duskclan FORGET THE MESS I’M IN — return

[Thriftfeather]

It isn’t a relief to be arriving back to DuskClan; rather it is a relief to be away from WindClan. Thriftfeather’s breath still comes to him thin. Blood tangles in dark streaks along the fur of his throat. He could have died, then. The thought doesn’t leave him: he could have died in the very same way that he has killed twice before. Thriftfeather cants his face upwards—when he coughs, it is only on occasion. Above him, the stars offer no guidance. They aren’t ancestors to him—they never have been.

“Who—” He cuts himself off as soon as he starts, surprised at the rasp in his damaged voice. Clearing his throat does nothing to lessen the sound, “Is everyone here?”

The full moon is nothing but a faint glow from behind a veneer of clouds—a storm that had never come. Thriftfeather’s eyes still flick upwards. Tonight, after everything, Thriftfeather cannot shake that they are watching. He’s never felt noticed in such a way before.​

DUSKCLAN WARRIOR ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 16 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

Granitepelt had been the first to flee, but he is a straggler behind the loose procession of DuskClan warriors. His wounds—across his back, swelling red against his sides and stomach—they are weeping, tender. Every step is new agony. Every breath feels stolen.

His flanks deflate as he tries to catch his breath. Thriftfeather asks for a headcount; the golden fur at his throat is red and tattered, but he stands strong, stronger than Granitepelt can. “Where’s Thornrunner?” He rasps. He staggers forward, closes his eyes against the pain. He has not bled like this since his flight from ShadowClan, only here there is no medicine cat apprentice to heal him.

He grits his teeth. “Kits... did we get any?”

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Granitekit . Granitepaw . Granitepelt, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 23 moons old, ages realistically on the 10th.
  — mentored by Pitchstar and Dogfur ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored Applepaw
  — "duskclan" leader. flint x sandra, gen 2.
  — formerly mated to Starlingheart, currently mated to n/a.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh blue and white tom with dark green eyes. arrogant, stealthy, sneaky, observant, perceptive, cunning, spiteful, envious.
  
  

​

 

[GRAVELPAW]

You shouldn’t have done this, weighs heavily in their mind. Guilt feels like blood in their mouth, feels like a stone in their stomach. Their paws shake as they make their way back, trailing the kitten as adrenaline ebbs and flows every so often. They reach the little makeshift camp of Duskclan and they almost sink in to the earth. Their ears burn in some emotion a little unfamiliar to them. Anger, maybe? Frustration, not quite, embarrassment?

“You’re very brave. I told you, everyone will be so proud.” Gravel purrs out to the kit, a stone lodged in their throat (their smile doesn’t reach their eyes, in fact it barely reaches half their face). Something… disappointing weighs in their chest, tail flicking back and forth. They slouch over the kitten in almost a possessive manner (if another gets ahold of them, then they’ll be forced to become a soldier; gravelpaw is only protecting them after all), ears pinning back as their heart pounds in their chest. They ignore the fact that something whispers in their mind about how disgusting this all feels. Raiding another clan. Stealing their kits, barely older than them.

Is everyone here?

They ignore their mentor, one who splutters out his words, one with blood streaked across blonde fur. They cannot look him in the eye lest he sees the shame, embarrassment, guilt that coats the shine in their eyes. They keep their chin tucked down, attention on the other kit. Tonight, they feel like a failure. Tonight, they’re not sure if they did the right thing. Tonight, they brought back a friend, someone barely younger than them.

Oh, what have they done?

Granitepelt asks if they got any kits. Gravelpaw only swings their head towards him, mouth agape like a fish. They got one. They wished they hadn’t.

𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙰 𝚆𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴, ˚⋆｡°✩₊🦇 𝙰𝚁𝙼𝚈 𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚁𝚂

• brought back @vulturekit.
• 
  ❥ baby ,, gravelkit ,, gravelpaw
  ❥ demi-girl ,, she/they ,, 04 months
  ❥ duskclan apprentice ,, mentored by thriftfeather
  ❥ black/blue smoke chimera with high white and blue eyes
  ❥ "speech, 9d9adf" ,, thoughts
  ❥ too young to be interested in anything ,, single
  ❥ smells like heather and pine needles
  ❥ art by woodlandpest ,, penned by chuff

​

 

[Vulturepaw]

˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖ Vulturekit's guiding spirit is quiet. Shaky, but not as much so as he is. She moves purposefully, falling only once they have reached some unknowable destination. Her smoky voice is gentle in its rumbling. "P-puh-promise...?" They whisper, eyes turning up towards the looming shadow which surrounds them.

They are farther than they have ever been, here in this nowhere-place. They long stopped running to amble after their guide: their legs are tired. Their heart is too, barely holding onto its rabbit's pace. Yet still, it has energy for more. It picks up as they see the cats spilling through, the mats of red red red slowly drying on each one's pelt. "Oh..." He breathes softly. He knows these faces, barely, from the fleeing. "No... No, no, no th-thuh-this isn't -" right. He chokes on the word, eyes darting around to see each of the gathered cats.

The grey one speaks of kits, and Vulturekit shrinks back towards the one who lead him. "You s-said it'd b-b-buh-be b-better," he insists, looking to her for answers. He wanted to get away. He didn't want this. He doesn't want this. "B-b-but I'm - I'm scared," he whispers. Urgency spills through in the lashing of his tail, the wodening of his eyes. His voice rises to a panicked crescendo of a whine, desperate and pleading. "I wanna go home."

‎‎┌── FOR I HATE THE BUILDINGS ⛧ AND THE WAY THEY TOWER OVER ME ──┐‎

• 
  

• 

  
  
  "SPEECH"
  ​

• 
  VULTUREKIT ⛧ he / they, kit of windclan, four moons.
  ⭃ a spiky-furred dark tabby with amber eyes.
  ⭃ skittish and dour, with little time for typical kit games.
  ⭃ micheal x npc, adopted by periwinklebreeze. sibling to dustkit and bilberrykit.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[Possumscratch.]

IF I DON'T GO TO HELL
WHEN I DIE I MIGHT GO TO HEAVEN ​

---

'possum & 18 moons & trans masc & he/they & duskclan rogue ​

---

" Shiiit..... shit! " Possum makes his own reappearance within duskclans camp with a sputtering of curses, limping and bleeding as he arrives. " That little rat! " he snaps out, and strangely enough it sounds giddy - fond even. It's been a long time since the rogue has had such a thrill after all - quiet giggles slipping from his lips as he rocks on bitten heels.

Amber eyes quickly turn to survey the damage that has been done to stick-figure frame - a hiss drawn through clenched teeth as he looks down at mangled remains of his once beautiful tail. All things considered, the chimera thinks he got off easy - he is not dead, for one thing. And surely, the blood now slowly drying upon his pelt as it trickles to a halt is just... making things look worse. Probably. Maybe. Still, it'd been a fun little excursion - and to think, he'd been told they wouldn't be killing kits when he'd joined (joking though he may have been). If he'd known they'd be stealing them, well perhaps he would've came 'round and joined sooner.

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

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M I G H T ━ G O ━ T O ━ H E A V E N , ━ B U T ━ P R O B A B L Y ━ N O T !

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[Ebonylight.]

*+:｡.｡ Fuck fuck fuck "Damn that stupid woman" Ebonylight hisses, spitting blood and hate as his cheek throbbed in agony. To think such a demure creature could pack a punch. Damn her! To think she'd lay a paw upon the one and only cat who'd ever love her - fuck! He hopes she's rotting now - her and that pathetic excuse for a spawn she produced.

Spitting another glob of scarlet onto the grass as she catches up to the rest, Ebonylight surveys the crowd. Thriftfeather looks shaken, as usual, and Granitepelt looks like he's on the precipice of death. Good. Although one couldn't expect Duskclan's leader to know that Windclan was returning early, Ebonylight refused to forgive the tom anyway. What a miserable welp to have stained Sootstar's legacy.

But in an instant, Ebonylight's rage falters. Turning their attention to the palest cat here, they note the ugly morsel at Gravelpaw's dainty feet and suddenly Ebonylight has never known anger before in their life. "Gravelpaw!" Ebonylight, despite the agony burning along their cheek, is all smiles as they dance over to their child. Aiming to swipe Gravelpaw's ears with affectionate licks, Ebby would purr, "You captured one, by starclan - look at you! And not a single mark on you, look at that! I'm so glad you're alright" Pinching their cheek lovingly, Ebby meows, "I couldn't be prouder of you, my treasure. Now, be a dear and grab Hungerkit to go fetch everyone some water. I know you're tired, but you'd be a hero for helping everyone recuperate" he purrs, nuzzling her nose one last time before turning sharp, serpentine eyes on Vulturekit.

What a prize!

*+:｡.｡ Updated 4/13/24

• 
  
• 
  
  
  
  GENERAL:
  ‡ Ebonylight
  ‡ DFAB— He/They/She — Pansexual
  ‡ 18 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
  ‡ Duskclan (Rogue)
  ‡ Mates with Nightingalecry, father to Frightkit, Deathkit and Witherkit
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ‡ Physically hard | mentally hard
  ‡ Attack in bold black
  
  injuries: None currently
  

​

 

[PRIVETFROST]

Breath hitched within velvet throat, like the wind would only sigh and pass through him as he ran, never lingering long and away from the moorlands where he had strung it from. Declaration of Duskclan's return lie light upon his tongue, as though it would drag him backwards, though he persisted. He persisted, until rough pawpads felt the familiar sting of sagebrush's welcome. They had returned, but at what cost? "I am here." Quiet voice pricked through the panting and the recalibrating, fern-green eyes eclipsed yet resilient, stolid shadow clinging to wire-frame. Glancing back upon wine-dark coat, it had been painted with superficial sanguine, as it pooled and ran like tears upon the sable. He breathed out a sigh, though it was of desperation and fear more than anything. This was the first that he had been hurt outside of training sessions. His first wounds as a martyr, his first signs of a life to lead... Duskclan had not won the battle, though they had won the war - as the apprentice stared at the springs of youth that they had taken from false king's fields. He realized, then, that although his injuries hurt, he still stood. Adrenaline pounded like an incessant drum in his heart, but he did not back down from its heed. (Did he enjoy it, almost?)

"Where's Rumblerain?" Privetpaw's ears pricked upwind for the sound of his mentor, yet they did not return his call...

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 ── X ── 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒

• Retro to Rumblerain's return, ofc / SUPER late ik
  
• 
• 

  —— PRIVETPAW / He/Him / 7 Moons
  —— Apprentice of Duskclan / Mentored by Rumblerain
  —— Wine-dark and white-tipped, almost like a magpie. He has black fur except for the tips of his ears, his muzzle and chin, a blaze on his chest, bottom portion of the legs, outer end of the tail, and along the upper ridges of eyes. He has ghost striping that can only be seen in certain sunlight. He has fern-green eyes.
  —— Cool, calculating, and much too mature for such a young age. Enamored with the life of a warrior and burdened by the expectations of his people. Hard to befriend and harder to maintain a steady friendship with.
  —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.

​