E
ebonyfall.
Guest
☽ EBONYFALL ☾
Her throat hurt.
The world was quiet at night. When Barkbreath wasn't taking the midnight hours to scream at the top of his lungs, when the apprentices weren't squabbling over who took who's nest, there was nothing but creaking branches and cold air. Ebonyfall was alone, seated in the center of camp only a half-hour away from moonhigh, silent. The glow of a waning gibbous was shielded by a thin curtain of grey clouds not too unlike the clouds that had turned the sky white on that day—
'So what, you're just gonna leave? Are you serious?'
There were so many things to be worrying about—Ebonyfall's claws sank desirously into the ice-cold mud—so why was this still what kept her up at night? Why was she still so angry? Her head lowered and her fur bristled with the weight of her thoughts; very rarely did she ever allow herself to look so bothered, and that was a skill she had learned far too young. The skill of clawing away weakness to only leave whatever small amounts of strength left within her to shine through. It left her burning under her skin, it left her wanting to tear him down to the marrow of his bones. She would be lying if she said she wasn't imagining it now. Her claws sinking into his neck, pinning him down, eyes glowing in the moonlight, blood drawn, and that silence...
'If you didn't want to have kids, maybe you should have stopped yourself before whoring yourself off to some dumb fucking kittypet!'
She swallowed, hard, only then realizing that she was shaking all over. It was another one of those bad nights of her spend awake, fantasizing of doing to him what he had done to her, haunted by the idea that not even that would satisfy her. Only partially aware of whatever was going on outside of her own head, the (perfect, pristine, unbothered, unloved) dark-furred molly rose to her paws to begin again with the pacing.
Back and forth across the lengths of the campsite, silent, shaking, breath white in the frigid swamp air. The feeling of his claws sinking past skin still stung, even though the puncture wounds had healed in only a day's time and whatever scar would have been left behind was completely hidden under her fur... It still hurt. And she had really been asking for it, too—she was so disobedient back then, to scream at her father that he was some useless, worthless whore in the middle of camp, she was practically begging to get...
—Whatever frenzied, manic anger had energized her pacing and her clawing at the ground was all gone now. The exhaustion hit her like a tidal wave, and eventually, Ebonyfall slowed to a stop and sat down, staring blankly at the hard mud crumbling underneath her claws.
She would have to groom herself again now.
The world was quiet at night. When Barkbreath wasn't taking the midnight hours to scream at the top of his lungs, when the apprentices weren't squabbling over who took who's nest, there was nothing but creaking branches and cold air. Ebonyfall was alone, seated in the center of camp only a half-hour away from moonhigh, silent. The glow of a waning gibbous was shielded by a thin curtain of grey clouds not too unlike the clouds that had turned the sky white on that day—
'So what, you're just gonna leave? Are you serious?'
There were so many things to be worrying about—Ebonyfall's claws sank desirously into the ice-cold mud—so why was this still what kept her up at night? Why was she still so angry? Her head lowered and her fur bristled with the weight of her thoughts; very rarely did she ever allow herself to look so bothered, and that was a skill she had learned far too young. The skill of clawing away weakness to only leave whatever small amounts of strength left within her to shine through. It left her burning under her skin, it left her wanting to tear him down to the marrow of his bones. She would be lying if she said she wasn't imagining it now. Her claws sinking into his neck, pinning him down, eyes glowing in the moonlight, blood drawn, and that silence...
'If you didn't want to have kids, maybe you should have stopped yourself before whoring yourself off to some dumb fucking kittypet!'
She swallowed, hard, only then realizing that she was shaking all over. It was another one of those bad nights of her spend awake, fantasizing of doing to him what he had done to her, haunted by the idea that not even that would satisfy her. Only partially aware of whatever was going on outside of her own head, the (perfect, pristine, unbothered, unloved) dark-furred molly rose to her paws to begin again with the pacing.
Back and forth across the lengths of the campsite, silent, shaking, breath white in the frigid swamp air. The feeling of his claws sinking past skin still stung, even though the puncture wounds had healed in only a day's time and whatever scar would have been left behind was completely hidden under her fur... It still hurt. And she had really been asking for it, too—she was so disobedient back then, to scream at her father that he was some useless, worthless whore in the middle of camp, she was practically begging to get...
—Whatever frenzied, manic anger had energized her pacing and her clawing at the ground was all gone now. The exhaustion hit her like a tidal wave, and eventually, Ebonyfall slowed to a stop and sat down, staring blankly at the hard mud crumbling underneath her claws.
She would have to groom herself again now.
shadowclan, she/her, penned by cuzn, tags
