private makin' tiny cuts at fur ➺ thrash

[doepath ࿔]

There's a part of the spirit that dies to be surrounded in a whirlwind of herbs and wobble-lipped stares.... worry catches in the pelts like a thousand paper cuts, wearing down the confidence of kin and friend alike. Her contribution is to add to the pile, like flint struck to encourage a roaring fire to grow. It burns in her veins like one too, the humiliation and fear that sends fur on end at any unexpected approach. She spits like wayward embers too, a nasty sound that doesn't suit the softness of her face and one undeserved by its unfortunate victim. He's just trying to help. Everything hurts.

Light filters through the entrance of the den, dipped in the sunlight's gentle touch where it brushes, leaving a halo of bright color against the small silhouette of a dark figure. Skepticism seeps into fear, holding its hand and bolstering it towards defensiveness- but this shadow is too little to be a real threat... Looks too alike another smallish phantom that had come looking for her. Had Fallowbite told them what had happened? What did happen? Discomfort forms a knot in her stomach, swallowed down and shoved into an even tighter ball.

Her nose scrunches to draw in the scent of her visitor, an ever-present scowl formed in the shapes of his face. "What's wrong," she asks softly, assuming Thrashkit has come here with some sort of complaint. Perhaps to tattle on his sibling and hoping Doecry might be able to come tell it to share? Every blink is a new struggle, exhaustion clinging like a heavy blanket on her back and urging her to go back to sleep... A small shake of her head, just to shake off the tiredness a little... "Lose your...." Her tongue stops short, hung up on the image of the stringy, round mass.... it's a toy.... "Toy?" It'd have to work as a replacement instead....

@THRASH​

 

[THRASHPAW]

-ˋˏ ༻☾༺ ˎˊ-​

He didn't like that Doepat- Doecry? Why did everyone's names keep changing anyways? It was so confusing, why couldn't she just still be Doepaw? Anyways, he didn't like that she hadn't visited them. He was told it's because she can't leave the medicine den and he labels her as a prisoner, was she being kept here against her will? He heard about her accident, he had also heard some warriors whisper in the safeish haven of the nursery that it may not have been an accident.

He blames Fallowbite for it, it's easy to do. It had killed before, killed kin no less, so the distrustful and afraid Thrashkit could only assume that she had done it again. She had to see her for herself, while the kit had no idea how to decipher what's an accident and what's on purpose they figured it would be better to see than to stay in the dark. The black smoke stands in the entrance of the medicine cat den, the sight of their older sister curled in her nest, layered with cobweb and the intermingling scent of herbs dancing in the air. It was enough to essentially freeze him in place, brain slow to catch up to what its eyes see.

What's wrong? He wasn't sure, he just felt the need to see her. Her question brings him to come forward, staring at the ground as he walks. Trying to make sure that she didn't trip or stumble on her path to her nest. “No, Yip has it” he mumbles in response to her second question as he sits by her nest. He refuses to call him Yippingkit, why did his name have to change too?

What's wrong? He still hadn't answered “How long…Are you stuck here?” Offering a counter question. A paw bats at a stray piece of moss from her nest, unsheathed claws methodically taking apart that small clump. “Don't like that you're here” that's a suitable answer he guesses, it's hard to answer a question when he wasn't entirely sure himself.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I was born hungry ☆ What do I need‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  

• 

• THRASHKIT
  any pronouns, 3 moons
  ☆ A black smoke with abnormally bright amber eyes and a habit of crouching while they walk.
  ☆ Bayinghound x Duke | Littermates with Howlkit & Yippingkit
  ☆ Due to her circumstances surrounding it's life she will be confrontational in the majority of their interactions { will start fights | will not end fights | will not run away and might be merciful }
  ☆ "speech" | thoughts | attacking
  ☆ All opinions are IC only!

​

 

[doepath ࿔]

The fibers of moss tear under the careful dissection of kitten claws, pried to be used as a physical source of comfort for his uncertainty. The silence to her question is enough to make her doubt her vision, to make her question just how much the medicine cat had softened the truth of her injuries. Had she hit her head harder than he made it seem? Was this a cruel vision, a mock-up of company that the heart ached for but the mind shied from?

The mumble of a short answer releases her from her fears, ears drooping slightly in relief as she shifts cautiously to wrap her tail closer to her body, to hide the spotty fur where the road had ripped at her like it was hungry too. "It's nice of you to share," goes encouraged, hoping it doesn't sound too much like babying that she cannot offer a more riveting conversation to follow. He doesn't linger on it...

"How long," she repeats back, as if trying to confirm that's what she'd been asked before a small, uncertain hum carries in her throat. How long...? Dandelion gaze shifts back and forth, as if moving them will sift through the foggy memories of intermittent conversations better. Flip through pages of blurry notes. "Don't like that you're here," her lips part, surprise hollowing her voice.

That was possibly the sweetest thing the little burr had said to her.... Was he scared?

Doecry reaches out her nose, trying to touch it to Thrashkit's cheek apologetically, "I'm sorry.... It'll be a little bit longer still." The answer is not the concrete one she's sure they hope for... mostly because she can't remember what it is. Instead, the fawn molly struggles to find ways to ease their worries. "I'll be okay though.... and you can come see me whenever you want.... Even if it's just to take a..." Her lips thin in thought, scrambling again, "Small rest."​

 

[THRASHPAW]

-ˋˏ ༻☾༺ ˎˊ-​

A grunt is all that he can really offer in reply but he doesn’t bristle in hiss. Which isn’t much but was a clear indication of improvement and that Thrashkit didn’t necessarily believe he was being babied at this moment. There is a moment where he seems to pause in thought before shuffling even closer, practically draping over the nest to paw at more of the stringy moss within. Careful enough to avoid touching her but not considering what the importance of personal space would be, after all his mind was often drawn back to the cramped fox burrow den that he lived in with his littermates.

He ignores the repeat of his question, not out of malice but because they just didn’t understand why it would be repeated. Eyes narrow in a squint before snapping back to a usual wide stare, still attempting to keep that paw busy. Thrashkit flinches at the nose that touches his cheek, willing himself to stay under her touch but through clenched teeth. The kitten is sure that he could shatter his own fragile teeth and jaw if he clamped it hard enough, Doecry was hurt so they didn’t want to hiss at her but the instinct to do it remained.

Unlike the other older sisters it was difficult in this moment to try and view Doecry as any kind of threat. It didn’t understand the concept of sympathy but maybe this was something close to it. He tried to not think about how it could have been possible for her to not be here but to be somewhere far distant to his imagination. Strewn about on the ground and wheezing a final breath, they assume it could have been just as easy for that to happen. So she guesses that this is being lucky then, something good. The concept is foreign but she understands that good things shouldn’t be hissed at.

He’s silent, for a little too long. Waiting out the last wave of an anxious tremor. “Why? It stinks here” the complaint isn’t a whine, he was raised to be quiet and quiet kits don’t whine. Even when the den they’re in really smells. That rigid posture deflates as they let themself relax a little, she’ll be okay so that’s what matters he guesses. Wide eyes flicker back down at the nest and linger for a heartbeat before looking back to the she-cat. “Can I…” trailing off to look back at the nest, he doesn’t know how to really ask for things. It’s a learning curve, one that he doesn’t quite understand he needs to take. Knowing that he has to but not as to why. “Rest? Now?”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I was born hungry ☆ What do I need‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  

• 

• THRASHKIT
  any pronouns, 4 moons
  ☆ A black smoke with abnormally bright amber eyes and a habit of crouching while they walk.
  ☆ Bayinghound x Duke | Littermates with Howlkit & Yippingkit
  ☆ Due to her circumstances surrounding it's life she will be confrontational in the majority of their interactions { will start fights | will not end fights | will not run away and might be merciful }
  ☆ "speech" | thoughts | attacking
  ☆ All opinions are IC only!

​

 

[doepath ࿔]

Her touch doesn't linger, a tickling in the back of her head saying she shouldn't push her luck. Thrashkit, just as her name suggests, is nothing if not prickly. The tension of one so small is surprising, staggering in its rigidity... How one so little could hold so much anger, Doecry cannot understand. Had she been so stony once? No... no most definitely not... that had always been Fallow's prerogative. An amused gleam shines in sun-drop eyes, envisioning her tiny sibling as a mimicry of her litter-mate.... sour-tongued and scowling. No one would deny they were kin....

They dance through each-others thoughts with different kinds of wariness. He doesn't understand the fawn that smiles at him adoringly and she, terrified of scaring away one so brittle and ready to burn in vibrant blaze.

She waits, patiently, for their scrutinizing glances to inform their next line of questioning, a declaration of disgust and curiosity paw-in-paw. "It's the safest place to be," she answers gently, "Even with the stink..." A yawn splits her maw, eyes squeezing shut despite her best efforts to stifle it.

Her gaze, heavier now than before, trails back to the scowling face of the young shadow, widening briefly in surprise as his closeness finally registers. Now...? The long-haired molly squirms to make some room for the kit to snuggle closer, if he was willing, "W-well yeah," she purrs. "Come get comfy...."

A drowsy smile settles on her features as she rests her head on her paws, "Promise not to squish you...." It is largely a joke... hopefully it isn't deemed a sincere threat.​

 

[THRASHPAW]

-ˋˏ ༻☾༺ ˎˊ-​

The safest place to be… Isn’t that the nursery? He wonders what that’s supposed to mean. Can two places simultaneously be the safest place to be or is one lying? It hurts to think about it, so reluctantly he decides to accept Doecry’s words as fact. A rather big leap from his usual judgemental nature, it wasn’t that it trusted her per say but rather he couldn’t dwell on the substance of her words since it was beyond his comprehension.

He squints at the yawn, ears flattening against his skull. Maybe I should go, that’s the first thought that crosses her mind. Not wanting to keep her up and grappling with that feeling of burdening the other by keeping her awake so far. However, she doesn’t tell him no. Nor request that it leaves, instead she’s accomdating. It’s clear that Thrashkit is surprised by the gesture, backing up slightly as he’s unsure what to actually say or do. He had wanted this but the stillness of him suggests the fear of following through.

It would be bad if it decided not to after they had just asked, right? In the end he decides to snuggle closer to her. “Okay… You better not” he frowns at the thought, unable to tell if she’s joking or not. He hopes she is, they didn’t want to have to scratch her if she wasn’t since she was already injured enough. They tuck their tail around themself and curl up tightly, a habit that she’s yet to break. Despite the fact that the smell of herbs is sickening as he curled up next to Doecry in this moment they guess they can understand how it’s the safest place to be.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I was born hungry ☆ What do I need‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  

• 

• THRASHKIT
  any pronouns, 4 moons
  ☆ A black smoke with abnormally bright amber eyes and a habit of crouching while they walk.
  ☆ Bayinghound x Duke | Littermates with Howlkit & Yippingkit
  ☆ Due to her circumstances surrounding it's life she will be confrontational in the majority of their interactions { will start fights | will not end fights | will not run away and might be merciful }
  ☆ "speech" | thoughts | attacking
  ☆ All opinions are IC only!

​