camp THE IMPULSES CONTROLLED ME ✦₊⁺ FREAKING OUT

[DEERPAW.]

// cw: mild blood mention and (accidental) self injury.

Thunderclan has changed, horribly so. He is silently freaking the hell out. His tail twitches and twists midway, smacking the ground with the force of its lashing. Light dusting covers his tail halfway, as the gangly apprentice storms back and forth in front of the apprentice's den. His eyes narrow, as well as his muzzle scrunching up at anyone who gets in the way of his pacing. A claw - raked path winds back and forth in a tight loop where he's been pacing. His coat hasn't been flat ever since the... horrific display of Howlingstar's blood splattering the earth.

Crack! An ear flicks, as he pauses in his pacing to look down. Staring at the hollow log under his claws. Back rippling as he rears back with a snarl, he slams his forepaws down onto it demolishing it. Again and again, until it's nothing but splinters. "Dammit!" He barks out, as he looks down at his dark paws, where the splinters dig into them. Blood splatters his forepaws and the splintered log is little more than a few small bark.

The space where he's been pacing is bare, pleasingly so. Hazel eyes flick back and forth frantically, seeking something that isn't a living being. Hard breaths leave his open maw, fangs bared at the log beneath him.

Mismatched feathered ears flattened against his head, tail snapping behind him as he resumes his pacing. Deerpaw looks more like a twitchy, frenzied hound than a cat. From an outside view, he probably looks like an idiot throwing a tantrum. Snarling and lashing out like a small kit.

I want to leave, I want to leave. I want to go home... It's like a mantra swirling in his head, he wants to rip away any cat who even dares stand in his way. He pauses when he hears a familiar voice. He hisses out a "L-leave... me. alone." under his breath, between clenched teeth.

Not looking back at the voice he goes on in his bloody pacing. He feels like he's rotting, breaking apart from the inside out. The long - limbed tortoiseshell lets a small shaky smile curl on dark lips, as his body twitches against his will.

﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧ THE BLACK GOAT'S EGG ᯓ★ UNWORTHY GHOUL THAT IS BOUNDED

• ooc. set after the mutiny thread
  tagging @Houndshade ! but no need to wait

• temp deerpaw reference

  

• ( I-I CAN'T HANDLE IT! ) ˚₊‧꒰ა ♰ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ DEERPAW. ╱ thunderclan apprentice
  ⸝⸝ amab ; HE / HIM ; 7 MOONS & AGES EVERY 26TH.
  ✶ undecided / not looking / open to puppy-crushes
  ✶ a scrawny longhaired black/dark ginger tortoiseshell tom with low white and hazel eyes.
  ✶ thoughts ; "Speech, ff7844" ; attacks only
  ✶ may powerplay minor harm ╱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ✶ smells like caramelized apples & damp earth musk
  

  all opinions are ic! he's morbid and he sucks </3 ♱

  
  → biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by calzone
  

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[Houndshade]

In other circumstances maybe it would have been funny to watch Deerpaw pace back and forth, she may have even laughed at the time. This however, was not the circumstances for some light hearted teasing or laughter. Not when the body of Howlingstar was a very vivid memory in everyone's minds, not when the clan is being overseen by some delusional and violent cat. She flinches from where she rests as the apprentice barks out in anguish. Grimacing at the sight of the hollow log, or rather what was left of the hollow log. Houndshade decides to push herself up from where she laid tin favour of carefully pacing towards Deerpaw. "Hey, rest your paws before you break them" Skyclaw's group had already rendered too many bound to Gentlestorm's care, the living ones anyways. They'd hate to see the apprentice wind up there too, but maybe that would actually be safer for him?

The hiss feels like a warning, Houndshade was too stubborn to heed it though. A tired sigh fills the air as eyes track his movements, continuing on with that stars damned pacing. If he wanted to render himself useless to try and actually do anything then that shouldn't be her concern yet she finds it to be her concern anyways. The climate right now was tense, commands unsteady, at least in her mind. Who's to say that there wouldn't be some excuse from this display to send Deerpaw away next? The thought was upsetting, despite the many ways she wanted to insult him for being so careless right now they did care for him. Shaking their head the chocolate smoke finds herself moving so that she can pace alongside the apprentice. At least this way if he walked himself into exhaustion someone would be here to catch him.

What an odd sight the pair must make, one bloodied and seething while one was weary yet they both pace anyways. "You really should get yourself checked out" they can't help but chastise him a little, not willing to give up on trying to convince him to stop.

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[ROEFLAME .]

-ˋˏ ༻ ☀ ༺ ˎˊ-

Roeflame watches, it’s a little hard not to. As a queen, she had plenty of experience locked away in camp. With children running around her paws, her mate bringing dinner at the end of a long day. So, what does a mother do without her kits to look after? A mate without her beloved to turn to? A friend who cannot lend her shoulder to cry on?

She watches Deerpaw’s pacing, pupils thinning and expanding as they follow the pacing form. He shouldn’t draw so much attention to himself. She should say something. Was that still her responsibility? If not as a council member, then as a warrior? Or a fellow prisoner. When the apprentice begins hitting shit, she finally rises to her paws, letting Houndshade glide past her to talk some sense into Deerpaw first. Celadon hues fall to the blood he leaves in his tracks.

Houndshade is kind, she was caring. A friend, maybe. They pace in unison, it’d be sweet if not for the circumstances.
Roeflame is not Houndshade. She’d stretch a forelimb, hoping to obstruct the bleeding apprentices path, she’d tackle him if she had to. “Listen to your friend and get it together.” A growl, low and away from prying ears. “Let her take you to Gentlestorms den, don’t become a damn target.” She thinks of Hopepaw stowed away there as she turns to Houndshade, but her gaze remains hardened. She feels too stern, too cold. Not like herself. “Ask Gentlestorm for something to calm him down.” She could use a good nose-dive into lavender right about now.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── I GOT A POCKET ⋅✴⋅ A POCKET FULL OF SUNSHINE ──┐‎

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  ROEFLAME ✩ she/her, Lead Warrior of Thunderclan, twenty-two moons.
  ⭃ petite cinnamon silver ticked tabby with murky green eyes & a small scar over her left eye.
  ⭃ mate to Burnstorm ☀ mentor to Foxpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted ☀ underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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