private fragile like a bomb [venomthroat]

[SCORCHSTREAK]

Thunder rumbles overhead, and the calico shifts in her nest. The bed is packed with fresh moss and downy feathers, providing a soft space for her to rest as she grows rounder and rounder. It’s almost a certainty, at this point, that she will have more than one kitten—she’s much larger than she had been with Dappledsun, and she’s felt too many kicks for it to be the work of only one kit. With a sigh, the she-cat finally stands from her nest, moving to look out into camp from the entrance of the nursery. The sunrise that would normally be quite the sight is nowhere to be found today, hidden behind dark clouds and heavy raindrops. She tips her face to the sky, basking in the scent of the rain. Today will be a good day, she thinks. She can feel it.

// @Venomthroat.
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[✧ Venomthroat.]

I REALLY COULDN'T CARE LESS

venomthroat | 28 months | non-binary | they/them | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold black

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When venomthroat returns to camp, it is with blood soaked into their back fur despite the rains best efforts to wash it away. Like a shadow brought to life, dull and colorless, they move forwards one paw step at a time until eyes lock onto scorchstreak. Ah - an unfortunate thing indeed. They are not close with the molly, as like with most they have kept her at a distance these many moons. But she'd been close to their brother - been close to tigerfrost. She deserved to know - he'd want her to know... right?

They are not the best cat to be doing this, but with awkward, uncertain steps the bulky feline makes their way over, a frown tugging on their face and dark eyes mournful. They are not the most... expressive of cats, pride themselves on their disdain and their rationality. But they still have emotions, especially at times like this. "Scorchstreak..." they call out, voice gravely and rasping, and they have to swallow harshly to clear their throat. Another glance is spared at the molly's belly as they question once again if they should really be he one to do this, but they open their jaws to speak once more nonetheless. "Tigerfrost... was killed. Sootstar has sent a patrol to find his killers but... well, I figured you should know,"

It is not the most eloquent of speeches, nor the most delicate, but it is the best they can do. Dark eyes peer up at the stormy sky overhead in wonder - who's penance was tigerfrosts death really? What was starclan upset by this time?

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[SCORCHSTREAK]

Venomthroat’s approach catches her attention, and Scorchstreak’s golden gaze flickers to them with concern. She may not know them well, the warrior who moves through the camp. Their eyes are heavy with sorrow, an expression that Scorchstreak is unfortunately familiar with, and her heart sinks. For a moment she hopes that Venomthroat will pass her by, but instead they come to a stop before her, addressing her by name. There’s no question that whatever they have to say, they are saying it to her.

It’s a set of claws to the chest, the words that next leave her dark-furred clanmate’s mouth. The queen’s jaw goes slack for a moment, stunned into silence. She blinks hard, golden gaze falling to the ground. Her sight blurs with tears, wetness collecting in her eyes, and she lifts a shaky paw to swipe them away—and it is that action that breaks the dam. "No, he… he can’t be…" she sniffs harshly. "Please tell me you’re lying." Her voice wobbles, soaked through with emotion so rarely shown. Venomthroat wouldn’t lie to her about their own brother’s demise. She has no choice but to accept it as fact; her closest friend in the clan, the tom who she’d so admired and respected, is dead.

"I’m… so sorry," she finally manages through shaking breaths. She cannot imagine what Venomthroat must be feeling right now, but her own emotions are a shockwave in her chest, an overflow that cannot be contained. She was supposed to introduce her kits to him. But fate is cruel, and Tigerfrost will never meet her litter. Tears track down her face, and the calico finally raises a paw to swipe at her cheek, hoping to hide the evidence of it. She had felt next to nothing when her son laid lifeless before her—but this is about her friend, perhaps the closest she’d had in WindClan. And for him, Scorchstreak weeps.
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