*+:｡.｡ Wrath-howl isn't surprised, but it still hurts.
Orangepaw's fear, Sproutberry's rejection, Roaringpaw's conclusion of their shared den-mate's story it...it makes sense. Wrathpaw watches with wide, but not shocked, eyes as the tale unfolds. He can already hear the kittens in the nursery scream for joy when this story is one day told to them; another ring on Thunderclan's oak of victory.
Wrathhowl knows he has no right to feel anything besides resignation...and yet, the killer's heart
aches.
Orangepaw had always been kind to Wrathhowl. Even after everything that transpired, the orange tabby still smiled at Wrath-howl from a distance. Maybe it was never intended for the killer, but still, he admired the boy for never giving in to his fear. To see him crumpled in a ball now, trembling as he pleads for Wrath-howl to not hurt him, feels as though the sharp end of his rib had snapped and sunk deep into his chest. Wrathhowl has no right to tell Orangepaw not to be afraid, to be shocked that he even would be, not after all that he's done. So with his actions, he'll prove it.
Sproutberry's rejection hurts in a way Wrathhowl can't describe. It's the erasing of a path he never knew he'd longed to walk down. It's strange, to want a connection with someone so clearly lost in their pride and callousness...but is Wrathhowl not the same? Something in him aches at the reminder that some cats can't be saved. That
Wrathhowl is among them.
Roaringpaw's decision to draw blood cools the rush in Wrathhowl's veins. He knew the golden point was furious and unforgiving, but to
kill? Starclan, Wrathhowl would've laughed if every cell in his body wasn't frozen stiff, watching his denmates tear at each other before Roaringpaw rose victorious, coated in the blood of a tom they'd all grown up with. Wrathpaw
knows he has no right to judge, not when the light fading in Sproutberry's eyes blinks coppery green in Wrathhowl's vision. Still, the reminder is all the same - Wrathhowl is next.
He knows it.
Just as he knows he ought to feel nothing but reigned.
But the killer can't.
The boy looks at Roaringpaw and finds he can only feel afraid.
He's next. He's next. He's next. And he deserves to be. He has no right to ask for anything different.
He's next, he's next, he's next. Will Roaringpaw give him the mercy to at least pass a message onto Wrathhowl's siblings? He takes a step back, fighting the urge to unsheathe his claws.
He's next, he's next, he's next. And Starclan won't be there to greet him.
Breathing coming out in a wheeze, he startles when he feels something soft against his remaining hind leg. He looks down at Orangepaw, afraid of
Wrathhowl, and finds it impossible to keep the tears out of his dark blue eyes.
"
Orangepaw, promise you'll keep your eyes closed" he whispers to the other boy, wishing, of all the cats right now, that he wasn't one of the growing many to see what it's like for someone's spirit to leave their body. Don't look at Sproutberry. Don't look at
me.
Choking back his tears - his fear, his guilt, the resignation he
doesn't feel but that which he must accept, and faces Roaringpaw.
He's next, he's next, he's next...but when you've taken two lives, it's only fair he gives his one.
Wherver he goes, he promises, he'll be better.
"
B-before you...c-could you tell Laughblossom and Lovelight that I-"
And suddenly, he's on the ground. His head hits the floor with a resounding
THUNK, the only noise he hears above the pounding of blood in his ears is his own gasp and -
"Murderer!"
Stormywing.
She's crying.
Wrathhowl feels small beneath her claws as she screams at him. He feels her claws in his chest; it's so similar to the pierce of guilt, he almost doesn't notice.
Almost. He flinches and trembles, writhes against her grip, but his throat has since sealed - he can't speak a word, he doesn't know what he
could say.
Before today, Wrathhowl had seen two types of death in a cat's eyes.
One, where the light that made them whole, made them
everything faded away into a colorful grey that, in its passing, stole something away from you, too.
Two, where a cat still breathes and walks and
thinks, but the whole that makes them
them has dwindled and cracked, broken so far beyond repair that their eyes look as empty as a lifeless pool of water where not even algae could survive.
Today, right now, he discovers a third kind of death.
One that burns so passionately behind golden eyes that it can consume all that's left of you. Her eyes are golden. Almost copper.
It's fitting, that this is how it ends. He watches as she rises to her hind legs, the rain from her tears making the gold of her eyes enviable to the sun. He wonders if Pebblestep would be proud of her. If, after this, his victim will feel vindicated.
Wrathhowl wishes -
As his cursed name might imply, the killer can only
howl.
Laceration after laceration, with each violent swipe Wrathhowl hears and thinks less.
Murderer! Fox-heart! The insults ring, loud and true, but he can't bring himself to care.
I know! I know! peeters off into desperate
I'm sorry! I'm sorry! before dissipating into
IT HURTS! Until, ultimately, all that's left in his head is just the sound of his own breathless howling.
Blinding white agony. Stinging, burning, freezing! He howls until he can't anymore; until he's a yelping beast twitching weakly on the floor. Hollow, save for the pain.
-
-
GENERAL:
♡ Wrath-howl
♡ DMAB— He/Him
♡ 10 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
♡ Brother to Lovelight, Joywing, Laughblossom || Pridepaw, Merrypaw
♡ Thunderclan — apprentice
♡ Mentored by Wildheart
COMBAT:
♡Physically mediocre | mentally very easy
♡ Attack in bold #4a59ff
injuries: None currently , mentally unwell
"SPEECH"
