private AT THE MENTION OF A CONFLICT ☾ Howlkit

[THRASHPAW]

-ˋˏ ༻☾༺ ˎˊ-​

Thrashkit tries to absorb a lot into his young mind, he is one for few words so he tries to make up for it in thoughts. They can be critical and judgmental but she trusts them more than she trusts her words. It may sound cruel but he wasn't sure if Howlkit had much thought in it's actions, it acts on instinct, much more than she or Yippingkit does. It wasn't that the instincts were gone, the pair still hissed or growled when approached in a manner they don't like. Thrashkit still bites too, just infrequent, he was biding time to leave, that's what she thought the plan was but Howlkit didn't really agree to the idea of being trusted so this makes sense.

She was convinced they were going to die together in Gentlestorm's den, only to be given some kind of poultice and sent on their way. As he positions himself in front of the nursery to watch the stars blink into existence for the mortal eye he finds there is some disappointment in that fact. She's thankful to live, yet this is troubling if it's wrong in it's assessment of the ThunderClan healer, would that then mean that their perception of the clan as a whole is wrong? Absolutely not.

"Thank you for biting me" he murmurs to the shadow that lingers by it's side, presuming that it's Howlkit because when isn't it? He doesn't think to bring it up further than that, what else is there to say? What regrets could be had over such practical actions? Yes it stings whenever he moves, it will make her stronger for it hopefully. She's thankful that it was Howlkit to bite her and not collateral damage from Bayingkit. He tries to not dwell on it, there's no need to.

Thrashkit cranes her head to look at it, dandelion eyes flicking at it for any sign of weakness, any sign of regret. "...we're getting older" he comments with a sniff. They'd be shoved onto some other warrior for responsibility soon, right? They're much bigger than previous denmates who had been dubbed as paws so surely that meant they'd be allowed to see the forest again any day now, something that causes an illness within that he can't identify.

"What do you... Think of this place?" they had discussed it as a trio when they were smaller, huddled in the corner of the nursery out of fear. Would it's opinion be any different now that they're bigger?

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎A KINDLING OF A ☆ SWORD-LESS BLOODSHED‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  @HOWLKIT
  

• 

• THRASHKIT
  any pronouns, 5 moons
  ☆ A black smoke with abnormally bright amber eyes and a habit of crouching while they walk.
  ☆ Bayinghound x Duke | Littermates with Howlkit & Yippingkit
  ☆ Due to her circumstances surrounding it's life she will be confrontational in the majority of their interactions { will start fights | will not end fights | will not run away and might be merciful }
  ☆ "speech" | thoughts | attacking
  ☆ All opinions are IC only!

​

 

[HOWLPAW]

Howlkit's amber eyes flicker with a sharp edge as Thrashkit speaks, the dim light casting shadows over his tense form. He listens intently, every muscle coiled as though ready to spring at the slightest provocation, yet he remains unmoving in his corner. There's a distance in the way Thrashkit thanks him for the bite. Howlkit's ears twitch in irritation as he tries to gauge whether his sibling's gratitude is genuine or bitter. The words hang in the air between them, thick with unspoken tension. He's used to this feeling, the suffocating weight of being misunderstood, and though he doesn't fully distrust his siblings in the way he does the rest of the Clan, there's still a creeping sense of unease. His gaze shifts downward, staring at the cold, hard ground beneath his paws. His mouth tightens into a thin line as he fights the instinct to snap, to bite back with words as sharp as his teeth. What could he even say? That he bit Thrashkit because it felt like the right thing to do in the moment, a quick decision made from the constant edge he lives on? He always feels like he's bracing for the next blow, always ready to strike first. He knows it wasn't for Thrashkit's sake. It was for his own. It always is. If his sibling knows him at all, they must know that by now.

"You shouldn't thank me," he mutters finally, his voice low and rough, as though the words themselves are jagged stones in his throat. There's no warmth in his tone, only resignation. The stars above glimmer faintly, but they feel distant, cold—detached, much like he feels now. A veil of isolation separates him from the world around him, from Thrashkit, from the camp. He wonders, not for the first time, if Thrashkit understands how different they are. Thrashkit questions, plans, analyzes—wastes time thinking too deeply about things that, in Howlkit's eyes, don't matter. Why bother when survival is the only thing that counts? Instinct, not thought, is what's kept him alive. The world doesn't care for your questions; it only cares if you react fast enough to avoid being killed. At Thrashkit's next question, his gaze sharpens, but his lips curl into a bitter frown. This place? His ears flick back, the scorn in his voice palpable. "This place?" he repeats, his voice carrying a note of derision. "It's the same as everywhere else. Doesn't matter how big we get—nothing changes. We're all just waiting to see who'll break first."

He doesn't glance at Thrashkit, doesn't need to. The dismissiveness in his tone makes it clear he isn't looking for agreement. His amber eyes narrow as he stares past the camp, out toward the warriors' dens, the looming figures of those he's learned to keep an eye on. He shifts his weight uneasily, his claws flexing into the dirt. "I still don't trust this place. Or them." The words come out flat, a cold statement of fact. There's no malice in his voice, no anger, just a simple truth. "Maybe it wasn't any better before. Maybe things were always like this. But at least out there," his voice softens for the briefest moment, like a crack in his hard exterior, "no one pretends they care." The vulnerability in his voice is fleeting, so brief it's almost imperceptible. Before Thrashkit can respond, it's gone again, buried beneath layers of hardened indifference. He turns his gaze away, pulling the mask of cold detachment back into place. "I know where I stand there," he adds quietly, though there's a heaviness in his words, the faint echo of something deeper. Something more than just survival. But it's a part of himself he's unwilling to acknowledge, much less share. And so, just like everything else, it remains locked away, hidden behind the walls he's built to keep the world at bay.​

 

[THRASHPAW]

-ˋˏ ༻☾༺ ˎˊ-​

Thrashkit doesn't like to fight, not with it's littermates. It snaps when cornered, confrontation is included in that, if stressed enough he'll argue, bite, whatever the occasion calls for. That doesn't feel right with Howlkit or Yippingkit, their older siblings are not included in this. "Okay" he meows in a grunt, it can mean many things. Simply an okay, or a 'why can't I thank you?' it could even be a 'I'm sorry for saying that' or 'I'm just glad you're safe.' Whatever Howlkit's view on the simple word is would be enough for Thrashkit. She is used to Howlkit's frigid and tense demeanor, it's a comfort at this point. Where this... Clan coddled it keeps her sharp, reminding him of faults in the foundation if they find they stray too far from distrust. When a clanmate breaks down a wall they can rely on their littermate to remind them to build it back up. Wherever this is intentional or a by product from the combination of Howlkit's suspicions and Thrashkit's moldable demeanor is unknown to him.

It looks back down at their paws, tail thumping against the ground in response to the derision in it's tone. Nothing changes, he is inclined to agree. Why Fallowbite had thought to bring them back here he doesn't understand, it's no kinder than the life they had known in the fox burrow with Baying Hound. They're told to play and have fun but how can one really do that here? Bodies on top of bodies pile, spats between each other and apparently other clans build and it wasn't like anyone had become nicer. They were just better at hiding how they actually feel. "Who do you think will break first?" He seeks reassurance, hoping that it won't be this litter but knowing that he wouldn't lie about this possibility.

It doesn't trust the clan, that much is expected. Amber eyes shift from where he stared to glance at it for a moment. The shift in tone is alarming, the vulnerability is confused for pain and out of instinct he rakes over it's form to make sure it isn't hurt. "I miss it" it's a statement that didn't need to be shared out loud but maybe he would appreciate the sentiment. There's laughter somewhere echoing across camp, the smoke flinches at the sound. Much too sharp and loud, it's an apprentice maybe... Or a warrior? He doesn't know and he doesn't care. There's envy there, somewhere deep down, a desire to laugh too one day.

"They expect... us to fight for... them soon" his meow is uncertain, a slow rumble as he tries to think about what expectations are being laid out. A reunion with the forest, placed in the paws of yet another stranger. Separated from their littermates, they fear the day that meeting comes. "Will you... Try to leave... When you're Howl...paw?" Her muzzle scrunches in disgust, another name that she will have to grow used to. He's thought about it, the idea of leaving as soon as they're able to is appealing. Something roots them in the tendrils of ThunderClan, the refusal to leave without his littermates. They still need to know how to hunt right, how to fight with those who are bigger than just kits.

"Sometimes... I wish we died with her" He confesses solemnly, there's that feral spark within him to survive. Is that really enough? Somethings been missing since that day. Life here isn't any better, maybe he could have been shielded from the cycle of violence that carries in their blood. In turn shielding his siblings, if Howlkit died that day then maybe he wouldn't sound pained.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎A KINDLING OF A ☆ SWORD-LESS BLOODSHED‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  

• 

• THRASHKIT
  any pronouns, 5 moons
  ☆ A black smoke with abnormally bright amber eyes and a habit of crouching while they walk.
  ☆ Bayinghound x Duke | Littermates with Howlkit & Yippingkit
  ☆ Due to her circumstances surrounding it's life she will be confrontational in the majority of their interactions { will start fights | will not end fights | will not run away and might be merciful }
  ☆ "speech" | thoughts | attacking
  ☆ All opinions are IC only!

​

 

[HOWLPAW]

Howlkit sits in silence, his large frame tense and unyielding beside Thrashkit. He watches her, amber eyes scanning her every movement, searching for signs of distress. His own thoughts are a swirl of tangled emotions, but his face remains impassive, hardened by experience. Thrashkit's words—short, clipped—don't surprise him. He knows them. They share a bond forged in something more brutal than the comfortable walls of the nursery. Their kinship is less about softness and more about survival. When she mutters her response, Howlkit knows it carries layers beyond its simple sound. It's saying whatever needs to be said. A way to say everything without saying anything at all. He can feel what it means, the same way he feels the ache in his own chest when the weight of the Clan's expectations presses down. He doesn't answer, not verbally. His only response is a slight twitch of his ears, the faintest signal that he's listening, that he understands.

There's a comfort in Thrashkit's presence, in the fact that he doesn't push him. His siblings are the only ones who don't need explanations. They get it. They've all seen the world through the same lens, a twisted reality colored by pain and distrust. It's almost amusing to Howlkit, how ThunderClan pretends they're safe here, as if wrapping them in the false warmth of the nursery can erase the cold truths they carry inside. It's not safer here. Howlkit learned early that safety is an illusion, and Thrashkit—she gets that too. She's sharp, even if she doesn't like to fight. He understands when to lash out and when to fold into himself. Sometimes, when Howlkit looks at them, he sees a reflection of himself. Other times, he sees a little of Yippingkit, a little of the wariness they've all been forced to adopt.

When Thrashkit voices her question, her voice betrays a quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, it won't be them. Howlkit doesn't want to answer. His gaze shifts from her to the dirt beneath their paws, his thoughts churning. The sound of laughter in the camp catches his ear, and he flinches, his hackles rising slightly. Laughter. It feels foreign. Something distant, belonging to a world he can't touch. Warriors and apprentices seem to have mastered it, this skill of pretending, of smiling through the lies. Howlkit wonders if he'll ever understand it. "I don't know," he mutters, voice low and deliberate. He never says much, never reveals more than he has to. But Thrashkit's question sticks in his mind. The thought gnaws at him, the fear that one of them will crumble under the weight of it all. He doesn't want to lie to them, to tell them that none of them will be the ones to break, when he knows that it's a possibility. "But I won't let it be me," he states, voice firm. Whatever it takes.

He speaks once more, and Howlkit's ears swivel toward him, eyes narrowing slightly. Miss it? Miss the fox burrow? Miss the brutality? He doesn't have to ask; he knows what it means. The simplicity of it. There, at least, things were clear. Survival was all that mattered. Here, in ThunderClan, things are murkier. They're expected to fit in, to play a part. But how can they when trust feels like a weakness, when every cat hides something behind their eyes? At least back in the burrow, they all knew that everything and anything could kill them, but those things were honest about it. Here, they all play nice and pretend to care before ripping one another's throats out and leaving their corpses to rot. Thrashkit goes on to mention that they will be expected to fight, and he gives a small flick of his ear in acknowledgement. It's true. The day will come when they'll be forced to fight for a Clan they don't believe in. ThunderClan may have taken them in, but ThunderClan also murdered their mother.

Howlkit stares at her for a long moment, his chest tightening as she asks whether he will stay or leave, mentioning a new name. The name feels foreign, wrong, just like everything else in this place. Howlpaw. It grates at his nerves, makes him want to crawl out of his skin. And the idea of leaving? It's crossed his mind more than once. The thought of just walking away, taking his siblings and disappearing into the forest, into something unknown. But he knows better than to run without a plan. "I'll never be Howlpaw," he finally says, his voice gruff. "I'm Howl. Just Howl." He doesn't look at his sibling as he speaks. Though he answers to it, acknowledges it, he's not sure he can ever fully think of himself as anything but simply Howl. "And... maybe. Thought of it, at least. But not yet." There's too much he needs to learn first. He's not a fool. He'll never survive out there on his own, not until he knows how to hunt, how to fight. For now, he's trapped, tethered to ThunderClan by necessity, but the day will come when he'll be able to make that decision.

Then, his sibling makes a confession, and the words hit Howlkit harder than he expects. He doesn't flinch, but inside, he feels the weight of them settle in his gut like a stone. Part of him agrees. Maybe it would have been easier. Less pain. Less confusion. But there's a spark inside him, a feral need to survive, to keep pushing forward, even when it feels pointless. "We didn't," he says quietly, amber eyes locking with hers. "And we can't." That's the truth of it. They're still here, and as long as they are, they'll have to keep going. Perhaps it would've been better if they had all died that day, and never been taken in to a Clan that they may never trust. But they are alive, and the instincts that simmer just below the surface harshly rebel against even the thought of dying. There's no other choice now. They're here, and they have to keep going. Survive, no matter what.​

 

[THRASHPAW]

-ˋˏ ༻☾༺ ˎˊ-​

But I won't let it be me, his voice is unwavering in how he speaks. She admires it, how sure it seems in this moment. Where she is reduced to thinly veiled attempts at hiding trembling words he stands sturdy against uncertainty. Unable to predict the future yet doesn't seem to be frightened by this, it's merely a matter of fact for it. They can only grunt in reply, words falling short as they often tend to do when in the presence of anyone. She suspects she will never be a master of it, the art of socialization and it can't tell if it mourns that fact or not. The silence that procedes his questions fills him with a sense of dread, not fear per say but a general unease that seems to radiate between the pair. If anyone had passed by would they be unnerved by it? In a place that liked to hide behind a facade of joy, all too happy to seemingly act like their monstrosities didn't happen. They can claim that it was just a group of bad cats but that was still ThunderClan, when does murder become justified? When does one deem it right to murder mothers?

Their mind drifts to the thought of a corpse long rotten when Howlkit speaks up. Just Howl, never Howlpaw. Fear settles on them at that, rejecting names didn't go well here... They had seen that during Skyclaw's reign, who's to say that wouldn't happen to it if it said this to the wrong cat? "You are just Howl... Be careful." He purses his lips as his maw shifts from one bone to another with a click. "We both.... know that they" there's a long pause as he tries to not think about the sight of Howlkit being maimed by the same paws that killed Baying Hound. "That they... Don't like not using their... names" Howlkit is clever though, surely this is something that it has thought about before.

"You... would take us with you?" midnight fur turns to the dark pelt of it's littermate. "You wouldn't... Leave us here?" It had always been without question that she would take both of his siblings if he left but would Howlkit do the same? It hoped so, the three of them bonded through cruelty and gore, something that can't be shaken by abandonment. Hope is a fickle thing, it had hoped for a lot of things here and that seems to fall through. It says that it wouldn't leave yet, that's a good sign at least, time to convince him to not leave without them if that had been it's plan.

Thrashkit is none the wiser to the internal flinch that the kitten beside them harbors, instead it flicks is eyes up to try and catch the sight of the moon. The same moon it tried to watch through the sliver of an opening the fox burrow had. The confession weighs heavy on her shoulders and on her tongue, there is no regret behind her words, that doesn't mean it isn't aware of that weight. She looks back at it's words, startled at the fact their eyes meet. It can feel the feral need to survive radiate from him, something prickles beneath the skin at the feeling.

"Why not?" The words tumble out in a clarity that it normally doesn't speak with. "I don't... want to... I just..." his words fail him once more. He just wanted to hear a fraction of that basic care that seems to come easily to other families? Wanted to have more motivation to keep pushing through in an environment that felt suffocating? Just wanted to hear his sibling talk? Thrashkit isn't sure, once again they mean so many different things in few words.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎A KINDLING OF A ☆ SWORD-LESS BLOODSHED‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  

• 

• THRASHPAW
  any pronouns, 5 moons
  ☆ A black smoke with abnormally bright amber eyes and a habit of crouching while they walk.
  ☆ Bayinghound x Duke | Littermates with Howlpaw & Yippingkit
  ☆ Due to her circumstances surrounding it's life she will be confrontational in the majority of their interactions { will start fights | will not end fights | will not run away and might be merciful }
  ☆ "speech" | thoughts | attacking
  ☆ All opinions are IC only!

​

 

[HOWLPAW]

Howlkit listens closely to Thrashkit, the words striking a deep chord that he can't quite ignore, though he resists the urge to flinch. Beside him, Thrashkit's words falter and tumble, laced with uncertainty and a kind of desperate longing he recognizes all too well. It's strange, seeing the reflection of his own bitterness and hopes in his littermate, like looking into a still pool only to find someone else's eyes staring back. He can't help the flicker of resentment that rises at the thought—they shouldn't have to feel this way, shouldn't have to know this much hurt, and yet here they are, speaking in half-buried truths and tentative promises.

When Thrashkit asks if he'd take them with him, Howlkit's heart clenches, though he keeps his expression guarded, face set in a hard line. The idea of leaving had crossed his mind a hundred times, but never without them. In his mind, leaving means pulling all of them out, away from ThunderClan's shadows and into… he doesn't know what. Some place where they aren't haunted by the past, by the weight of memories that press on them like stones. Somewhere where they could breathe without feeling like every breath might be their last, like there's something waiting to pounce the moment they let their guard down. He knows that he can't give Thrashkit a clean answer, but he can promise this: if he leaves, he will not do so alone.

"Yeah," he finally says, his voice low and rough. "I wouldn't… I wouldn't leave you here. Not with this." His eyes don't meet Thrashkit's; instead, they dart to the edge of the clearing, to the darkness that stretches beyond, a place unknown but somehow more inviting than the world they know. "If we're going, we go together." There's a rawness in his voice he doesn't try to hide. He knows Thrashkit will feel the weight of it, the resolve, the anger simmering beneath his words. He needs them to feel it, because there's nothing else left to offer in a place that's stripped them down to bare survival.

The two of them fall into silence, a familiar quiet that wraps around them, heavy and unspoken. Howlkit isn't sure if it's comfort or burden anymore, but it's something they share, a bond forged in wounds that might never quite heal. Thrashkit's gaze drifts up to the sliver of moon in the sky, and he feels the sharp pang of that look, the quiet yearning that shines in his sibling's eyes. How many nights has he stared at that same moon, feeling it pull at him, a distant reminder that there is something more out there, somewhere? And how many nights has he told himself it's better not to wonder, better to bury hope deep down where it can't hurt him?

But Thrashkit's voice cuts through his thoughts, soft yet somehow piercing. "Why not?" The question hangs there, exposing something raw between them. Howlkit can feel the weight of all the things they want, all the things they'll never ask for, because here, in ThunderClan, it feels like there's no place for wishes, only survival. He wants to snap, to say it doesn't matter, that they're here and that's all they'll ever have. But he knows Thrashkit understands, even without the words. His eyes find Thrashkit's, holding their gaze with a rare openness. "I know," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. "I get it."​