- Aug 24, 2022
- 413
- 145
- 43
It’s a form of static, reaping that with which had been sown from a life of hellish topsy turvy intervals of questionable circumstance. What if not would this be but the continuance of this strange man’s story.
Two moons ago, twolegs had made good work of stealing Skyclan warriors. Even better work had been made of that patrol sent to free those stolen from their homeland- that which Thistleback himself had been a part of. A cog upon the ever-dependable spindle of justice, something you could count on. Well, the moment the cage snapped shut around him with that familiar clang, he couldn’t help but smile in the way one does with bitter irony. No matter how hard he clashed with those bars, he’d sooner bruise then they should bend. His only thoughts, were those filled with prayer for his family. He knew they would do fine without him, he had raised them as such. Like steel, he had hammered and shaped those he loved to be ready for the worst. To be able to weather any storm.
yet once again, somehow unhindered by the grave Rhinnon saves his life or rather- diverts it. The purple collar around his neck, though he shall never know it- paved his sudden freedom. He was taken to the home of Rhinnon’s owners with the guidance of the address inscribed upon his collar, where a pair of deeply confused twolegs. No doubt wondering why and how their dead pet’s collar is sported upon this strange looking stray. He had escaped in this moment of confusion.
The streets in which he spent his youth windes before his paws, littered with trash and the distant barks of stray hounds. Ode to the familiar. Thistleback knew just how far he was from home, and with a deep sigh he takes his first step. A moon of travel would bring him here, the loner lands bleeding out before him. The salty smell of concrete is giving away, where the taste of the pines though faint- he breathes in for the first time in two moons.
His grey eyes appear to adjust with menace upon the treelined horizon, his brows pulled scornfully but it could be further from what he feels. The first time ever, the word home whispers to him. So much could change, it didn’t take moons for everything to shift. A part of him wonders what had happened, another wishes to not know. It would be easy to go back to his wicked ways. To be a nameless stray, and blend back into the alleys like a rat in the rubble waiting for death by age or illness. If anyone could let go so outwardly easily it was he. Per noctem in nihilo vehi ( to vanish by night into nothing ). But of course, his callused paws pull him forth.
Once he stands among the towering pines he once sailed on claws, he closes his eyes and feels just how much his body ached. How hard hunger burrows in his gut, he would be skin and bones had it not been for the muscles sculpted by survival and travel- if not for the tough rancid meat of city rodents. Instead he looks a beast, riddled by grime, grease, and rats made prey. He stinks like rubber, burning tar, and carrion. A societal roach that wasn’t so easily squashed under hardship.
He doesn’t make a move, not a sound. Not yet- no doubt they could smell his presence. He settles into a sit, wincing as his hip aches- scowling into the darkening woods. The sun was sinking low, and an umber tune is set in the impending twilight. In these woods, on this dirt, under these nettles he had spilt his blood, built his family, and established his loyalty. Skyclan, and so the hound returns to the flock.
" It’s been a long time " his husky voice rolls off of vocal chords like a blade over the ridges of stone. Lack of use, it creaks on rusty hinges. Looks up with a nicked white skull crowned with withered ears like the prince of tattered flags. Thorns of black was this thickened coat, knuckles rubbed raw with dirt and a propped out heel. He slides down to his belly, rests his chin so tenderly on his paws. They’d come. Sooner or later- a much needed rest falls over him. The ache- finally does it subside come slumber.
Two moons ago, twolegs had made good work of stealing Skyclan warriors. Even better work had been made of that patrol sent to free those stolen from their homeland- that which Thistleback himself had been a part of. A cog upon the ever-dependable spindle of justice, something you could count on. Well, the moment the cage snapped shut around him with that familiar clang, he couldn’t help but smile in the way one does with bitter irony. No matter how hard he clashed with those bars, he’d sooner bruise then they should bend. His only thoughts, were those filled with prayer for his family. He knew they would do fine without him, he had raised them as such. Like steel, he had hammered and shaped those he loved to be ready for the worst. To be able to weather any storm.
yet once again, somehow unhindered by the grave Rhinnon saves his life or rather- diverts it. The purple collar around his neck, though he shall never know it- paved his sudden freedom. He was taken to the home of Rhinnon’s owners with the guidance of the address inscribed upon his collar, where a pair of deeply confused twolegs. No doubt wondering why and how their dead pet’s collar is sported upon this strange looking stray. He had escaped in this moment of confusion.
The streets in which he spent his youth windes before his paws, littered with trash and the distant barks of stray hounds. Ode to the familiar. Thistleback knew just how far he was from home, and with a deep sigh he takes his first step. A moon of travel would bring him here, the loner lands bleeding out before him. The salty smell of concrete is giving away, where the taste of the pines though faint- he breathes in for the first time in two moons.
His grey eyes appear to adjust with menace upon the treelined horizon, his brows pulled scornfully but it could be further from what he feels. The first time ever, the word home whispers to him. So much could change, it didn’t take moons for everything to shift. A part of him wonders what had happened, another wishes to not know. It would be easy to go back to his wicked ways. To be a nameless stray, and blend back into the alleys like a rat in the rubble waiting for death by age or illness. If anyone could let go so outwardly easily it was he. Per noctem in nihilo vehi ( to vanish by night into nothing ). But of course, his callused paws pull him forth.
Once he stands among the towering pines he once sailed on claws, he closes his eyes and feels just how much his body ached. How hard hunger burrows in his gut, he would be skin and bones had it not been for the muscles sculpted by survival and travel- if not for the tough rancid meat of city rodents. Instead he looks a beast, riddled by grime, grease, and rats made prey. He stinks like rubber, burning tar, and carrion. A societal roach that wasn’t so easily squashed under hardship.
He doesn’t make a move, not a sound. Not yet- no doubt they could smell his presence. He settles into a sit, wincing as his hip aches- scowling into the darkening woods. The sun was sinking low, and an umber tune is set in the impending twilight. In these woods, on this dirt, under these nettles he had spilt his blood, built his family, and established his loyalty. Skyclan, and so the hound returns to the flock.
" It’s been a long time " his husky voice rolls off of vocal chords like a blade over the ridges of stone. Lack of use, it creaks on rusty hinges. Looks up with a nicked white skull crowned with withered ears like the prince of tattered flags. Thorns of black was this thickened coat, knuckles rubbed raw with dirt and a propped out heel. He slides down to his belly, rests his chin so tenderly on his paws. They’d come. Sooner or later- a much needed rest falls over him. The ache- finally does it subside come slumber.
-
— TLDR; Asleep on the border and exhausted atm , His collar has the address of his childhood friend! - he landed a month's travel away from sky but he's back and looks like he crawled out of hell.
* I'm coming back to casually write with breaks inbetween! I missed you guys sm
-
OPEN for Dice battles |
forty EVENT TRACKER | IMPORTANT INFO
— Lead warrior of Skyclan since 12.22.22
— Devoted to Deersong 9.29.22
— Father of Coyotepaw, Eveningpaw, Briarpaw, Damsel, Sunflowerpaw, and Rosepaw.
— mentoring Snowpaw graduate(s) Quillstrike
— very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
— voice & accent
— biography・゚✧stine#3004
-