sensitive topics dress me in red and throw your roses // death

[✧ Marmotbite.]

MY BODY'S COVERED IN TEETH MARKS
YOUR BITES WORSE THAN YOUR BARK​

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marmotbite & 22 moons & demigirl & she/they/it & windclan tunneler ​

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Seasons ago, Marmotbite arrives in windclan in a flurry of feather and blood. Today, she leaves it the same way.

When the sun rises, she leaves their nest with a touch of her nose to Azaleafrosts, a rasp of her tongue against her mates cheek. It's a day like any other, nothing of note save for the chill of leaf-fall that sends shivers through her very bones. She disappears beneath the earth, apprentice-less since Ferretpaws untimely dissapearance - and yet, she prefers it that way, being alone.

She has fought battles, fought wars - fought against the very earth itself, daring it to swallow her whole. She takes confidence in her skills, takes pride - and in the end, it is her ego that spells her doom. When rabbit finds itself fleeing from her skilled paws, she takes chase - a flurry of fur and dirt and pawsteps that echoes through the tunnels, louder then the heartbeat ringing in her ears.

Mismatched eyes have only moments to take in the bright glow of the sun as she pounces, emerging into the sunlight with a triumphant spray of blood. Down they go, head over paws, rabbit in her jaws. And then, just as swiftly, the sky goes dark. As though clouds have drifted overhead, there is only a second of confusion, of concern, before flanks burn. A scream tears from half-full mouth, prey left behind unceremoniously in a flurry of feathers and blood.

She does not go easy, with fire in her eyes and blood on her fangs, but in the end there is little she can do. Marmotbite meets the stars with a pelt painted crimson and teeth bared - leaving behind only two kits, a mate, and a rabbit.

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

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T H E R E S ━ A ━ D O G ━ I N ━ Y O U R ━ H E A R T

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[FEATHERSPINE]

The moors open skies were a blessing more often than they were a curse, Featherspine would deign; the rolling clouds were kind and warm, and sharp hunter's sight like his could stretch for what felt like miles after any trail. Against the whetstone, Featherspine had forged her body to suit this land perfectly- she toiled at every waking moment to fit it, to be a working blade with an icy edge. So hardened was she that it was difficult to forget the way this place could make you bleed- the scar along a spine from rot now rooted out, or the score of talons in belly-flesh.

Innards steamed in leaf-fall cold. She had heard the scream before she had seen anything- had run with perfected moor-runner speed to the source, but too late gnawed yet again at her limbs, and she was faced with Marmotbite's still, unmoving body- her face twisted into horror, into disgust- anything but sorrow, though it flickered in eyes of yellow. Ice crawled between the joints of her bones, but she forced it to shatter, taking a step forward.

Featherspine bowed, picked the rabbit up- Marmotbite's final gift to WindClan. Perhaps their mate should have it. In contemplative silence, the chocolate tom stood for a few moments, burnished against the pale moors. The fatal wound slashed a weakness in his mind; he knew, knew this sight would come back, but how selfish was it to think of.

"How am I supposed to b-b-bring you home?" Featherspine asked the corpse, voice hollowed-out. It would not be pretty, and there would be kits keening, a mate wailing woe. Duty would usurp emotion. He would have to bear it, as if he were the reaper himself. ​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[BUCKFIRE]

Buckfire has not looked into the eyes of death as often as a clan cat. He is not used to waging wars and fighting battles, not used to being picked off by rogues and hounds like vultures on a carcass. He has seen a sight of rot and decay in his lifetime, chilling and unsettling, but nothing had ever been as gory as this.

The chocolate tabby tom finds himself lost for words, stunned into silence as he slows to a stop near Featherspine and @SCORCHSTORM . Crimson ichor is everywhere, originating from fatal wounds and bloodstained teeth. Buckfire does not recognize this cat but it is a very unfortunate scene nonetheless. His features are uncharacteristically sullen as he snaps back into reality, paws tentatively carrying himself forward as the patrol gazes down upon the deceased. Who could have done this?

"I can help," Buckfire offers, rounding around the fallen warrior and gauging the others for reaction. As rash as the tom can be, he is sensible enough to try and not overstep in situations like this.

𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✹ . + ˚ · 　 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋

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  — buckfire / 32 moons / he/him pronouns
  — windclan moor runner / shadowing scorchstorm / former loner
  — sh black tabby w/ orange eyes, nick in left ear & scratch on right side of lip
  — click for tags

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[dimmingsun]

What foolish naivety it is to get comfortable in the lack of recent deaths. A luxury, even, and one that WindClan cannot often afford... evidently not even when their own still-living ranks are jostled by betrayals and abrupt changes.

Dimmingsun is not the first to the scene, nor the second. He does not expect himself to be; speed is not his forte despite being a moor-runner, and in some selfish way, he is glad to be spared from the unsettling intimacy of being left alone with a still-warm body. Marmobite stares up at the trio as if they had been the one to deliver a killing blow... there is a story within the way her body is positioned, but they cannot let her stay like this just to uncover the truth. She deserves to be brought to her final resting place, just like the others.

He is tired of vigils. Fatigued to the very bone.

"Me as well," he offers alongside Buckfire. The two of them should have no issue bringing Marmotbite back, with perhaps Featherspine hurrying back home to prepare everyone for the worst. Marmotbite has a legacy to keep her from fading too soon... but is it worth anything if she is resting six feet under?
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