private starring role ;; eventide

[hyacinthbreath]

@EVENTIDE.

There's something familiar about the boy who ended up on their borders that day, something eerily similar. It makes her overthink, swimming in the ocean of unsure emotions and overwhelming thoughts. She doesn't like the feeling, she can't control it- therefore making it a weakness. It took her a whole sleepless night to consider the idea of visiting the kid at the badger's den, pondering on it as if it was one of the biggest decisions of her life. This had nothing to do with her being a Lead Warrior. This was about the boy. He was a connection she didn't realize she had, and she was faintly curious about him.

Would he survive alone, out there?

Would he accept the babying of the other cats of WindClan, or pay them back when he healed?

Would he leave, when he was healed and healthy again?

Many questions swarmed the silver lynx as she made her way through the territory, crossing over a tree and then a few rocks; spotting the badger's den in the distance. She sees the group of cats that were sent to live there as punishment, the looks of nervousness on their faces as they scurried off at her arrival. Hyacinth made no move to talk to them, no cruel scowl. What had happened to her when she had met Eventide was something she couldn't explain- she had lost it, that day. As she turned the corner, she spotted the chocolate-colored form of Eventide, and she fought the sickening feeling of excitement inside of her at his wounded form.

"How is it that you managed to pass over the thunderpath, but you can't even hunt for yourself?" She asks bluntly, unimpressed- perhaps she was wrong about this one. Perhaps he was just another weak little kid who just wanted to be seen. The world had no room for the weak.​

 

[GROUSECRY.]

LOOKING CLEAR BUT NEVER RECOGNIZED

Since he'd arrived in the badger set, all he'd done was lay down away from the others and sleep. The sleep was interrupted eventually with a visit, a checkup from the kind brown molly who smelled of herbs and fought valiantly for his life, but then quickly back to fitful, feverish sleep, his body crashing now that it expected him to be safe and, for once, with a full belly. Now, though, he was awake, looking at the dead rabbit, trying to work himself up to eating more. It was all he wanted, all he could pray for, yet he had been warned to take it easy. His body wasn't used to this, he could make himself sick-sicker. But surely another bite won't hurt?

He pulled it close, sinking his teeth into the cold, tough meat but the flavors were better than ever in his brain, closing his eyes as he savored before swallowing down the bite with a hefty exhale. Eventide blinked, looking at the face of the hare with an indifference, his torn ear twitching as he contemplated another bite before he heard a small commotion at the front of the set, glancing first out of the corner of his eye. A shape, cast in shadows and illuminated by the dim lumity allowed in through the entrance but the glimmer of those eyes... His head turned fully, meeting the mean purple-eyed she from when he was allowed in, pulling the cold hare close to his chest. His body sunk down farther, defensive, as he stared up at her with anxiety, so very wary of her, of the fact she still could very well kill him and likely face no consequence, no matter what the nice herb molly said.

"...I shouldn't of lived, but I-I got across somehow. I-I fell into a gorse bush I think-? and-and that's how I got all my... my injuries," He explained after a minute, his voice quiet. He didn't take his eyes off her, he didn't trust her as much as she didn't trust him, "I never learned. Nobody ever taught me and my brother always made sure we were fed every night." Crazy phenomenon but not everyone had parents their entire life, you unempathetic, spoiled, prissy foxheart, He mentally insulted, the thoughts venomous and he felt the words dancing on his tongue, but her gaze, the tone, kept him quiet. So, so badly he wished she'd just leave, that she wouldn't take an interest in him.
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