duskclan how sweetly she melts in her sin ; return

[GHOSTMASK]

She had not been careful, she'd realized on the long, long, infinitely long walk home. Blinded by fear and blood, she had run from Nettlepaw's body with his life dripping off her face, and she had not been careful. She had not cleaned shiny black fur from between his claws. She had not doused his grinning corpse in garlic to hide the scent of prairie.

She consoles herself with the knowledge that she is, to ShadowClan, literal. She is a ghost. She is a missing apprentice, sad-but-true, gone right after her father. Probably dead at his claws. She does not exist. She surely could not have killed Nettlepaw.

Because that is what she had done. She had killed Nettlepaw. She had killed her brother.

Ghostpaw can be careful now, though, and she is. She stops before she reaches their makeshift group and she washes her brother's blood from her fur, every last betraying red speck. She cleans the divots carved into her cheek, marring her beauty forever, and tastes rotten fury at their existence. She rolls in sparse flower-patches out here in the wastelands to cleanse the familiar smell of marsh from her fur. Her heart does not ache as she does so. It does not.

As she walks to her new home ( because whatever chance at home she'd had is gone, gone, gone ), she devises her story. She had gone out to hunt, because they all know how hungry they all are, how cold and tired and hungry. She had chased a rabbit. It had kicked her, and luckily it had missed her eyes, but it had cut up her cheek. She had gotten lost on the way back, because this is unfamiliar terrain, and that was the reason she had been gone for so long.

"Father?" she calls, and her voice does not warble. It does not rasp. It does not gurgle, as Nettlepaw's had. She stands tall and graceful, neck held long and swannish. Her voice is sweet and melodious and her eyes are dark and thoughtful. Everything is okay.

Everything is fine.

// @GRANITEPELT dad tag but not pafp!

"speech"

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[GRANITEPELT]

He thinks of his kits in a strange, disjointed manner, like his memories have been eaten into scraps by fervent mice. He remembers things in snatches: wriggling at Starlingheart’s side, sightless and deaf, one, two, three, gray, black, red. He remembers prowling through the mire with Flintpaw at his side, remembers tearing his claws through a matching gray pelt. Remembers turning dark, critical green eyes onto Nettlepaw as he gamboled about, laughter bubbling on his lips—remembers the prickle of unease that’d spike his pelt when Ghostpaw would lay her indigo eyes upon his back.

She does it now. Her voice is sweet and smooth. Father, she calls him—it’s what he’s allowed her. She is detestable, a walking phantom, a demon from his nightmares, but she had chosen loyalty, had chosen the only true path. His sons had blubbered and spit at his exile, but they had stayed rooted to their spot, burrs caught in their mother’s fur. Ghostpaw had slipped away… and she is his burden, now, he knows that.

He half-turns, eyes narrowing into slits. There is blood-scent, death-scent. Scarlet flecks her black-and-white pelt. Something makes his stomach heave, but he does not change expression. “What have you done?” The question is cool, terse. He cannot imagine what those claws have laid bare to the empty sky.

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

• ooc: —
• 
• Granitekit . Granitepaw . Granitepelt, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 21 moons old, ages realistically on the 10th.
  — mentored by Pitchstar and Dogfur ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored Applepaw
  — windclan warrior. 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.
  
  

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