- Jan 12, 2023
- 163
- 57
- 28
she doesn’t know what to do about this. her paws blister and pulse with a red hot irritation, delicate skin puffed into an ugly split where frost had eaten away at the pads. her mother had made her walk for a long time, over cold and frozen grounds, over ice that shook and cracked with each step. each body that slammed against it, she can still feel the angle of water sloshing underneath. in the moment, the pain in her paws has been but an afterthought. she hadn’t expected to see smokestar again, let alone the rest of her clan — when he’d called her name, all she could think was home, home, home. her mind still whirled to comprehend it all, but she could only just now comprehend the ache that only seemed to worsen.
she’s settled now ; the same old shellkit, though shunned and scolded, ears kept folded and tail kept tucked until she simpered her way back into the hearts of those around her. she doesn’t blame them, the looks that still lingered. she lives in a low simmer of embarrassment, the obvious brand of scolding that felt as though it were slapped across her shell - cracked face. perhaps that was what kept her from moonpaw and ravensong’s den when her paws scream their pain with every step. the little molly is curled just outside the nursery in a weak beam of newleaf light, licking at them now : rapid and desperate ribbons to abate the sharp thrum of pain streaking across deep, red cracks in her pads.
it doesn’t get better. she leans up, letting out a whine of contempt and frustration when they go right back to pulsing their agony up her arms. she kicks the ground behind her, ” hazeclooooud! “ she calls, defeated, a warbling cry to her voice, ” can we go to the riverrr? my paws hurt.. “ maybe dunking them in the water would help. it certainly was a nice thought.
she’s settled now ; the same old shellkit, though shunned and scolded, ears kept folded and tail kept tucked until she simpered her way back into the hearts of those around her. she doesn’t blame them, the looks that still lingered. she lives in a low simmer of embarrassment, the obvious brand of scolding that felt as though it were slapped across her shell - cracked face. perhaps that was what kept her from moonpaw and ravensong’s den when her paws scream their pain with every step. the little molly is curled just outside the nursery in a weak beam of newleaf light, licking at them now : rapid and desperate ribbons to abate the sharp thrum of pain streaking across deep, red cracks in her pads.
it doesn’t get better. she leans up, letting out a whine of contempt and frustration when they go right back to pulsing their agony up her arms. she kicks the ground behind her, ” hazeclooooud! “ she calls, defeated, a warbling cry to her voice, ” can we go to the riverrr? my paws hurt.. “ maybe dunking them in the water would help. it certainly was a nice thought.
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i. yelling for @hazecloud but will need @RAVENSONG or @Moonpaw < 3 her pawsies are just super irritated and torn up after her time out.
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frail alabaster molly with lilac striping and watery amber eyes..SHELLKIT 𓆉 SHE / HER, KITTEN OF RIVERCLAN. KINDLING xx UNKNOWN, NIECE TO SMOKESTAR. THREE MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. PENNED BY ANTLERS.she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of shell - touched cream, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore. feather breath and elderdown fur conceals a body worn fragile by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with baby fat in others. her face is short - muzzled, framed half mast by eyes coined warm, sugared amber
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