- Jul 10, 2023
- 68
- 49
- 18
She doesn't bother tempering her velvet - soft stride or tossing her blackened gaze over her shoulder to ensure Privetpaw is keeping up as they trek back to their makeshift camp in the scrubland. Out in the wastes, where nobody with a shred more honor dares to live. He'll keep up or he won't. Nor does she breathe a word of questioning or reassurance to the young apprentice; there's only the sound of a low, keening greenleaf wind and the brisk snap of her tufted tail with each step, the unicorn - esque sprig of fur at its end whisked by the wind.
Foolish. Granitepelt had always been foolish. Her father had made his first mistake when he let himself be so clumsily exposed by Smogmaw and his loud - mouthed brood, and doubly so when he had pledged himself to a madwoman, and she alongside him. That his latest mistake is fatal is of little consequence to her—one so reckless, who fumbled with his own life in his paws like a youngling apprentice with a frog, was bound to eventually lose his fortunate streak. It's a little inconvenient, though; without the minor fortune of her father for their leader, there's wholly the potential to lose some of her minor privilege.
" Rumblerain! " Her voice is as silken sweet as ever, even when raised into an impatient shout. She waits, ears twitching with avarice and the pleasant anticipation of feeling contempt. When the seal point arrives before her, the joy is doubled by being the one to deliver the grim news, to fully dump the burden of leading their ragtag group onto their incompetent shoulders. Not that she envies them the role. She saw firstpaw how small the benefit, how great the sacrifice ( his life, in Granitepelt's case ), and she has no interest in either.
" Granitepelt is dead, " she says, quick and clipped and businesslike. Maybe they should have brought his body home . . . oh, well. It's too late now.
// @RUMBLERAIN but no need to wait!!
Foolish. Granitepelt had always been foolish. Her father had made his first mistake when he let himself be so clumsily exposed by Smogmaw and his loud - mouthed brood, and doubly so when he had pledged himself to a madwoman, and she alongside him. That his latest mistake is fatal is of little consequence to her—one so reckless, who fumbled with his own life in his paws like a youngling apprentice with a frog, was bound to eventually lose his fortunate streak. It's a little inconvenient, though; without the minor fortune of her father for their leader, there's wholly the potential to lose some of her minor privilege.
" Rumblerain! " Her voice is as silken sweet as ever, even when raised into an impatient shout. She waits, ears twitching with avarice and the pleasant anticipation of feeling contempt. When the seal point arrives before her, the joy is doubled by being the one to deliver the grim news, to fully dump the burden of leading their ragtag group onto their incompetent shoulders. Not that she envies them the role. She saw firstpaw how small the benefit, how great the sacrifice ( his life, in Granitepelt's case ), and she has no interest in either.
" Granitepelt is dead, " she says, quick and clipped and businesslike. Maybe they should have brought his body home . . . oh, well. It's too late now.
// @RUMBLERAIN but no need to wait!!
" speech "