tunnels FUNERAL PARTIES — dead rabbit (sensitive content)

[cygnetstare]

// strong tw for descriptions of death, rot, mild gore, disturbing imagery. stay safe tabbytalians!​

It had been quite a normal day within the tunnels it was rare to see Cygnetstare outside of; proceeding down the familiarly mapped dirt halls with whoever was behind her, her balance even and kept so by the familiar and memorized scents and sounds. It had been until it was starkly interrupted by a scent, as revolting as it was unfamiliar; rot, far beyond that of a moldy root or especially dank tunnel. No, this smell not just crept into one's nose but assaulted it with the greasy stench of rot, bringing to mind terrible visions: flesh peeled from bones like melted tallow, dead unloved and unburied, bodies drifting facedown through swampy water, decay, death. Cygnetstare is relatively accustomed to bad scents or at the least holds a stomach as strong as her nose, keeping her wits about her; if a weaker-bellied cat attends this journey, they may well have to suppress (or not) a gag. The smell is absolutely rank, offensive to the nose of any decent creature.

The tunneler pushes past the offensiveness of the odor to try and pinpoint its location with a carefulness of thought she only displays in matters related to the tunnels; regardless of whether the cats alongside her follow, she pursues it, eyes watering slightly with the rudeness of the scent as she follows it to one of the furthest tunnel ends. There she's greeted by a rather nasty sight: the oozing corpse of a rabbit, laying in a puddle of blood so rotten it may well have fermented. It's a big piece of prey and Cygnetstare takes a moment to mourn its lack of place on their fresh-kill pile (in a much better state), but mostly their focus is on the sight of it; it's collapsed into essentially a disgusting puddle of meat and bones, so it's impossible to tell whether the rabbit had died violently or not. The chimera backs up a bit with nose wrinkled and turns to any cats that might be with her, mewing with her mouth barely opened, "It's definitely dead. Been like that for a damn while, I'd wager. D'you think we oughta be worried 'bout something killing it?"
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[SCORCHSTAR]

The horrible stench strikes the calico in the face just after it does Cygnetstare, and Scorchstreak is quick to wrinkle her nose, to draw her muzzle firmly shut. It is not a scent that speaks of a normal day in the tunnels; it is a scent of death. Of something desecrated, perhaps. She wonders, as she follows behind the other tunneler—are they about to stumble upon a clanmate’s corpse? It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing has happened, though it would certainly be the first time finding such a thing in the tunnels.

She allows the bicolored feline to lead, not wishing to pursue the scent any further—but she does follow anyway as Cygnetstare seeks out the scent’s origin. There is caution in each pawstep, a surprising change in the white-patched molly’s behavior. When they come upon the origin of such a stench, Scorchstreak glances over the other’s shoulder.

Cygnetstare wonders aloud as to the origin of such a grisly corpse, drawing a huff from the calico. How had such a scent gone unnoticed in these tunnels? Perhaps her absence whilst nursing her litter is to blame. "It appears to have… exploded." Her expression doesn’t change with the words that leave her mouth, the possible explanation for such a gruesome sight, but her distaste is clear in the rough edges of her words. She has seen worse sights, of course, but that doesn’t make the half-liquefied corpse of the rabbit any better to look upon. "I think whatever killed it may be the least of our worries. My concern is that smell."​

[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

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[RATTLEHEART]

Despite how difficult it often was for Rattleheart to just relax and zone out, the tunnels made such a task almost effortless. Moons spent navigating the winding tunnels had made them into a sort of second home for her, and even though tunneling could be an arduous task at times, she actually found it quite calming. Especially when she was accompanying her sister, padding after both her and Cygnetstare as her eyes adjusted once more to the usual reduced light. Cygnetstare was a significantly more unsettling presence alongside her, but she still respected her fellow tunneler and trusted her, even in her more disturbing moments. It was easy enough for her to feel safe alongside the two of them - even when the strong and rancid scent of death reached her nose.

Immediately her fur began to stand on end, a crashing wave of anxiety breaking through the calm as she glanced around, trying to identify where they were in the territory. Were they near Shadowclan or Riverclan? Were they about to come across the corpse of a clanmate left behind in either of the other clans wake? Her claws dug down into the earth to try and provide her with some kind of sturdiness once more, forcing herself forward to peek over Scorchstreak's shoulder. Seeing the dead rabbit was both a relief and a curse, since it meant the smell of death wasn't a clanmate, but... what had killed the rabbit? And how long ago?

Cygnetstare was already speculating over what could have killed the poor creature, meanwhile Scorchstreak was more worried about her nose - and while she agreed with her sister, she had to admit curiosity had wormed its way under her pelt as well. "Whatever did kill it certainly wasn't trying to save it for food if it left it in that state. Hopefully whatever it was just got run off and left it here..." That was a best case scenario, she cringed at the thought of a beast that could liquify a rabbit like this. Or worse, some kind of disease. Her mind was already racing, and she frantically gripped at the practical - "We should probably figure out some way to clean it up. I doubt many of us will be able to patrol near here if it's left any longer."
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[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[>Twigwhisper]

— Twigwhisper had instant regrets of following along with his fellow tunnelers, even pushing past the vile scent. "Guys.." The chocolate tabby would mumble before his cheeks would puff in an attempt to stifle a gag. His shoulder jutted forward and he had to stop walking after them, all the furs on the back of his neck were standing up. He questioned how Cygnetstare could stand- Nevermind. It was Cygnetstare. It took the tom a few minutes to gather himself before he could even emerge after the other felines.

There was a mixture of fresh air being tainted by the scent of rot. His amber gaze would flicker to where they had gathered and he would immediately do a 180 from where he stood. His stomach churned and heaved, his ears were pinned flesh against his head and his fluffy tail was spiked out in repulsion. "Oh yeah, totally norm- gah." A paw that was striped like branches would wave in the air as they all conversed on what to do before he was overcome with another gag. A very displeased look formed the features of his face as he'd dared a glance only at his clanmates. "J-Just throw some dirt on it and lets go.." — tags​

 

[cygnetstare]

The members of the little patrol trail after the crescent-moon tunneler, the two siblings offering their opinions as Twigwhisper gags. Against all odds, Cygnetstare's pallid moonface leans closer to the puddle of mouldering rabbit, eyes searching the blackening remains for any traces of its demise; nothing offers itself and their vertebra-ridged neck recedes with a faintly wrinkled muzzle. They're grateful it's not a Clanmate left here to rot in this makeshift crypt, but ... she's inclined to agree with all three members of her patrol on their offered topics. The stench is offensive enough that she's surprised it's gone missed, and it must be dealt with—on that she certainly concurs with Scorchstreak and Twigwhisper. Although she's inclined to probe further into its demise, Rattleheart is right—they must figure out some way to clean this up.

"Ayuh ... I wonder what killed it, but I 'spose our biggest issue is cleanin' this up. Twigwhisper's idea might be worth a shot." With that, moon-dappled paws stretch forth and skeletal wrists bend to free clods of dirt from the earth as Cygnetstare's blush eyes turn on their patrol for a moment and then back to the soil they shovel onto the liquified rabbit. She does this for several moments until its form vanishes beneath the umber mound like so much trash; with the barest trace of hesitation, the chimera pushes down on the mound of earth. Their paws, blessedly, do not touch the thing, but an audible nasty squishing ricochets about the tunnel and into everyone's ears as the corpse is packed into the tunnel floor as though this is a standard reinforcement patrol. She backs off for a moment and turns eyes on the patrol, "Seems to be workin'. Whaddya think?"
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[BLUEFROST]

The smell hits her from foxlengths away. Immediately, Bluepaw has to resist the primal urge to let her face collapse in disgust. Remaining stoic and unbothered in the face of such a scent—decay, but hot and bursting, near-sweet in its advance—is proving to be a challenge. The gray and white she-cat moves closer to the other tunnelers, her curiosity driving her forward. She had to see what had emitted such a stench.

The sight is as gruesome as the scent of rot it's tainted the tunnel with. Bits of bone strike up through a muddy pile of crimson gore. Bluepaw remains expressionless—she’s less affected by the horrid sight than she is by the smell. “I agree. It’s been mutilated,” she says, softly adding her voice to Rattleheart’s judgment of the kill. Whoever had left the rabbit had essentially been playing with their food. Disrespectful and disgusting. She crinkles her nose, but only slightly.

She twitches tufted ears as they deliberate upon its origins—and what to do with it. She watches as Cygnetstare digs at the earth at Twigwhisper’s suggestion, packing earth over the mess of prey to try and disguise it. “You’d have to bury it quite deep to make the scent go away entirely. The walls themselves are full of that smell.” She sniffs.

// mentor tag @SOOTSTAR
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[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[SCORCHSTAR]

Twigwhisper sounds foolish as he suggests that they merely dump some dirt over it and move on, and the calico audibly scoffs at such an idea. Little effort, little reward. But she watches Cygnetstare bury the rabbit-turned-ooze with a tight mouth, a flick of her dark ear the only signal of her disgust as a squelching sound rings out.

Bluepaw makes a good point—the most intelligent daughter of their leader—and Scorchstreak flicks a golden gaze to the bicolored apprentice for a moment, approving. "Burying it only means that it’s still here for the next patrol to dig up. And even if they don’t find it, it still reeks throughout," she supplies, but her expression remains neutral. Better the next patrol than her, she thinks. And truly, the lead warrior doesn’t mind what route they choose in order to solve their problem; she only wants to get out of these tunnels so she can get this foul stench out of her nostrils. With a glance to Rattleheart, the calico rolls her shoulders, standing up straighter. "Perhaps bringing in something that smells better could solve our… problem."​

[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

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