private Repeat until death ☄ Bloodwing

[SINGEGLARE]

*+:｡.｡ It was hard to look at her. Even harder to speak to her. A viper had woven its way around his torso and dug its fangs deep into his chest, he could feel its venom - a languid viscosity blocking his airways and clogging his heart, dripping out into the world until his paws were soaked, sticking to the grass and refusing to let go without tremendous effort. Does she even want to talk to people right now? Does she even want to talk to you? Singeglare grinds his teeth at the questions - frustrated by the lack of tongue to rip out physically...and the lack of answers to silence them anyway.

Once again, Singeglare had been useless. Once again, he'd fallen beneath a titan, his moons of training proving fruitless beneath the hungry stare of a creature who saw him as little more than a beetle - vermin. He could've died. And though Shadowclan won in the end...he wasn't among the victors. He spits into the grass, frustration lighting that venom in his blood aflame. FUCK! To think, he'd aged yet was still stuck as that pathetic twerp that almost got his best friend killed.
To think, he was still a pathetic twerp that couldn't save her, not even from grief.
She's not going to want to talk to you. And even if she did, do you really deserve to talk to her?

As loud as his insecurities are, he's never been one to do as he was told.

"Bloodwing!" he calls the second he spots her fiery coat. For a moment, he falters, before stepping towards her, "I'm-" he bites against his hesitance, "I'm sorry" comes his quiet hiss. He isn't sure if he's referring to her loss...or his inability to help prevent it.

*°:⋆ₓₒ Updated 10/4/24

• 
  
• 
  
  
  
  "SPEECH"
  GENERAL:
  ☄ Singeglare
  ☄ Cismale — He/him — Heterosexual
  ☄ 12 moons — Ages 1 moon every month on the 2nd
  ☄ NPC x Duckshimmer (brother to Swallowflutter, Sneezeduck)
  ☄ Shadowclan — warrior
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ☄ Physically medium | mentally somewhat easy
  ☄ Attack inbold #b8312f
  injuries: none
  

​

 

[BLOODWING]

It wouldn't have been right to kill her opponent, over and over she'd told herself that in the moments leading to her letting go of his throat and for a long time afterward, it'd felt right. She had shown mercy and goodwill, and in return, ThunderClan had spit in her face and killed her mother. Maybe if she'd noticed, things would've been different - Orangepaw could've been a bargaining chip, a reason for Roeflame to leave Needledrift alone - or maybe if she'd held on just a little bit longer, dragged things out, she would at least have at least got justice right there.

But it wasn't justice for Applejaw to kill 'im. How could it be justice for Needledrift?

She just wanted it to be, she wanted to believe that any old ThunderClanner would do, an eye for an eye. As she though to what her heroes may believe, she felt a dark cloud grow over her worldview, uncertainty leaving her mind as frazzled as electrified fur. It seemed the only way to be a hero was to die as one. Her heartbeat clunked on and on, angry at how wrong the right thing felt, angry at herself for not being able to step in as the family's teeth. She was so angry she could cry.

Instead, she took it out on the local rime-bitten wilderness, claws tearing through reeds and paws kicking whatever stones dared get in her way. She whipped her head around quickly as a voice pierced her ear, glaring at Singeglare. He stepped closer to her and her muscles flexed. I'm sorry he said, and she rolled her shoulders. "So am I."

Bloodwing barreled towards him, aiming to clock him in the jaw with a right hook of her sheathed paw. She paused with one paw still hovering in the air, eyes wide, pleading: 'Fight me. I need the distraction.' Singeglare had never said no to one before, now more than ever, that was what she believed she needed from the flame point. He was the fun friend, the one she felt awkward crying upon the shoulder of, the one who she didn't want to see hurting either. "She was flesh and blood... just like the rest of us. She wasn't supposed to be! She was supposed to be..." With the way Ferndance treated her, practically a God. Bloodwing gestured with her muzzle for Singeglare to try and hit her back.

​

 

[SINGEGLARE]

*+:｡.｡ When she turned to face him, golden eyes like a wildfire and framed by the deeply scored claw marks behind her...Singeglare's heart treacherously skipped a beat. He watched with instinctively rising fur as muscle ripped beneath swirling cinnamon stripes echoing the intimidating flex of barely hidden claws. Fuck his heart skipping a beat - Singeglare just gulped.
In an instant, she was upon him!
Still, moons of sparring with this particular partner left him prepared thanks to forged muscle memory, and he reared back instantly, lifting his own paw to-

He hesitates.

Stars erupt behind his eyes as a heavy paw connects with his jaw. A scrawnier body paired with a brick shit house of a woman means he's sent flying like the unwitting cannonball. If he were outside looking in, he would've whistled at the way his flaming skin and bones went rolling! Instead, a flare of frustration ignites in his chest - ever an expected friend when it came to losing. But unlike his usual disposition when competing with his best friend, the fire smothers itself out almost instantly, and Singeglare doesn't rise to the challenge.

Instead, the man rubs his jaw gingerly, narrowed eyes slit with...reluctance? He felt betrayed by his own feelings, but he...he didn't have it in him. He didn't have what Bloodwing needed. He didn't during the battle and he...he couldn't now. Fuck, he just couldn't. He just focuses all his attention on her, the break in her voice, the watery fire in her eyes.

And his chest hurts.
"I'm sorry" is all he can think of to say as he gets to his feet. She's in her battle stance - he knows it like the back of his striped paw. Pavlov's bell rings, and his own muscles twitch with the instinct to get into his own stance. Countless times before, he'd do so easily. This was as much her happy place as it was his own. She was his happy place.


But he failed her.

Just like he'd failed their first big adventure and gotten her hurt he...he couldn't fucking protect her now. He was pinned to the ground like a pathetic rat while her mother died! He did nothing to keep her safe!

And even now, he failed to know how to fix it.
Instead, he looked past her gaze to that singularly ripped ear, and his resolve crumbled further to ash.

*°:⋆ₓₒ Updated 10/4/24

• // IM SORRY I ROLLED A LOW ON HIM HANDLING THIS WELL AAAUGH !!
  
• 
  
  
  
  "SPEECH"
  GENERAL:
  ☄ Singeglare
  ☄ Cismale — He/him — Heterosexual
  ☄ 12 moons — Ages 1 moon every month on the 2nd
  ☄ NPC x Duckshimmer (brother to Swallowflutter, Sneezeduck)
  ☄ Shadowclan — warrior
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ☄ Physically medium | mentally somewhat easy
  ☄ Attack inbold #b8312f
  injuries: none
  

​

 

[BLOODWING]

Their fights were routine - one started it, oftentimes, the other ended it. Never had the stakes felt high, never had one party not been into it, and yet as she forced a pained grin upon her muzzle, anticipating a slug from the flame point, her face felt woefully unpunched. Singeglare sits there like a sad puppy, no fierce stares could convince him to get up and, for the first time since they'd started sparring, Bloodwing felt remorse. Her aching heart thumped even more painfully than before, her gut twisted as if she'd made some terrible mistake. A paw was raised to help him up but it could go no further than a mouse-length, as if scared he would turn to dust if she dared touch him again.

'Fight me. I don't want to talk. Don't make me talk.' Even as hopelessness crept into her bones, she held onto a smidgen of trust in her friend that he'd understand her, that this wasn't what she wanted for their friendship. She had seen him guilty enough and decided she didn't like it, it was enough to make her wish she'd never see it again. He got to his feet and, with it, betrayal. He repeated himself and her eyes narrowed to slits, her claws unsheathed, she pushed her paws further into the mud and muck until they disappeared entirely. "Fuck sorry. She didn't die for you, she—" Cinnamon fur bristled like a lion's mane upon a tiger's body, for a moment, there was hope that Singeglare would disappear the moment she started shouting. Instead, he stood as stalwart as a bad memory, and the anger at his endless apologies shattered just as quickly as it came.

She rushed forward, kicking up muck and mire earth, letting it stain her front and Singeglare's. Both paws were outstretched as she attempted to tackle Singeglare, forelimbs wrapping around his spine in an attempt to keep him upright. A flurry of pummels never came, instead, her limbs remained woefully still as stone, her chin resting upon a pale shoulder, her eyes staring off into a world where ShadowClan could be safe and her mother could be alive.

ShadowClan's grim reaper had some nerve going after her family, she'd have thought a lifetime ago - now, she was all too painfully aware of her own mortality, how easy it was to kill, how easy it was to be killed. She tried to imagine Needledrift as she lived and the thought caused a choked noise in her throat. "I dunno what she died for." She sobbed quietly into his fur.
​