sensitive topics I DON'T LOVE YOU [☾] I JUST LOVE THE BOMB

[MOORBLOSSOM]

In the hidden alcove she's cornered herself into, Moorblossom can only piece together glimpses. Yet her eyes, horrified, remain fastened to her mother in the thick of it all, laying bare the unremitting hatred worn so gloriously in her expression.

It's a Sootstar she had known to exist, but sparsely caught sight of. Governed by wrath and vengeance, her strikes are wild, unhinged, unpredictable; against such chaos, there exists no strategy, nor even a pattern to follow. The lone certainty she clings to is her mother's intentions—killing anyone and everyone who opposes her. Would... would that include her own kin? Left paralysed by dread against the gorse, she watches on with no manner of staving it off.

Then, her mother ruptures Larkfeather like a berry, and her pulp paints the dust a lush maroon.

The terror is throat-tightening, squeezing until a detonation point. The dam bursts in tandem, an ear-splitting cry pealing through to the bloodied air, as fresh as the young warrior's lifeblood. She was a pawful of moons older than her. Just a pawful! Withered by sobs, her paws tremble and buckle; it's almost miraculous that she doesn't cough up chunks of her soul and spirit then and there.

Forward staggers Moorblossom from the thorns and into the massacre. Paws trek a blind path, scrambling past Harbingermoon and his assailants, and out into the wider world.

Her mother's legacy. Mistaking blood-thirst for self-defence. To what end does she justify these deaths, if only to harm rather than save? When all's said and done, who is truly safe in WindClan?

Not Moorblossom. That much is perfectly clear.

// out! ​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

The taste of Harbingermoon's blood filled their mouth, and they grinned even through their revulsion at the acrid and metallic taste that it carried with it. They were able to only thrash their head around a little before they must pull back, their mouth and neck fur stained bright red from their fellow tunneler's wounds. It was a shock to see Venomstrike attack the loyalist so viciously, especially when he yanked Harbingermoon's ear from his head, spitting it out on the ground like it was nothing more than a pesky prey bone. Rattleheart would have laughed at the sudden shock and confusion that spread over his face, if not for the soft push against their side. They glanced down, expecting another attacker, only to see that it was Redpaw with panic glittering in his eyes. They were loathe to leave before Harbingermoon was dead on the ground, but... Redpaw was right. They needed to go, and they needed to follow after Sunstride.

Casting one last hatred-filled glance at the loyalist's retreating form, they butted their head lightly against Venomstrike's shoulder to hopefully grab his attention. "Redpaw's right, we need to go. Hopefully he'll end up bleeding out." They then looked towards Peonypaw, disappointment glittering in their pale gaze as they saw him lash out towards Venomstrike. How had they ended up failing him? Why did he think for even a second that Sootstar actually cared about him? That she wouldn't sacrifice him without a second thought? Why was he still fighting alongside her? They had no idea, but they couldn't afford to stay and try to convince him anymore. Instead they turned and nudged Redpaw along, darting towards the heather tunnel to escape alongside the other rebels. They were sure that Venomstrike had to be following, knowing that the moor runner wouldn't stay if the two of them were retreating.

// out !!
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[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[BLUEFROST]

Larkfeather’s scream, her throat in Sootstar’s jaws, and then the finality of her body thudding against the ground draws Bluefrost’s attention. She watches the warrior crumple, blood beginning to soak into the grass beneath her, and though her face remains impassive, her stomach erupts. She has known Larkfeather her entire life—a kin to traitors, but a WindClan warrior nonetheless, and now, now Sunstride’s betrayal has condemned her to death. Her ears twitch—another scream splits the air, this one more familiar to her.

Moorblossom. Her sister’s green eyes are wide and round with horror. Bluefrost stares at her, willing her to get up and move toward her, toward Sootstar, to put that terrified expression away. “What are you—” she begins to speak, but then her sister is haring away. Her sleek black body disappears within the throng of rebels, of traitors, and her voice becomes shrill. “Moorblossom? Moorblossom! You—you get back here this instant, you harebrained fool, you get back here!”

Her throat feels dry, scratched, and her pawsteps go nowhere. Her littermate is gone. She looks wildly to Sootstar, fear and incredulity blooming in her guarded green gaze. Would her mother condemn Moorblossom as she has condemned the others? “She… she left,” she explains to no one, to anyone who would listen to her. “She’s gone.”

[interacting with @SOOTSTAR and the fleeing figure of @MOORBLOSSOM ]

, ”​

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[SOOTSTAR]

’She… she left.’

Sootstar’s eyes flicker up from the freshly dead body of Larkfeather. Blood drips from her lips as she sees the last glimpse of black fur race past the thorned wall. With the look of Bluefrost, Sootstar knows. Her lips curl and disfigure into an ugly snarl, both clan-mate and kin have deserted her. Cats she had once called sister. A cat she had once called daughter.

”Gone for now.” Sootstar hisses in the direction of her tunneler daughter, ”But soon she will be back. Head between between my paws and claws dug into her skull.” The serpent declares ruthlessly, kicking at the body of Larkfeather in her agitation.

Mother to Moorblossom she was no more. Sootstar promises she will face her fury just like the others, there is no love behind her eyes for the black and white she-cat any longer. Then again, did that light ever shine in the depths of her eyes? For Moorblossom? For her kits? Her clan?

Whose to say now, but it was never love WindClan ran on.

☾ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Soot ․ Sootstar
  » WindClan Leader
  » She/her ․ Mate to Weaselclaw
  » Tiny blue smoke she-cat with green eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A high-stamina foe who can be difficult to hit.
  » Excels in quick, short moves.
  » Fights to kill and maim
  » Fatal attack of choice is an underbelly dive.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[hollowcreek]

( ✧ ) He should find it laughable the only ones brave enough to defend their chosen deputy are meager apprentices. Kits. Hollowcreek growled in annoyance as he gave a few strong kicks until Featherpaw released his back leg and enough shaking until Venomstrike ripped the red tabby away, leaving him with Sunstride who took the advantage while he was distracted.

A vicious hiss ripped from his maw as claws tear through his ear. He's ready to latch onto any fur or flesh from the other tom but the moment is ridden once Sunstride sees Rivepaw. His target is lost in the crowd of spitting cats and he called for a retreat- a surrender he would say, and fled.

Hollowcreek huffed as he watched the traitors flee from the clearing like rats in the light. Large paws lifted from the ground to move, his hind leg stinging from Featherpaw's teeth but he made little acknowledgement aside from a slight limp as he pulled himself beside Harbringermoon, trying to look over his injuries.

"Your ear-" Hollowcreek's eyes narrowed. Without Wolfsong they would have to rely on Cottonpaw being able to fix this... He wasn't hopeful. "This won't be the last of this war, in time they'll regret what they've done." It was a promise.
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( I SEE YOUR COLLARBONE ; AND WANNA LOSE CONTROL )