- Aug 24, 2022
- 413
- 145
- 43
A Bristly spine shifts along the bushes as Thistleback crawls out from the shadows of the camp edge, jaws flexing with the dull ache in his shoulders and hip bones. Age was unkind, and war whispers under the skin in which it paints for ages to come. A song in his skeleton of many winters lived, enough to tell the tale of hunger vividly. Though his limbs and chest were tethered with thick muscle, he could recall the way leafbare had lacerated deep like stroking a violin with a knife. The pain is distant, and newleaf sun baked into his thorny coat and made his aches much more tolerable.
His mood in the past six moons had been that of a quiet and brooding beasty, but not much had changed then had it? His children were grown, his surviving friends and clanmates were close. The loss of Blazestar well it had a way of rotting in his subconscious. Unlike most, grief for Thistleback while not quite as intense, was dealt with by marinating in the echos of memories, walking soft paws on shattered glass. Brewing in his mind was the regrets of things unsaid, if there was anything nearly as passionate as love it was hatred, and he felt it deeply for those who took away his beloved friends. Thistleback had a black heart for his enemies, and just as deep a love for his clanmates. He just showed it in peculiar ways, unspoken and unseen but irrevocably there. Though he wore a scowl as deep as the ravine, and had developed a tendency to work and walk alone. He would always be ready to take another set of claws or teeth to the flesh for his clan. Until the day something finally put him to rest.
He often wondered what laid out for him after this life, surely not Starclan. Perhaps nothing, a fade to darkness- an extinction of his soul, like a star shattering and turning to dust. The thought was quiet appealing, especially to a man with such loud a mind. A mind that was restless and not so much haunted as it was fevered with the past. However, do not think this man melancholy by any means, no, sadness was not his ballad. His truth, perhaps but he wore his happiness and sadness with the same weight. Perfecting the intricate veil he wore to conceal himself, treating his emotions like a tumor to grow unsuspecting.
Thistleback stalks across camp, the sun drowning beneath the grasping fingers of the pine tops and bathing the clearing with a slight orange. Gripped in his jaws, a quail dangling small but of shareable size by Thistleback’s stomach standards. He did not eat much, a full belly never felt right to him and never would. After a few bites he often felt like an engorged tick, it gave him the crawlies since he was a kit eating dumpster scraps.
he drops the bird toward his nearest clanmate, his voice is hoarse, the lack of use over a few days from nights spent hunting alone was a slight strain on the vocals. " are you hungry? I cannot finish this myself… usually I pick off the stale mice… doesn’t take much for me " he settles himself onto his ribs, tendons in his paws bulging as he rolled his wrists to crackle out some of the tension from his long walks. He doesn’t move to take a bite, metal hued eyes shifting to the skyline as a yawn splits his jaws.
His mood in the past six moons had been that of a quiet and brooding beasty, but not much had changed then had it? His children were grown, his surviving friends and clanmates were close. The loss of Blazestar well it had a way of rotting in his subconscious. Unlike most, grief for Thistleback while not quite as intense, was dealt with by marinating in the echos of memories, walking soft paws on shattered glass. Brewing in his mind was the regrets of things unsaid, if there was anything nearly as passionate as love it was hatred, and he felt it deeply for those who took away his beloved friends. Thistleback had a black heart for his enemies, and just as deep a love for his clanmates. He just showed it in peculiar ways, unspoken and unseen but irrevocably there. Though he wore a scowl as deep as the ravine, and had developed a tendency to work and walk alone. He would always be ready to take another set of claws or teeth to the flesh for his clan. Until the day something finally put him to rest.
He often wondered what laid out for him after this life, surely not Starclan. Perhaps nothing, a fade to darkness- an extinction of his soul, like a star shattering and turning to dust. The thought was quiet appealing, especially to a man with such loud a mind. A mind that was restless and not so much haunted as it was fevered with the past. However, do not think this man melancholy by any means, no, sadness was not his ballad. His truth, perhaps but he wore his happiness and sadness with the same weight. Perfecting the intricate veil he wore to conceal himself, treating his emotions like a tumor to grow unsuspecting.
Thistleback stalks across camp, the sun drowning beneath the grasping fingers of the pine tops and bathing the clearing with a slight orange. Gripped in his jaws, a quail dangling small but of shareable size by Thistleback’s stomach standards. He did not eat much, a full belly never felt right to him and never would. After a few bites he often felt like an engorged tick, it gave him the crawlies since he was a kit eating dumpster scraps.
he drops the bird toward his nearest clanmate, his voice is hoarse, the lack of use over a few days from nights spent hunting alone was a slight strain on the vocals. " are you hungry? I cannot finish this myself… usually I pick off the stale mice… doesn’t take much for me " he settles himself onto his ribs, tendons in his paws bulging as he rolled his wrists to crackle out some of the tension from his long walks. He doesn’t move to take a bite, metal hued eyes shifting to the skyline as a yawn splits his jaws.
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— please forgive my rusty writing! It's been forever duihwf <3 I'm back besties, and so is this man and his 6-month long anti-social streak
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OPEN for Dice battles |
forty-five mns. EVENT TRACKER | IMPORTANT INFO
— Former Lead warrior of Skyclan 12.22.22 - 06.2023
— Devoted to Deersong 9.29.22
— Father of Coyotepaw, Eveningpaw, Briarpaw, Damsel, Sunflowerpaw, and Rosepaw.
— mentoring none formerly Snowpath & Quillstrike
— very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
— voice & accent
— biography･ﾟ✧
stine#3004
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