my will | granitepelt

[Tornadopaw]

If you don't like me, that's your problem

Feverish heat spreads throughout her system, leaving the curly furred apprentice with sweaty paw pads and flattened ears. Weakened eyes drag across the surface of her nest. Vision fuzzy and distorted as hazy shadows come in and out of view. Shallow breathing rattles within her lungs, the cool night air agitating them further. In her attempt to stifle a cough a figure manifests itself. A mass of slate grey contrasted by stark white. A grimace marrs Tornadopaw's features at the very sight of the tom, delirium loosening her tongue. "I know what you are." She wheezes after some time, dull yellow eyes seizing him. "I've watched long enough to know, a-and I think. I think I've figured..it out." The apprentice rasps, though her conviction is strong.

For so long she wanted to address him about the way he seemed to hog Starlingheart all to himself and push others away. Acting as a living wall of thistle to keep her shielded from those that care about her. She might not have known much about love, but Tornadopaw knew he was no good for her. Her friend deserves someone better, one that would not continue to smother her. Perhaps it was her own jealousy that spurred her into action, weakened as she were. But she desired the days when Starlingheart's entire world did not revolve around herbs and her prickly mate. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" Her head lowers a notch, chin resting upon the lining of her nest as a quick coughing fit cripples her speech. "Sh-she will know the truth...you're not as great as you make yourself out to be." (@GRANITEPELT) ​

When I let it bother me, that's my problem​

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[GRANITEPELT]

He had stolen into the medicine cat’s den to lay eyes on Starlingheart, slumbering and at peace in her nest. He does this sometimes—both to ensure she’s where he thinks she is and to drink in her beauty, only enhanced as she curls into moss, features relaxed and at ease in repose. His ritual is sacred to him, one he rarely misses a chance to perform, but tonight a whispered, coughing breath interrupts him. “I know what you are,” a voice whispers to him, and he searches the shadows, his fur beginning to prickle uncomfortably. He half-expects to see a rosetted face peering back at him—an ivory one with red eyes, ginger-splashed—but no, no, it’s her, it’s Tornadopaw.

He stares at her for a long, long time. Silence stretches between them, thickening like the air before a downpour. When he finally speaks, it’s so softly that she might struggle to hear the words.

“You’ve figured nothing out, you little fool.”

“Sh-she will know the truth… you’re not as great as you make yourself out to be.” Tornadopaw’s whispers are disrupted by wheezing, but Granitepelt hears every cursed syllable. He’s unable to tear his burning green gaze away from her. Rage begins to burst along his veins like tiny fires, igniting his blood. “You. You know what I am?” He slinks closer to her nest until he’s looming over her. A shaft of moonlight slips through a crack in the den’s ceiling and illuminates half of his stony face, one glittering dark eye. “I know what you are.”

She’s too weak to fight him. As he speaks, a paw reaches out and cups her pretty face almost tenderly. “You are worthless. You will never be the ShadowClan warrior you so desperately wanted to be… and you were never capable of it.” His voice gurgles with a low, furious hiss. “Pitchstar was a fool to let you in. Softhearted, but only for outsiders and garbage! He should have left you to die, motherless and alone as you are now.”

Granitepelt’s paw grips her cheek, though his claws do not slide forward. He flips her face just enough so that it is pressed into the cushioned moss of her nest, and he presses down, just hard enough. Quick as an adder, Granitepelt slithers over her so that all of his weight is pressed onto her back so she cannot move. She cannot get air. Not unless she can somehow find the strength to dislodge him.

His words are like a new frost.

“It would have been a mercy.”

ooc ✧ 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖊, 𝖎 𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖙 𝖙𝖔𝖔 - 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗, 𝖎 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚?

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  — granitekit . granitepaw . granitepelt
  — he/him ; warrior of shadowclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Starlingheart
  — short-haired gray tom with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Meg

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[Tornadopaw]

If you don't like me, that's your problem

Her fangs flash in retaliation as an ashen paw lurches forth to cup her face. If she had the strength, the molly would have recoiled from the grimey touch of the warrior looming above her. Used a paw to bat his own away. Anything to make him keep his distance. But she didn't and as much as Tornadopaw hated it, she was at his mercy. Though that did not stop her from glaring spitefully up at him, dusty yellow locked upon acidic green.

Somewhere throughout the mounting tension she could tell that she struck a nerve. In a sense, this does not bother her at all, for she believed the tom needed to be knocked down a peg or two. But as the insults wash over her and begin to drown her in a sense of hopelessness her resolve wavers. A memory flashes, only she is standing before him hissing her disagreement. Like last time, he pinned her against the ground and listed all of her faults. Ridiculing her in front of their clanmates. How ironic, that this was nearly a perfect repeat. "I am..twice the cat you will ever be." Though her utterance is soft she hissed definitely. Growing tired of his icy taunts she continued on. "You're a selfish, cold hearted tom, Granitepelt." The apprentice huffed as he gripped her cheek again forcefully. Chilledstar was there to save her last time, acting as a shield blocking her from the menace hovering overhead. But they would not be able to rescue her, not this time.

A flash of quick movement jammed her head into the moss laden nest. Her limbs barely had time to shift in response as a crushing weight pressed against her back and sealed her fate. Though her tail whipped angrily against his hide, the extent of her thrashing was heavily reduced to miniscule jerks, unable to dislodge him. Just like last time. Fresh springy moss soaks up the tears spilling from closed eyes as her strength rapidly drains, sapped from the fever brought on by yellowcough. Her attempted flailing slows, growing ever weaker until eventually it stops altogether. ​

When I let it bother me, that's my problem​

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[GRANITEPELT]

Granitepelt does not relent, even though he can feel the vibrations through his paws—her body trembling with sobs, fighting for breath, for life. He can feel the spasms in her muscles, the way they flex and stiffen. He leans closer to one dark ear, stifling a grimace at the stench of sickness that lingers. “Say hello to Pitchstar for me.” He wants to flex his claws, but it would be unwise—he wants no traces of her body on his, nothing. When she finally stops moving, Granitepelt backs away, staring at the unmoving body with cold, glinting eyes.

She had known too much, or at least—at least she had suspected too much, he reasons with himself. She had made the fatal mistake Poppypaw had, and it had cost her that miserable life she’d clung to so desperately.

He exhales, stunned to find how shaky he is. He’d been withholding oxygen; his attempts to force her into an early death quietly have exhausted him. Granitepelt goes to the gathered water in his mate’s den and begins to rinse his paws, bringing the water up to his shoulders. The scent of sickness will cling to him, if he isn’t careful.

ooc ✧ 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖊, 𝖎 𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖙 𝖙𝖔𝖔 - 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗, 𝖎 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚?

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  — granitekit . granitepaw . granitepelt
  — he/him ; warrior of shadowclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Starlingheart
  — short-haired gray tom with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Meg

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