development Overture to the unwritten :: Nightmares {OPEN}

[Sorrelsong]

𓆝 . ° ✦ The world was dark, and warm. Words from her father rang in his ears, and her skin prickled, tracing the lines of her mother's paws. His words grew fangs, latching into her flesh, tearing at her tendons. Ripping her from the air, pinning her down. Down on that awful carpet that was always too plush. Her mother's shadow loomed over her. Melted into her pelt. Circe's belly buldged, and a great pain ripped her undersides, slicing at her hips and tail, hooking around her ribs and giving a mighty pull.
Then the screaming. She fell onto a tree branch. It shook under her weight as a monster - no, a cat - shouldered towards her. Their features bloomed and smeared, painted in blood and moonlight. Her pelt felt so damp with her mother's shadow that she hardly noticed the blood it was soaked in until the smudged cat fell. The sound of the body smacking the forest floor mingled with a scream.
Circe's scream.
She gasped, eyes focusing. The nest. The den. The moon. The shuffeling of other cats. Had she woken them? She shook, eyes wide in the darkness. Her cheecks were wet with terror, her chest ragged with invisble pain that hadn't faded. Stiff with fear, the molly prayed no one else had woken. She wasn't weak. She would not allow herself to be a burden again. Blood sang in her ears. Focus. Calm yourself.
She hadn't seen her parents since... since she was what? sold? taken? kidnapped? Did it matter? She didn't struggle and neither did her parents. There was no valent fight to fight, no reason to. She hadn't wanted to say goodbye. Except to her brothers. Their names became increasingly blurry and faint with each passing day. Duskpool, Shadowfire and Smokefang... that was all that was left of that old life. Good. She just wished they could've.... what? Could've been a happy family again? Yes. Her heart ached, raw and hot. That's what I want. The only thing in the world. My brothers. Family. Safety. But Duskpool was getting older and her paws were not clean anymore. If the time came, could I protect him without guilt?
Her head said yes. Her heart skipped a beat, then agreed. Her chest ached, but it was no longer unbearable.
I'd become a monster for him. Just like he did for them.
The thought, however grusesome, made it easier to invision the smudged cat. What happened to him. What.... What she....
Round faces flashed in her mind's eye. Young faces. Wide eyes, soft smiles, pranks jumping on each other's tails. Stories under the moonlight. She never did get to see them grow old. What sacrifices did Duskpool make to keep them safe? Why weren't they enough? Was Star Clan real? Did Star Clan know? Were they watching her now? Were her brothers with them? Please let it be better then where they came from.
Sleep seemed more akin to a battle, and Circe had always been a coward. The molly simply slipped out of the den, careful to avoid anything that would disturb her clan mates. She padded under the stars, glancing up with weary eyes.
Nightmares. Were they common for Clan Cats too?

✧　°　.　✶　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
• 

  CIRCE— SHE/HER･ 37 MOONS ･ WARRIOR IN TRAINING & SKY CLAN･ PENNED BY @KEEEKEEEY!

  Once a rather pretty brown smoked molly, Circe is unnaturally lithe and is missing large chunks of her fur. She has an oddly muscular and feminie build and small paws. — physically easy && mentally easy — Attempting to learn Sky Clan's ways — NPC x NPC : Sibling to Duskpool, Shadowfire and Smokefang

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[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

A quick-split decision to remain in camp where he remained propped up against the bramble wall, flesh narrowly avoiding the woven bramble to peer out of camp and into the quiet forest stretched before molten hues. His ears curved against his helm, and hearing the shuffle of pawsteps, did he turn, glancing over his shoulder at the rumpled appearance of his sister.

His muscles quivered, tensing beneath the heavy weight of darkness, mind reeling with ghosts long after he was sold, taken to a place that could have been straight out of a horror film with Circe’s brothers to a daunting future of death and pain. His shoulders pulled taunt, pressing into the ground as he clambered onto enormous paws, padding toward her with a brief flicker of concern dusted across painfully indifferent hues.

He wasn’t new to nightmares, no more than his sister it seems, still unknown and wanting to tuck her beneath his bulky frame, shielding her from life’s wickedness—a fleeting, childish thought. His lips curled, bittersweet in expression.

The older warrior remained silent, no words spoken other than the rumbling purr that vibrated his frame when he came to sit, brushing against her side as a wooly tail curled around his frame. Sitting alone, musing never did much for the foolish warrior, opting to remain hidden, afraid of being vulnerable to clanmates who have only seen him injured, foolishly self-sacrificing and all that willing to give his life to his clan and kin.

“What do ya need?” He spoke after a brief bout of silence, ears angling toward Circe with a languid blink of molten copper. He dared not ask if she was alright, or if she wanted to speak of what had awoken her for he never had, refused to speak, to latch onto the last touch to reality before he crumbled. Instead, if she asked for him to stay, to pretend they were kits again, grooming their fur, then he would in a heartbeat. ​

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thought speech​

 

[Fireflyglow]

He remembered the day he woke up kicking from his own nightmares, crying out for his sister like a kit in need. He desperately looked for her, only to find her and her kits safe and sound. His worries were palpable, but they were just that- worries. It is another night where he finds himself wandering the camp like a ghost, head held high as if the moon would take him. As if Mother could claim him, once more- but he wouldn't be gone now, or soon. A scream catches his attention, wailing and shrieked- his head swivels awkwardly then towards the warrior's den. His paws carry him back to the medicine den, fetching lavender for the worries. Lavender always helped him.

When he sticks his head into the warrior's den, it's with a soft voice muffled by the purple flower that he speaks. "Is everyone alright? I.. Have some lavender, if someone had a nightmare. Stick it in your nest and it should help you sleep soundly." He murmurs, ears swiveling forward as he awkwardly shifts at the entrance. He couldn't see who it was that had screamed, but the sound of Duskpool's voice must mean that it was one of his family members. Pity washes over the large tom. "Everything will be okay. Nightmares are normal, just.. just part of your body telling you your fears." Is that what nightmares were? He sure hoped so.​

SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE ✦ 17 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS​

 

[Sorrelsong]

𓆝 . ° ✦ Shoving her head into her brother's chest, Circe tried to stop the tears in vain.
The molly was tired, exhausted more then she'd realised. If it was any other cat, she doubted she could've felt this safe.
Her maw opened and closed, opened and closed, chewing on invisble freshkill. She couldn't name it. The nightmare, how she felt, what she needed. None of it has vowels she could say or consonants she could remember.
She didn't want to confirm the suspiscious that must've been whispered between cats of all clans by now. That she was to soft. To much of a burden. A pathetic, sobbing ex-kitty pet with a life that was hard, but always just comfortable enough to mark her as not-warrior material; and on the other paw a life too rough to be comfortable around other ex-kitty pets. A weak, unevenly pelted ugly molly. Not even her cursed looks could save her here. Between the moon's light and her brother's scent she was safe for now, but soon the sun would rise, and so would those cats and the thoughts they carried. Despite her best efforts, a sob or two shook her, clawing it's way out of her mouth. Never safe. Always hated. Always too soft.
Her breath caught. "Is everyone alright? I.. Have some lavender, if someone had a nightmare. Stick it in your nest and it should help you sleep soundly." Pelt on end, she swallowed as silently as she could, squeezing the tears from her eyes. Fireflypaw. A scent wafted over her. Pity. Her heart ached. Oh how she wished....
She had to be strong.
"I'm fine." She croaked from her hiding place. Then cringed. She could've been quite. Perhaps her voice gave it away? Her thoughts raced. She refused to admit anything was wrong, but by answering, she had done just that. She should've been quite.
"Not a nightmare." She lied, cringing again, trying despratley to dig herself out of the hole she was making. The scent of pity hung in the air.
"just part of your body telling you your fears." Her heart ached. Hadn't she told herself that exact thing so many times? Doesn't matter what they are if I'm too weak to make them go away.

✧　°　.　✶　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
• 

  CIRCE— SHE/HER･ 37 MOONS ･ WARRIOR IN TRAINING & SKY CLAN･ PENNED BY @KEEEKEEEY!

  Once a rather pretty brown smoked molly, Circe is unnaturally lithe and is missing large chunks of her fur. She has an oddly muscular and feminie build and small paws. — physically easy && mentally easy — Attempting to learn Sky Clan's ways — NPC x NPC : Sibling to Duskpool, Shadowfire and Smokefang

​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He offered a quiet rumble, soothing—calm, Circe’s helm nestled against the wool of his chest, Duskpool used his bulky frame to shield her the best he could, breathing out, he glanced upward with a contemplative expression. He couldn’t fight this for her, no matter how he wanted to, anything other than watching his sister fall apart. “Don’t need to tell me, I’ll be here when yer ready.” He rasped, gentle, but gruff around the edges.

He’d never been good at bein’ gentle, words curling with indifference, burning hues deadpan, except for the small quiver of emotion that slipped through. There was one thing Jaggedstorm said that spoke truer, if words failed, then best be lookin’ at their eyes, but even now those words felt bittersweet. He drew in a deep breath, maw parted in a drawn-out exhale, marred lips curling in a bittersweet grimace, molten hues drifting to Fireflypaw.

I’m fine. His lips quirked upward, burning hues crinkling at the lie, wooly tail curling over his sister’s shoulder in a comforting hug, grounding. The one thing he hoped hadn’t passed was their unwavering stubbornness, admittedly, their lack of proper care, somethin’ Smokefang had been drillin’ into their heads, and Shadowfire hadn’t been all that better, needing the constant snarl of his brother to keep him from tipping over the edge.

“Thank ya, kid.” He rumbled, glancing toward the medicine cat apprentice, timbre like low-hanging thunder. He wasn’t surprised, hearing Circe deny it, somethin’ he would have done the same, slipping out of the camp to wander SkyCaln’s territory before the first set of patrols set out. “How about addin’ some to our nests?” A bump in the right direction, or so he hoped, steering the attention onto his battered form, Duskpool shifted and if Circe knew what he was doing, then the smokey warrior didn’t comment. “I ain’t good at tellin’ stories, but figured the two of us won’t be gettin’ much sleep tonight, why don’t I take over?” He rumbled, figuring the low thrum of his voice and the lavender would help her relax. ​

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thought speech​