wc rebels burn it all down — tripping [ pafp ]

[FOGBOUND]

your entire existence gives me a headache, go stand over there .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Another day he was bathed in blurry nothingness, sitting idly off to the side, tongue rasping over the top of his paw, gliding it silkily across a battered ear. He hummed, feeling in a rather particular mood, listening to his clanmates chatter and go about their mundane lives as odd-placed warriors in a place foreign, not like their own. He tutted, dark lips curling in bittersweet amusement, breath coming in quick puffs around a smokey muzzle plastered with snowy white littered with new and old scars.

He wasn’t quite thrilled, but he wasn’t quite amused either. A pink tongue slipped out, licking his lips to peer at an unwelcoming guest, nose wrinkling, taking in their scent that remained unknown, annoyingly so. “Who do I owe the pleasure of seeing?” He grinned, tone dripping sickly sweet despite the flare of alarm nestled deep within his chest.

Coming to a stand to shaky out his poorly groomed fur still needed a good teasing to satisfy the moor runner, but for now, Fogbound would simply have to make due. He had been outside the barn, enjoying the cooling breeze that nipped at his warm hide, taking the first few steps away from the hardened texture, biting back an annoyed rumble at the closeness, Fogbound couldn’t help but let a grin take over, tail slithering. “Come to help me?” He mused with a light-hearted laugh, nearly toppling over if he hadn’t caught himself. “My. My. Why don’t you go see if a young maiden requires your assistance? I’m sure that would be far more pleasant.” He teased tensely.

His ears swiveled to catch the last drop of murmurs, taking another step forward and another. His steps remained hesitant, undoubtedly so which had Fogbound wrinkling his nose in irritation, far more grouchy than he was before he lost his sight. Unaware, Fogbound had tripped over something, balance unsteady, the bulky Maine Coon would stumble forward ungracefully.

/ please wait for @milkthorn. !​

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[milkthorn.]

fogbound had always been a grumpy warrior, but with tensions high and injuries that others sustained impacting not only the mental but physical health of many. milkthorn had found himself feeling .. helpful somewhat? he couldn't describe it very well, finding the days long and boring with prey that could practically run into ones paws in the barn. the chilly air could easily be forgotten in the protective shield of the woodened twoleg made den. he wasn't comfortable though, not many windclanners were. it was still too closed in for his liking.

after mulling over the idea all day, he had finally come across the other. he had not intended his question to come off as anything but genuine, yet the words dripped off fogbounds tongue like venom as he seemed to scoff at milkthorns offer to help a clanmate in need. "I was only offering success for you-" and before he could even finish speaking, the white rosetted warrior was diving foreward and attempting to grasp teeth around the scruff of the much larger feline to keep him from face planting into the ground after he had tripped.


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[FOGBOUND]

your entire existence gives me a headache, go stand over there .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Nearly topping over rather ungracefully if it hadn’t been for Milkthorn’s expeditious reflexes saving his face from more unfortunate scarring, or a few well-earned bruises. Regardless. The grab of teeth against his scruff was foreign for the bulky moor runner, snapping upward with a sharp hiss, teeth clenched, ruby hue slathered in pollute, the other shrouded in deep nothingness, void of pigmentation save for the monotone chrome of blurred shadows. A pity, of course. To be shrunk to a pitiful state, blinded temporarily but the cruel paws of the most ignorant minds.

“I did not need your help.” He rumbled, nearly snapping as he ripped himself away from the young runner. His dark lips curled over a devilish maw, timbre curling like sweet honey that had begun to smell fermented, sourness weighing heavily on a sandpaper tongue. “Do you doubt my skills, milkworm?” He rumbled, grinning devilishly, gaze off-centered, peering elsewhere. How else would he have fun, but to dig at their youngest warriors for a bit of leisure fun? Of course, thanks were in order, but Fogbound wasn’t so easily swayed now, far grumpier, and far more treacherous than before. ​

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