to make out. It wasn’t long before she caught the scent, the screams[ of the figure she leapt upon. Pitchstar! Willing her body to move, she’d run towards the pair, soon being met by Chilledgaze and Frostbite. “What in the name of Starclan are you thinking?” They’d just watched Briarstar die, and now they had to lose Pitchstar as well? “You won’t be forgiven for this. Why do you think you’d get away with this?” Hissing, she would sigh in relief as Pitchstar rose from the dead, greatful he hadn’t been taken from them as well. Moving to stand beside her leader, her eyes would narrow as she watched Frostbite aim to attack the murderer.
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[FLICKERFIRE]

Flickerfire stalks to stand beside Chilledgaze, her hackles bristling like shadowy spikes along her neck and spine. ShadowClan blood being spilled, and at the claws of one of their Clanmates - her eyes simmer with rage before they darken into furious orange slits. "You snake-hearted witch."

She unsheathes her claws, and, without thinking, lunges for Fleecefur, aiming to tear the she-cat down her left flank. "One life for his, isn't that fair?" She smiles, but there's no mirth in the expression.
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PENNED BY MARQUETTE​