private THE WEATHER IS CALLOUS // pebbletail

[splashdance]

[ tw ; emetophobia ]

Her throat burns; her evening meal spills onto the frosted grass. Her paws had carried her far from camp, from prying eyes and unease and yet still, she heaves her stomach onto the ground unyieldingly. Her reprieve comes in short, chest pattering gasps, eyes glassy as she looks on mournfully at the lost meal, the wasted food.

Thrashing. She feels the thrashing beneath her weight, fear pummeling into her chest as needle sharp claws score and score again. There's blood in her mouth. It's hers, from biting her tongue too hard. It's metallic and familiar but in ways she cannot discern. Water splashes and drenches her chest.

Water. Blood?

Her paws had carried her a few paces away, the lapping waves of the river tugging away the remnants of her vomit from her paws. Water, she tells herself, but the unease doesn't settle her stomach. She can still smell it - the acid, the blood - and she can still feel that ThunderClan warrior... fighting for his life. Fearing her.

Her Clanmates kill callously. Growing up, she thought she would to. But -

"- my daughter!" A shout, cut through the chaos of the fight. "- mine!" Further said as river blues find a ThunderClan warrior perched atop Pinepaw, claiming ownership. Her daughter... Her...

Daughter.

She was someone's daughter. She was someone's mate, too, destined to bear more daughters and sons. Her lack of will would be known through streams of kin, her name remembered as the one who couldn't, and then forgotten all together. Daughter... Her gaze trails back to the mess, the urge to kick some riverstones over it and hide it. Her stomach lurches and if she had more to give, she would.

Her thoughts whirl and she cannot feign to look at her own reflection. She looks across the way, at nothingness, as she revels in the possibilties that she cannot yet discern.
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[pebbletail]

(☼) told to stay away from his best friend, pebbletail fears the urge to seek her out has only grown stronger. he's assured himself that lichenstar will not die again - the woman is stable enough to be moved to the medicine den, where moonbeam's skilled paws work to close her wounds. he's personally sought out all of his siblings, licking their injuries and holding them close through the first uncertain hours of the return from the battle. he has allowed careful paws to patch up the scrape on his ear, muttering a gentle thank you to robinheart, the medicine cat's apprentice who is facing now her first battle recovery.

now he scans the crowds for his best friend, guilt at disobeying her direct order fighting with the protective buzz inside of him to wrap her in his paws and never let her go. the tomcat's stomach flips as he stumbles out of camp, honeyed eyes flicking about the territory, dark nose scenting the air to catch her sweet smell. a choking, awful sound reaches white tufted ears, and the vulgar scent of bile reaches him. pity for the poor soul who sits alone by the riverside drives the young man towards the sound. he is both shocked and concerned when he catches sight of pitch fur, the sweet scent he has come to love mingling with acid. pebbletail stalls for the first time in his life at the sight of her.

does he dare approach? directly defying her wishes, potentially getting her in trouble with her mate… it’s not a good look. all of him aches for the normalcy of their apprentice days again, before love had entered the picture. before death. how could so many things have gone wrong to lead them to this place? she is not one to break so easily, to allow her body to betray her so, giving up precious food. “snowy?” he murmurs, and his ears flick pack at the use of the nickname. surely her care for him has waned such that the use of her old moniker feels tacky, rough on his tongue. “splashdance.”

the blue tabby parts the reeds, pelt wetting with dew off of the tall gasses as he approaches the molly. “are you okay?” is this okay? are we? there is desperation in his voice too strong to be talking literally. “h-has moonbeam seen to your injuries?” tentatively, he reaches out a snowy paw, as if to pull her to him, but puts it back down. he feels further from her than he has ever been.

LET ME BE YOUR OWN ☼ ICARION CARRION

• // " #848DAE"
• 
• PEBBLETAIL ☼ HE / HIM, WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. 13 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a large blue tabby with low white and vitiligo. pale blue fur covers the length of pebbletail's stocky body, sliced through with darker tabby stripes and spots. baleful orange eyes peer out of heavy set sockets, and his muzzle, paws, and tail tip are dashed with white.

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