private they still on the boat } vulturekit

[RATTLEHEART]

AS HE RAISED HIS FIST BEFORE HE SPOKE — Duskclan's invasion still lingered on his mind, even all these nights later. Rattleheart felt as though he could still see the blood on his paws, coating the claws that had Thornrunner's stomach asunder. His kits' faces flashed in his mind, eyes still just barely opened when the filthy rogue had attempted to grab them. Had attempted to take any of the children occupying Windclan's nursery, although they had only managed to - seemingly - steal away one into the night. No slight amount of relief had filled him when Bluefrost had returned with Vulturekit, announcing that the young tom hadn't actually been snatched, and had instead just disappeared in the midst of the chaos. Yet still, the lead warrior found himself full of questions. How long had Vulturekit been wandering on his own for, and to where? Had he stayed safe, or had he only just managed to avoid falling prey to the many threats that could make the moors their home?

It was only once his kits scattered from him for the day that he realized he didn't have to wonder, the option of simply asking how Vulturekit's excursion had gone sitting right in front of him. Quite literally, considering Periwinklebreeze's nest naturally wasn't far from his own. Questioning the dark tabby seemed like a good idea overall anyways, considering the whole ordeal must've been a harrowing journey no matter what had happened. Away from their family and wandering on their own wasn't a state that most kits wanted to be in, and it was only through Bluefrost's finding him that he had even ended up back in Windclan camp proper. What would have happened, had Rattleheart's fellow tunneler not come upon him?

He didn't even want to think about that.

Instead he shook those thoughts - quite literally, his head flicking from side to side - from his mind, soft steps leading him over to where Vulturekit sat huddled. He looked a bit nervous, but it didn't seem like there were many times where he didn't, a trait that reminded Rattleheart rather fittingly of his own younger self. Perhaps they would've shared similar prefixes, had Sootstar been the one to grant him a name. "Vulturekit." His soft but rough purr would hopefully be enough to grab the child's attention, short body lowered even further to the ground so that they were on the same level. "Do you think you'd be willing to tell me a little more about your adventure out on the moors? It isn't exactly often that we have a kit outside of the gorse walls." For good reason, at least in the tunneler's opinion. They had already learned of the dire consequences of their youngest being out there, in the form of Skyclan blood spilled upon the ground.

THE RIGHTEOUS HAND OF GOD 𓆩♡𓆪 THE DEVIL THAT YOU FORGOT

• @Vulturekit.

• 

• 
  ❥ longhaired black and white tom with pale green eyes
  ❥ 53 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ❥ afab; uses he/she/they pronouns
  ❥ homosexual homoromantic; mated to venomstrike
  ❥ sibling to scorchstreak, lizardbounce, and rabbitclaw
  ❥ mother to thistlekit, breezekit, splinterkit, crunchykit, and vinekit
  ❥ somewhat difficult to befriend; wary but kind
  ❥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ❥ all opinions are ic

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[Vulturepaw]

˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖ 　It is a good thing that Vulturekit did not see the brutality with which Rattleheart's claws tore the life from another. If he had, he would surely not be so comfortable hearing the queen's shaky voice calling through the dim of the nursery. No, his eyes were too focused on his kin: Periwinklebreeze's bloodied teeth and Nightingalecry's bloodied corpse. He knows what Thriftfeather said, that his dad's violence was out of love for him. He knows that Rattleheart would do the same.

Still, it is easier not knowing. There is comfort in the ignorance of imagining his clanmates' claws unsullied.

It is a tenuous thing, this peace that his return has brought. He is no longer an innocent; his fears now have a name. It is a hard thing for a child to reconcile, this sort of bloodshed. Vulturekit's first instinct is to hide. That always has been his reaction, to shy away from anything too frightening for his frail will. To run, as he did in the invasion.

His eyes flicker over to Rattleheart, his tail-tip twitching back and forth in a nervous sort of rhythm. They follow the queen's movements carefully, keen eyes always watching for the slightest hint of threat. There is none - and why would there be? He has become so paranoid as of late...

He asks about it. The thing they're bursting at the seams to tell, the thing that's left their mind swimming. The thing they can't talk about, because it might put Thriftfeather in danger if they say too much. They may be young, naive - but they understand that much. "'M sorry," he mumbles, and his eyes dart away. It's a deflection and an apology for doing so all at once. His throat works for a moment, his mind moving even faster. "I know I wasn't... supposed t-t-tuh... to leave. I was just... scared." Small paws scuff at the ground, eyes trained on the spot. He's talking around it again, twisting the conversation into something easier.

He doesn't know how much he can say. He doesn't want to say anything that isn't true. "D-d-don't like thinking about it - about when I was out there." He shudders. "It was scary."

‎‎┌── FOR I HATE THE BUILDINGS ⛧ AND THE WAY THEY TOWER OVER ME ──┐‎

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• 

  
  
  "SPEECH"
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• 
  VULTUREKIT ⛧ he / they, kit of windclan, five moons.
  ⭃ a spiky-furred dark tabby with amber eyes.
  ⭃ skittish and dour, with little time for typical kit games.
  ⭃ micheal x npc, adopted by periwinklebreeze. sibling to dustkit and bilberrykit.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

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