sensitive topics GROSS GIFT ╱ WONDERLAND ´ˎ˗

[SUNSTAR]

[ please wait for @WOLFSONG ! cw: explicit prey death & description of prey mutilation / organs ]

His claws are tipped a vibrant red. It flecks up his paws like stardust to match those that rise above their heads. As night begins to nestle around WindClan camp, the sun low and the sky a deep purple, Sunstride returns with his head held high, his paws laced with blood, and a hare hanging heavy from his jaws. It was not a neat catch– or, rather, it was not anymore. Though pride shines in his eyes, the killing bite upon the beast's neck had been shorn open down its throat, and further still. It drips to the grass as he walks, but seems otherwise intact. Undisturbed. Some of the warriors that he passes seem to balk from the sight. They stumble back a few steps or lift up their paws, as if afraid to touch where the prey had dragged. Others did not care at all. He did not seem to respond regardless, and instead weaves around his resting clanmates until he stands before the medicine den — Wolfsong's den — and finally drops his catch.

"Wolfsong," he calls, and does not wait before furthering the wound across the deceased hare's chest and tearing out a small feast of its innards. Its heart rests among them, and this is what he offers to the golden-furred healer, with a grin that is entirely unashamed.

＞ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES ╱ REFERENCE ╱ 07.10.2023 𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘐𝘚𝘖𝘕 〙ˊˎ＜

• ooc: SORRY HE'S GROSS.... remnant from that mountain heritage. ^^;

• 

• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. approx. 40 moons old. lead warrior of windclan + former rogue.
  —— gay, monogamous. mate to wolfsong from 07.05.2023.  npc x npc, no larger family.
  —— has recently regained some of his earlier lightness, but maintains his steady facade.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.

• "speech"

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[WOLFSONG]

── .∘°°∘. ── He recalls a light-hearted moment between his parents, when his father bemoaned Wolfsong's peceptive nature when paired with his insatiable curiosity. Even then, he had a keen eye— two, rather. Wolfsong's mother had laughed as she pulled him near, rasping her tongue over his head while his father looked on with warmth. "You should not have brought me a raven if you wanted a foolish child," she had said, and the memory is an unexpectedly sharp ache he feels below his ribs. He presses a paw there, distracted from cleaning newly-picked herbs.

They will know of her, but it is a fresh sorrow that they will not know her as a grandmother— merely as Wolfsong's mother.

A thump and the swelling scent of blood spin him around to face the entrance. He relaxes when he sees Sunstride, unharmed, a meal in tow. More than that, he watches his mate free the hare of its heart, larger than a rabbit's. Stronger, no doubt, and his eye brightens as the flame-hewn tom grins, bloody-toothed and beautiful. Wolfsong crosses the den toward him, leaning up and in to press their foreheads together.

Then he's shifting to sink his fangs into the hare's heart, bursting with the moor-wind and lean strength. He chews carefully, though his cheeks are still reddened and he darkens Sunstride's in turn when he rubs their faces together. "A worthy prize," he rasps approvingly. "They might outrun us if we aren't careful."
​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 36 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge. — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know— he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel." — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you. — ☆☆☆☆☆ KITTING: He doesn't remember what it was like to be born. Coincidentally, that is the extent of his familiarity with kitting. At least he won't leave you without moral support.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you. — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

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[cygnetstare]

♱—— they are approaching wolfsong's den for the check-up required of them; she'd been informed to come back daily for a quarter-moon. to ensure the sickly animal of infection wasn't making itself a late nest in the second smile she now bore across her neck, she supposed at the time; it is their luck (oh, luck indeed) to witness such a charming display. another cat approaches just as she nears the den's yawning mouth, tall and dressed in spots of deep dried maroon, so like the cape of red she'd worn across her chest not so long ago. some warriors stray from the path sunstride carves in dragging blood, standing just before her own destination, calling for wolfsong.

cygnetstare watches with a gruesome but charmed fascination as the blazing tom opens the hare as she had opened a wood-mouse in her nest days before, pulling from it a fascinating pile of innards. what he coaxes from it is the hare's red-slicked heart, offering it to the healer with a grin; the ritual appeals to her, affirms that she had been right to holler the pair a congratulations in previous days. her family had carried its own traditions, long buried in the festering oubliettes of her mind now, forgotten to her; the bad gone with the good. the golden healer devours the hare with a primal care, pressing his face to sunstride's.

"that's a damned lovely display," she offers, and the words are genuine; cygnetstare finds this belief, this bloody open ritual, appealing. if she were ever to take a mate, ever to bear herself kits dressed in crow-song and milk, she would want something like this. the raw pull of the meat, the blood they share; it's a declaration of their love in the face of death, in the paws of death—a romance affirmed in blood. their pale eyes, pinpricks of red deep in them like a tunnel, glitter with dancing approval as they mew, "i should want somethin' like you both have for myself, one of these days. love built in blood like that'll last damn near forever."

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┏━⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊ OOC ☽ ◯ ☾ INFORMATION₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆━━━━━┓ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ☄. *. ⋆♱･ﾟ:

• ooc: she's so weird
  

• 

• ♱ cygnetstare — for their downy kitten-fur and perceptiveness (or uncanny gaze) she/they ; afab gender apathetic — windclan — tunneler — 17 ☾s —— cygnetstare is a corpselike chimera, split between long albino fur and a short black smoke pelt; their eyes are an unsettling pink. her creepy demeanour distracts from a strange fascination with death and an obsessive loyalty to windclan. —— smells like grave-dirt and blood ; sounds like vc tbd ; speech in #BF959C, thoughts in #000000 —— peaceful / healing powerplay permitted ; attacks/contact in underline ; will start fights ; won't flee unless ordered ; won't show mercy ; will kill or maim —— pansexual panromantic monogamist, single, not looking ; open to friendships, enemies, casual interactions, long-term romance, plotting ; not open to unplanned battles, flings penned by dejavu— desklamp9 on discord for plots

• battle stuff goes here for fights

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[Badgermoon]

Sometimes, Badgermoon wondered if he was the odd cat in WindClan. Many others in the Clan seemed to be so, well...strange...with their own arrays of quirks and rituals, all wrapped around a bizarre, albeit trustworthy, core. Mallowlark, Lambcurl, Ambertail, Cygnetstare, Marmotpaw: even Wolfsong and Sunstride, fellow council-members, had their moments of fantastic strangeness. He felt he was becoming better-adjusted to his Clanmates' habits, even the unexpected ones - but it didn't mean that things couldn't still give him pause. The remnants of a day spent on the moors were clear on his body as the deputy sloped into camp not long after Sunstride, @SCORCHPAW in tow, heather-scent and grass-flecks on his coat - just in time to see the fiery tom's gift to his mate.

Badgermoon stared, nonplussed, at the heart-granting, feelings he couldn't identify churning in his gut as Wolfsong sank his teeth into his bloody present. It was sweet, in the way that moments between the mated lead warriors often were, but also bizarre - he'd never specifically sought out a prey creature's heart. He wasn't even particularly fond of the organs - muscle-meat was his preference - but he couldn't ignore the symbolism, nor the joy present on both toms' faces. The black and white tom's tail swayed a little as Cygnetstare voiced her fondness for the custom, and he blinked, trying to figure out how he felt - and why. Surprise, because it's weird. Happiness, because they're my friends, and they're happy. Jealousy, because... he didn't know why. And all that thinking about his feelings made his head hurt.

Seating himself, the tomcat bent his head and spoke to Scorchpaw, his tone slightly distant, as if he were distracted by some far-off sight. "Love shows itself in many ways." if either lovestruck warrior were to look over, Badgermoon would offer a small, though heartfelt, smile.​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

Scorchpaw could not help but notice the maroon path on her way back through the heather tunnel. Hunting is still something she struggles to master; she is as small as she is young (though apparently not small enough for the tunnels), and wrestling any prey down has proven to be as difficult as it was to stalk them in the first place. But she does know a thing or two about hunting, and usually it does not result in so much... blood. She has not seen ichor like this since WindClan had returned from SkyClan's borders, and at first she is alarmed; is someone hurt? Had something happened? But when she finds the head of the bloody trail she is answered, for it is just Wolfsong and Sunstride's delicate ritual.

She watches Wolfsong take the heart in his jaws as a mother takes her child's scruff, only to bite and rip the flesh in twain; only to swallow down each ventricle and artery; only to imbue himself with the very literal heart of the moorlands. Scorchpaw's gaze flashes curious. Briefly, she glances to Badgermoon for a reaction, but he is hardy in his placidness. She cannot glean emotion from him beyond his breezy smile. She knows not of his churning stomach or aching head; she knows only her own reaction in the moment. They are in love, she thinks, with little aspiration to be the same. Her father and mentor affirms her thinking quietly, and at once she pictures him and Scorchstreak attempting the same ritual. The image makes her lip curl. She has long known that her mother and father were not mates, and that they would never be, but somehow that knowledge strikes her differently today; should she want them to be in love, like Sunstride and Wolfsong are? Should she want to be in love?

Her ear flicks thoughtfully, gaze still fixed on the blood that spilled from the moorland bounty. "I want to try it," she decides, speaking to Badgermoon. Not this heart of course, and not with any cat she can currently picture (though maybe Hollypaw would like the taste-- she's a bit weird, isn't she?), but the heavy iron thickly fills her senses, and she wonders if the heart of the hare-- the source of the blood --would taste any sweeter than its lean meat. Then, an obstacle presents itself. Scorchpaw sniffs. "I guess that means I have to catch one, myself, though."​

​

 

[Marmotbite.]

CAUTION TAPE AROUND MY HEART
marmotpaw | 08 months | female | she/her | physically easy | mentally medium | attack in bold #9ab973

---

Displays of love, of affection, are nothing new to marmotpaw - hazy memories of 'mother' and 'father' doing something similar, but where wolfsong and sunstride spill blood to feast, she remembers the cooling body of a stranger in it's place, bloodstained smiles just as soppy. Head slowly tips to the side as the girl watches, small figure stood frozen at the unexpected flash of her past, before she speaks to the black and white feline she knows to be their queens second in command. "Is this... windclans courtship ritual?" she has no family here, shares no blood with these cats - and truth be told, she's hardly cared to learn more than a few names, let alone the more intricate of their traditions. Would, perhaps, her blue one appreciate something similar someday, when marmot is older - when she's stronger? Would it be enough? The thought curls and coils about her mind, leaving a sense of giddiness. What use are gifts of stones and flower when one can declare their intentions in blood?

// tw: death mention

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[VENOMSTRIKE]

( ) Well... That was certainly a display of love if Venomstrike had ever seen any. The moor runner having caught sight of Sunstride bringing back a hare with blood on his claws only to see the very same claws extract the heart from the chest of the large rodent and how he held it out to Wolfsong, who had taken it quite eagerly. "How... Sweet... ?" He thinks with a tilt of his head before turning his gaze to Cygnetstare who shared her own feelings on that rather weird yet gruesome display of love and how she wished for something similar. What Sunstride and Wolfsong had was definitely lovely though Venomstrike could personally do without the whole tearing a smaller creatures heart out of its chest as romantic as that sounded. Maybe if it was a lizard heart he would reconsider it though that would likely be such a small morsel and not crunchy in the slightest.

His head whips around to glance over at Marmotpaw and shakes his head in response "N-no..." He doubts that it was though he couldn't help but glance in Badgermoon's direction with an inquiring expression, he could very well be wrong but turns his head back to the mated pair offering a smile in their general direction. "L-lovely," He hums with a toothy yet slightly sheepish grin. It was genuine. It was a lovely but weird display. ​

( ME GUSTA LA MAÑANA; ME GUSTAS TÚ )

 

[SUNSTAR]

[ sorry this got full i wanted to brush on every reply BC I LOVE THESE GUYS :wail emoji here: ]

Wolfsong takes it with pleasure, and even though Sunstride had expected no less his heart still soars. His grin does not abate even as their cheeks brush against one another and the blood from his own catch is given back to pale fur. Strength, again shared. His heart soars in time with the dead hare's. He can feel the thrum of the chase. Though the warrior was not the fastest of the moor cats, he is tenacious when it becomes a necessity. And his mate's well-being is perhaps as motivating as anything may ever be. That he can be this lucky, that a tom so clever and tenacious as he may have chosen to carry their kittens– this is nothing more than he deserved. And Sunstride would never do anything less.

His own father had not told him much of what gifts he had given his mother. But the warriors that helped to teach him all those moons ago joked of bears and mice and the birds that soared so far above their heads. He was not as keen-eyed as Wolfsong, but his love of freedom and his blooming pride had given weight to the laughter. At times he had wanted to ask. Never more than he did now. Hidden into Wolfsong's fur, a part of his smile falters. Would he approve of these choices? Would he hope the same for this bloodline? Is this what he had hoped for me? Sunstride is frowning now, a heavy weight to sea glass eyes, but he does not yet ask comfort of Wolfsong. Better to enjoy this catch between them, and all that will come with time.

"We may only hope they are better suited for this grass than I am," he laughs. Carefully he begins to free some of the fur from the hare's body as Wolfsong continues with the heart. Though they are not alone, his moon does not sour. That his kits will have a clan, a group so powerful and proud that they may remain here for many cycles to come, brings great comfort to him. That it is held afloat by so many he may nearly call kin is something greater still. He grins first to Cygnetstare, unable to withstand the flush of joy that sweeps over him. "You are as deserving of this as the moorland is of the stars' blessing," he laughs. "You will find it, and I am certain you will do far greater than this." The warrior gestures to the hare beneath his paws.

The others are not so open. Those that gather outside of the den seem filled equal parts by curiosity and trepidation, however happy they may be. Badgermoon's own litter had just left the nursery– theirs would follow quickly on their heels. Perhaps they may share the prowess of that litter, and Sootstar's before. Scorchpaw had made herself a face well-known within camp, and to Wolfsong's den. He is fond of her. And as such, so too is Sunstride fond of her. "It will not be long before you have succeeded in this, should you take after your father and your mother both." They are not in love, no, yet they are clever and strong. He has seen parts of them in the patched apprentice. "There is significance enough in the catch– but to taste the heart of one's prey–"

Something soft crosses his features, his eyes wide and gentle above a curling lip. Amusement, distant and distantly sad as he looks upon Marmot and Venom. "We were taught in our youths that there was strength in this. Power in one's heart. To taste is to know, and to carry a part of it with you forever." It may be nothing more than a story. It may be truth. But he knows the power of a heart shared, and the love and strength of an offering. "Our kits will carry this with them as well. They should know these moors better than our rock-wearied paws may ever." This will be their home, he tells the group. Do you understand this part of me?

＞ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES ╱ REFERENCE ╱ 07.10.2023 𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘐𝘚𝘖𝘕 〙ˊˎ＜

• ooc: I LOVE THESE CHARACTERS SO MUCH ASDFLAKSDHJ.... the fact that some of yall are considering your characters doing this i'm cackling! i need cygmance stat tho wtf. she deserves it!!

• 

• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. approx. 40 moons old. lead warrior of windclan + former rogue.
  —— gay, monogamous. mate to wolfsong from 07.05.2023.  npc x npc, no larger family.
  —— has recently regained some of his earlier lightness, but maintains his steady facade.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.

• "speech"

​