- Dec 24, 2022
- 23
- 3
- 3
it’s long work, breaking the frosted ground enough to sink soiled claws into the dirt below ; chunks of insect - infected soil and root pulling up with each wide - splayed pawful. long work, he and sharpshadow take it upon the shoulder, sleepless creatures ; smelling of graves and heavy stone, of the water pooled deep underground dampening the tips of his paws. leafbare is no season for the elders to be out digging and so he does ; slips from camp, the slow spit of loss down the spine of shadowclan, frigid and uncomfortable. at least his paws had numbed. no good deed goes unpunished, as welcome a punishment as it may be. the moon blinks scornfully at him, watches through a slitted crescent eye, shades him silver the further dirt he overturns.
starlit eyes lift towards the empty, white - wisped heavens, but that dark void is even further from him in his frost - crusted pit. by the time dawn streaks it’s gored red - pink across the sky, one of their young dead would be here, silent amidst the sea of river song the mosquito and toad sing into the night. he thinks to pray, but it would only be the absence of thought that bothers him ; empty words from a locust - filled brain. his pa had told him to pray anyway, but serpentspine had never learned how to cast his voice above the crickets. like a manged hound chasing its tail, the cat digs another pawful, another — one scoop, two scoop, three scoop, shakes his paw, repeat. if he stops, if he loses count, he doesn’t think it would matter how much he prayed.
perhaps it was bad luck. something sewn deep into their home ; the stone of the thunderpath, star - kissed blood draining into its stinking crevices. but his daddy named him serpent and his fangs will sink into himself again and again. sugarwater venom these days, but the wound still bleeds if there is no one to temper him. desperate and wild - eyed for control, something to save, to bless his paws with something other than the reek of death and rigor mortis. blood mottles the bottom of his chest and he’s sure that if he were pried open, his heart would be an overripe bruise, black and deep - veined blue.
there was something special about their homelands ; it ran thick with rot. it was stiff as comfreypaw’s cooling body they’d left in camp, forever breaking down. serpentspine feels a solace with this misery — or rather, it’s company. there is a sound, something of crunching snow and frosted breath, and the tomcat turns his long - muzzled face to look where sharpshadow moves. his first, knee - jerk thought is a panicked follow? that doesn’t meet his even - eyed face ; he shifts it to gleaming interest, lifts slithering limbs up from the dirt, ” now don’t leave me to the dead alone. “ he speaks in a drawl like tree sap, but it tastes like copper on his tongue. serpentine eyes flit back, wide circles of slitted fire, ” they can be awful company. “
sharpshadow was an electric presence ; something ever - toiling, wired taut like the linking chains of carrionplace’s borders. each interaction thrums her to wide - eyed life, shakes the barbed wire fence along its rattling side, and serpentspine’s paws are already stained with his own blood — he was always a curious creature. what was a little more? barbed as the spikes along her back, serpentspine pictured himself the shrike, hovering near and iron - tinged as oilslick limbs slip above ground and stretch him to a stand. he wonders if she prays, but it’s too heavy a thing for a night like this, for a vague relationship like they had. eyes flicker, harsh and reptilian against the night, the mist that layers their stoneyard. they’re both littered with dirt, with scraps of plant and frost.
they both are filthy and ice ridden, but he looks the silvery feline pointedly up and down anyway. amusement glitters, low and sharp on his face ; when he speaks again, he does so with a low, faux simper of, ” you look just about ready to join them down there, anyway. “ and the night is quiet, aside from them and the occasional croak, the bark of coyotes far in the distance, aside from him where he murmurs against the low winds.
starlit eyes lift towards the empty, white - wisped heavens, but that dark void is even further from him in his frost - crusted pit. by the time dawn streaks it’s gored red - pink across the sky, one of their young dead would be here, silent amidst the sea of river song the mosquito and toad sing into the night. he thinks to pray, but it would only be the absence of thought that bothers him ; empty words from a locust - filled brain. his pa had told him to pray anyway, but serpentspine had never learned how to cast his voice above the crickets. like a manged hound chasing its tail, the cat digs another pawful, another — one scoop, two scoop, three scoop, shakes his paw, repeat. if he stops, if he loses count, he doesn’t think it would matter how much he prayed.
perhaps it was bad luck. something sewn deep into their home ; the stone of the thunderpath, star - kissed blood draining into its stinking crevices. but his daddy named him serpent and his fangs will sink into himself again and again. sugarwater venom these days, but the wound still bleeds if there is no one to temper him. desperate and wild - eyed for control, something to save, to bless his paws with something other than the reek of death and rigor mortis. blood mottles the bottom of his chest and he’s sure that if he were pried open, his heart would be an overripe bruise, black and deep - veined blue.
there was something special about their homelands ; it ran thick with rot. it was stiff as comfreypaw’s cooling body they’d left in camp, forever breaking down. serpentspine feels a solace with this misery — or rather, it’s company. there is a sound, something of crunching snow and frosted breath, and the tomcat turns his long - muzzled face to look where sharpshadow moves. his first, knee - jerk thought is a panicked follow? that doesn’t meet his even - eyed face ; he shifts it to gleaming interest, lifts slithering limbs up from the dirt, ” now don’t leave me to the dead alone. “ he speaks in a drawl like tree sap, but it tastes like copper on his tongue. serpentine eyes flit back, wide circles of slitted fire, ” they can be awful company. “
sharpshadow was an electric presence ; something ever - toiling, wired taut like the linking chains of carrionplace’s borders. each interaction thrums her to wide - eyed life, shakes the barbed wire fence along its rattling side, and serpentspine’s paws are already stained with his own blood — he was always a curious creature. what was a little more? barbed as the spikes along her back, serpentspine pictured himself the shrike, hovering near and iron - tinged as oilslick limbs slip above ground and stretch him to a stand. he wonders if she prays, but it’s too heavy a thing for a night like this, for a vague relationship like they had. eyes flicker, harsh and reptilian against the night, the mist that layers their stoneyard. they’re both littered with dirt, with scraps of plant and frost.
they both are filthy and ice ridden, but he looks the silvery feline pointedly up and down anyway. amusement glitters, low and sharp on his face ; when he speaks again, he does so with a low, faux simper of, ” you look just about ready to join them down there, anyway. “ and the night is quiet, aside from them and the occasional croak, the bark of coyotes far in the distance, aside from him where he murmurs against the low winds.
-
i. @SHARPSHADOW surprise sillies gravedigging
-
-
skeletal black tom with ghost rosettes and blood orange eyes. oil - slick rot & buzz of hungry horseflies crowding sloughing meat, he is born of his surroundings, forged black like the writhing insects that permeate his homelands. shaped in strands of shadow, long and bony ; a coat of scruffy, rosette - splotched obsidian feathering messily over his gaunt form. maned like a viper in shades of salt and pepper, splintering fur cast in a mock hood along a slim, vertebrae - bumped neck. his name has suited him since birth, eased into the world a long, writhing thing, with limbs of stretching shadow pawing blind at the shadowclan muck. his ears and eyelids are thin - membraned, thick - veined and stark against the darkness of his face. a strange, spidering thing ; broad - shouldered and tall in his maturing age, poor posture bringing his serpentine muzzle to a low, drooping hang.SERPENTSPINE ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𓆦 HE / HIM, YOUNG WARRIOR OF SHADOWCLAN. JAGGED xx SHADOW, YOUNGER BROTHER TO CHILLEDSTAR. FIFTEEN MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE BRACKISH WATER & COPPER. PENNED BY ANTLERS---------
