- Jul 28, 2024
- 11
- 3
- 3
loneliness. loneliness. it eats at her like a hungry black hound ; looming overhead, gnawing at the gaunt edges of bone where lilac - woven lacing does not cradle him like a trembling, wounded mother. it brushes the nightmarish marr of his face and closes its eyes, limbs tightening around his body in rigor and trapping him in a cold forever embrace. his loneliness is a plague that has seeped bone deep and spikes in red streaks from his heartsite as if infected, as if his body ran hot enough to keep his peers from his side on instinct alone, as if they could scent the rotten sense of self that lie behind tabby - laced flanks from afar. as if he should have been left in his nest to curdle like the rest of him surely had. it feels like a separated limb, still bleeding from an entry wound. he felt as though he could waltz the thunderpath and feel home in the scent of flattened pelts moreso than he did amongst the starry - eyed.
amberhaze’s company is one that seems to negate that throb of loss and desperation ; a presence that doesn't shrivel him inward, tucking the vertebrae - ridden length of his neck to his chest and squeezing oilslick eyes shut taut as if it could keep the gaze of those around him from perception. a presence he needs, craves in its oddity ; a breath of frantic air, thrashing the ground like a one - winged songbird and loonface is there to pin it's feeble bone with his paw, feeling the spread of dirted feathers beneath mottle - dark pads. amberhaze does not treat him like the predator - beast he sometimes feels. he only continues to sing his song, high and warbling and desperate and loonface brushes hyperdontial fangs to the belly turned his way, trusted to soothe rather than bite. he does not treat it as if it is all teeth, all nightmarish tear of scar tissue and too black eyes, all jumbled words and mooncaught dribble from irritated gums.
it thinks of thrasherthroat, selfishly, and wishes against all wish that he could still have this with them — this nightlit romp back from the far border, close enough to catch the scent, sound of late - leaffall from camp up ahead. the scent of preyblood, the sound of idle chatter, quiet laughter, a mundane and still defrosting tension that seems to have begun its permamelt in wake of mirestar’s return. slowly, life has begun to grate back to a steady rhythm — slowly, he finds he needs this less desperately. less frantically, needs the riotous upward tick of his companion’s voice to pitter - patter his humdrum thoughts back to ricocheting life. he could deal without thrasherthroat, without the constant picture of them behind shadowed eyelids. he could think of other heartbeats, can bode his time and riotous mind in the endtime preachings of his dear friend. it’s ears stand attuned.
the remnants of strong - willed starbugs still hover at his chin, at his ears, at the banks of his vision where he marshes lose shape to shadow and all it can see is the flicker . . flicker . . flicker of gold against black. peacefully, he breaks the easy silence and drones a wistful, " they'll be gone soon, you know. " an ominous start, in which the lanky creature blinks, cranes it’s head, smiles gentle, " the — the starbugs, i mean. they’ll be gone soon. it’s an awful shame . . " a simple observation, a lulling start. they were waning. dying, dropping off, disappearing. she feels like dancing in it. it wonders why it feels like that, but she does as her mind tells her ; he twirls and twirls along the well - trodden path to camp, starbugs fluttering their abyssal wings at lilac - woven ends. his face disappears in the flitting shadows until — crrk.
it feels the thing before it sees it. lifts a paw and there, glowing in the cracks of his pad, is starlight, ” did you . . have them? where you lived? before? “ would they still be here, after? he tastes ash, fire, lead in his mouth. it thinks of its own kithood — thinks of times he’d crushed open tubes of dusted star and smeared it across his littermate’s face until she shrieked. it doesn’t know why it did that, either, but it looks upwards towards its lanky companion . . and feels it again.
amberhaze’s company is one that seems to negate that throb of loss and desperation ; a presence that doesn't shrivel him inward, tucking the vertebrae - ridden length of his neck to his chest and squeezing oilslick eyes shut taut as if it could keep the gaze of those around him from perception. a presence he needs, craves in its oddity ; a breath of frantic air, thrashing the ground like a one - winged songbird and loonface is there to pin it's feeble bone with his paw, feeling the spread of dirted feathers beneath mottle - dark pads. amberhaze does not treat him like the predator - beast he sometimes feels. he only continues to sing his song, high and warbling and desperate and loonface brushes hyperdontial fangs to the belly turned his way, trusted to soothe rather than bite. he does not treat it as if it is all teeth, all nightmarish tear of scar tissue and too black eyes, all jumbled words and mooncaught dribble from irritated gums.
it thinks of thrasherthroat, selfishly, and wishes against all wish that he could still have this with them — this nightlit romp back from the far border, close enough to catch the scent, sound of late - leaffall from camp up ahead. the scent of preyblood, the sound of idle chatter, quiet laughter, a mundane and still defrosting tension that seems to have begun its permamelt in wake of mirestar’s return. slowly, life has begun to grate back to a steady rhythm — slowly, he finds he needs this less desperately. less frantically, needs the riotous upward tick of his companion’s voice to pitter - patter his humdrum thoughts back to ricocheting life. he could deal without thrasherthroat, without the constant picture of them behind shadowed eyelids. he could think of other heartbeats, can bode his time and riotous mind in the endtime preachings of his dear friend. it’s ears stand attuned.
the remnants of strong - willed starbugs still hover at his chin, at his ears, at the banks of his vision where he marshes lose shape to shadow and all it can see is the flicker . . flicker . . flicker of gold against black. peacefully, he breaks the easy silence and drones a wistful, " they'll be gone soon, you know. " an ominous start, in which the lanky creature blinks, cranes it’s head, smiles gentle, " the — the starbugs, i mean. they’ll be gone soon. it’s an awful shame . . " a simple observation, a lulling start. they were waning. dying, dropping off, disappearing. she feels like dancing in it. it wonders why it feels like that, but she does as her mind tells her ; he twirls and twirls along the well - trodden path to camp, starbugs fluttering their abyssal wings at lilac - woven ends. his face disappears in the flitting shadows until — crrk.
it feels the thing before it sees it. lifts a paw and there, glowing in the cracks of his pad, is starlight, ” did you . . have them? where you lived? before? “ would they still be here, after? he tastes ash, fire, lead in his mouth. it thinks of its own kithood — thinks of times he’d crushed open tubes of dusted star and smeared it across his littermate’s face until she shrieked. it doesn’t know why it did that, either, but it looks upwards towards its lanky companion . . and feels it again.
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i. @Amberhaze WEIRDGUY BONDING
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LOONFACE
———————HE / IT / SHE, WARRIOR OF SHADOWCLAN. MOCKINGBIRDCRY xxFATHER. 23 MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE CRUSHED FLOWERS & CARRION. PENNED BY ANTLERS.
a tall, haunting lilac tabby with dark features and syrupy amber eyes.he carries through life an uncanniness he cannot shed. a unique culmination of atypical traits has given it stature like something dredged of nightmare ; like his mother he is doused in sleek waves of marbled lilac, plush softens the underlying jut of sinew and bone at his chest. from afar, he seems unworldly, if a bit sick ; all popping vertebrae and thickly veined membrane, doused in thick waves of fur like his mother. if it weren’t for a face like oil - slick rot & buzz of hungry horseflies clouding it’s features into pitch black, cutting off sharply at the neck as if earth has come to reclaim him. his long snout is torn in ribbons stretching towards the outer corner of his ear in an overgrown and toothy glasgow smile, the only cut of age - tinged color against stark shadow.
slight cw/tw for some potentially more graphic explanations during the farm bit!
