camp PLAYING IN THE SAND &. morbid curiosity

[BUZZARDKIT.]

I SAW A PHOTO, YOU LOOK JOYOUS​

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//TW FOR GORE, BLOOD, AND THOUGHTS OF VIOLENCE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

buzzardkit, much like his namesake, seems to be drawn to things that are no longer alive. this simply comes from a place of curiosity. a place of wonder, as he sits and stares at the dead frog in front of him. his paw taps on the ground, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he just watches. something within him stirs, and he finds himself lifting a paw and dragging claws down the little creature, watching bits of blood spill onto bark colored paw. it's a slow drip, meaning the kill was recent enough for it to still be bleeding but the things been dead long enough to slow it completely. he wonders, if he were do this to a cat, perhaps, would they bleed the same way? this thought comes not from a place of malice, but a simple curiosity. he can't help it. he's always been inquisitive in nature. he isn't changing any time soon.

as she digs her claws deeper, she finds herself staring at the insides. her nose sniffs and ultimately scrunches as the scents fills her nose. a scent to remember. she never forgets a scent. not once. not once. it lingers, and infects her brain like that of a parasite and yet she sniffs further, moving around viscera with her muzzle, crimson soaking it before she pulls back all together. there it is. the scent of death. like a lullaby that soothes an urge inside of her. she doesn't get it but she will, someday. her need to know only fuels her further. her kinked tail twitches and she decides to further dissect.

"gu...ts. insides. all of the insides."

things. parts. pieces. they take them out, each piece placed in a very specific place, by shape and color it seems, as they count them out. they decide to eat what's left behind, the skin and bits of flesh seem to be enough to curb some sort of appetite that builds for the blood they can taste just on the tip of their tongue, however they stop before they consume a thing. their gaze only stares and they swear for a few moments they can see... something. their heartbeat picks up and their ears twitch. what... are they looking at? peace.

a voice answers it before it even realizes it's asked a question. huh. the frog does look peaceful. is that what death is? peace? it must ask someone later. but for now, it must eat. the way it eats is messy. by the time it's finished, it's seemed to have bathed in guts and glory and this awakens something deep within it. what, it wonders, but this time there is no answer. not yet.

"s....till hungry."

the tiny beasts appetite seems as strong as ever. he moves to find the next piece of prey, aiming to take it from whoever is about to eat, without a care of who it's from or what they're eating. he's hungry. he should be allowed to eat.

//tldr: buzzardkit completely took apart a frog before eating it and is now stealing from someone else.
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[THRASHERTHROAT]

જ➶ The feline feels no appetite for the bird that they clutch between their paws. They have thoughts moving through their hesd and they need to get a move on with training their apprentice. Leechpaw hangs in limbo because of them and they sigh darkly, eyes narrowing just a little bit as they debate on what they need to do. Slowly one paw falls away from the bird and their eyes travel around the camp, head tilting as they rest upon a young kit. A young kit that has decided to tear a part s frog and dissect it. A frown pulls at their maw and they shake their head. Eating is one thing but playing with it's food is another. That is bad manners, at least to them. Turning away from the sight they begin to pluck the bird, pulling at the feathers that keep the meat wrapped up like a lovely present. Their tail casually waving bappily when all of a sudden they scent the smell of amphibian and blood coming closer. All of a sudden tiny beast comes forth and tries to take their prey.

As flabbergasted as they are Buzzardkit manages to slip it from between their paws and they keep staring before they lift their paw up. Aiming to pin the kit down with claws extended almost like a cage. "That, that is very greedy of you. Or foolishly brave. Though kits are not brave...." They begin mismatched eyes staring down at the child with an unreadable expression. "You didn't ask. That's mine. Are you normally this rude, Buzzardkit?"​

 

[shalestorm]

With the colder weather, comes the slowly dwindling amount of prey to be caught. Shalestorm has been going out more and more lately, trying to bring back at least two pieces of prey each outing, just so that she can have the peace of mind that she's doing her proper part. Today, she returns holding a wimpy looking frog and a skinny vole between her jaws, but as the blue chimera makes a beeline for the prey stores, she can't help but shift azure eyes onto a scene that immediately sets alarm bells off in her head. Thrasherthroat attempting to pin a kit with their claws extended.

Little care given to how neatly she throws down her catches, Shalestorm quickly darts over to where the warrior is interacting with the kit, her fur bristled in a rare display of anger.

"Thrasherthroat!" She shouts, attempting to gently nudge him away from the kit. "What do you think you're doing?! Buzzardkit's still young! Why would you think unsheathing your claws against it is in any way acceptable?!"

if I held your hand // would that be okay?

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  ooc -
  
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  #e36f90
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  (img) Shalestorm * she/her* 26 moons
  blue point/blue chimera w/ low white; blue eyes
  Peaceful & healing powerplay allowed || underline for attack
  penned by Neptune. || Neptune on disc, dm me for plots

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[Amberhaze]

⚛︎₊˚‧ Amberhaze had been poking at the rather underwhelming stocks of prey that were leftover from that days mealtime, the remaining options being all but frozen stiff from the weather and simply having gone uneaten for however long. He never did possess much of an appetite, however when he was able to eat given his stress levels deplete enough to ensure he wouldn't simply throw it up again, he preferred to have something that was actually somewhat edible. Of course, one couldn't ever be too picky during the cold season, this he knew better than anyone- and yet today he convinced himself that he wasn't actually that hungry, instead opting to turn away and settle down next to Thrasherthroat with the intention to share tongues in his no-contact, all vocalization sort of way.

Before Amberhaze could even formulate a sentence in his head, his attention was quickly situated elsewhere as he took notice of the little kitten who had begun to absolutely disembowel the frog they had been gnawing on, placing it into sections at its tiny paws piece by piece like some kind of grotesque meat puzzle. He could not look away, though his ears began to ring and his head started to buzz with a newfound pressure accumulating at the forefront of his cranium as it tended to do during his descents, provoked by what he was bearing witness to. There was curiosity, there was playing with your food, there was making sure that the prey was free of maggots or illness, there was simply being a kit- but this was different, surely? There was something wrong with it. Something wretched and rancid and wrong.

The oriental would shift upon his haunches with a start as the tiny figure turned its attention to the bird trapped in Thrasherthroat's grasp, the older cat hardly able to defeather it before being interrupted by means of eager jaws and insatiable greed, courtesy of the rancid spawn. "Uh-" He began, hardly able to formulate an appropriate reaction in such little time. Luckily, his companion seemed to have the situation under control, promptly trapping the beast beneath extended ivory claws accompanied by verbalized disdain. This was not received well by Shalestorm, who had inserted herself with haste after discarding a rather unimpressive catch onto the prey pile Amberhaze had been rummaging through just moments before her arrival.

"What do you think you're doing?! Buzzardkit's still young! Why would you think unsheathing your claws against it is in any way acceptable?!" She would cry out, anger making her voice taut with emotion.

Amberhaze laughed in response, though it was a very nervous sound- short and strained- the action causing his eyes to visibly water and his throat flex as though it caused him some degree of pain. "I-If you saw what that...that thing w-was doing earlier y-you might- uh- have a different reaction." He would gaze down at the brown ball of fur with a grimace as he went on. "T-Tearing apart prey and- and laying all it's innards out l-like some kind of- some kind of ritual." The word 'ritual' seemed to awaken something inside of Amberhaze, his ocher eyes immediately widening into panicked moons before jumping to his paws with an intake of breath so sharp it was audible, almost a gasp. "It's cursed!"

✧　°　.　⚠︎　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

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  AMBERHAZE — HE/HIM ･ 20 MOONS ･ WARRIOR OF SHADOWCLAN ･ PENNED BY SLOANE

  a short but lengthy black cat with a boney build and striking ocher eyes filled with unveiled trepidation. black oriental shorthair.

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[Swansong]

⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ 　Swansong lingers, as she often does in camp. She lies not far from the freshkill pile, resting her weary body after an earlier (and only somewhat successful) hunt. She takes this time to observe, to listen - a habit that she has always been fond of.

Half-lidded eyes rest upon the bloodstained form of a scraggly kit. Vulturekit, one of the carrionplace foundlings. Her face is blank as she watches him tear the innards from the body of a frog, muttering chitterchirp words to himself. It tears with precision, laying each piece out neatly even as the mess of blood stains all that surrounds it. It is a careful motion, and one that easy draws all of the ghostly warrior's interest. So young, and yet already drawn to death. It is only natural, given his birthplace. They will be one to watch.

But the little carrion-beast is too bold, it seems. Snatching up another's meal like the scavenger that it is. It is only as Thrasherthroat pins the child beneath their claws that Swansong moves. She draws herself up slowly from her resting place, begins her swaying path towards the growing commotion.

Amberhaze spills jittering words: it's cursed. Swansong smiles. "Aren't we all...?" trills the warrior smoothly. Her voice remains gentle, deathly eyes sliding over to glance at the frightful tom. The marshland's death-curse is well known, has been since their own youth. It is no wonder that a child should be affected by it. "There is no harm in curiosity... Nor in ritual. We all must confront death in our own ways... Even the youth." Stars know she herself has found plenty of rituals of her own. It is the language of the dead, of those beyond the veil. Not all take so easily to it as her. Amberhaze may be right about Buzzardkit being cursed - but this only heightens the molly's interest in it.

She settles to sit, letting Shalestorm handle the physical issue. "Stealing though, ah... Perhaps young Buzzardkit would be better directed to the freshkill pile than pinned here, mm?" Her eyes drift downwards to the tiny, reddened body of the kit. Her voice lowers, retaining its gentleness even so. "We are not... so preyless yet as to begin thieving from one another..." Perhaps once leafbare comes... Though, she does hope they will still retain some semblance of civility, even if she must be the one to keep it there. It would not do ShadowClan well to tear one another apart, as much as everyone seems to want to.

‎‎┌── BUT NO ONE❜S REALLY THERE ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ DOES THAT MEAN IT❜S DONE IN VAIN? ──┐‎

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  "SPEECH"

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  SWANSONG　☾　she / they, warrior of shadowclan, eighteen moons.
  ★ a pale, silky-furred cream tabby with tired blue eyes.
  ★ dreamy and detached, known for her perpetual sleepiness.
  ★ halfshade x smogstar, littermate to applejaw, garlicheart, & ashenfall.
  ★ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ★ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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