sensitive topics memory as confidence | body discovery

[Cherryblossom]

It's late. Afterdusk today is as unclouded as a bell's ring, the wind whistling through the pines. Past the canopy, the velvet canvas overhead is flecked with stars, as clear as each of the fine white hairs on Cherryblossom's pelt. The deputy weaves through the trees as she's always done, a quiet patrol following behind her flame-gloss tail. There's no one to talk to on tonight's patrol: Drowsynose has apparently busied himself with Falcongaze (who she's still not quite sure why she even invited along), and she assumes Duskpool is as contemplative and taciturn as always.

She keeps an ear twisted backwards just in case, the untorn one. But whatever the two toms are discussing seems always out of reach, masked by rustling needles or passing gusts of wind, and she finds herself unusually uncaring about what everyone else is up to tonight anyway. Maybe she's just tired. Or hungry. Or...

Her nose twitches, a wink of blushing light through the shadows. She makes her changes incrementally, as if not to scare: a slight quickening of her pace, a slight tilt of the head, a slight pull on her brow. Then, she ventures, "Do you guys smell that?" Death's scent is a musky one, gritty and grainy through clenching teeth. With a flick of her tail, she neatly hops down from the trees and strides towards the boundary to the Twolegplace.

There. In the artificial sun cast by the twoleg nests, it's easy enough to identify the body as Tatteredlight. The large stain beneath him is clearly blood; even in the state it's in, dried for hours, it strikes her tongue with its discordant metallicism. It shrivels up in her mouth, resisting when she tries to swipe it over her lips. "Oh, StarClan." Not another one. "I..." Cherryblossom refuses to look at the rest of the patrol, though she longs to turn towards them with wide eyes and a whine from her throat. "We need to... What happened?"

@DROWSYNOSE @DUSKPOOL @falcongaze

skyclan deputy | "speech." | tags​

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[DROWSYNOSE]

STILL DON'T KNOW MY NAME​

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// cw for emetophobia, self deprecating thoughts, paranoia, panic attack.
small ooc note: his thoughts are not another voice. it's simply his worst doubts/fears/insecurities in his inner voice. he thinks these things of himself!! //

drowsynose is not a fan of the light night patrols. he knows they're necessary, and though he is terrified of the things that happen at night, he has never been the one to say no. not that he really would. when the leader, or the deputy, or a lead warrior tell someone to do something, more times than not, they do it. drowsynose doesn't fight authority, or anyone, really. it's not his thing. so he continues to follow cherryblossom, occasionally glancing up at her with curiosity. how was she doing? was she okay? being deputy was a lot of responsibility for such a young cat. he never could shoulder it. he barely knew how to carry the weight of a warrior. he's not his sister nor his brother. he's just the poor excuse of a littermate that turned into whatever he was now. his eyes blink at the thought. he doesn't know where that's come from, but he's decidedly ignoring that. no good comes out of random self deprecating thoughts.

"do you think that–"

though his voice is low enough only for falcongaze to hear it, it is abruptly cut off by an all too familiar floral scent. it seeps into his senses like a rot, and he swears it will infect him too. it might. this kind of stuff just follows you around. not a pleasant inner thought. he shakes his head, trying for a moment to convince himself that that's not what he's smelling. but the way cherryblossom moves, perks and eventually smells it tells him that he can't escape this one. his nose was right. his nose almost always was right. why did he try to convince himself that somehow this would be different? and why did he freeze so easily, and not say something? because even the most morbidly curious cats can be a coward like you, drowsynose. it's not wrong. he is a coward, and he's almost always been one. he wonders what happened to that confrontational and protective young kit he used to be but, now is not the time to reminisce about the past. he's gotta figure out the source. he follows cherryblossom, both for the sake of her ego and for his own hesitance to even go forward.

the smell of crimson copper, and rotting flowers do a dance. a tango. entwined in the horribly sickening smell of one cat. his nose can smell it before he can see it and stars above he hates that he's seen it at all. his eyes widen and his vision becomes more blurry than just his one eye is. his breath starts to quicken, and he stumbles away from the body– if only a few steps back– as he stares at it. every bit of blood. every wound. the look on his face. every single fur. all committed to memory, and embedded deep within him. and look at that. i was right. i wonder if you're next? he can't move. he can't think. as he can do is begin to breath heavily, rapidly trying to find some air into his lungs that don't seem tainted with the stain of death. it's not working and the further this goes on, he feels like he can't breathe. he can't do this. what... what if she did this? what if this was some sort of warning o-or something foreshadowing his fate? what if he was next? he's next, isn't he? he's gonna be the one they find next. dead. crumpled here and left alone to die in pain. in agony.

oh st-stars, I'm next. i... I'm gonna die here... and... I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I never told anyone, okay!? I never will! please don't kill me, please please please! i-i'll tell them it was a dog! o-or a squirrel! or... a-another clan! please just don't– oh stars! he wants to plead out loud but nothing is moving except for his dinner. bile creeps up his throat and he finds himself running to a nearby bush to throw up. his body won't stop shaking and even still he turns back to stare at the body. he needs to say something. to do something. let's face it, drowsy. you're the most useless cat on this patrol. no wonder so many cats hate kittypets. wh-what?! no! he doesn't hate himself for being of kittypet blood! he– oh, stars he can't– he's throwing up whatever's left, heaving and whimpering before jolting away in case someone tried to touch him. his instinct to run was on high but the deputy was here. she was going to totally make fun of him for this, wasn't she? and what of duskpool and falcongaze? they probably think he's pathetic right now.

because you are. pathetic, that is. why she invited such a useless heap like you, i'll never know. he doesn't know, either. he wants to go home.

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[DUSKPOOL]

don't raise your voice . improve your argument .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Nothin’ more than a mundane patrol set just as the sun fell, bracketin’ the sky in luscious hues of dusk — unlike his namesake, Duskpool ain’t all that pretty compared to it, bringin’ a long-awaited sigh from the tight-lipped warrior, bringin’ fiery hues to his patrol feelin’ far older than he was amongst young adults kids still in his eyes. His bulkier build strained beneath aberrant skin, clawed forelimbs skimmin’ the surface with each step, drawin’ in the familiar bundle of scents till the rich, dull coppery tinge of ichor settled heavily against his tongue drawin’ a rumbled breath from the warrior.

Not again. He had the forethought to whisper, lips peeled into a cumbersome scowl, molten hues hardenin’ when familiar fur shattered that conception with a shaky breath, surgin’ forward on heavy paws to peer into familiar odd hues that held life now dulled brought an agonizing throb through his chest, shatterin’ the rapid beats of his heart to grit his teeth. No. No this wasn’t — Duskpool cursed, muffled by the rattled expressions of Drowsynose and Cherryblossom. “Don’t—” His shoulders sagged, breathin’ harshly through a scarred nose and pushin’ the wailin’ grief that split him down the middle because not again, please not again repeated like a mantra.

His features molded like fine wine, remain’ carefully blank, Duskpool glanced at his old apprentice with bittersweetness. Damnit! He wanted to shout, to toss somethin’ in a pit of rotten anger because this wasn’t — it’s pointless, Duskpool. His subconscious reminded him, already his voice’s timber fell shattered at the grief of losin’ another member. His family. The one he’d sworn to protect was yet again rattled at the hinges and damnit Duskpool didn’t know what to do but block the other’s view of Tatteredlight’s bloodied frame. “Can you smell anythin’ Cherryblossom?” His timbre rumbled low, hangin’ thunder, hopin’ to direct her attention elsewhere than the body at their paws, shrouded in metallic, already assumin’ the worst of what happened.

The older warrior breathed, maw parted to scent the air, overpowered by the metallic crimson that permitted the air, drownin’ out anythin’ else that’d tell ‘em what happened only to come up short.

“Rouges.” He muttered after a heartbeat, chest tightenin’ with a pained shudder, fiery hues flutterin’ shut with a quiet sigh. Duskpool had been around enough dogs to know that this might’ve been the work of a cat. “Might be best to see if we can find somethin’, but I doubt we’ll find anythin’.” He tossed a glance at Cherryblossom before movin’ forward, nose pressin’ against Tatteredlight’s cheek, tongue raspin’ across a furred cheek. I’ll return ya to Duststorm, kiddo. Ain’t gotta worry about anythin’ else but restin’ that mind of yers. A silent promise to the fawn-colored warrior, heart shudderin’ at the prospect of havin’ to tell his son-in-law that his younger brother was dead. Fox-hearted cowards.

SkyClan had enough death, but life sure ain’t picky tossin’ one thing after another, no empathy for what came after. He bit back a breathless chuckle tinged with the bittersweetness he’d become familiar with.

His gaze slithered to Drowsynose, heart givin’ a painful tug, maw parted to speak, but thought better of it, glancin’ at Falcongaze. “Look after him.” He ain’t that stupid not to notice the connection between the two, and he doubted Drowsynose needed his old mentor, not when he failed the first time and sure as hell not now when it seemed nothin’ but horrible things came about to those who knew him.

“Best be gettin’ the body to camp before somethin’ bigger comes roundin’ the corner for an easy meal.” He hated how it made his gut churn, but it was nothin’ but cold fact, even if it made his heart cry out in wilted grief, tired of findin’ body after body 'that he fell uncomfortably numb to it all that his voice remained characteristically deadpan throughout it all.​

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thought speech​

 

[falcongaze]

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- Death was not something Falcongaze was unfamiliar with. The acrid scent had often haunted his dreams- those who fell to yellowcough or rouges. He himself had hovered at the edge, transported from camp to camp as he waited for it to take him over. But he had survived, for better or for worse. The social issues he could leave behind- life was more important then that.

A night patrol kept his paws walking in line with Drowsynose's, his 'friend' step for step with him. His thoughts were between making sure there was enough room between them for deniability, his eyes cast forward, and why Cherryblossom of all cats invited him. Maybe just to keep up appearances that she was better then him- the bigger cat. That was a bitter thought to swallow as he stared forward.

His ears twitched as Drowsynose began to speak and quickly was cut short, the point glancing towards him before forward as the scent hit him as well. His muzzle and nose instantly wrinkled, stepping up after Cherryblossom, falling a step or two short as he saw the body. Too late did he think about the smoke nearby, too late he realized that Drowsynose was already falling prey to his own mind. "Stars." He uttered, ears flattening back against his ear, eyes narrowing. It's been hours, which makes this scene all but more ghastly.

Duskpool's glance back is what snaps him out of his trance, eyes locked in near anger on the body in front of them. He looks towards the older warrior, the previous mentor to Drowsynose, and his head swung at the statement. It felt like a hundred needles in his heart realizing what was happening. "Drowsynose. Hey." He couldn't make his voice warm- it did not leap to the surface like it had for Lupinesong when they were both sick, he couldn't put a smile to his face. Not in the terms of what just happened. "Deep breaths."

Falcongaze did take a step closer, but his friend- he is more then that- took a step away. Teeth grit, and Falcongaze stepped between Drowsynose and the body, doing what he could to block the scene. The scent still hung heavy. "Cherryblossom. I'm going to take Drowsynose back- can you two carry..." Falcongaze swallowed. "Can you carry Tatteredlight, or should I send another cat back?" Blue eyes shifted towards Cherryblossom- optics begging silently for her to put aside their differences right now.

Upon getting his answer, Falcongaze turned, stepping tenatively closer to Drowsynose, his blue eyes intent. "Look at me. We're going to go back to camp, okay? We can tell Orangestar what's happened, and we'll get some water on the way to get that taste out of your mouth." He said, no room for argument, trying to give his significant other an escape.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ILL SEE YOU WHEN ⋅❁⋅ THE WRATH COMES AROUND ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• FALCONGAZE 🌧 he/him, warrior of skyclan, fifteen moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate lynx point with deep blue eyes, and a long scar on his left cheek down under his jawline. pushes his 'hair' back. very long legged, half oriental moggie.
  ⭃ previously mentored by greeneyes / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ padding after no one / / brother to spottedpaw and sagepaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[Cherryblossom]

The sound of Drowsynose vomiting behind her makes her skin crawl. No, it makes her bones want to launch out of her body, turn herself inside out, shield her lovely pelt from the liquid atrocities scattered around her. Drowsynose's bile, the dark stain beneath Tatteredlight, the saliva drying on the inside of her cheeks: it's all so nauseatingly overwhelming. And that didn't even touch on the body's soul, maybe having slipped out through parted jaws some hours ago, a wispy silver-white thing like what she imagines stardust to be. A thing far more beautiful than what he left behind.

"Can you be quieter?" she wants to snap at the warrior—the warrior, for StarClan's sake! None of them were strangers to dead bodies; it was just this one that bled... so much. Duskpool's rumble punctuates the thought, eerily calm amid Drowsynose's trembling and Falcongaze's pitiful attempts to help. "I, um..." She's hesitant to breathe in even more of stale, clotted blood, but she loosens her chest and inhales anyway. I should be the one saying that, she sourly thinks, the sooty tip of her tail twitching with constrained agitation.

"Can't smell anything over this StarClan-forsaken blood," the calico mutters, a beat before Duskpool makes his assessment. Cherryblossom gives him a glance, the question on her tongue quickly dissipating beneath the sheer heat of his gaze. Pale eyes follow as he lumbers forwards, pressing his scars against Tatteredlight's before shoveling off to a more promising corner of the crime scene. His relationship to the fallen warrior was a close one, it seems. She thinks she rarely sees him outright nuzzle any of the corpses that have piled up over the past moons. "...'kay," she meows quietly.

The sweet syllables of her name form in the grip of a loathsome voice, made even more so by their circumstances. Citrine eyes snap icily towards Falcongaze as he dares order her around, to skirt his own duties no less. At least, it should be her telling him to escort Drowsynose back, not that she would ever tell him to do that. Instead, she'd rather tell the second-largest cats of the patrol that it should be them shouldering the burden of Tatteredlight, not (somehow) the smallest of them. Cherryblossom blinks dismissively at the pleading eyes, but she holds her tongue about it. "Me and Duskpool should be fine," she sighs.

She doesn't stay to watch Falcongaze shoulder Drowsynose out. The calico returns to the ginger tabby's cooled side, wrestling down the discomfit once again rearing its head at the notion of being so close to it all. "How do you... want to do this...?" she says to Duskpool around the cold stone in her throat.

skyclan deputy | "speech." | tags​

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