sensitive topics On Earth or below (WindClan)

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He curls his lip at her, eyes blazing with angry fire as his blow slices through empty, blood-scented air. She peers at him with eyes locked, and dares to drip venom into his tattered ears. Excuses, excuses, Tigerfrost thinks bitterly. She defends her murderous ally, the traitor that had brought blood and death to her own home. Fine then, he thinks. They could keep her. They could keep that wretched pest and they could wallow in the filth of their own gore!

He roars as she lunges toward him, and his own paws send him pivoting to the side, skittering away. Her nails graze down the side of one shoulder, a glancing blow but nothing more, as he deftly avoids the pin with his sideward dance.

"Make your excuses then." He spits with a cold acceptance. "But know this. All of this blood that you and your clan has lost is directly because of her. She brought us here when she murdered our clan-mate." Cindershade could defend her precious traitor of an ally all that she wanted, but the realization that Hyacinthbreath was the sole reason WindClan had invaded her home was sure to become a burden upon her shoulders eventually.

"And do not dare to say that you would not have done the same, if we had murdered one of your warriors." WindClan was doing what they felt they had to, seeking justice on behalf of their loyal warrior. RiverClan would do the same, if the situation were reversed. Ah... but it wasn't, was it? Because WindClan weren't the ones butchering cats on the border.

Through his pain and his exhaustion, he smiles. It is a sickening expression, for there is no warmth within the hell-fire of his eyes. No, he is cold and glacial, like a frigid leaf-bare wind, and the expression itself reflected his arrogance, and his pride.

Tigerfrost moves again, lunges toward her as he aims slash his nails across her nose. Soon, he thinks. Soon, he would have his rest, his room to breathe. Soon, the second wave would arrive as the first faded like the ocean's tide. But for now, he'd press on. He'd grit his teeth. He'd do as much harm as he could, carve as many scars as his claws could muster. There could be no other way.
11 of 20 HP / rolled a 5 for defense and a 1 for attack
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@Cindershade
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Mudpelt stares them down, eyes narrowed as he tries his best to intimidate them. They whisper something indiscernible to each other before the black one darts to the side. "Hey, hey!" He shouts, trying to round on him, large paws attempting to stop him but the WindClanner is too fast. In his attempt to go after Snakepaw, he's leaving himself unguarded to the assault of claws made by the other apprentice. As Sparkpaw's talons make contact he lets out a hiss and whirls around to swing a paw at the tom.

He then feels the weight of the other young tom upon his back. Baring his teeth, Mudpelt gives himself a firm shake, hoping to rid his back of the attacker. If he's at least able to loosen his grip, he will attempt to reach around and grab at him with powerful jaws to yank him off and toss him away.

// @SNAKEPAW @sparkpaw.​
 

Another screech gives way to his opponent's next move, a paw on the right side of his head aiming to strike him. He dodges this one, only for the other paw to come striking down soon after. Gillpaw's head is knocked to the side, a dizzying strike to the boy.

The blow causes him to falter, causes his paws to stagger with his next attempt to strike. Frustration rises in the black and white tom, a growl emitting from his maw. The moor-dweller wasn't going to let up anytime soon, and Gillpaw was already beginning to struggle. He couldn't let this kid win. He just... couldn't!

A shout of his own is given before he leaps forward, claws outstretched as he aims to knock over the apprentice. If successful Gillpaw will then strike again, aiming to dig his claws in the moor-dweller's skin and drag downwards to draw blood and weaken his opponent.

"G-Go away!" he shouts, golden eyes narrowed in the rush of the battle.
// @Azaleapaw !​
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❪ TAGS ❫ — It's a short-lived thrill that Snakepaw rides on as he clings onto the RiverClan warrior's back. However, fastening his grip isn't easy when the male is trying to shake him off, and eventually his hind leg slips and causes him to dangle a bit. Bah, sloppy! Now Mudpelt had managed to find an opening to fling him off, which was successful. Down Snakepaw tumbled like a stone down a hill, as he wasn't very large as it was due to his age and his WindClan heritage.

He rolled to a stop, momentarily disoriented from hitting the ground, but he tried to center his concentration and shake it off. This was insanity! Would Sparkpaw or Snakepaw be able to land a blow? The fish-breathed tom was pretty quick to fend the apprentices off. We mustn't give up. WindClanners are not cowards. The green-eyed youth thinks to himself despite the doubt stemming like a moorland weed in his chest.

Snakepaw did what he knew to do; get to his paws and start moving. He would only be sitting prey if he remained on the ground. Although young, he had a good head on his shoulders, even if it sometimes didn't seem like it.

The limb-legged feline made sure to keep his distance from Mudpelt as he swiftly circled the RiverClanner, assessing any potential weak points. Mudpelt was stocky and muscled, and his legs were pretty long... If he could successfully catch @sparkpaw. 's gaze as he jogged along, he would give a firm nod to him, as if communicating, "Now!"

He suddenly broke away from his jog and darted toward the RiverClanner, aiming to deliver a chomp onto Mudpelt's hind leg. Snakepaw knew that there was a chance that Mudpelt could react pretty quickly, but perhaps this would give Sparkpaw an opening to attack from another angle.

// attacking @MUDPELT ​
 
"Hmph. By the Stars, I would. Even if it was a filthy lie." Her voice snarls, ripping the last word from her throat. Velveteen ears slope back against her cranium, readying herself to take hold of him—though he's slipping from her grasp once more. The tips of gnarled claws graze his skin, but nothing more than that. A growl bubbles in the back of her throat and passes through clenched teeth, a kindling ire of hot molten anger blazing through her veins. His swiftness was dually noted, tactical precision strikes with quick evasion. Tigerfrost and her seemed tip-toe around one another, dealing skillful blows. She wanted him beneath her, but that wouldn't come yet. Her lungs burned, blazing and hot as exhaustion starts to overcome her. Her strikes are not as deadly at this moment—it felt as if the battle went on for ages. As if her and Tigerfrost were warped into a loop, sizing one another up for all eternity. Was he toying with her? Did he not feel as if she was worth his all? Her brows furrowed, pinching her eyes as they narrowed upon his enraged features. He whips out another precise strike, taking aim for her delicate nose like a coiled viper. Her head wrenches backwards, the bare tips of his claws kissing the skin.
She does not hesitate now, this needed to end one way or another. As his own paw is outstretched before her, she pivots on her own paws and hunkers down. Cindershade aims to sweep his remaining balanced forepaw from under him. Fall, you heathen! A hiss within her mind, hoping she could find an opening. Behind her she could still hear the clashing of bodies, the screeches and yowls of her own clanmates. Apart of her worries for them, and yet—her pride swells as they fought with all of their hearts. The woman continues to persevere through her own tiredness and ignore the stinging sensation of her fresh wounds upon her cranium and ear that stung in the brisk air of the night. If RiverClan called for the warrior to fight through till the sun peaked the horizon, she would without a moment's notice. She'd mutilate and kill for her clan if it had so desired. WindClan would not win this, WindClan would fall if she had anything to do with it.

//rolled a 3 for defense and 2 for attack
@TIGERFROST
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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​
 
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He says nothing more, his silence as eerie as the dark shroud of night. His eyes are narrowed and flaming, and the scent of blood stirs the adrenaline within his veins, spurring him onward. She lurches back as his nails sail through the cool, starlit air, but as she dodges, he sees the workings of her counter, the motion of her muscled limbs. Instantly, he throws his weight back, once more finding balance on his back paws as his remaining front limb lifts from the damp ground.

Her attempt to sweep that front foot from the earth is practically ignored as he rears back before kicking off toward her, back legs propelling him at Cindershade once more as Tigerfrost aims to slam his entire body into hers, grappling with claws that would hook into any flesh they could find. Just as she had attempted to pin him before, he now returns the gesture, hoping to send her crashing against the rough ground beneath them. The attempted tackle was certainly a brazen move, but Tigerfrost doesn't care, so long her blood splattered the earth of their battlefield.
11 of 20 HP / rolled a 6 for defense and a 3 for attack
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@Cindershade
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Tigerfrost speaks his disdain for her, calls her a liar- perhaps she is, with the way she didn't tell Cicadastar that she pulled Juniperfrost across the border. No, she wasn't a liar- just avoidant, left out a minor piece of a puzzle. No matter what, they would have fought; she wanted it to be on her terms, on her side of the border. He could cry wolf all he wanted to, but his life was in her paws. Why do you kill for no reason? She's caught off-guard by a haunting voice, lips shakily drawn back into a snarl- wound stinging with use.

"I had a reason," She hisses, How much did you like it? "Not one bit. But I don't regret it." It had to be done. Hyacinthbreath watches as those wide eyes look down at her paws, claws slicing outwards in an attempt to get Lambcurl to back away from her. She doesn't like it when males are too close; she can feel his eyes on her, the way her skin crawls evidence of her disgust. Was this how she looked, when she was fiercely loyal to the Queen of the Moors? Manic, excited. No, it was never any good this way.

"I have cats to protect. Cats Juniperfrost threatened. If I had let him go, those cats would be dead." She grumbles, exhaustion heavy in her bones. She wanted this to be over. "I am no liar! Your clanmates weren't anywhere near the bridge when Juniperfrost and I fought! You're being lied to, Rogue!" She shouts at Tigerfrost from across the field, hoping to distract him- leaving herself distracted instead. Lambcurl had a good opening..

// slapping @LAMBCURL. , yelling at @TIGERFROST ​
❝ there are wounds inside me, gaping holes of disconnect.
can you drown inside your own body? can you suffocate within this mind? ❞
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Weaselclaw's teeth are at his neck, seeking to sink in and he rips himself away with a twist to avoid them doing anything more than drawing some blood; no-not this time you moorland rat. He would not be leaving such an mark of permenance on the dark tom a second time and certainly not without his little clanmates assistance. He can hear the others around him, witty banter and claws clashing, the sound of cats screaming in rage and also pain and he finds he has no sense of amusement in his heart to offer any words to the wretches. His greetings are sang in claws ripping through the air instead, painting a thousand words he did not waste breath to bring into existence. Not so tough without back-up was he? Did he want to call for help? Get an edge back? Because even losing an eye had not slowed Smokethroat down, not even a little. Nothing short of having no limbs would stop him and even then he would crawl to the best of his abilities to continue gnashing teeth against WindClan flesh. He wanted them all dead, every last one of them, they had chosen their side when they pledged loyalty to that witch of the hillside.
With his neck angled away from another bite, he hunches a shoulder and slings a claw upward to the bastard's ugly maw, hoping to leave a nice pretty line tracing over his face for his mate to witness if he got to return. If he got to return at all. Funny, how Sootstar was never in these battles. Too busy raising new little soldiers for her clan he supposed. One day he'd like to rip several of her lives out of her in front of the brown tabby.

[Ooc]
- @WEASELCLAW
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Seeing him stagger after her blow gave her satisfaction. She could beat him. Not that she doubted herself, but the added confidence was a boost. She was going to win this- and then surely someone would be proud of her!

But she lost herself for that split second. Gillpaw managed to knock her over and she hit the ground with a grunt. His claws dragged down her flank and she became acutely aware of how different this battle was than what she has experienced. It sank in that this wasn't a rogue she was fighting over a rabbit. They were fighting for their lives, their clans.

This was a fight to the death, for some at least.

She would not cry out. Despite the pain and the brief spike of fear she felt, she wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of her cries.

She curled and bunched her hind legs, angling them at Gillpaws stomach and again, aimed to kick him with as much force as she could muster to get him off her.

"NO!" She yelled back at him. Truly a clever and witty response.

@GILLPAW
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she hadn’t expected him, and the sheer lack of resistance locks his claws into her to keep still, blood welling beneath his paws as they find her shoulders, adjusting to keep himself atop her as they go flying into the midst of battle. his teeth sink into her face, eyes wide and wild as she struggles beneath him. for juniperfrost, they’d said — yes, he would massacre more windclan scum for juniperfrost. coming to his camp, spilling their vile blood onto his ground. they didn’t even deserve to bleed here in his space, lest their poison rot the land from the inside.

sand dusts his eyes and the surprise rips his teeth from her cheek with an enraged yowl, the momentary slip giving her time for sharp claws to strike his underside. old scars toughen his belly but the pain of wounds reopening loosens his grip, pale luminaries blinking wild against the grit in his face. it hurts, of course it hurts — he feels blood pool at his stomach, but through the haze, frustration only rises. oh, this fish - brain — they were going to pay for this. his vision is blurry with her assault, but he aims to rake his claws from where they’re latched into her shoulder and down, stepping awkwardly to the ground with a hind limb to try and keep her pinned.

− ♱ information out of character ⟐ visual reference translated ♱ −
  • ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
    m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.

    ᨒ gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
    ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
    penned by antlers​

  • cicadablueoutline.png
  • none.

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She thinks she screams, a bloodcurdling sound that she isn’t even sure she knows how to make. Claws raking down her back, her side, drawing sharp lines all the way down her body. The face of a madman above her, keeping her pinned like a fucked-up butterfly beneath the paws of a curious kit.

Finnegan hadn’t fought back like this—with rage, with all the fury of a feral raccoon. No, Finnegan had practically rolled over, no match for her. Even the huge alley cats before WindClan had never put up this much of a fight. She’s in over her head, she realizes for perhaps the first time in her life.

RiverClan’s leader will kill her if she doesn’t manage to bring him down. Hell, he’ll probably kill her even if she does kill him first—damn leaders and their invincibility and all that star-stuff that apparently flows through their blood. She can feel his blood, though, dripping warm onto her hind legs from where she’s managed to catch him in the stomach. It’s her only chance, she thinks, struggling uselessly against his hold.

"Weaselclaw is going to kill your fucking mate," she spits, half attempt at distraction, half hope that it will come true if she says it aloud. She gathers her strength, kicking out at his underside again, hoping to dig into his belly or jostle his hind legs. It’s a long shot, his body so much longer than hers, his hind legs only barely within reach, but she can’t lie down and accept death like this. She cannot allow the tides to be so easily turned on WindClan.


// @CICADASTAR
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[ MONSTROUS WOMAN ]​
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There was no one ahead of them. They realised it with a twinkle of hope in their eyes, they wouldn't have to hurt anyone for a cause they didn't believe in. Their heart pounded so loudly that even the taunts of friend and foe alike began to drown out, but with a newfound determination, they pressed forwards. Snailpaw's belly ground against the wet earth, leaving a wispy trail where their fur began to darken and clump together. Still, there was no one. Why wasn't anyone stopping them? Why were they allowed to be here? They shook their head, knowing full well that it was too late for regrets. They'd hesitated before, told someone of their plans to leave in hopes that they'd agree... only to have their wings clipped. All plausible deniability would be lost if they took another step further, they would be a WindClanner to the world regardless of what their heart yearned for. Claws unsheathed, they narrowed their eyes and took their last breath as a free-minded cat. The world mattered, but Snailpaw mattered more, they wouldn't sacrifice themselves for a place that cared naught whether they lived or died. 'I'm sorry Darkpaw... may we be friends when the stars weave amidst our pelts...'

Slipping into the temporary medicine den, Snailpaw's eyes quickly caught the outlines of various leaves. Without checking their surroundings, they left their crouch and bound toward them, slashing at them with near-reckless abandon. They were barely sure what they were tearing through, some white-flowered plants of differing sizes, some spindly leaves, for a moment, their pink claws seemed to stick together from one of the substances. Stopping for but a millisecond to assess their paw, perturbed by the way that something was making their toes sticky, it was only in the brief calm did they realise that they were not alone in the den. Something alerted the tabby, be it a caterwaul or a protest or just the shift of bedding, and they span around, their teeth bared in a warning. They should've been scared, all their avoidance of fighting had been in protest of this very moment occurring, but all Snailpaw felt was an instinct driving them forward. They had to survive, not for WindClan, not for their family or whatever friends they had left after their ambush by the council.

They had to survive for themselves, in hopes that one day, their dreams would come true.

"I'm sorry, I have no choice!"

A loud noise came from the medicine den, the noise from a feline, indiscernible in nature or tone as to who it belonged to. All that was known was that the overaged apprentice did not leave that place for quite some time.

( approved in discord to destroy 5 herbs && get into an offscreen fight w/ beesong -- just as a ref !! )
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The fight was on, and before long there was a dark, slender shape moving towards him at speed. Badgermoon's mind spared only a few scraps of brainpower to process a long, smoky coat and vivid green eyes before it was awash in red. With something like relief he handed control over to that part of him, allowed disregard for his personal safety to dominate his decision-making. As ever, his bloodlust facilitated a high-risk, high-reward approach to combat, and a surge of wild glee propelled him forward to meet Willowroot as their bodies collided. He moved his paws quickly enough to avoid her attempts to knock him down, but did not escape their sharp claws sweeping down his flanks. In acknowledgement of her smaller size and her position lower to the ground, he sprang upwards and then attempted to smash down onto the lead warrior's fog-smeared pelt, in a blatant effort to flatten her to the ground. It was a potentially dangerous move, as it exposed his vulnerable belly, but it also had the potential to knock the wind out of her and perhaps even smash her face against the ground. If successful, he'd twist his head and aim to sink his teeth deep into the muscle connecting their neck and shoulder. Either way, he would have drawn close enough that Willowroot may well have heard the low, ragged, deranged purr rumbling from his scarred chest, apparently heedless of the trickles of blood already blooming on his bicolor body.

@willowroot​
 
Again. She misses again and she's growing more enraged from it. That level-headed mindset that she usually excelled at, now was slipping through her fingers as time passed. She's tired, so tired. Her muscles scream to stop, but stopping meant death. Stopping meant yielding and succumbing to the chimera warrior and she'd rather be flayed alive than to give him the satisfaction. She goes low and he reels back before propelling forwards, crashing his weight onto her hard. "Hmphfffff—" Cindershade hits the cool toned surface of their muddied camp, now stained with splatters of scarlet, and she feels her breath leave her lungs. His claws find purchase upon her pelt, grasping her left shoulder and tearing at her skin. Pain seers through like hot iron, blood pools instantly from the wound and it seems to revitalize her depleted spirit. Morbidly like a breath of fresh air, as if she had plunged into the cool Leaf-Bare waters.
He's now on top of her, gripping hard at her shoulder and she feels her right cheek stinging under her eye from him as well. He was grabbing at anything he could, anything to tear her apart. She stares at him now, eye to eye and spits from her snarling in his face. Being under an opponent was not something unfamiliar to her, considering most cats were sizable to her. She lacked the height, her limbs never quite long enough. But she never lacked the gall and the strength to pursue her larger enemies.
Thick muscle lined hind quarts pull upwards and line themselves along his abdomen, aiming to kick at his belly with all her mustered strength with claws splayed out. Cindershade grunts from the strain, but not aiming to send him flying. No. She wants him to feel her claws flay his soft skin. Meanwhile she aims to seize both sides of his neck, trying to anchor herself in so he couldn't escape her clutches. They would be locked together now, if her plan goes accordingly. She says nothing to him now, no insulting and venomous words. She just wants the same as he, to see his blood spilled along the clearing. Wouldn't Sootstar be surprised to see her lead warriors beaten and bloody when they returned home.
// -3 damage to Cinder. Currently 12 out of 20;
Rolled a 2 for defense and a 6 for attack
@TIGERFROST
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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​
 
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They're grappling, limbs tangled and claws ripping at anything they could reach. Tigerfrost feels that surge of triumph once more as he manages to pin her to the cool, damp earth of the temporary camp. Around their frenzied forms, the camp is still alight with violent warfare, screeches of pain and yowls of fury, teeth that burrowed and talons that shredded. RiverClan and WindClan were locked in their ruthless, desperate efforts, each side trying to destroy the other, each side trying to survive. The blood roars in his ears, his heart-beat thrums like thunder, his eyes alight with their flaming glow as Cindershade spits through her fearless snarling. Then, hind-legs kick up, find purchase in soft flesh as splayed claws rake through fur to split him apart. "GAH!", The sudden spray of blood is hot as Tigerfrost jolts backward with the agony of magma through his veins. Her front claws rip into the sides of his neck, preventing him from jerking away, and he grits his teeth, roars his pain and his rage.

"You worm!" The insult is bold yet strained. If she wanted to keep him close for the skinning, then so be it. An eye for an eye! He could tear her to shreds all the same! Tigerfrost parts his jaws and instead of jerking away, he thrusts himself closer, aiming to snap his teeth around her nose and muzzle, to crunch through whatever he could. His front paws lift from her shoulder as he instead attempts to hook those nails into both sides of her skull, beneath her ears, before ripping downward in the hopes that the talons will rake down the sides of her own neck, and down across her shoulders once more. Locked in such deadly combat as they are, Tigerfrost knows the stakes are high, knows that he cannot maintain this grapple lest they both end up tearing each other to shreds. For the first time, the thought of death intrudes upon his mind, echoes amidst the waves of fiery pain that rack his exhausted, bloodied figure. But... he will not die here. He is determined, furious, and stubborn. Once more, Tigerfrost attempts to jerk himself away from her, uncaring that it might deepen the wounds across his neck from where Cindershade gripped so tightly. All he knows is that he needs to get out of his raging tangle of limbs, needs to free himself from this grapple, needs to breathe.
5 of 20 HP / rolled a 1 for defense and a 6 for attack
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@Cindershade
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( ☾ ) blood roars in her ears, drowning out the sound of screeches and growls as she lets the haze of bloodlust take over. he soars to crash into her and she feels satisfaction bloom in her belly as claws find purchase in the fur of his flanks, crimson welling from deep cuts. her teeth gnash at his chest but he deflects by spring upwards, belly extended for a moment before he comes crashing down. breath is propelled from her lungs and black spots dance before her eyes as she scrabbles at the earth, claws out to wildly lash out at his exposed chest and stomach areas. her back paws kick like a rabbit thumping, aiming to gouge and tear into his delicate underbelly. as she does so, he twists his neck around to clamp his jaws along her neck, causing her to growl out in pain.

she wrenches herself from his grasp and rolls to the side to escape from under him. her slender form graces her with agility but he beats her in brute strength, and she can still feel the effect from where his body cracked into her own. panting, eyes wide and crazed, she spits blood from her mouth, the feeling in her neck already fading as she sinks into her anger once more. his breath comes in gasps too and for a moment she wonders if he's sick- the way he's breathing sounds rusty- but after a moment she recognizes the sick sound of a purr. disgust flicks over her features as she kicks off the ground again, weaving around him to use her long limbs to wrap around his back paws and attempt to pull him to the ground again. should she be successful, she will clamp her jaws hard around the back of his neck, sinking bloodied teeth in to hit the tender nerves.
@Badgermoon ​

( THE LIGHT YOU GAVE ME )
 
Weaselclaw gives a harsh, air-splitting yowl of fury as his opponent uppercuts him with flashing claws. Blood leaks in rivulets from a tear in his cheek, and when he shakes his head, droplets will scatter into Smokethroat's face. "Bastard!" The tabby's vision darkens for a moment, red as the wound peeling from his profile. He can hear the battle cries and snarls around him, hears his name somewhere, in a distant haze -- "Weaselclaw is going to kill your fucking mate."

Mate. Cicadastar's mate. Had he known that, or had he simply forgotten in the heat of their battle to the death? Weaselclaw's vigor is renewed. He would bring Cicadastar as much pain as he could. The WindClan warrior aims a slash at Smokethroat's chest, in a cruel mimicry of the scar that stains his own.

// @Smokethroat ​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​
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The instant gratification she feels right now, it's almost worth being smothered under his weight and against the soil. Blood trickles down her hind legs, drips onto her down exposed belly. He's weakened, he's exhausted and for a brief moment; the molly swear she could detect the tiniest of traces of fear in his hellish gaze, but it quickly ignited and burned away just as quick as it came. Her own body was weakening, dealing heavy blows from one end to the next. A pair of gladiators they were, fighting to the death.
Tigerfrost roars and insults her, calling her a worm but there wasn't as much ire in it. It was evident they were both worn and beaten, suffering from blood loss and trauma. But one last bout of rage consumes him, and he's ready to deal with her and get out of their lock. He body trusts closer to her now, ivory fangs bared and instantly connecting on the bridge of her nose and beneath her chin. The pressure itself was painful enough in such a sensitive area, but the piercing of skin from his maw causes her to briefly panic. She cannot scream, she cannot breathe for all she can smell is his hot, rancid breath. Her once precise movements have become more frantic, but his claws move and make purchase along the sides of her own head before tearing down fiercely. Cindershade has no other choice but to endure it, to let him get closer and strengthen the grip she had on him. Someone had to give. Someone had to let go. Her mind cannot help but think of death, pushed into a corner. She had no plan, no option but to squirm in hopes of tear from his grasp. He wrenched free of her grasp first, fighting through her vice grip and tearing at his wound more like a trapped animal. She feels his weight lift from her, the brisk air stinging her face and neck—but now she could breathe.
Cindershade grasps, greedily drinking in the air as she grabs a hold of herself. Finally. Her brain is fuzzy from the blood and oxygen loss, attempting to right itself but she needed more time to focus. The warrior couldn't. Not now. She had to end this. The world seems to blur and spin around her, but she stands up shakily nonetheless. "You despicable pile of filth!" The woman spats with blood dripping her maw. Green eyes lit aflame as she tries hard to focus, at least the return of air to her lungs was helping. She rounds on him, this time a little more clumsily as she aimed for his cheek with scarlet stained talons. She had to press on. This had to end. Her vision starts to become more clear and she's too stubborn to quit now. She'd not die here. Not by his claws. She was too stubborn and too prideful for that.

// -6 damage. Cindershade is currently at 6 out of 20 HP; rolled 1 for defense and 1 for attack
@TIGERFROST

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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​
 
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The taste of her blood upon his tongue, the rush of his claws raking through fur and flesh, the hatred of her insult spilling into his ears... there's that rush of triumph again, even through the staggering pain. He twists away from her at last, free from her grip, and both draw precious breath into their lungs, unwilling to back down despite their bleeding wounds and heavy paws. The metallic scent of gore is nearly overwhelming, the slick sensation of his own blood like hot oil sticking to his torn coat. He spits blood from his jaws as she lashes out once more, claws sweeping toward his cheek. Tigerfrost ducks beneath the blow, aims a clawed uppercut at her chin in swift retaliation. Both cats struggled to keep their eyes open, it seemed. Nontheless, Tigerfrost isn't finished yet.
5 of 20 HP / rolled a 6 for defense and a 2 for attack
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@Cindershade
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Lambcurl purses his lips. he wonders what it takes for someone like Hyacinthbreath to fall from grace as she had; angel that flew straight into the sun. She'd only burnt herself, hadn't she? And now she takes it out on the world, reduced to a mess– one that RiverClan was ready and eager to keep. Lambcurl doesn't understand. He hadn't thought so much bad of RiverClan before, but maybe... maybe... Did they have their heads buried in the dirt? He can only remain still, lips drawn thin as he ponders.

He is threatened in his distraction, brought back to reality by the ghost of claws against his cheek, his whiskers. His eyes blink just that bit wider. Lambcurl is but a ghost as the molly shouts her atrocities. He has to do something, doesn't he?

Damp eyes flicker across her form, never in one place for too long. To echo his thoughts would be an impossibility. There is little, aside from ringing, high-pitched and grating. He can't understand anything she's saying. She shouts to Tigerfrost across the way, a rogue who was worth as much as she was; but his worth was in living, and hers was in dying. Or at least, doing more than shouting along the sidelines.

Okay.

As she spoke, his stillness would suddenly shatter into a surge forward, attempting to rip claws down her chest. He does not expect to do much, but– he would like to remind her of what she once was.

[ rolled a 3 for @hyacinthbreath ! ]​
 
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