sensitive topics eat your young — dawnstorm

[RATWHISKER]

power belongs to those who take it .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

/ some minor mental + physical abuse - nothing graphic or extreme

Circling Dawnstorm with poorly concealed rage, Ratwhisker noted the concave shoulders and slanted neck concealing half-lidded hues staring at the ground in fear. For what? The older male couldn’t possibly hope to understand. He gave him everything, yet this is how his son repays him by making friends and graduating to teach an apprentice for some moons while the warrior sat back and watched with no accomplishments. Oh, how jealously churned in his stomach bitterly.

Dawnstorm was weak and ill-fitted to be a mentor, ruining everything Ratwhisker had put into molding him into the perfect warrior. Failure. His son. His blemish to the Ratwhisker family was humiliating. He paused his pacing to sneer. “Cowering? When did I teach you to cower?” He hissed, lashing out to hook claws into Dawnstorm’s shoulder, ripping fur. Lips curling, Ratwhisker huffed, shifting to land another painful hit to his cheek, doing little to soothe the festering anger that bubbled beneath the surface. “Have you forgotten what I taught you?” He grunted, brow raised in mockery. “I thought I taught you better.” He mused, pitiful. “It seems I hadn’t done enough.” He added, tail flickering with a hmph.

He continued his circling, ears flat against a black-furred helm, Ratwhisker grumbled, eyeing Dawnstorm’s bulky build in contemplation. “You’ve been slacking.” He stated, tone indifferent despite the obvious flinch that rippled through his son’s frame. He tutted. “You’ve become weak, Dawnstorm. I didn’t teach you to become weak.” He rumbled threateningly, helm low to peer into Dawnstorm’s fluttering optics, teeth bared. “Have you forgotten, boy? Those who become weak are liabilities and do you know what we do with liabilities?” He hissed, stare burning. “We kill them.”

Pulling back, the black-furred warrior hummed. “I suggest you remain here, boy.” To train was left unsaid, but he should be smart enough to understand — for once. He scowled, brows drawn together in bitter annoyance. “Maybe you’ll finally learn your lesson.” He muttered, lips rippling against teeth. “Do not return until you’ve caught something, boy.” With that, Ratwhisker sauntered, leaving his son without a second thought.

@DAWNSTORM ​

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thought speech​

 

[DAWNSTORM]

die with memories , not dreams .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Silence hung suffocatingly around Dawnstorm’s shoulders, leaden and encompassing, unnaturally drawn out, days, weeks, perhaps until they reached their usual spot. His helm curled hesitantly, staring at hefty paws, lips tugging into a frown, the bi-colored warrior wondered just what Ratwhisker had dragged him out during the afternoon, the sun rising high above them, casting shadows over the land, searing flesh to the bone. He winced, shifting uncomfortably at the slow, predatory walk his father began, circling him like prey making his skin crawl, unease. Since then, he’d been diligent in his duties, working late into the night, only retiring after everyone had settled sans the night group that remained vigilant; an endless, mundane cycle ( or as mundane as it could have given recent events ). What did I do? A question hanging on the tip of his tongue, useless and sure to be met with iron fists.

His breath rattled, ricocheting against his lungs until it somehow glided up tense muscle and past dry lips, wetting them awkwardly, sand-paper tongue harsh against the torn, bitten flesh. It’s a horrible habit when lost in thought. A habit he intended to break — eventually. “I’ve—” Pausing, Dawnstorm shrunk, ears flat against his helm, flinching. He peeled his gaze away from the hulking tom, anger radiating off him in nauseating waves. Oh. No. I can’t say that. Not unless he wanted to end up dead. Or would his father—? Certainly, he didn’t doubt Father, tossing him to the wolves without batting an eyelash, even happy to be rid of such a disappointment, Dawnstorm wondered if anything he did would be good enough. Never. It was all the same.

The kit inside him desperately wanted to win his father’s approach ( and some selfish part of him wanted to feel what it was like to be loved ), but the logical side knew that’d never happen. Father would never be happy. It made his heart squeeze mournfully over something he never had in the first place — no less understood, but by watching others.

I’m sorry. Did he beg for forgiveness? No. That’ll never go well — not if he valued his life.

Standing rigidly, Dawnstorm rubbed a calloused paw pad against the ground to soothe fraying nerves. His anxiety spikes every time Ratwhisker draws nearer, whispering words aimed to bleed. His breath shuddered, shoulders collapsing into themselves — oh, he shouldn’t have done that.

Ratwhisker exploded, painful jabs landing true against bruised skin, Dawnstorm bit the inner part of his cheek. Okay. He blinked sluggishly, droning out until he lived elsewhere in his mind, standing offish and nearly toppling if his muscles hadn’t clenched, legs stiffening to hold his bulky build. He deserved it. Whatever the reason. Ratwhisker was — Dawnstorm mulled, uncertain. Oh. No. I don’t — No. He shuffled them underneath a rug, piling up with the other swells of uncertainty and subtle anger. Emotions that he had no intention of dwelling on. He’d rather not realize the truth. Not now. Not when he was here. Or never. He never revisited things he promised to look at — terrified and befuddled by the shift of emotions.

Why did it have to be complicated? He wasn’t sure. He doubted he could answer that without some thought. Or was he just new to these realizations and emotions? The pain — Dawnstorm’s ear prickled forward, swerving to catch Ratwhisker’s searing words, promising death. He almost hadn’t stopped his body from letting out a full-body quiver, biting back the flinch that wanted to encompass his entire frame, begging to leave, to run away from the threat, but this was a clanmate. He shouldn’t feel scared. Should he? “I understand, Father.” He whispered, thankful it hadn’t quivered, strong, lifeless timbre.

“Of course.” It shouldn’t be hard. Should it? Catching land prey was something he was good with unlike hunting fish — fearing the coldness that seeped into fur and saturated the skin until he looked like a drowned rabbit, Dawnstorm couldn’t quite place what he felt when he neared the water — heart jumping and quick breaths, subtle, easily missed because he was a naturally quiet fellow, barely speaking unless something confused him, or inquiring about someone’s day, or task that needed finishing. Otherwise, Dawnstorm remained silent, simply enjoying the quiet rumble that idle chatter brought, soothing nerves to the steady timbre.

Watching his father leave, Dawnstorm remained still until Ratwhisker was far out of sight, body relaxing its stiff posture with a tired sigh, eyes fluttering shut in defeat. Okay. Okay. How much was good enough? Dawnstorm frowned, staring idly ahead, bi-colored hues squinting against the afternoon sunlight, conflicted despite the deadpanness his features bore. Right. He needed to hunt. Yes. Circling, Dawnstorm shuffled forward, wincing at the pull of bruised skin, he purred, self-soothing to settle his rumbling thoughts, hued slits gliding across the bright blue.

Hunting. Yes. Dawnstorm chuffed. Shouldn’t he find someone? Or would that—I shouldn’t. It’d only raise alarm, but not saying anything would too. He frowned, brows crinkled in thought. I should find someone. He’d rather suffer than cause his clanmates panic when he returned later tonight ( unless he was lucky and caught two decent-sized land prey before dinner ). ​

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thought speech​