BORGIA | prey burial

[SOOTSPOT]

Everything had happened so fast that Sootspot hadn't given himself the chance to be a cat. He found himself surrounded by enemies. Every word was a weapon, every glance was an attack, each emotion upon his face was a vulnerability they could sink their teeth into. He thought himself perfect, that StarClan's curses would not matter if he turned his back upon his ancestors, but a pit in his belly had formed in the quiet of the moon. Sootspot had ignored it for as long as he could, plain and simple, it was weakness - he blamed others for its existence. Alone in the territory, Sootspot sat with his back to the sun, his tail curled beside him. "They wouldn't tell me where you were. When one is lost, imagination must suffice to make it found." A shrike with a broken neck, its thorn stabbed into its heart. He mourned more for the one who had nothing to give, than the one who could've given him everything but settled for scraps. He remembered how jealous his sister had been of his promotion to Lead Warrior, but all Sootspot could think was: 'is that it?'

He'd enjoyed having a sibling that wasn't a competition and enjoyed knowing that she would never be the apple in Sootstar's eye before he was. With nothing to prove, it had been easier to love, easier to be loved, now, his last confidant was dead, killed by the very creature he'd worked all his life to appease. Alone in WindClan, Sootspot was only just beginning to understand what that meant. He dipped his head in a rare show of respect. "One can hear your laughter from whatever afterlife took you: oh brother of mine, why do you speak to the bird instead of me?" A digger's claws sink into the soil at the mockery made in his own mind. A smile appeared on his muzzle, almost sincere, but grown twisted by the fluffy white witness floating by in the sky. "The bird won't talk back." He knew not what the dead would say to him should he join them, it was a possibility he would prolong as long as possible - the sole reason why he breathed air while Sootstar's lungs were suffocated by soil. It was time for Shrikethorn, or rather, his personification of her, to join their mother. Beside the bird, his black paw slowly began to dig.
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[RATTLEHEART]

AS HE RAISED HIS FIST BEFORE HE SPOKE — Normally, Rattleheart would steer clear whenever Sootspot came into their field of vision - out of necessity, more than anything else. They knew that no matter what they offered their fellow tunneler, it was more than likely that they would receive nothing but contempt and insults dripping in sweetness in return. Eventually there was just a point where one grew tired of it, and they had found that they'd been at that breaking point for quite some time. In this particular case, though, they found that they weren't irritated by what Sootspot was doing. Instead they were intrigued, wondering just what it was that he was doing with the limp shrike at his paws. His words were momentarily too distant for them to hear, their interest driving them forward until they heard the silent breath of respect.

Oh brother of mine.

It didn't take a genius to realize what he was referring to, but Rattleheart found their head tilting over to one side nonetheless. Hadn't Shrikethorn been a sister, and not a brother? For that matter, what had even ended up happening to her in the end? They couldn't recall having seen her in the final battle, nor did they remember seeing a splattering of grey and white during the raid on the barn itself. Her death had not been broadcast to them all like Harrierstripe's had, though that much was understandable - she presumably hadn't gone off and murdered the leader of another clan with her dying breath. What she had gone out doing, though... that much was a mystery, at least to them.

For a moment they just hesitated, considering turning around and leaving without allowing a single word to slip past the tip of their tongue. Yet they found that they couldn't, the thought long-dead spark of sympathy in their chest sparking brightly once again. "You certainly know how to host a unique funeral, don't you?" There was no humor to their words, instead presented as a simple statement as their gaze lingered on the little grave Sootspot was digging. Had she not left a body behind? "...What happened?" Rattleheart didn't bother to elaborate, figuring that the tiny, limp body in front of them both would provide context enough to what they were asking. Where had Shrikethorn gone? Why was he saying goodbye? Was she dead, or had she just left Windclan behind during Sootstar's madness?

She certainly couldn't be blamed for the latter if that had been the case, though they were somehow sure Sootspot would've seen such an act as a betrayal of the gravest kind. Though that meant it couldn't be it, or surely Sootspot wouldn't be trying to bury her - or at least a facsimile of her - down beneath the dirt.

THE RIGHTEOUS HAND OF GOD 𓆩♡𓆪 THE DEVIL THAT YOU FORGOT

• 

• 
  ❥ longhaired black and white tom with pale green eyes
  ❥ 49 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ❥ afab; uses he/she/they pronouns
  ❥ homosexual homoromantic; mated to venomstrike
  ❥ sibling to scorchstreak, lizardbounce, and rabbitclaw
  ❥ currently mentoring downypaw
  ❥ somewhat difficult to befriend; wary but kind
  ❥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ❥ all opinions are ic

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[SOOTSPOT]

Rattleheart's presence was like teeth in the back of his throat, choking the life out of him until he became expressionless once more. His vulnerability had been intimate, personal, too personal for him to ever allow the Lead Warrior to sink their claws into it. He didn't expect mockery, rather, manipulation: 'honour your dead sister, carry her legacy'. He could do neither to the full extent, to do so would be to admit that all he'd ever known (that family triumphed more than clan, that they carried the blood of StarClan itself within them) was not good enough. His paw hesitated at humourless words, claws hovering mere millimeters from the soil. He didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse... that he could not spin around and tear the throat from the Lead Warrior where he stood even as he tried to will his paws to do so. The false interest was more grating than any honesty. "Mother couldn't—" Eyes squeeze shut as he's forced to correct himself. "The truth died with Sootstar. Had I been permitted to see her, you may be staring at a four-legged Shrike instead of this imposter." Even if Shrikethorn hadn't been his primary intention when asking Scorchstreak to step aside, she'd have inevitably become a topic of conversation.

He paused when asked what happened, his statue-like tail shifting from one side of his body to the other. All this time, he hadn't looked at Rattleheart: the grass he gawked at was easier on the eyes, he found Rattleheart about as attractive as a snarling badger. but... the truth wasn't nearly as petty. He didn't want to face someone when he didn't know what he looked like. His muscles were numb from a grief he hadn't allowed himself to feel until now, any attempt at making a plastic smile and makeshift expression could've failed and he'd never even know."One can estimate... she had always been jealous that I could play the dutiful child better than her. She would rebel as often as she could for attention, but... such games are foolish when faced with real mutiny. Sootstar was unwell, she would have killed anyone over such a joke, but Shrikethorn's outbursts always did have a certain... truth to them. It is cathartic, at least, knowing she passed getting what she wanted in the end."






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[SUNNVAR]

"I do not think there would be a body to bury, regardless of your talk with Sootstar." The words are quiet and hoarse, no crueler than Rattleheart's had been. Though he holds little sympathy for the venom-eyed tom, he is familiar enough with him for some form of understanding. He did not tell him the extent of it — of his own history, and how it may have shaped his perspective of the tom. His perspective of himself. It will do them no good to superimpose his life upon another's, and so Sunstar puts it from his mind as his final few steps take him closer to the pair. They make an odd shape around this shrike, and his gaze lingers upon it rather than the living two. If he imagines it well enough, he can see the image of them. Another of Sootstar's children, adrift in her absence. Perhaps Shrikethorn would find peace in StarClan. Stars know not many of them could find that here.

The burnished tom sits down, face scrunched to serious thought, and wraps his tail around his paws. "She had stopped the deceased as anything but corpses long before her death. I have no doubt that your littermate was treated as any other who defied her." Tossed into the gorge, entirely forgotten. He wonders, idly, if Weaselclaw was the last cat that she had truly buried. And even that had been done in a pre-dug grave, without marker, without mourning. StarClan had forsaken her, she said. Both her and her mate. He exhales a soft sigh. "In most any life, this is the second best she may have ever had." Had fate strung itself another way, perhaps Shrikethorn would stand here now. He does not enjoy wondering about who would take her place.

⋆°•☁︎ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃  ╱╱ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝗕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 〚 02.11.2024 〛 𖤓

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTAR. LEADER OF WINDCLAN.   ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, MOUNTAIN CATS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING RIVEPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ A LARGE, FRESHLY SCARRED CHOCOLATE AND WHITE ROSETTE TABBY TOM WITH SEAGLASS BLUE EYES

• "speech"

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[Firefang]

She sees and hears something she shouldn't. A confirmation spilled out as a crooked eulogy, she had only known Shrikethorn was no longer present in camp not buried beneath the earth left to rot. To be killed by the very one who brought you into the world; a tragic fate befitting no cat. She once envied Sootstrike as she envied her brother, but that noble blood apparently didn't save her from her mothers ire, Firefang could lie to herself come up with a million excuses that it was a righteous execution and not just a pointless slaughter. She didn't like to think of Sootstar as the monster her clanmates declared her to be, she held onto memories of flicked glances of pride and the love she felt for her home and the leader she was born to follow. She'd been a great leader once and she'd vowed to follow her into grisly depths of the dark before she could comprehend what a vow meant, she made her promises as a kit only to disgrace them when the dark had all but swallowed Sootstar whole. She didn't follow her, maybe the raving tyrant Sootstar became in her final moons wasn't the leader she aspired to be like and please - maybe that cat had died long ago yet she doesn't let go of her memory while others bastardize it and see her for only her fate. She should've gone with her, done what her own kin wouldn't and die with honor rather then killed for disloyal defiance. She's as naïve as she was as a kit holding onto a golden idol that was nothing more then pyrite fused together with the blood of the innocent.

Sootspot wasn't a vulnerable cat generally, his mask was a tight one but not infallible. He'd lost much and she can't figure out if she should pity him or be disgusted by him, her opinion lies somewhere in the middle. Her paws carry her over, her head dipped. "She's with the stars now" she says as if it was a guarantee, she believes it as she'd always believed in the silverpelt above. She'd never lost her faith it had only waned, she could never accept that they'd abandoned them abandoned her despite all the evidence to the contrary. She had been a blind follower in every way she wanted to think but even she never feel completely into her leaders rhetoric. Maybe that's why Firefang felt so cursed, never fully could be the cat she desired to be and should've been...

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• "speech"

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  Firefang ✩ She/Her, Warrior of Windclan, 18 moons
  ⭃ Black tabby she-cat with amber eyes. former-loyalist of Sootstar, Moorunner.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots. ​

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