the expense was high | after battle

[BONERIPPLE]

Everything aches, blood cakes her body and weighs heavily on her pelt. Some her own and some not. The battle had been gruesome even though she still believes in the cause it was supposed to be for it has been ill gotten. Many cats lost their lives and what she saw, what every cat there saw descend from the sky all around them is something that she knows can not be ignored. Even if she is practical there is no denying it because every cat that was there had seen the same thing she did. Those that had died upon the battlefield came back to them with living stars in their pelts. It boggles her mind still and those words spoken make her uncomfortable. She's unsure of the meaning but she tries not to think too heavily about this. Neither side has won this battle, this war. Each decimated in their own way. The pine group has lost their leader, Rain, so what is it that they will do now? The thought of thinking too much on the future makes her ill and after having to help her sister, her sister whose very heart is now shattered and broken, bury her mate near the Great Rock she honestly just wants to rest. The bitterness that lies on her tongue is precise as she enters the camp after the long steps that took her to get here.

Daylight is strong and yet she still feels the cold sting of claws against her body. Her face is bloodied, her sides as well. Shoulders stinging but she is still alive. She is still here to serve her colony. A soft grunt leaves her as she limps her way towards some ferns and she sits down heavily, turning to lick her shoulder of the blood that oozes out slightly. She knows how to get it to stop but she has yet to venture and grab what she needs. Just cobwebs. That's all she actually needs. Perhaps later as she is too tired to move a muscle now. But her brain is like it is in overdrive, thinking heavily about what she saw and what she heard from those that had died and from the one she had killed. "This is all too much....are we supposed to listen to dead cats?"​

[ PENNED BY RHOS ]​

 

[CICADASTAR]

− ♱ ABOUT : their return was made in silence. the mottled tom leads back a fraction of the patrol he’d marched in and their eyes haunt him now — so alight with determination, with life as they were. he’d half a mind to run ; to depart without a word and find himself somewhere along the stretching river, snowy paws dipping gently into the rippling bank. throughout the war, however, he had one thought : quiet. were they okay? had the pine colony cats decided to attack camp while they had their soldiers posted at the oaks? had they gotten past them somehow? had they kidnapped them, or worse? was she okay? the smoke was decidedly not. visibly, he was in agony — limping heavily on one shoulder and covered in shades of mottled blood that he couldn’t remove fully from his white - marred pelt. blood still pooled in fresh wounds that stretch open with each long, hopping stride, each sting of pain forcing a hiss through clenched teeth. he can’t slink his way into camp as he usually does ; instead he strolls in, head down, avoiding eye contact with those who see his recent actions as victory. had the loss been worth it?

the ring of bone’s voice carrying over the clearing alerts him where he’d been sprawled beneath a bit of briar, attempting to lick delicately at the torn skin over his sensitive underbelly in attempt to clean the bits of splintering, dried blood that clung to its ragged ridges. despite his exhaustion the bicolor tom, his way over to where the ferns settle thick along the edge of camp and takes his spot to the left of the bloodied woman, settling almost exactly as they had growing up. it would be almost amusing for the oldest warriors of the clan, if it weren’t for the blood that dribbles actively from spotting wounds, “ who else to listen to? if the dead cats don’t know what they’re talking about, i worry more. “ he admits, bitter despite the attempt at cold humor. regardless he attempts to flick her shoulder with his tail, icy eyes fixated on her bloodied pelt and glinting deep with worry. he would try and talk to her, later, “ seems we’re out of options, otherwise. “

maybe it would do them some good. maybe.

out of character information translations

• − CICADA ; he / him, roughly thirty two months old, marsh group member
  − tall black smoke tortie chimera with icecap eyes and curly fur, homosexual
  − speaks with a german accent, attack in #171717, penned by antlers
  
  
• none.

​

​

 

[SOOTSTAR]

"Why would we not listen to them?!" Soot is quick to scold her group-mates uncertainty with a hiss. For a she-cat who had begun to tremble and shake at the sight of the deceased before her, after it all was said and done, it seemed she had come around to believe the ghost cats are good beings.

She gives a cut on her shoulder a lick, blood had now dried in the area but she'd need to sit down properly and care for herself soon.

"I have faith they won't lead us astray... I suggest we all reflect on what they told on us and act on it as soon as possible." Once they could decipher whatever they hell they meant anyways... It was quite a riddle they had given. ​

---

 

[Sandylights]

Sandra ✧ She/Her ✧ Marsh Group. ░░░░░░░░░░░░░
The walk back to camp was a quiet one. No one spoke, no none looked at each other. It was like the whole ordeal stunned the breath out of the cats around her and once they had finall gotten back to camp; Bone spoke up. Asking if they should really listen to a bunch of deceased cats, and she too had questioned it. Though those who came from the sky had to know more than them right? That they had to be giving some sort of direction? Otherwise where would they go from here? What would be next for the group? More bloodshed and horrifying visions of the cats from the starry sky?

Cicada spoke up about of course they should listen to them, voicing her own thoughts on the matter of dead cats should know more than them. Sandra sat down to lick at her paw to wipe it over her nose, the cut on her face now just crusted over with blood but it stung when she pressed on it. The cinnamon cat gave a small flinch as Soot spoke up, her mind flashing back to seeing her pressed up against Flint. The look he gave her that she use to get all the time. A sour taste filled her mouth and Sandra wanted to speak up, speak up against Soot just because she could. Be as defiant and annoying as she could be, be petty or something, yet Sandra couldn't bring herself to speak.

The skinny she-cat simply looked down at her paws. Noticing her belly seemed to touch her front legs more than they use to, and she just brushed it off as it being bloated from how much she had been eating thus far. It seemed like no matter how much she ate, she couldn't get enough of food or sleep. It was rather strange but wasn't the matter at hand. Sandra gave a soft sigh, and licked her paw once more to clean the wound on her nose. She just hoped that whatever happened was for the good of the forest, and not for selflish reasons. ​

 

[BONERIPPLE]

She frowns deeply as she looks over to Cicada and hears his words. Were they really the ones they should be listening to? She doesn't know and if not then she supposes that is something to be concerned about but she is sharply hesitant because she doesn't understand what makes them right. She doesn't understand what it is that makes them the ones they need to listen to in the midst of all that has been going on. Her paws shift a little as the tom comes to settle beside her and subconsciously she goes to lay her head own on his paws, gaze half open and just calming herself down with his prescence. Everything hurts and he doesn't want to argue with his words even if she wants to poke and prod holes into them. Yet the peace she seeks does not stay and she shifts her molten gaze to look at Soot as she rebukes the question that stumbled out of her maw. Her gaze turns into a glower before she looks away in annoyance, small and slight but it is there and she tries to mask it but fails harshly. "I'm so happy that you can suddenly put faith in the very cats that you helped along to that path of being dead."

The shade and snow kissed woman is finding it hard to do so suddenly and on what seems like a whim before closes her eyes and lifts her head up from where she once had them upon Cicada's paws. Her tail wraps around herself before she sighs and just shakes her head. "I wonder at what knowledge they gained after their short time between life and death. What makes them so...forgiving...?" Perhaps that is her problem. That those felled by claws are so easily forgiving them for stripping their lives away from them. She wants Char's spirit to be angry at her, screech at her. She deserves it for taking away his life. The only one he will ever know and she is about to say something more when she spots Sandra close by. Tilting her head she looks at the molly, gaze narrowing before speaking up with a low tone to hide her own pain. "You can join us if you want. No need for gawking I suppose..."​

[ PENNED BY RHOS ]​

 

[pumpkin]

Pumpkin had arrived "home" with the help of Kelp. She wasn't sure if she could call it home anymore. Shes also not sure if she could ever get the scent of blood out of her mind, or the look of it. She wants to hurl as her vision spins once more. The thought of what those spirits said makes her dizzy. Were the earthly cats gonna listen, or fester with a grudge that no other could understand?

Shes limping around aimlessly, not bothering to clean the blood that has pooled around her neck and eye, dyeing her fur a rusty red. For the first time in her life she feels truly empty. There is no sorrow, bitter regret or sour anger. There is no fear that fills her bones, but exhaustion and she nearly trips over a cat that had gathered to listen to Bone. Singular eye turns to Bone, to Cicada, to Soot who speaks angrily with them. She finds herself just standing there. She makes no effort to move and instead staggers to the ground where she'd flop ungracefully. If it were any other time and anyone else she'd chastise them for being so "uncool", but she could not care and she curls in to a ball as she listens to the others.

"What if they're all wrong, and its a long con to get back at us?" her voice wavers and she could barely manage to flick her tail indignantly. I'm kind of scared. She longs to admit it but cant and instead goes back to stare at her paws.​

"speech"​

 

[salamander]

Various shades of red-stained blue fur. Corrosion ate her battered and torn iron armored pelt. Rust greedily took advantage of the holes in her armor. It dug deep into her skin like a blemish. Meanwhile, her face had morphed from dull, cold colors to bright, ruddy ones.

Deep gashes were torn across her nose and the side of her face. The wounds were flamed and enraged but proper attention wasn't given to them, allowing them to fester. If she staunched the bloody flow then she would no longer be able to taste her failure and cleansed her palette of him.

She embraced the pain because, without it, the molly wouldn't feel a thing. The intense fire that once crackled behind her eyes had been fully extinguished. She stared at nothing and yet everything at the same time. Leaping Toad. Bile burned the back of her throat. Angrily, she glared down at her unsheathed claws; the faithful weapons failing her when they were needed the most.

So many lives were lost. The soldier had experienced many battles and hardships. She'd fought side by side with many of the cats limping solemnly back to camp. They'd faced threats - actual threats - together. Foxes, badgers, two-legs. Once upon a time, she was the perfect warrior who listened to every order issued. But where had that gotten her? Where had it gotten the young? Where had it gotten any of them? Even Briar, the warmongering leader, had lost someone precious during the great battle. She couldn't do it anymore. The idea of taking kill orders ever again caused her to shiver.

"I hope.." her voice creaked like rotten wood that threatened to crack beneath one's paws at any moment, "I hope you're all satisfied. I hope you all got what you wanted and that you're happy."

"War!" she yowled. "Everyone clamored for war. Refused to look at the alternatives. Refused to look anywhere but your own asses." Her body trembled and, in a rare sight, tears escaped the firm dam that had kept them at bay for years. "I will gladly listen to spirits, ghosts... whatever they may be over the homicidal wishes of Briar." Hare Whiskers had always been her idol: she'd always looked up to him and respected him. But leaving Briar in charge? Maybe he was just as rotten and savage as the rest of them.

"Some of you.. looked at me as if I was a traitor when I expressed distaste." Bone and her own brother were two of them. "I truly hope you're all so fucking happy and proud of yourselves.

An eerie chuckle erupted from a dark place inside. "All of you killed him." It was obvious who she was talking about. "They weren't even... fully grown. They'll never be. They'll never be running between our legs again. Never... They'll never..." Her gaze grew distant as illusions of Leaping Toad and Ash played in front of her. For a second, they seemed too real but when she reached out to touch them - gone.

Fuck. The molly stalked away (albeit stumbling some as the blood seeping from her torn maw continued to cascade down)+ without another word because she know if she continued then the urge to harm the ones she'd once protected would be too hard to control. And it was lucky she hadn't seen Briar. A deep hatred for the molly rooted deep into her shattered heart. Oh, how she wished she could tear out the she-cat's eyes because then her outward appearance would reflect her inner ignorance and arrogance.

As much as Salamander wanted the blood loss to claim her life, to punish her for her best not being enough, she couldn't die until those who had gotten in her way, pulled her attention away from her precious nephew, were buried beneath the earth's crust.

ooc:// ahh i'm so sorry she's being so mean! all thoughts are ic!!!
sal is heading off somewhere into the marsh but feel free to stop her if you want to beat her up or something. or she'll pass out from blood loss before she can get any further LOL​

​

 

[FLICKERFIRE]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Grief and astonishment had dulled her razored tongue. The tortoiseshell had followed her comrades back to their home with a limp, a sour taste of stale blood and defeat in her mouth. Her head is muddled, mixed with the screams of the dying and the strange words from the stars. She can't decipher anything that has happened in the past day. She doesn't have the capacity right now.

She looks bleakly at Salamander, who rants against them all for waging war. Flicker does not blame Briar, or Soot, or Bone, or Cicada, or anyone but herself. She knows she had lent her voice to their's just as willingly. Moth's death is because of her, because she had been the one to convince her to stay and fight.

Orange eyes dulled with exhaustion swing toward the blue molly as she stares with misery at nothing. Imagining her nephew playing with his brother, perhaps. Imagining the cats who did not walk back home with them as they had been.

For a moment, Flicker catches a glimpse of gray and white fur, but it's gone as soon as it's come. Moth is not here. But she was there on the battlefield. She was starry, too.

Flicker mumbles, "It's all of our faults. Not just Briar's. Blamin' her won't do any good." She believes this. Not one of them had made enough of a stand to prevent their groupmates from dying--not even Salamander. She can't fault the molly her sorrow, or even her rage, but Flicker won't let Briar take all of the blame.

They all have blood on their paws.
​

✦ PENNED BY MARQUETTE.​

 

[PERCHPAW]

This was nothing but a shit show that was for sure. This whole battle had just been pointless thanks to this ghosts who had showed up from nowhere ending thier battle. No victory had been claimed and so all of thier losses had been meaningless. Everyone who had died today had lost thier lives for nothing at all. Jaw had not been the one who had called out for this war however, and no matter what cats like Flicker said he was not gonna take the blame for what thier leader Briar had decided. She should take the responsibility for this and the blame, although he suppose her losing her mate was a good enough punishment as anything.

It seemed like he was the only one who still was in disbelief all of this even had happend. Dead cats raining from the sky. That was quite alot to take in and there was no way for him to know what to think about any of this right now. what the next course of action should be. Jaw was still young, and he was thirsty for knowledge to grow and become something great one day. To think he ever would experience something like this though was beyond anything he had ever prepared himself for. What he really wanted to do was deny that any of this ever had happend instead of processing any of this. Only a mad cat could understand any of this. The dead shouldn't come back like this and interfere with the living. That had to be some sort of rule for that.

" I stand behind Cicada and Soot, who knows what the dead will do if we dont obey them. " he contunied the conversation before Salamanders outburst, acting like it never had happend. He would pay no attention to someone who couldn't control thier own emotions. She was not the only one who had lost friends and family today.

If anything he was more concernd over the dead cats and how they could be a possible threat to them all. The dead couldn't possible have anything left to fear but the living had so much to lose. It was not like he was scared over what fate might befall them all if they choose to ignore the ghosts words, but until they understood more about this madness the wisest choice would be to listen to them, at least for the time being. He for one did not wish to upset the dead because how was they suppose to defeat a enemy they couldn't even touch?.

Giving in to them for him seemed like the rational and logical decision to do here. Jaw was all for fighting for survival but if it was anything he respected it was the dead. Never mess with something you couldn't win over. This was far beyond what his claws and teeths could fight so surrender seemed like the one and only option to him.



​

 

[Sandylights]

Sandra ✧ She/Her ✧ Marsh Group. ░░░░░░░░░░░░░
A look of surprised cross her face as Bone prompted her to speak, no one ever really wanted her opinion or well at least when it came to Soot no one did. Thye always thought she was too soft or naive to even think of anything important. The cinnamon tabby looked down at her paws for a moment before opening her mouth to speak, "I hope that whatever is decided is good for the forest, and not for selfish behaviors," Finding herself giving Soot a questionable look before looking back to bone.

"The dead could know more than we do, or they could be seeking revenge. Could be both, who knows," She continued on and swished her tail a bit back and forth quietly, "I'm just hoping for peace at this point, no more bloodshed or deaths," Sandra looked mainly to Bone as she spoke, as the older cat seemed more interested in what she had to say than anyone else. Everyone else just seemed to not acknowledge she was there. ​

 

[BONERIPPLE]

These things, all of these things were fine. She could listen to them all as they agreed about the dead cats. As some disliked the idea of them and whatever other opinions they have on the subject. Sandra wants peace and she can understand after everything she is sure that most just want to go back to how things were before those starry creatures came from the sky, before their paws were stained with blood. She understands this and a can relate to it for she also took a life during that battle and it shook her. Made cracks in the careful emotions she had. So she is sure that everyone is shaken from their own separate losses and slowly she begins to nod her head to the words not yet forming her own opinion too solidly. She is hesitant still but all these thoughts take a back seat to when she hears Salamander speak up. Her voice sharp and piercing, torn with pain and blaming, blaming her family. Her eyes widened and she slowly pulls herself to stand up, thin frame shifting with lean muscle. Blood still welling and slipping to drip against the ground as she stares at Salamander's retreating form. "No.....no..." Her voice begins as a whisper, a shuddering breath through pained lungs before she sudden shouts out.

"HOW DARE YOU BLAME MY SISTER! SHE DID WHAT SHE THOUGHT WAS BEST FOR THE SITUATION WE WERE IN!" Anger floods through her suddenly, a new and raw rage that has her steps moving toward the woman and forgetting the crowd around her. "Starving! EVERYONE HERE WAS STARVING AND ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS YOUR FAMILY! IF THEY WILL SURVIVE OVER EVERYONE ELSE HERE! THAT IS WHAT MAKES YOU A TRAITOR, NOT CARING ABOUT ANYONE ELSE BUT WHO IS KIN! YOU SHOULD BLAME THEM, BLAME THAT PINE GROUP WHO SHOULD HAVE NEVER COME HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE AND SET THIS IN MOTION!" Claws unsheathe as she whips her tail across the ground in her rage. Her sister had enough things to deal with, enough burdens to bear and she just lost her mate. Her own nieces and nephews were in this battle and at last they knew where their loyalty was but this molly did not. "Don't turn your back on me!" She snaps with her anger flaring as she suddenly launches herself to attempt to land on Salamanders back, gripping with claws sheathed she tries to force both of them to the ground where her teeth will attempt to fix on the other molly's throat from the side, eyes locked on the other's gaze.

-- pls wait for salamander's response and cicada to break up the fight for reaction posts

@SALAMANDER​

[ PENNED BY RHOS ]​

 

[salamander]

content warnings: swearing, violence, blood​

"Starving?" Salamander snapped, spitting blood from her mouth. Bitterly aloof, the molly responded with an icy tongue, "You chose to continue to hunt here. Do you know what's near us? A moor filled to the brim with plump hares. I have been working my ass off: endlessly hunting them so those too stubborn to learn how to navigate a new terrain would go to bed with full stomachs. It was a long and tiresome trek but I didn't falter, didn't complain, didn't stop when my paws bled. What did you do? Oh, right - you were busy stealing prey from children. Silly me to think anyone would follow suit and seek an alternative route."

"You forget all the times I've fought by your side. All of your sides. I loyally followed Hare Whiskers and had very many moons. Is this how you express gratitude? To call others traitors? Just because I finally opened my damn eyes and started questioning orders, I'm branded a fucking traitor. Maybe you're the one betraying everyone here; making them think that war was the only answer. That we must hate the kittypets because.. What? They're blood is impure? They're all too soft?" she rolled her eyes. Frog's Croak had been right. The cats of the marsh were too stubborn to see just how blind they were were.

Lifeless images intruded her thoughts. She swallowed, naming some of the fallen she had seen, "I didn't fight just for my kin: Ash, Moth, Asphodel. I know it's my fault Ash died. I couldn't protect him properly. I couldn't protect our young. But do you know who convinced these children to go to war? Briar." Though her voice was soft and weak from loss of blood, her frigid words still burned like winter.

"We all have blood on our paws but that doesn't change whose mouth our ordered came from." Her voice lacked little inflection. She was too tired for this pointless argument. "You say I put my kin first.. but you shouldn't talk. You're eager to jump to her defense without a single consideration."

Salamander turned away from the molly. She had more important matters than dealing with Bone. Leaping Toad needed a proper burial and vigil. And Ash.. Twilight needed to know that she failed to protect her precious son. He'd died a hero.. something she vehemently told him not to do. She should have known: honorable cats were more than willing to sacrifice themselves for others. Ash and Leaping Toad had both been protecting cats they loved.

However, a furious cry signaled that this bloody war had yet to finally settle. Despite her cloudy mind, Salamander managed to pivot and skillfully dodge the wrathful black and white she-cat. Bone had grown up the same as her, though. Like Salamander, fighting had been instilled from an early age. Jaws still managed to clamp down hard on her throat.

Her throat gurgled as Bone's grasp and her bloody wounds threatened to suffocate her. In a suprisingly manuver - it's nature completely out of character - Salamander ignored her personal moral code she religiously followed. Salamander spat a blood clot from the back of her throat, aiming for Bone's eyes. Claws sought to gain purchase on anything, nearly her attacker's face and head. Finally, though, teeth lunged forward like a snake's sudden strike. She attempted to dig her jaws in just as deep.

Frigid eyes stared into the raging fire. Her sharp glare didn't waiver. Though weak and tired, cold adrenaline coursed through her veins. She would not release Bone from her potentially fatal grip unless the she-cat submitted. Self-preservation had been tossed foolishly aside. Her chest hurt from her former friend's harsh words that branded her a traitor.

So, ice stared unblinking and steadily into the wildfire that burned her lungs.

ooc:// sorry for the coding and any errors! I'm on my phone. I might reword and make it sound better. I wanted to write it tonight so the thread could continue

TLDR; they both have each other by the neck and neither seems inclined to let go of the other. they're also in a very intense staring contest.

@DISTANT CICADA
​

​

​

 

[CICADASTAR]

− ♱ ABOUT : the smoke had hoped the worst of it would be over with ; but fallout from the battle rained down more than wounds of the flesh, and the starry soldiers had given them some asinine riddle to solve, and the toll . . the bicolored female had placed her ivory chin on his paws for a moment and he used that chance to dip his head and lick at the blood - spattered stains behind her ears where she couldn’t reach. they were both still split with open wounds and stained battered crimson, exhaustion threaded into each sagging slope of their monochromatic bodies. their brief moment of rest was cut short however as soot arrives, voice haughtier and stricter than his had been. bone lifts her head and his ears pin back, the beginning threads of anxiety starting to strip tight at his chest. he was tired, aching, the tendrils of war still lodged deep in his skin and anchoring him heavily to the ground. soot was opinionated, loud and in their corner — if not a bit too much so for the star - laden felines that had dropped from the greyed sky to end the bloodshed. tensions were running high, and any spat was likely to turn violent. the shrill pierce of twilight’s mourning yowl still rang in his ears, ricocheting throughout his narrow skull and pounding at his soft temples, migraine built of loss and fear. bone responds and he clicks his tongue, icy luminaries drifting back over towards the obsidian woman who had pulled away from his paws and wrapped herself close. jaw had agreed with them, but he worried, “ now, i don’t think that’s . . “

whatever was intended to come from his mouth is interrupted by a thick, grating croak from just inside camp. his gaze shifts and he takes in salamander — and quickly wishes he hadn’t. she’d been torn to shreds just about, weeping gashes drawn thick over her slate expression and eating infected red at their jagged - cut edges. cicada swallows hard against the sudden thickness in his throat, the agony in her jagged stance nearly all - encompassing. suddenly her voice pitches up into yowling and cicada lifts himself painfully to his paws, rounding carefully around bone to stand a little closer to pumpkin, curled tail splayed out as if it could hide her mottled ginger pelt. she’d been through too much ; she didn't need to be around for this. salamander’s family . . they were close in age. she was injured as well, radiating double and fear and these full - grown felines sought to rouse up a fight in the middle of camp, “ we gave them the chance to leave. we fought to find a solution and they refused. “ they could have lived on happily. they had been living happy, for moons upon moons, under hare whiskers and briar alike. they were not to blame for this, regardless. bone was bristling, on edge and poised suddenly and he casts her a brief glance, “ they’d have died of starvation had we done nothing. “

in a flurry of black and white, bone lunges ; his heart drops in shock, the reality of what she’d done crashing down atop him. more infighting. the man lets out a wild snarl to let her know she needed to stop but it was too late, the woman had latched onto the stumbling grey molly. screeches erupted and his fur fluffs out entirely on instinct, before he knows it they’ve tumbled into a glaring draw. teeth on throat, pupils flexing, a potential for fatal blow on fatal blow. suddenly the mottled tom releases a sharp yowl, heavy and grating and cutting through the tense air like claws itself, “ enough! “ it’s curt, no room for arguments, and cicada would attempt to use his shoulder to shove his way between the two and pivot, breaking them apart from eachother physically. i’d succeeded he wild aim to shove them both back a little and situate between them, his pelt throughly bristled out and seeming far larger than his already too - tall figure, “ this is childish! cats passed have come to us to stop fighting and you answer the call by doing so more? pitiful! ” the last part is spat brutally, frozen luminaries dating back and forth between the two before settling on salamander.

“ those filthy kittypets had run most of the prey off this land. you tore your paws bloody for what — a hare to feed your family? there were more mouths to feed than just your family. “ he snarls, ears pinned and flaring with ice cold rage, the area around his slitted pupils blown white with anger. slotting himself in between them, the mottled feline would keep his back arched just slightly, the curls along the ridges of his spine lifted in coiled spikes and head low, “ and you still starved, yes? i certainly don’t see you fat on moor hare. “ cicada spats, lips wrinkled upward to reveal still - bloodstained teeth, “ go tend your wounds before you collapse. bone, take a walk with me. we need to talk. “ he finishes quickly, limping slightly to the side and holding himself steady, ready to block if the mollies decided to come for eachother again. forest, what they’ve come to.

out of character information translations

• − CICADA ; he / him, roughly thirty two months old, marsh group member
  − tall black smoke tortie chimera with icecap eyes and curly fur, homosexual
  − speaks with a german accent, attack in #171717, penned by antlers
  
  
• none.

​

​

 

[salamander]

A sudden intervention, ceasing this childish game of chicken, caused Salamander to nearly fall to the ground. However, her teeth had remained in Bone's throat and the push could potentially rip fur and skin from the forceful removal of her clenched jaw. Her tail lashed and fur bristled as she steadied herself.

She spat a clump of fur stained by her own blood onto the swampy floor. "Why would I be plump when there are kits, queens, and elderly cats to feed?" she cooly asked. Her eyes narrowed, attempting to hide the shroud of hurt in them. She'd done everything one lone molly could. She would have gladly traded her life if it meant all of this could have been avoided. She had tried her absolute damnedest. Yet everyone spoke down on her: as if she were a silly little kit.

Cicada berated her as if she had started the physical altercation. She had been trying to walk away, to return to Leaping Toad's side, when Bone ambushed her. And she attacked knowing Salamander was injured: a cheap, dirty move by any standards. Was he blind or simply didn't care about her well-being enough? Didn't he care about honor? If anyone thought she'd allow herself to be killed so easily then they'd be sorely mistaken.

She fought for them but they didn't care. Leaping Toad died for them but they still didn't care. Everything she'd ever done had been for them but pointed claws and accused her of being a traitor. Of not doing enough.

"You're prejudiced. Narrow-minded." Feral, savages who didn't even care for their own. "Most of them were no longer kittypets. They had no where else to go. They were strays like some of us used to be. Where some of our ancestors originated. Some were loners that didn't want to be alone anymore." Why was she even trying? They'd never listen to her. All of her life spent under their command and she was flicked away like an annoying gnat. Her dedication and sacrifices through the years had resulted in nothing. Despite still being herself, they rejected her and disrespected her opinion.

As soon as she found her voice, she grimly realized, they had tried to silence her.

She'd been struck with horrible tragedy and the cats she let lean on her before didn't return the favor. The realization that they never cared or respected her caused her to shut down in silent shock.

"Fine." she dryly replied, her voice eerily steady. If their hearts weren't entirely pitch black and frozen, they'd allow Leaping Toad to be buried without fuss and not interrupt her vigil. "I will make my departure after the burial of T.. my nephew." His name hurt to say. Before hot tears could be seen brimming in her eyes, she (hopefully successfully) walked back where her precious, darling nephew lay.

Once upon a time, she'd swore her fealty to Hare Whiskers and the marsh cats. But now, with her throat dangerously torn, that once upon a time had reached its ending.​

​

​

 

[RIBBITLEAP]

He's left the battle with hardly a scratch on him.

And yet, he feels more wounded than ever, as the feeling of loss consumes him.

Leaping Toad. Ash. Even Cosmos, who, despite also leaving the battlefield unharmed, appeared to have known his brother's killer in some way, and... And... Frog's Ribbit just didn't want to have anything to do with pine cats. They all just... Should've stayed in their kittypet homes. Should've just left his home alone, so his brother didn't have to save him, so his brother could still be alive.

So the two of them could play with Ash, one more time. Maybe... Maybe they could've actually taught him how to do a proper leap.

His head hangs low as the older cats discuss the night's events, only ever lifting his head to glance over at his brother, an attempt only ever met with the empty space beside him, not the blue eyes Ribbit was used to seeing at almost every waking moment.

Salamander's words get louder and louder, harsher and harsher, with each syllable. Perhaps she's right in placing blame, perhaps she isn't. Frog's Ribbit is too tired from the battle to form such an opinion. The brown tabby just wants it all to stop. The fighting, the bickering, all of it. Why couldn't they go back to the way it was before? Why can't he go back to playing games with Leaping Toad? To battle practice, leaping on Ash, preparing for a battle that was never supposed to come?

Violence erupts between Salamander and Bone. Green eyes go wide at the scene before him.

“P-Please… Please stop fighting…” he squeaks out, voice weak from wailing over his brother. His words are buried under Cicada’s - the older feline being able to stand in between the two, to stop the fighting before anything else could go wrong.

It all happens so quickly, but it’s enough to scare Ribbit into thinking he’s going to lose someone else today. However, Salamander's words just about confirm it. His heart sinks, and the hurt he feels grows. She... She couldn't even say Toad's name - of course she wouldn't be able to stay here, to stand to look at Ribbit. How would she be able to? Does she... Does she blame him too?

The brown tabby watches helplessly as his aunt turns to leave, ears flat against his head.

This was all his fault.
​

 

[BONERIPPLE]

---

The woman is not about to give up, not about to blink till this molly is gurgling on her own blood. No matter if her teeth are also fixated on her own throat. She is livid, angry, full of an unbridled rage just as she had been during the battle and only an unwarranted death had stopped her. But this death is different, this one she feels is very much warranted and she wants to viciously tear the throat of the grey molly for everyone to see. Yet a voice rings out sharply, black pelt suddenly pushing and shoving them a part. She feels skin tear at her throat as Salamander is pushed away from her and she feels her own teeth give and potentially tear away from the other molly's. Her jaws snap and she allows blood stained teeth to be shown, blood dripping from her open maw as fur and meat drop from her mouth. Though she hardly hears what Cicada says she wants to go at her again, she wants to shove her face into the ground for her insolence. This kittypet lover through and through. Those cats don't know the meaning of living in the wild. The meaning of keeping the delicate balance and not forcing them all into starvation and all she can do is talk about moor hares. It surely wasn't keeping the colony fed by any means yet she continues to spout it.

A sharp hiss leaves her throat and she snaps her eyes on Cicada, gaze heated and narrowing slightly but he is right. He is right. The fighting must quell. And she doesn't even want to look upon the grey molly anymore. It brings bile to her throat and she snorts a little. "If they mattered so much she would have told them to stay home. But now it's everyone else's fault for the things she couldn't do." Her voice is cold and without remorse as she looks at Salamander. She will weep for the fallen but now she feels absolutely nothing for the one in front of her. If things were so awful she should have left, taken leaps and bounds to stop them. Her eyes close for a moment and she forces what fur she can to lay flat. She doesn't want to be anywhere near her, anywhere near anyone save for Cicada. Take a walk with him...take a walk. The best solution to this whole story and she simply turns her back away from the group even as she hears the voice of Frog's Ribbit. Stop fighting.

Stop fighting.

She will listen to this and listen to Cicada whom her trust has been implanted in for so long, she will sheathe her claws even as blood slips down her throat from the skin that has been torn. She will live another day and move on to things that are more important than a spat of things that they can not change. She needs time to think and she takes in a shuddering and tired breath before she looks towards Cicada silently and then departs from camp to nurse her wounds and find that cobweb she has been thinking about since she returned.​