sensitive topics inimicus vel amicus ; vermilionsun

[ThistleBack]

He was still stewing, tightlipped glare leveled out into the frosted camp with narrowed discontent. Deersong and he, were having their first argument. She wasn’t talking to him now apparently, and it was slightly comical to see two adults who share three children- stomp around eachother huffing. Thistleback opted to guard the first few nights, though he missed the warmth of his family at his side, he had to match his mate’s petty.

His thoughts finally simmer to neutrality as the sun sinks behind the grey clouds of leafbare. Darkness swollen orange upon the white wonderland, making every tall pine so vivid. Planted on his ribs and gnawing on a stick was the spike furred guard. He could smell the irritated torn skin, feel the heat radiating from the mouth of the den at his back.

The rustling makes him turn his chin over his snow dusted shoulder. Vermilionsun was restless, Thistleback’s nose crinkles naturally at the sight of him. It’s a bitter grudge forged by jealousy he felt, but for once- a split moment of heart purges the wicked man. His features soften, though his eyes are still sharp and hateful. He lifts to his paws, pours himself into the discomforting smells of the den. Angered wounds and- Thistleback holds a paw near the prisoner’s skull with a soft hmph. The old Thistleback would’ve taken the opportunity to smother him, this one- swallows his hate, apparently.

He disappears briefly and reappears with moss pressed with snow. aims to drape it surprisingly delicately across Vermilionsun’s forehead and ears. " Dirt and snow, a stray’s best medicine " he murmurs, reminiscing on being a wandering street cat. " I miss those days. Well- minus the rat bites … I’ll never forget that fever" he adds, slipping back down to his ribs but nearer to Vermilionsun.

​

OOC INFO REF

• — @VERMILIONSUN
  
  
• 
  
  
  ✧ T H I S T L E B A C K
  thirty-three moons
  — warrior of Skyclan
  — taken by
  Deersong 9.29.22
  — mentoring quillpaw
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes. ･ﾟ✧​
• 
  
  

​

 

[VERMILIONSUN]

❝ we're children playing at a game, screaming that the rules aren't fair. ❞

He could deal with enormous amounts of pain, he could deal with losing half of his eyesight- those were things he could all cope with in time, grow used to. But this feverish ghoul inside of him, eating away at his body until he can do nothing but sleep all day and night. The wound had festered long before he arrived here to SkyClan, the filthy sewer waters infecting the wound almost instantly. Though too stubborn to heal himself and too terrified of that sorcerer to accept his help, he'd rather die than accept help.

Thistleback was assigned to guard his little jail cell in the tree trunk's base, rotting and wet with melted snow. He sniffs against the cold weather, though the heat beneath his skin and the shaking of cold doesn't do him much justice. He wanted to tell the tom to go the hell away, to go be with his kids- assign another guard to him. It wasn't like Vermilionsun planned to run, but he absolutely couldn't stand seeing his old friend's mate around for long.

He disappears soon, returning with something cold that presses to his forehead. Vermilion lets out a shuddering sigh at the relief, grimacing against the sickly smell of infection. It would heal, but it would take time. Infection could heal itself if you keep it clean, right? Right?? Dirt and snow, a stray’s best medicine. He speaks, and Vermilion grunts out his own soft bout of laughter. "It's been so long, I don't even remember what my birthplace was like. The twolegs weren't so nice where I'm from." He mumbles softly, delirious yet willing to talk despite the fever. I miss those days. Well- minus the rat bites … I’ll never forget that fever. "You got bit by a rat and you're not a corpse? Impressive." He huffs softly, burying his nose beneath the lion-like tuft of his tail. Aquamarine hues shift towards steely greys, though he can't quite see the tom correctly. "Who fucked your face up?" He asks bluntly, admiring the long scar along his face- down his eye, over his lips. Man, that looks like a fight..​

​