- Jun 17, 2024
- 21
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𓇢𓇢 He has made his choices, Nightbird had said of Wrathpaw, stating the clan’s clear intent to see the boy punished for his crimes. Laughblossom cannot blame them, as painful as it is, and so all he can do is slink into Gentlestorm’s den, head held low as he ducks inside, a squirrel tucked against his chest. It doesn’t take long for his gaze to settle on the cat he’s searching for, and he deposits his prey on the ground before speaking.
"Wrath…" he says, and trails off because he isn’t sure what his brother should be called. He would be warrior now, if not for his costly mistakes. He should no longer be burdened with paw, but at the same time he surely can’t be called something like Wrathhowl. That name is… nothing short of venomous, Laughblossom thinks. He may think the world of his younger brother, but he had still had a not-insignificant part in murdering Howlingstar. And now he faces exile as soon as he is recovered enough to drag his tired form out of the medicine den—Laughblossom tries to avoid feeling sorrow for events that haven’t yet come to pass, but this is a different story altogether. Will he be called upon to chase his own brother, his own blood, from these lands? Flamestar wouldn’t order him to do such a thing, would she, even as a test of loyalty?
A shudder runs down his spine, and he attempts to play it off with a subdued fluttering of his feathery tail. Not that Wrathpaw can see it, anyway. "You’ve heard the news, I presume?" His voice catches, but he bravely powers on. This, talking, is what Laughblossom is good at. Perhaps it’s the only thing he’s he can offer to his brother, after all that has happened to ThunderClan. He cannot promise protection—Nightbird had hinted at such, but Flamestar had confirmed it in her very first clan meeting. The chocolate-striped tom cannot dredge up any ire toward the leader, no matter what she has condemned his baby brother to. Wrathpaw has made his nest, and now he must lie in it. And lie he will, far away from Laughblossom’s reach… far enough that they may never see one another again.
He shoves down the whirling uncertainty that churns in his stomach, and attempts to put a smile back on his face. It is purely performative, but it allows him to lean down and pick the squirrel up once again before moving it closer to Wrathpaw’s nest. "I brought you something to eat. I thought we might share." It may be the last time we get the chance, after all, he pointedly does not add.
"Wrath…" he says, and trails off because he isn’t sure what his brother should be called. He would be warrior now, if not for his costly mistakes. He should no longer be burdened with paw, but at the same time he surely can’t be called something like Wrathhowl. That name is… nothing short of venomous, Laughblossom thinks. He may think the world of his younger brother, but he had still had a not-insignificant part in murdering Howlingstar. And now he faces exile as soon as he is recovered enough to drag his tired form out of the medicine den—Laughblossom tries to avoid feeling sorrow for events that haven’t yet come to pass, but this is a different story altogether. Will he be called upon to chase his own brother, his own blood, from these lands? Flamestar wouldn’t order him to do such a thing, would she, even as a test of loyalty?
A shudder runs down his spine, and he attempts to play it off with a subdued fluttering of his feathery tail. Not that Wrathpaw can see it, anyway. "You’ve heard the news, I presume?" His voice catches, but he bravely powers on. This, talking, is what Laughblossom is good at. Perhaps it’s the only thing he’s he can offer to his brother, after all that has happened to ThunderClan. He cannot promise protection—Nightbird had hinted at such, but Flamestar had confirmed it in her very first clan meeting. The chocolate-striped tom cannot dredge up any ire toward the leader, no matter what she has condemned his baby brother to. Wrathpaw has made his nest, and now he must lie in it. And lie he will, far away from Laughblossom’s reach… far enough that they may never see one another again.
He shoves down the whirling uncertainty that churns in his stomach, and attempts to put a smile back on his face. It is purely performative, but it allows him to lean down and pick the squirrel up once again before moving it closer to Wrathpaw’s nest. "I brought you something to eat. I thought we might share." It may be the last time we get the chance, after all, he pointedly does not add.
- ooc: @WRATHHOWL
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LAUGHBLOSSOM ❯❯ he/him, warrior of thunderclan
𓇢 silky-furred chocolate tabby with white spotting and hazel eyes. joyous and loud, but deeply protective of his clan.
𓇢 brother to lovelight, joywing, wrathpaw, pridepaw, merrypaw
𓇢 peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
𓇢 penned by foxlore
