sensitive topics BLOODCLOT/BIRCH TREE — periwinkle

[Thriftfeather]

As his former clanmates descend upon WindClan’s camp, the only thing Thriftfeather can think of is those rogues. Innumerable and yellow-toothed, swarming like flies to a carcass. There is a moment where Thriftfeather is too frozen to move. He’s always had a rabbit’s heart—it freezes in time with him, and then begins to kick in double speed against his ribs. Thriftfeather jolts into movement. A mix of sand and snow shift beneath his weight; the memory of rogue corpses being swallowed into nothing by the gorge surfaces. It isn’t a memory called for but it is strangely welcome—today is in WindClan’s favor. Things always go WindClan’s way, in the end.

Thriftfeather doesn’t need to think about his target. He sees a familiar blue face and his vision whites—the things Ghostwail had said, the things she hadn’t, how she had been right—and then Thriftfeather leaps, aiming to land on Periwinklebreeze’s smaller shoulders, and using his greater weight to bring both of them to the ground.​

WINDCLAN WARRIOR ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 11 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

TASTED LIGHT BUT FED THE DARK
WAITING FOR THEM ALL TO SEE​

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periwinklebreeze ❀ 18 moons ❀ demi-boy ❀ he/they ❀ windclan moor runner​

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Periwinklebreeze has always been a quiet thing - always upon the sidelines while war rages on, beaten and battered and bloodied and bruised and yet never fighting back. He can count the number of times he's actually fought to hurt, to kill on one paw. Always running, like the coward he is. But things had changed - he had changed. Quiet conversations shared upon mountainside as they'd stared up at the stars. The heart stopping feeling of claws raking across his face, of teeth sinking deep into the base of his skull. Starclan had chosen to spare him in all their wisdom, in all their cruelty. Each and every haunting moment of his life has led his aws here, now - to this moment.

He refuses to run. Not this time.

Periwinklebreeze has never been so certain of anything in his life - not even when he'd chosen to go on the journey. That gut heavy feeling of impending doom, of his inevitable death - it's incomparable to this moment. As golden furred figure leaps towards him, he shows no hesitance - refuses to cower, to back down. He is just so sick and tired of it all - all that tightly coiled pain, that burning anger, that writhing jealousy comes rearing it's head in that single moment.

Mismatched eyes lock onto his target with the morbid realization that Thriftfeather is no longer that small child he'd once talked to in the nursery, bt instead a fully grown warrior. Claws sink into his shoulders, and then mind is at last peacefully blank. He rolls - they roll, tumbled by the weight and force behind the move. But periwinklebreeze is not stupid, he knows better than to just lay there and take it, than to allow his belly to be exposed for long. Using the momentum to roll over, his hind legs kick out towards Thriftfeathers side, even while neck arches and jaws part - his bite aimed for the other toms shoulder.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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T O ━ L O V E ━ M Y S E L F ━ I S ━ W A Y ━ T O ━ H A R D

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[Thriftfeather]

Thriftfeather has long since suspected that he was born with a rabbit’s heart. It thump-thump-thumps faster than it should—a coward down to the center of his very chest—and kicks into speed at even the slightest of provocations. Thriftfeather can hear it now. He can hear nothing else: it is just him and his heart in this fight.

The collision with Periwinklebreeze, with the ground, leaves a satisfying, bruise-like ache in Thriftfeather’s shoulders. Periwinklebreeze twists into Thriftfeather, nothing but claws and the points of his teeth—but Thriftfeather doesn’t flinch away. He makes a pained noise and remembers a gorse thorn in his ear. He isn’t going to lose his home again—Thriftfeather doesn’t have strength enough for that.

“Gravelsnap left because of—!” He doesn’t finish the accusation. He doesn’t need to; the rest of it blazes in his eyes.

Instead, he reaches for Periwinklebreeze. For a brief moment his exposed claws scramble against nothing but air, but then, with a frustrated growl, Thriftfeather aims to latch his teeth into one of Periwinklebreeze’s forelegs and use his hindlegs to bat at Periwinklebreeze’s flank.​

WINDCLAN WARRIOR ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 11 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

TASTED LIGHT BUT FED THE DARK
WAITING FOR THEM ALL TO SEE​

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periwinklebreeze ❀ 18 moons ❀ demi-boy ❀ he/they ❀ windclan moor runner​

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As they tumble and scramble about, it takes a moment for periwinklebreeze to catch thriftfeathers words. When he does, he can't help the bitter laugh that bubbles free, even through the blinding pain his incredulousness does not fade. That's what's he upset about? Teeth sink into his limb but it hardly matters - claws rake his side and he doesn't bat an eye. " Tht-th-then you sh-should've g-g-gone too, " he says - there is no anger in his response, only pain in his quiet words.

And then he's yanking himself free - ignoring the pain as he kicks out at the golden furred tom, aiming to shove him away as he gets to his paws. He's had worse - stars, thriftfeather cannot even come close to the dogs, to the fox - to the horrors he's lived through under sootstars reign and starclans vengeful eyes. " y-you're blind, if y-you think you made th-the right ch-choice, " he pants, standing tall despite everything. He can hear scattered calls and yowls of panic - see's bodies fall and others flee.

He doesn't move - if thriftfeather continues to fight, he'll fight to the death. But if he flees - he'd let him, he thinks. If only because he doesn't want gravelsnap to have to bury his former apprentice. He wouldn't wish that upon anyone.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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T O ━ L O V E ━ M Y S E L F ━ I S ━ W A Y ━ T O ━ H A R D

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[/hr
// saw your note in discord and figured we could assume the reason they stop is that they got interrupted by the call to flee <3

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[Thriftfeather]

Periwinklebreeze laughs as if this—as if any of this—could possibly be funny. Thriftfeather finds himself too startled by the turn to take advantage of it. Periwinklebreeze rights himself. He shoves Thriftfeather with force enough that Thriftfeather stumbles backwards, a half-formed snarl still twisting his mouth, standing in stark comparison to the uncertain tilt of his ears. Then you should have gone too doesn't feel like an offer. It feels like a condemnation—Thriftfeather cannot help but imagine it regardless.

He'd felt the tensions growing in WindClan long before the first battle broke. It hadn't felt like choosing sides, back then. It felt like being loyal, and, in the quieter part of Thriftfeather's mind, it felt like survival.

"You're blind if you think there was ever a choice," Thriftfeather spits back. There isn't time to linger—around him, the battle falls apart. Sootstar falls, his clanmates retreat. There isn't time to linger—for a long moment Thriftfeather doesn't budge. It feels as frivolous as thinking about what would have happened had Thriftfeather remained a loner; a great, fearless unknown. His face twists further—hardens—and he hisses out, "But then again, you've made yours."

He turns then, green eyes flicking over camp—how many times will he see it bloodsoaked? when will he be allowed to be here, restful?—and runs. He's always sided with survival.​

WINDCLAN WARRIOR ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 11 MOONS ✦ TAGS​