camp L’appel du vide [shot]

tw: violence / language

He’s caught up in the storm in his head, staring blisters into the weird carved pumpkin sitting on the twoleg porch railing he had decided to rest on. The steps made of rotten wood, decorated now with strange yellow and orange lights. Upwalkers were so strange during the colder moons, dressing their homes with colors hideous on the shells of their dens. The upwalker of the garage he lives partly- well, he never did such things. It was always noisy and gloomy, and quite eerie. A place for a crow like Thistleback. He was starting to think he was doing the old man a favor by keeping the yard free of rodents.

He didn’t owe the upwalker anything, but he did let the stray linger while he grew up so- there was a mutualistic respect. To call him a kittypet though, would be to speak without truth. Thistleback was feral through and through. He just- liked to consider this lonely metal shard jungle home part two.

present time - the pumpkin held a small flame, flickering and dancing. Grey eyes reflect it like two golden ghoulish orbs swimming in silver. He hears a strange spring and rattle behind him- snapping his chin to the side to spot a tall gangling twoleg with a large stick in his hand. The ugly things muzzle peppered with red ant-bites it looked like, and a snarl on its face.

Thistleback stares back, his own upper-lip twitching. He growls deeply now as the stick is angled at him. Too much had happened in the past few days, all the feline felt was stewing rage. The stick suddenly explodes POP…THAP!. Furious was the sting that electrocuted through his skull from the trangular flag of his ear. The impact reels him backward and off the railing with a thud. A grunt punched out of his chest and the whole world is white for several long moments. His side is bruised where he lands.

He groggily stands, the twoleg is aiming the stick at him again and Thistleback charges. Swinging out a leg to rake the clothed thing’s leg before retreating to the forest line. Long thin streaks of red seeping into the white of his face-fur. Crimson lightning across his maw from the jagged hole in his ear- he bursts into camp and rolls in stagger. Flush to the ground he breathes hard, nose crinkled in a snarl and eyes distanced like a wild animal.

" s-s-shit. " he could feel it now, the stinging like a thousand wasps.


  • — tl;dr: Thistle is shot with a 22. in the right ear while in twolegplace - there is a perfect hole right through. he's laid out in camp.

  • — Thistleback | thirty moons | cis-male
    — daylight warrior of Skyclan
    — bisexual | fallen for Deersong 9.29.22
    — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes. Wears a purple collar with brass clasp.
  • bVBPWus.png

 

wait around, i'll smile again

"Oh hell!" Watson's heart jumps a mile in his chest at the sudden entrance of the other cat and his body follows, skittering back against a nearby tree with a breathless gasp. He's already on edge and hiding it and this is the second time that someone has come bursting in to rattle his nerves. The first was much milder but this- well, it better not be a regular occurrence. The former kittypet's scowl quickly fades however when he realizes that it's no joke or exaggeration. The man is writhing in pain but his face is so reddened that Watson can't tell from where he's injured at a first glance, especially when the stranger's smushed himself into the ground. The acrid tinge of blood assaults his nose and where his heart went up, Watson's stomach sinks down like lead in water. He might be avoiding other Skyclanners for the time being but he's not selfish enough to let the other suffer without at least trying to assist. A noble thought, but in reality he has no idea what to do. He doesn't even know that they have healers here nor does he have a concept of one but surely someone must know a way to fix this or ease this staggering pain.

"What's happened to you?" Figuring there's no time to wait around for a response, the reddish tom calls out in his gravely voice, "Someone's injured! Please help!" Tentatively, the tom reaches out to attempt pressing a paw to Thistleback's shoulder, trying to snap him out of that dazed off look he has.
 
Butterflypaw's attention is swiftly grabbed by the tom charging into camp. He stumbles, rolling haphazardly onto the ground and it's only then when the stench of blood reaches her. Upon closer investigation, she can see his face stained with blood, and a sharp, quick scream escapes her before she clamps her jaws shut. She doesn't mean to shout, but-! Sunflower eyes stretch wide and she falls to the ground, burying her face between black and white paws. "Dawnglare! Dawnglare!" Is all she can yell, teeth bared out of fear. The cowardly girl can't bear to look at the blood any longer, so there she remains, unhelpful a good few fox-lengths away.

// @DAWNGLARE
 
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( ) it all happened so fast, first it was the flock of birds who practically poured out of the pine trees in alarm when something loud had spooked them then minutes after someone had barreled through the camp entrance in a disoriented fashion before unceremoniously crumpling to the ground.

when butterflypaw shrieked at the sight before her, the fur along the nape of his neck rose up quickly in trepadation. the smoke dropped all that he was doing and swiftly bounded over to the scene were he was met with the slumped form of thistleback who had rivulets of crimson staining his face and watson who was trying to coax the other out of his clear daze.

worry was reflected in amber pools as he approached closer to the piebald man, huckleberry was no medicine cat but he did know it was best to check the rest of him over to make sure he there wasn't any other visible wounds upon his body. "don't worry buddy, dawnglare should be comin' round soon ta help." words would come out soft as to avoid possibly overwhelming thistleback even more than he already was.

( i hear the wandering streams and the song of the birds )
 
I won't apologize for being who I am
Coyotekit had been meandering about within the boundaries of the nursery. Young paws tapped and smushed a few piles of moss together until he had a ball large enough to function as a pillow. He hoped that it would aid his restless sleeping at night and he was just in the process of placing it in his nest when he heard the terrified scream of Butterflypaw. With his makeshift pillow in tow he quickly made his way toward the mouth of the nursery to see what all the commotion was about. There were a few cats huddled around another lying on the ground. Yet upon closer inspection Coyote took note of the familiar monochromatic pelt and purple collar of Thistleback. Dark pupils became thin as paper that quivered back and forth with shock. The boy's heart hammered wildly within the cage that was his chest, cream paws moving at breakneck speed to make it toward the group.

"Thistleback..." Came his voice low and soft, worry gripping the youthful tones. What happened to him? Who did this to him? Anger bloomed within the kitten's chest, drowning out the fearful and worried look previously taking residence in his eyes. Already spiky tufts of fur rose further as the boy grimaces at the the crimson rivers running down the older tom's face. Dark thoughts and vivid imagery envelop the spotted tabby's mind before he finally speaks out again. "Whoever did this is gonna pay." He hisses, lowering his head to drop the little moss pillow he'd been carrying. Coyote's ears droop, nudging the green wad closer to the grizzled daylight warrior. "Here, hopefully it can make you fell a little more comfortable while we wait for Dawnglare." He murmurs whilst taking a seat.
Tryna throw shade on me say a lot 'bout you
 
𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝐼 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒

Her cream-colored ears had heard the loud bang while she had been out with Snowpaw. A wave of protectiveness had washed over her as she cut their training session short and with a hurried breath would tell her apprentice that it was time to hurry back home.

Paws of feathered grace would carry the warrior back towards him, her half-tail always brushing Snowpaw's side to ensure that the tom was ever at her side and she would feel her stomach drop when she spotted the thin trail of blood traveling through the camp entrance.

She would encourage Snowpaw to hurry into camp before her, and when she followed him inside the sight they were greeted with would knock the air out of the mollys' lungs. Her beloved, her chompers, crouched against the camp floor, the bright scarlet liquid that screamed against his white and black pelt made her almost scream if cats could even do that.

Fighting back the urge to be sick, Deersong would dash forward, coming to crouch on her mates' other side as she meowed in a voice that wavered with the fear that was also smoldering in her usually calm ocean hues, "Chompers, oh my poor Gem, what happened?" She didn't truly expect him to answer right away, and despite the panic that was rising in her chest she fought to stay calm. Huckleberry was here, along with many other clanmates, she trusted that one of them had already called for Dawnglaze.

Deersong would ever so gently pressed against Thistlebacks' side as she looked to the older cats present and meowed softly, "Has he said anything? About what caused this?" It was hard for her to keep the distress from her voice, but she figured that freaking out now would do no good.

Turning her head to blink at Coyotekit as the young tom vowed an act of vengeance and then offered Thistleback a moss ball to use as a pillow and Deersong felt admiration and gratitude slowly wash over the panic that was threatening to overcome her, "You are one special kit, you know that?"


// @Snowpaw obligatory apprentice tag! :)



 
(
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) "Aw damn! What happened?!" Totoro couldn't hide the shock from his face as he caught sight of the blood and the sorry state that Thistleback was in. No wonder everyone was in a buzz of frantic panic. But what had even happened? Had there been a dog attack? Enemy cat? Or something more sinister? Sometimes Totoro failed to realise just how cruel twolegs could be when they wanted to, even the male twoleg who came over to visit his female owner wasn't that nasty. "Guys, give him some space, don't crowd him."
 
The skin under his thorny fur, it must be cold- because the pawpad that touched his shoulder was searing hot. He didn’t pull away, but his dazed stare snaps to the longhaired orange and brown figure next to him. " wat-sson" his voice is slurred now with the spin of the trees in the sky, his ears roaring from the gunshot and bloodrush. Had he asked a question? Thistleback hissed as the man calls for help. A smaller voice rings in the air with a scream.

Dawnglare! Dawnglare!- " s-s-s-shhhhhh " he hisses out, hoping it would silence the world around him, he just- wanted to bite everything making noise right now. How bad was he messed up?

Huckleberry’s southern charm for a voice resounds, promising him the arrival of the big twinkle-toes they had for a medicine cat. " how bad … is it " he felt every vibration from his throat stirring the soupy world around him. He growls in frustration, he hated this feeling. His claws sink further into the grass and earth underneath as if demanding to be grounded.

This is when a bundle of paler color absorbs his visionaries, a wiry spool of soft moss in the small maw. The worry painted in Coyotekit’s eyes made Thistleback wonder what he had did to earn something like this- where in his twisted terribly aloof life, had he plucked this child’s whimsical affections? These thoughts, seem to slow the spinning. The vengeance on the cream tom-kit’s face pulls a faint smile on the pained and stunned Daylight warrior’s face. His chin thunks down on the pillowy moss offered. ‘whoever did this is gonna pay" I know they will … if they got a pair of claws like yours after them " Thistleback speaks hoarsely, aiming to tap his white-tipped tail to coyotekit’s shoulder. " Don’t you worry about that now lad… in time…. in time " his eyes close marginally as the stinging rips through his face once more from his ear.

Suddenly, the floral scent of Deersong washes over him. His chest feels warm- his eyes reopen but the camp is dark around the edges now and spinning violently. " my love " he whispers, the panic in her eyes danced like winter fire in the most precious of earth’s stones. He breathes out softly, skull lulling back and muzzle leaned onto the fur of her shoulder.

Totoro’s is finally a question he can register. " Black magic " he professes with a growl. " Like … biting someone with your eyes and they’re standing several tails away " he adds. " A twoleg- with a thunderstick thing… you must’ve heard it from here- …. cowardly weapon" he grinds out, but he’s forced to close his eyes again.

" is my ear gone ? " he lifts a paw to reach for his ear but it plops back down from the dizzy nature of his being at the moment.

[/b][/b]


  • — just a hole in the ear, not gone <3

  • — Thistleback | thirty moons | cis-male
    — daylight warrior of Skyclan
    — bisexual | fallen for Deersong 9.29.22
    — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes. Wears a purple collar with brass clasp.
  • bVBPWus.png

 
"What?" Blue-grey eyes, bitter and cold blink open to the seen before him. Sniveling, wretched— the tension is palpable, air sitting heavy with fear and blood. Of course, there isn't any way he could sleep through such a thing, to truly tuck his head away and drift into the land of dreams— not with the yowls, the panic. It's harder to ignore when you're mentioned by name though, isn't it?

Heavy as leather, his eyelids droop low, discontent clear as the morning sun upon his downy face. Rubber lips are downturned in a frown, flesh pulled taught in his expression. He more or less drags himself to the scene, little more than walking corpse, flesh-eating thing not in the mood to eat, not yet. PIebald, black and white fur, a spattering of domino, two-toned, now three, there's a spattering of blood, it paints his face like a work of art. Oddly fair in nature, provides a contrast to his usual looks, so rough and tumble.

He reaches him, at last, at last, paws dipped in alabester come to a halt at his frame, half-sprawled, half-propped, quite the state. sleepy-eyed wanderings flit to the bundle of moss the half-blood pushes toward him. Hm. "It's there," he tells him, and he lffts a paw to ger a clearer look—neglects to warm him about such an action, not like he had the energy to refuse. Admist the flecks of sunset-red, there it is, a hole too perfect to be anything preened by claws. He blinks, mouth falling slack around a hushed 'Oh.' It's quite... "Magic, yes..." It's almost dreamlike, when he repeats after him. "Housefolk contraption, crackling dagger— pierces through and doesn't stop," he's seen something similar. Somewhere, somehow.

A breath. "Fine— he is fine," he's sure, surely, likely, probable. Half-awake, he addresses them all, lingers on Deersong, strange closeness they had, ick. He moves to leave, but notices belatedly how he struggles to walk, dizzy as a bird. Perhaps he should be dizzy elsewhere. In a ditch, in his den, (the difference wasn't as big as you'd think). "Someone move him," he says, does not specify where, they could utilize a sliver of thought for once. His gaze is far away, slowly, slowly, lowers back to spike-furred blood. "Do you hear me fine?" he asks, passive. It's out of curiosity, more than anything else.
 
(
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) A twoleg did this? Why would twolegs ever unleash such cruelty? Well, he supposed there had to be some bad eggs out there, just like how some cats were capable of being cruel. It was troubling to say the least, but at he knew his owner would never do anything so evil! "Yeah, your ear is this there." He confirmed, supporting Dawnglare's words. And speaking of the fellow's words there was a request to move Thistleback. "I can help with that, but... um... move him where?" The subject of where was important of course, but he suspected it would involve moving the injured SkyClanner to a more comfortable location.​
 
I won't apologize for being who I am
A small nod is given to the eldritch tom, though it does not stop the claws that slip involuntarily from their sheathes. The tiny blades carving little trenches directly before them as they retreated in and out. They would pay, he would make sure of it, he just needed time to figure it all out. Before he can sink too deep the boy feels a tap at his shoulder that snaps him back to reality. "Alright...okay." He voices, words soft as he steps further to the side to allow Deersong more room. Mint green eyes finally catch hold of Dawnglare as he makes his arrival and Coyotekit awaits the tom's report with bated breath. "Fine-he is fine." A sigh of relief exits the boy's lungs, grateful that Thistleback was more or less okay. However the young tabby turns on cream dipped paws, standing to address the medic. "It's great that you think he's fine and all but Thistleback is still bleeding. Aren't you going to...I-I don't know slap something on it to make it stop?" Coyote intercepted, exasperation gripping his tone. He hoped that Dawnglare did not intend to just leave the daylight warrior like this.
Tryna throw shade on me say a lot 'bout you
 
"Myyyyy dennn ♪" he drawls, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world; and truly, it was, wasn't it? The daylight warrior is offered a flick of his tail, heavy nod in the direction of the dip in the ground. Perhaps— perhaps he wouldn't be prepared for the state it's been left in, leaves and bundles spread about. Belatedly, he recalls the new arrivals since he's chat with Cinderfrost, poisonous fronds haphazardly left... somewhere. Ah... Cool gaze narrows at Thistlefrost, surely he needn't a warning? But, he's been wrong before... "Don't eat anything I don't tell you to." He'd have to clean things up. ...Later.

And at the kit's question, he turns head. The slow blink he offers reads unimpressed, though an ear flicks in his acknowledgment. Slap something on it, the crudeness of it makes him snort. "Mhm, once he's... in my den," he says, with a glance to the daylight warrior who'd spoken before. If his tattered ear makes a mess on the way, they could deal with it, scuff it into red marks beneath their toes. Perhaps it is in a rare act of mercy, what he says next to the puny thing. "Why don't you go fetch some..." sure, it'd do fine... "Some damp moss... and bring it there. You can..." ugh... "see for yourself. He'll be all better," he says, blinking slow.
 
(
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) "Okay-dokey then." Totoro chimed as he returned his focus to Thistleback, now aiming to wedge his head under the other tom's belly with the hopes of rolling him up onto his rather large and squishy back. If successful, he would then aim to take him to Dawnglare's den. "And he's not a dog who licks things off the floor, jeez!" He added with a scoff as he reacted to the warning directed in the injured tom's direction.​