THE DEVIL'S HANDS ARE IDLE PLAYTHINGS \ making 'art'

[MALLOWLARK]

\ TW for prey animal gore!! won't be excessive but just warning that it's there.

A crow, picked clean, lay at Mallowlark's paws. This could only mean horrible things.

He would never waste food; he'd learned better than that, and he believed better than that. Though he had his curiosities about the anatomy of what they ate and what they were, the natural order was surprisingly important to him. When something died, the domino tom firmly believed he was doing no harm by letting no part of it go to waste... even when the bits he used were, objectively, disgusting at best.

It was not gutting nor pulling feathers out that Mallowlark performed upon this crow; no, it was something far more tricky and far more brutish. Nearby lay his nest, but it was discarded from his thoughts for now, attention undivided from his task. He'd never tried this before... he'd done plenty of pulling organs out in his time, he'd even managed to roll out an eyeball or two, but... well, he supposed legs had to be strong. Crow legs were so twiggy, though- they hardly looked strong enough just to carry the head of a bird, let along its whole fat body!

What a horrific sight to anyone even slightly unused to his habits. A grinning, looming wraith, towering over a meatless meal, trying to wrench a crow's legs from its body.​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​

 

[FALLOWMOTH]

Fallowmoth has never been the squeamish type. In the community where they had grown up, being put off by a bit of bone or rot left few options for food. Here in WindClan, though, there is rarely ever a repulsive aspect to the prey in the clan’s freshkill pile. There is, however, Mallowlark. The tom wears an obscenely wide grin at all times; Fallowmoth would testify that they have never seen the sharp-toothed grin gone from the white feline’s face, even during sleep.

Today it seems that Mallowlark is playing with his prey, although upon closer inspection it appears to be already fully eaten. Bright, lazy eyes peer at the other tom as he pries at bony legs, a sight meant not for the eyes of the weak-stomached. They attempt to disguise their noise of surprise (and a bit of distaste) behind a well-timed clearing of their throat, but stride closer anyway. Probably too close for comfort, he leans forth, chewing at the inside of his cheek.

"Interesting," he says with a thinly veiled grimace. He can make a guess at the other cat’s reasoning, he thinks. Perhaps it is the same curiosity that he shares—although his own is more about understanding how or why things work the way they do. "What is your goal?" He questions anyway, gaze shifting to pitch-black paws.
​

[ I CAN BE ANYONE ]​

 

[Dandelionwish]

If he ever went missing and they didn't immediately ask Mallowlark to let them check his nest for Dandelionpaw sized bones then he would be quite surprised. His mismatched eyes watch Fallowmoth lean in close to examine what the strikingly pale warrior was up to only to question in a tone that implied some degree of interest. The sepia point apprentice gave a full body shudder at the idea of snapping a piece of prey apart like that, he never liked the sound of breaking because it reminding him of shattering windows and thrown bottles smashing against the ground; set him into his fight or flight mode. Still, they weren't wasting food or anything so he hardly saw an issue in the poking and prodding bout. The sparrow between his own paws was only partially gnawed on, he'd gotten distracted watching the morbid display across from with less interest and more twisted curiousity. It was making him lose his appetite. He wished the older tom had done this somewhere else, what if a kitten saw it and got spooked by the grisly manner in which the bird was being plied apart?
Was he allowed to say anything, this whole ranking system was still new to him in general. He listened to his mentor, he listened to his leader, was he allowed to speak up in protest to a set of older warriors? Dandelionpaw heaved a sigh and opted instead to ignore it, though he looked down at his sparrow with a grimace at the thought of continuing to eat it. He'd already started though, had no choice...
"...can't ya'll pick some flowers or....feathers or sumthin."



​

 

[melonpaw]

A horrified shriek leaves Melon's mouth as she witnesses what Mallowlark was doing. Mama had told her he was different, but mama said a good different, this wasn't good at all! Mama had lied to her! "What is wrong with you?!" it leaves her maw before she has a time to think about what she was going to say. I mean, to Starclan above, this guy had some rocks loose!

"That bird did nothing to you!" she watches in shock as Mallow yanks at the leg. If cats could pale, she'd be as white as a ghost. She moves to stand behind Dandelionpaw, the older apprentice shielding her from the grisly mess (though she didn't want to admit there wasnt as mess). She shivers at the sound of bone on bone and covers her ears. If Mallow knew she had bones, would he come for her next? Oh, please, no, she liked her bones quite much even if they failed her sometimes. She didn't want Mallow to try to rip HER legs off too.

// sorry ic opinions </3 love mallow
​

"speech"​

 

[LEMONTONGUE]

Lemonpaw hears his sibling's shriek, and small paws race towards her. Melonpaw had always been a bit more... accident prone, and, well, he wasn't too sure where his mother was. Melonpaw should have someone with her, if she was hurt, and if Lemonpaw was the closest, then, shouldn't it be him?

"Melonpaw? Are you --" The loud, gnawing sound of bone against bone causes him to cut himself off as he nears his sister, and those around her. It isn't Melonpaw that is the problem, he realizes, but Mallowlark. The small tom is unsure what the white-furred warrior is doing, but it doesn't look right. Not one bit. Certainly a good reason for Melonpaw to be screaming.

"What is that?" he asks, flattened face pulling itself into a further frown.
​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

Oh, he had not expected such a lively audience! Usually he called people to view the end result and not the process, but... today could be a special day, he didn't mind. Though Dandelionpaw was more at the sidelines... well, that was okay. Not everyone liked birds. Fittingly, he had failed to notice that the tom's meal was a sparrow.

Taking in a breath to begin answering Fallowmoth, Melonpaw's scream cut him off- and, clockwork quick, his cranium and attention snapped toward her, barely a flicker of disturbance upon his expression. "Huh?" he said simply, smile remaining. He was remarkably unsure of how using every bit of this bird was doing wrong by it- he'd known it hadn't hurt him! It gave him sustenance, let it so he could bring joy to the clan! Why would there be anything wrong. "I know! I'm thanking it." Cheery and unaffected, he resumed his mission.

Gnawing still, he spoke through the leg of it at Lemonpaw's question, wild eyed as he pulled and pulled. "It was my lunch. Now it's a work-in-progress," the ivory tom chimed, as if it was a perfectly pedestrian pastime. Recoil sent his head shooting backward as tendons tore and the left leg was ripped free from its flesh fused prison. Finally, as the leg fell from his open-shut maw, he could give Fallowmoth an answer.

"Once I get the other one off," he murmured, motioning with a sable-swaddled paw, "I'm gonna make something! No spoilers, though," His tone was tease-touched, vocals vociferous dissonance, cheery all the while.​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​