sensitive topics IF I WAS YOURS \ dead prey

[TWITCHBOLT]

It smelled rancid. Twitchbolt bristled immediately at the thought of what it could be, that- that stench. Like death and rot and infection, but... maybe, maybe his panic ridden mind was exacerbating it a bit. Maybe. But everything had been pretty bad recently, hadn't it? Sickness and starvation and claws running through Skyclanner flesh... he glanced backward at his patrol, having strayed a little further ahead than he intended. Part of him didn't want to look- it was that pit-in-the-stomach feeling, what felt like psychic knowledge that he was going to see something bad.

Maybe it was unremarkable to anyone else, but the bluejay that laid shredded upon the ground made Twitchbolt's heart lurch.

Its beautiful feathers were shredded, blood-brushed, and he hated his mind for the image it supplied- of dark fur braided with those feathers, crusted with claret and cold with the claws of death. It looked like a horrible warning, a personal one- even though all rationality pointed toward it merely being hastily discarded thievery.

"Not again..." his tone was thick with worry, and he scanned the surroundings for any suspicious movement. But the cat scent was slightly stale, and he doubted following the trail would do anything but distract them from protecting their home. Whatever- whoever, it was a who- was doing this, they couldn't be allowed to get near camp.

Wide green eyes turned to look at his own tail- in the bend of its break was threaded his own bluejay feather, plucked from his friend's pelt to meet his. They could die any moment, either of them. Quillstrike wouldn't, wouldn't die on him, he was sure. But- but it was possible, wasn't it?

Distracted, he stared at that feather, instead of the plucked-apart prey right before him.​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

◇────────────【☆】★【☆】────────────◇​

XXXXXMore crowfood left haphazardly in their territory, a miasma of reek and rogue scent thick in the crisp leaf-fall air. Blazestar clenches his jaw as he surveys the scene Twitchbolt had stumbled upon. “Filthy creatures, not even burying their prey when they’re done with it,” he growls, uncharacteristic rage flashing in blue eyes. “Foxes and other predators will be all over this disgusting mess if we don’t bury it.” He gets to work, gaunt face tight with frustration as he digs his hole. Once the shredded bit of rancid prey is pushed into the hole, Blazestar notices Twitchbolt’s mismatched eyes trained on something.

XXXXXHe bristles, wary that one of the rogues who’d done this had returned, but he soon realizes it’s the feather at his tail Twitchbolt is captivated by. Thinking, no doubt, of the cat who’d placed it there. Blazestar’s expression softens, and his tail tip flicks against the lead warrior’s shoulder. “SkyClan will survive this.” For a moment, his own thoughts stray to Bobbie, in a place so far away he cannot even picture her—locked away from him in some castle of stone and ice. Would she return, and if she did, would she return to her Clan destroyed, her children harmed? His claws sift through the pine needle-strewn forest floor, determination creeping into his eyes. “We must.”

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[LITTLEMOON]

it's not my fault i have my father's eyes .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He stared at the shredded bluejay, feeling his fur prickle with unease, glancing wearily at the warriors before him. He still looked puny against them, making him twitch, shuffling back, gaze narrowing. “Rogues?” He muttered, voice barely audible. He never—Littlepaw shook his helm, letting out a shaky breath.

It seemed he was too far into his head to realize what was happening, Blazestar moving within his peripheral that did enough to pull him out of it. Shaking his helm, the small feline watched with deadpan optics, tail curling at the tip, resting languidly against his flank, lips thinning.

He doubted it. SkyClan wouldn’t have a future for very long. Littlepaw wasn’t all that optimistic. He didn’t think like others. He didn’t want to. He wanted to do something. He didn’t like this. He didn’t want anyone else to suffer. He didn’t want Thistlekit to suffer. His heart clenched, shaking his helm. No. No. Shut up. He thought, inhaling the rancid smell of decaying prey, shoulders pulling taunt. He was fine.

/ mentor tag @Dogbite !​

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thought speech​

 

[DOGBITE]

✦ CW starvation, and nausea

Sluggishly the depleted form of Dogbite trudged after their apprentice. Eyes glazed from lack of rest and bones painfully evident as his thin pelt stretched with every step. If it wasn't for the sour twist in their stomach each time he attempted to eat his physique would surely be in better shape.

Now he was barely making it through most hunts or training sessions with Littlepaw.

Hearing the gags and gasps of his clanmates roused the skeletal warrior. Ears limp and expression void of its usual flame. Suddenly, his eyes widened as the foul stench intruded their scent glands. Retching he stumbled back. Stomach now a maelstrom of sick as they tied the brutal scene with its abhorrent aroma.

Rather than hurl he held it back sitting on their aching joints and aiming to wrap a protective tail around their apprentice. Hoping to quell the numbed look in their face from the gruesome mess. Hoarsely he croaked in disgust. "This is a mess." Not even Blazestar's sturdy composure or strong words could rouse them from this stupor.

It had hardly been a few sunrises ago that he gained his name and student. Yet, they had deteriorated at a rapid rate, similar to a summer flower in winter. To the bedraggled tabby it felt like ages ago since they had all bid their clanmates farewell. Still, they would not mourn them, they owed them more time than that. For now he would sit in remorse and try to continue holding up his own weight.

•°.⋆ INFO

• ooc ;
• 
  
  
  
  ✧ 28 moons old
  ✧ skyclan warrior
  ✧ he/they ; single
  ✧ child of npc x npc
  ✧ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✧ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ✧ penned by tasmagoric

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