- Aug 24, 2022
- 413
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- 43
The muscles of his stomach clench, he gags and bursts away with coughs. His lungs are strained, he can barely breath but he groans and punches the edge of his bedding as a dry heave makes him lift up and stumble out of the nest of pine nettles he had built outside of Skyclan’s camp. He had been hunting and patrolling the grounds alone, the day following his assassination of Kuiper. To give his clanmates, some peace.
Wideblown eyes see nothing, in his restless sleep driven by exhaustion his life passes behind his eyes. Every wrong he had done, builds on the dirt in his life. Waterlogged regrets, something he never shows- had never spoken, had only felt on numb long-since damaged nerves. It had taken so long to clean off the blood, his claws were still black and stained. He growls with irritation in the lowlight of the sinking sun, pulls his friend’s collar off and over his skull to lay it on the nest and stare at the permanent alter of purple by way of violence.
Thistleback thinks of the man who used to wear this collar before him, a soul who probably never even swatted a fly. A cat who taught a starving wild animal that love and tenderness can be felt, no matter how thick the callus. Was this the thanks he gives? to the man whos memory lives only on his neck, to a clan who looked to him for safety, to man who trusted his council, to his family who depends on him, to Starclan who blessed him for whatever reason. To return to a former grounds, where sin grows like weeds.
A hungry dirty black and white kitten, who covets the kittypets and took a life at such a very young age- not knowing its depth until later when it aches and reels the cogs into a stern man. Motherless, fatherless, the destiny of an orphan born into harsh winter paved with unfocused anger. He had always walked the shadows. Nothing was different. He sought not pity, he loathed fear, he built the life he has from nothing.
A youth of woe and peril, had hardened him to stone. A heartless brutal monster that feels nothing and as Silversmoke says misses the feeling of blood on his fur. He digs up his past, right in front of the eyes of his children he vowed to never witness or live as he did. To protect them even if it meant losing sight of his path towards an afterlife with stars in the sky. He hoped to at least have the chance to walk them safely there before falling for his sins.
In the end, he was a tired man. Spent every moment of his life, fighting to stay afloat and alive in a world designed for his failure. A kitten who grew up fighting rats in an alley, wondering why no-one wanted him. How a twoleg boot to the ribs felt when your stomach is empty, and what it felt like to watch through a snowy window at a warm family snuggled up tight. So many things he used to watch curiously, he only later realized how much it hurt more than it did physically.
Skyclan changed his life, but had he changed? Ambition had forged a path for him. Family had lit a new torch. The bitterness still blossomed in his heart, and he tried so hard to bury it again. Thinking of the day his children opened their eyes for the first time. In the end, he was just a man. Despite it all, and the unthinkable.
A man who yearned so desperately to be held, craving and starving for affection so badly but not knowing it. So much that something snaps in him- he chokes, groans and has to press the back of his paw to his lips. Was he sick? When suddenly-
A guttural sob rips from his throat and he buckles forward, having to catch himself as he drops to his elbows. Lands in the dirt, jaws frozen into an agonized twist. Eyes that haven’t seen tears in 30 moons, glass over and bleed down his cheeks. He can’t suck in a breath, he can’t move as his toes curl in the dirt. Slowly, he folds his arms around himself, it feels like a dull knife is stabbed into his gut as a strange ache builds in his throat. His body quivers with the force of his sudden explosion of sorrowful gasp.
Thistleback had always severed his emotions before they could grow, urged himself to a state of coldness so that the ice of this world couldn’t smother his warmth. Now, he tilts his skull to the sky and finally mourns what he has become.
Wideblown eyes see nothing, in his restless sleep driven by exhaustion his life passes behind his eyes. Every wrong he had done, builds on the dirt in his life. Waterlogged regrets, something he never shows- had never spoken, had only felt on numb long-since damaged nerves. It had taken so long to clean off the blood, his claws were still black and stained. He growls with irritation in the lowlight of the sinking sun, pulls his friend’s collar off and over his skull to lay it on the nest and stare at the permanent alter of purple by way of violence.
Thistleback thinks of the man who used to wear this collar before him, a soul who probably never even swatted a fly. A cat who taught a starving wild animal that love and tenderness can be felt, no matter how thick the callus. Was this the thanks he gives? to the man whos memory lives only on his neck, to a clan who looked to him for safety, to man who trusted his council, to his family who depends on him, to Starclan who blessed him for whatever reason. To return to a former grounds, where sin grows like weeds.
A hungry dirty black and white kitten, who covets the kittypets and took a life at such a very young age- not knowing its depth until later when it aches and reels the cogs into a stern man. Motherless, fatherless, the destiny of an orphan born into harsh winter paved with unfocused anger. He had always walked the shadows. Nothing was different. He sought not pity, he loathed fear, he built the life he has from nothing.
A youth of woe and peril, had hardened him to stone. A heartless brutal monster that feels nothing and as Silversmoke says misses the feeling of blood on his fur. He digs up his past, right in front of the eyes of his children he vowed to never witness or live as he did. To protect them even if it meant losing sight of his path towards an afterlife with stars in the sky. He hoped to at least have the chance to walk them safely there before falling for his sins.
In the end, he was a tired man. Spent every moment of his life, fighting to stay afloat and alive in a world designed for his failure. A kitten who grew up fighting rats in an alley, wondering why no-one wanted him. How a twoleg boot to the ribs felt when your stomach is empty, and what it felt like to watch through a snowy window at a warm family snuggled up tight. So many things he used to watch curiously, he only later realized how much it hurt more than it did physically.
Skyclan changed his life, but had he changed? Ambition had forged a path for him. Family had lit a new torch. The bitterness still blossomed in his heart, and he tried so hard to bury it again. Thinking of the day his children opened their eyes for the first time. In the end, he was just a man. Despite it all, and the unthinkable.
A man who yearned so desperately to be held, craving and starving for affection so badly but not knowing it. So much that something snaps in him- he chokes, groans and has to press the back of his paw to his lips. Was he sick? When suddenly-
A guttural sob rips from his throat and he buckles forward, having to catch himself as he drops to his elbows. Lands in the dirt, jaws frozen into an agonized twist. Eyes that haven’t seen tears in 30 moons, glass over and bleed down his cheeks. He can’t suck in a breath, he can’t move as his toes curl in the dirt. Slowly, he folds his arms around himself, it feels like a dull knife is stabbed into his gut as a strange ache builds in his throat. His body quivers with the force of his sudden explosion of sorrowful gasp.
Thistleback had always severed his emotions before they could grow, urged himself to a state of coldness so that the ice of this world couldn’t smother his warmth. Now, he tilts his skull to the sky and finally mourns what he has become.
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— thistle cries for the first time since god knows
he's got complex emotions heh
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OPEN for Dice battles |
Thirty-three moons EVENT TRACKER | IMPORTANT INFO
— Lead warrior of Skyclan since 12.22.22
— Devoted to Deersong 9.29.22 | polyamorous
— Father of Coyotepaw, Pricklepaw, and Eveningpaw.
— mentoring Snowpaw graduate(s) Quillstrike
— very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
— voice & accent
— biography･ﾟ✧
stine#3004
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