private OH, THESE OLD GHOSTS — granitepelt

Jul 10, 2023
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†—— ghostkit can't remember when she woke up with the moon hanging heavy in the sky, glowing through the faraway (to her tiny self, at least) entrance to the den she shared with her family. she likes it in here, in the medicine den; it's quiet, soothing, cool—worlds away from the hot and loud nursery. it smells of pine and fern, of herbs and fresh water from the clearing where her mother's patients rest, when they are here at all. she prefers it when they aren't, when her mother's attention is entirely on her and her siblings.

magpiepaw must rest somewhere nearby, and she knows her siblings and mother are close—right by her waking form, in fact. but they are not what she seeks today; no, she seeks out a shape less familiar to her, one wrapped around starlingheart like vines choking the roots of a tree. clad in gray and white, a boulder of short fur, green eyes she's barely ever met hidden beneath sleeping lids.

ghostkit creeps closer. closer. closer .... until she's right in front of granitepelt's face, her own white-masked countenance mere whisker-lengths from her father's. dark eyes widened by the crescents of black fur beneath them stretch wider still, appearing closer to black voids in her face than eyes under the cover of darkness. deep midnight holes in her pale face, so like the dead ghostpaw's own despite their opposite hue, sucking away all light in the small den as she watches him, the lightest drift of kitten-breath ruffling the fur of his face. she watches. perhaps she waits.


  • ooc: @GRANITEPELT !!
  • vUuTZ22.png
  • † ghostkit — named after the deceased ghostpaw
    she/her ; afab cisgender female — shadowclan — kit — 2 ☾s
    —— ghostkit is the daughter of the soft-spoken medicine cat starlingheart and her possessive mate, granitepelt. she looks just like her mother, and while she can be a little difficult, there's nothing really wrong with her ...... right?
    —— smells like milk, herbs, and .... iron? ; sounds like tbd ; speech in #EB80B7 ; thoughts in #253DC6
    —— peaceful / healing powerplay permitted ; attacks/contact in underline ; won’t start fights ; will flee ; will show mercy ; won't kill or maim (kitten)
    —— too young for romance ; open to enemies, "friends", tormenting other kits, plotting ; not open to battles, romance
    penned by dejavudesklamp9 on discord for plots
  • shhh don't look here (battle info will go here at some point)

 
Granitepelt’s ear flicks. One limb trembles, side-swiping the softly-lined nest he shares with Starlingheart. His dream is forcing his body to move—and as his eyelids shake, the nightmare behind them continues. He is somewhere dense, in the darkest part of ShadowClan’s pine-ringed marsh. The earth is especially soft here, so soft that he feels himself sinking in up to his ankles in some places. It feels like an incredible effort to move forward. Every step sends his paws vanishing into thicker, denser mud.

There’s something behind him. Chasing him. But the labor of his slow, struggling movements has him breathless. Panic has begun to well inside of his belly. The creature that lurks somewhere behind him walks effortlessly like a spider skimming over water. It’s eyes are hollows with tiny pink hearts, raw and bleeding, at their core. Its fur is half-rotted, but what remains is ghostly-pale as the moon.

“I know… what you did…” It creaks behind him, sounding unlike any cat he’s ever heard. It’s like claws on asphalt. It’s like bones cracking under the weight of something immense. Granitepelt’s flesh begins to burn with his terror—and beads of sweat begin to pop on what’s exposed. “Get away from me,” he hisses, but his voice quivers. He stumbles, and the mud sucks wetly at his neck so that he’s trapped and can’t pull away.

The earth squelches sickly behind him. He wants to turn around, but he knows he’ll be looking right into his bloated, waterlogged face, and he knows if he sees it—if he sees it, he’ll scream, and it’ll be the last scream he’s ever—

He jerks awake with an icy pallor, his breath ragged.

He’s staring into the white face of a monster, two enormous eyes like—like—

GET AWAY FROM ME!” It’s whispered, thank StarClan, but it claws its way out of his throat with all the residual horror that lingers after his nightmare.


  •  
  • 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
 

†—— she is rewarded for her patient watching, minutes warping into hours in her kitten mind, unblinking eyes dark holes in her empty dollish face. it feels as though she notices everything, as perceptive as her parents both, the world a stretched place of heightened senses and sounds. her father twitches like a dog in his sleep, limbs shaking and eyes darting beneath his closed grey lids, she notices. the world is sharp, racing, ascendant in this moment; it comes alive around her as she tastes his fear-scent on the air, kit-breath wafting from between her barely parted jaws like foaming madness.

he's still, and then he isn't. tattered breaths fill the air and suddenly narrow green eyes meet her own blank stare, a whispered scream flying from between his teeth. startled, ghostkit darts back, turning on her paws until her dark eyes catch his, still so close. so close he has to look at her. the world is alive, smelling sharp and coloured with pine and fern and herbs; it breathes potential, tasting of fear and vine. the rocks are vividly rough under her kitten-soft pawpads, the color of nettlekit's pelt so bright it seems to burn. it's as though her lungs fill with air, breath woven in glowing gold, for all of a moment.

it's gone, then. her face is still, blank, without forced feelings to animate it. a slow wash of disappointment bathes her, lifting her feathery pelt into spikes she doesn't bother to settle.

"father." the word is adrift in the air without a tone supporting it, voice dull; she does not bother with the 'mama' she sometimes addresses starlingheart by. something coiled within her tells her she shouldn't even think of calling granitepelt 'papa'. she explores her thoughts with deft paws and finds it doesn't bother her. the question is simple, almost practical; nearly bored, as though her father hadn't just woken with a quiet scream, "are you really no good?"


  • ooc: ——
  • † ghostkit — named after the deceased ghostpaw
    she/her ; afab cisgender female — shadowclan — kit — 2 ☾s
    —— ghostkit is the daughter of the soft-spoken medicine cat starlingheart and her possessive mate, granitepelt. she looks just like her mother, and while she can be a little difficult, there's nothing really wrong with her ...... right?
    —— smells like milk, herbs, and .... iron? ; sounds like tbd ; speech in #EB80B7 ; thoughts in #253DC6
    —— peaceful / healing powerplay permitted ; attacks/contact in underline ; won’t start fights ; will flee ; will show mercy ; won't kill or maim (kitten)
    —— too young for romance ; open to enemies, "friends", tormenting other kits, plotting ; not open to battles, romance
    penned by dejavudesklamp9 on discord for plots
  • shhh don't look here (battle info will go here at some point)

 
  • Wow
Reactions: Marquette
The hollows in her white face do not reek of bogwater and rot, and he sees no blood vessels straining where breath had not come—but he still has to fight off tremors as the she-kit stares at him. Stares at him, and names him “Father.” Granitepelt’s entire body is cold as though he’d woken in open forest, banked in snow. She looks at him with all the judgment of StarClan, with Ghostpaw’s haunting cadence. “Are you really no good?”

Are you asking that because of what I did?” He hisses, still half-delirious with terror. “Are you asking that because you know?” He pushes himself upright, struggling to catch his breath—struggling to grasp for what tattered remnants of composure he might still have.

The she-kit stares at him, monotonous, empty.

She is his plague. She is his punishment. StarClan slinks around Starlingheart’s den as they speak, and though he cannot see them, he thinks he can hear their rattling laughter.

He struggles to inhale, then forces a slow exhale through his nostrils. He must not overreact. He must not give himself away. Not to StarClan. Not to—not to the manifestation of his guilt, carried for two moons in her mother’s belly like a weighted stone.

Do not listen to the foolish lies your Clanmates say about me.” She is so eerie, he cannot meet her gaze for more than a heartbeat at a time. “And do not ever let me catch you doing what you just did again. There will be consequences if I awaken and you are that close to my face.” There’s not a hint of fatherly love in his voice, nothing warm at all. He has returned to stone in the face of his smallest kit. “Go to sleep, and do not wake me again.

He stares at her paws, the jet-black color feathery like her mother’s. It grounds him, to be reminded she is simply a strange-acting kit with Starlingheart’s pelt. It reminds him that—that StarClan cannot be here. They cannot hurt him, not even in the form of a kit with his victim’s name.


  •  
  • 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
 

†—— her father's voice is a long drawn-out hiss that matches his adder's eyes, clawing himself upright and grasping for breath as he, for once, meets her gaze in heartbeat flickers. dark eyes seek out the truth, seek out something nobody but her can see in the flat green of his gaze. "are you asking that because of what I did? are you asking that because you know?" she tilts her head a fraction, but her face betrays nothing but an emptiness behind that pallid moon-mask, a vacancy where something she should have had at birth is desperately and terribly missing. in that moment, it is clear in her blank face that something is wrong. something is not there, or something is so bent and warped it cannot be of the use it should be; a something that would animate her face into the childish tears that should rightfully fall there.

but they don't. she is empty, she is hollow.

the gold that filled her veins as his fear-scent rose in the air has drained away as he breathes out slowly, but he cannot take it back. cannot take back the words that slid between fear-slick teeth, the two simple questions scorched into her mind like a brand. his eyes dance away from hers as she steps back, his voice as cold and empty as she feels. she dips her small masked head in obedience, voice low and flat, "yes, father." consequences. doll eyes darken with this unsatisfactory answer, but she creeps back to where her siblings nestle at her mother's side, unaware of granitepelt's eyes on her sleek-furred paws, her wings.

she will remember this night.


  • ooc: wanted to get a last reply in >:3
  • † ghostkit — named after the deceased ghostpaw
    she/her ; afab cisgender female — shadowclan — kit — 2 ☾s
    —— ghostkit is the daughter of the soft-spoken medicine cat starlingheart and her possessive mate, granitepelt. she looks just like her mother, and while she can be a little difficult, there's nothing really wrong with her ...... right?
    —— smells like milk, herbs, and .... iron? ; sounds like tbd ; speech in #EB80B7 ; thoughts in #253DC6
    —— peaceful / healing powerplay permitted ; attacks/contact in underline ; won’t start fights ; will flee ; will show mercy ; won't kill or maim (kitten)
    —— too young for romance ; open to enemies, "friends", tormenting other kits, plotting ; not open to battles, romance
    penned by dejavudesklamp9 on discord for plots
  • shhh don't look here (battle info will go here at some point)

 
  • Love
  • Wow
Reactions: Jay and Marquette