sensitive topics THEY'LL BUST YOUR KNEECAPS — death

[CENTIPEDEPAW]

centipedepaw knows that he shouldn't be so far from the camp without an adult. he knows this, yet he still finds himself disobeying that rule in favor of some much needed alone time. the camp is stuffy, suffocating, filled with bossy warriors and stupid kits. and centipedepaw needs to clear his head, without some fucking rando breathing down his neck at all times.

so, centipedepaw sneaks out, away from that overbearing camp and into the quiet of the forest. farther and farther, until the stench of the border is so strong, it even penetrates his uselessly clogged nose. (unfortunately for him, this fault would be his downfall. he doesn't detect the underlying smell, unfamiliar and not belonging to any clan cat.) but even the putrid border is preferred to the camp, with all of those warriors looking down on him and siblings making fun of him.

centipede wheezes out a cough as he halts in front of the border. the cold weather isn't helping this illness which seems to pervade his every waking second, his nose dribbling snot at rates unimaginable. one paw rubs at his raw snout, wrinkling it as he does so. he hates this. why couldn't he just stop getting sick all the fucking time?

the sound of movement startles him from his self-loathing thoughts. the apprentice frowns, brows creasing together. the first answer that comes to him is that a clanmate has found him, and now he's going to be dragged back to camp with a lecture and a cuff of his floppy ears. "...the fuck? did one of you follow me?" he mutters accusingly, glowering in the direction he believes the noise to have come from.

[ please wait until i say that this thread is open! thank you! ]​

 

[kuiper]

In essence, survival is a zero-sum game; one must seize power from others to ensure their own persistence, namely from those who wish to steal from them.

It is a concept quite familiar to the clan cats. They manufactured social hierarchies to establish power, and formed clans to preserve their idea of authority. The leaders rally their subordinates to warfare, and during periods of peace, these figureheads form alliances to maintain the status quo. And although the clans were brought into being only a smattering of moons ago, every one carried their own contrived sense of self-identity. One of them outright disallowed kittypets from being amongst their ranks as if it were a core tenet of its existence.

What the clan cats fail to comprehend is they're no more pampered than kittypets, no matter how much they strive to distance themselves from the cats in twolegplace. The warriors' idea of survival is petty politics, despite the fact that they're all going to kill each other in the end all the same. The reality is, the groups who live in the wilderness are built upon a foundation of flawed ideals. It won't be very long before the foundation falls and dismantles. But, in the meantime, who's to say that these clans won't try to expand outwards? They already claimed all the territory that's rife with prey, leaving very little for the loners and rogues like himself.

Here's the thing. Kuiper is playing this game of survival too, and losing isn't on his mind.


-


[cw;; death, violence]

He often prowls the borders of the groups, drifting through space like his namesake. One thing he has noticed in recent days is how lax some clans have become, to the point where young'uns are wandering deep into the woods without any second thought. SkyClan - or however the pine forest group christened themselves - ought to know better.

The rogue propels out from the bush and descends upon the fold post-haste. Before the kid can make himself scarce, which is very much what he wants to do, Kuiper lands a sturdy blow against the kit's noggin, sending the wee thing onto its side. The older cat's jaws clamp down on the apprentice's neck, and his teeth entrench deep in the young one's tissue.

Thrashing amok, victim in jaw, he doesn't stop until the smaller creature's resistance ceases completely.

Patches of brown fur and crimson liquid litter the grass below his paws. If SkyClan were to find any semblance of this one, they wouldn't see much.

Kuiper needs a moment to compose himself, but departs into the night before long. There was somebody that he wanted to show his catch to.​

 

[CENTIPEDEPAW]

[ major cw for descriptions of dying, and the death of a young apprentice ]

centipedepaw hasn't a moment to think before a blur of blue descends upon him. a broken, hoarse yowl is cut short with a quick blow to his skull. folded ears ring, his vision blurs, and the scrawny boy crumples to the leaf-strewn earth with a yelp. "get away-" is all centipedepaw manages to choke out, and then a white-hot pain blossoms in his throat. teeth catches in his jugular, the foreign body pressing him against the ground. no escape. his heartbeat is frantic, it's all he can hear.

there is no escape.

centipedepaw struggles, squirming and thrashing, unsheathed claws trying to find purchase but coming short. the jaws do not release themselves from his throat. he can feel his life draining with the hot blood spurting from ruptured veins, coating his fur in sticky crimson. painting the withering grass in its grotesque hue. he tries to scream for help, all dignity gone as the desperation of a dying animal crashes into him. but all he manages is a weak gurgling, coughing up his own blood.

he thinks he begins to cry, before his vision fades and his eyes roll back into his pounding head. he thinks he would've hated himself more for it, if he hadn't feared slipping from the precipice of life and tumbling into the darkness.

it seems like an eternity before his body gives in and his consciousness dissolves, but in reality, it is no more than a minute. centipedepaw falls limp beneath the larger tom.

he would not wake again.

[ this thread is now open </3 as a note; centipede's body won't be found, but traces of what happened will. it'll be... pretty obvious what happened to him :,) ]​

 

[Lionsnarl]

"LIFE DOESN'T DISCRIMINATE BETWEEN THE SINNERS AND THE SAINTS"​

Little paws are quiet against pine-strewn earth as the ginger king makes his way through the forest. A late-night hunt had kept him out again - anything to drone out the nothingness, anything to drone out the monotony, the gray. The hunt had not gone well and so the cat so aptly named for his foul mood and mouth settled his maw into a permanent snarl and set a course to home. Sullen eyes were focused ahead, actually perhaps unfocused, simply staring into the middle distance when the distinct tang of sickly sweet copper wafted past his nose.

He froze, memories surfacing - unbidden - to the front of his mind. A cat's throat between his teeth, their blood soaking his tongue. He swallows and tries to shake away the thought. He continues walking, overgrown claws rustling the leaves beneath his feet. Pine and soft dirt and -

Something sticky, something warm made him pull back his paw in disgust. Even in the dim light of the moon, his retracted paw glistened crimson. Copper invaded his senses again. He didn't mean it, something in the back of his mind echoes and he stumbles back as if he can escape what he has stumbled into. The scent of death permeates the area, fear-scent and blood mixing into a hideous beast of a sensory overload for the ginger tom. He can't bring himself to yell or scream, he is simply frozen, staring at the clumps of fur that sway between brown and cinnamon in his line of sight.​

✦ ★ ✦​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮​

He pads after Crimsonbite, headed for the border with @COSMOSPAW and @butterflypaw in tow. He knows Crimsonbite has gone this way, can see the flash of golden-ginger fur in the distance, but as the SkyClan leader tastes the air, his easygoing attitude folds in beneath him like a weak tree branch.

It's blood. He immediately thinks of the fox that had attacked him, and he touches his throat, the burning pain that had faded to a raw soreness, the scar frank and red against pale fur. But it's not a fox scent --

Blazestar's fur begins to rise in spikes along his spine. He forgets, for a moment, that his apprentices are with him and charges toward Crimsonbite and whatever he's staring at. Clumps of fur scattering on the wind like strange tumbleweeds, blood soaking the pine needles. The Ragdoll begins to breathe heavily, his heart fluttering like a trapped insect that cannot sting.

"This is Centipedepaw's scent," he rasps, his tail beginning to lash with anxiety, with dread. The amount of blood, the faint scent of another cat, the foul stench of an outsider -- but couldn't the young cat just be taken, still alive?

"Crimsonbite, follow this trail," he orders, eyes flashing frantically. "I'll go with you. Cosmospaw, with me. Butterflypaw, run back to camp. Now. Get Daisyflight and the lead warriors. I need a patrol." His voice fades into a harsh, hoarse whisper. "If there's a chance he's still alive, I won't... let him..." His limbs tremble with effort. "We won't give up on him."

- ,,​

​

 

[~Deersong~]

𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝐼 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒​

---

A pelt of cream and mocha would be not far behind Crimsonbite, her pawsteps just as hurried as she had scented the metallic and painfully familiar tang of blood and terror in the air. Once at the scene, she would grit her teeth as she saw the tragic scene before them. Her aqua gaze would flicker over to her hunting companion before her head snapped towards Blazestar and his apprentices.

At his orders, Deersong would lightly touch Crimsonbites' shoulder with her nose before hurrying over to her leader, "I'm here, Blazestar." She meows calmly to the flame point before taking a moment to collect herself and bends her head down to sniff the clumps of fur and blood. She shudders as the scent of death invades her senses and she steps back once more with tears threatening her eyes.

Looking back at Blazestar she would simply shake her head and say nothing else until Daisyflight and Redstorm arrived. ​

 

[COSMOSBLOOM]

Cosmospaw follows behind Blazestar. He is uncertain where he's being led - a shift in course at the sight of the golden-furred, flat-faced warrior that blurred past the trio. However, as they draw closer...

The scent of copper fills his nose. An image of his mentor lifeless on the ground, of a battlefield widespread and blood-spilled, of life lost. Not again.

But. Maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. Maybe he isn't smelling blood. Maybe everything is fine.

Blazestar speeds ahead of him. The apprentice blinks. Would Blazestar be running like that, if everything was fine...?

"W-Wait..!" he calls out behind Blazestar, paws stretching outward into a sprint. He's gotten bigger, he realizes then, as he catches up with his mentor with little struggle. The snowy tom skids to a stop beside Blazestar, nearly stumbles forward into the mess before him.

Blood. Cosmospaw had indeed smelled blood. Dark fur accompanies it, a stranger's scent mixing into the scent of the scene. Stars, this didn't look good. He lowers his gaze, focuses on his paws. Hopes the bright white will wash the scene from his mind.

Centipedepaw, Blazestar informs them. This was Centipedepaw.

A name. A name but no face for Cosmospaw to match it to. It drags his gaze back towards clumps of fur, an effort to match it with those etched into his mind. He knows that fur.

The ant killer.

"Is... Is he...?" the tom speaks, a question left hanging, words he doesn't want to say. He couldn't be. He... This had to be a joke! Right? The ant killer would joke about stuff like this, wouldn't he..?

A patrol. Blazestar calls for a patrol. Tells Cosmospaw he's to come with, all while telling Butterflypaw to run back to camp. Lucky her, not having to see more of this mess. Not having to see what lies at the end of the crime scene. Cosmospaw wishes he could go back to camp. Yet, he stays put, listens to Blazestar's orders. Stares at the scene before him, praying to the stars no lives have been lost.

​

 

[SQUALLMIST]

Something's wrong.

Squallmist doesn't know what, but knows the tinge in the air. Knows it all too well. Blood. Too much for it to just be a messy catch - a result of the youngest apprentices still perfecting their hunting skills. Something is wrong. Someone is hurt.

A blur of fur rushes past him. Then another. Squallmist's pace picks up, following the paws of those in front of him.

What a mistake.

A horrific scene. Blood, but no body.

Patches of fur that Squallmist recognizes right away.

Centipedepaw. His apprentice.

"N-No," he says, eyes widening as he staggers back. "No, no, no." He'd been certain Centipedepaw was in his nest still. He... He should've known the kid snuck away. His apprentice is-- His apprentice was a tricky one. Was? No, he couldn't be. He had to be around somewhere. Stars, hadn't he taught the kid to not leave without a warrior with him?

Hadn't Squallmist taught his apprentice to fight back? Hadn't he taught him better than this?

He's failed him, he realizes. This is all Squallmist's fault.

Amidst his sorrow, he hears orders for a patrol. Yes, good. Centipedepaw... his body... he needs to be found. The silver tom looks towards Blazestar with grief-stricken eyes.

"Blazestar," he chokes out. This couldn't be happening. Not again. "Blazestar, let me go with. Please."

He can't fail Centipedepaw more than he has.
​

 

[Sporecloud]

There was something in the air. Tension, dread. She could feel it, and when Butterflypaw returned to camp to get the deputy and lead warriors, she knew her feelings were justified. She rose from her spot next to Leapordcloud and stepped forward, following after them.

When the scent of blood hit her senses her throat tightened and her fur bristled. She recognized the scent as one of the apprentices. A child. That someone had come here, killed a child and made off with the body.....

It infuriated her.

"What kind of vile coward......" She hissed.

She wanted to know. She may be pretty and sweet, but every rose has its thorns and hers sought blood.


​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

How wrong he was to feel unafraid in being among this group. Foolish fool, revelling in folly, oh! Once upon a time he'd been cautious- he'd been afraid, and he had felt wrong that he had been afraid. But this, this-! Solemnity in the air, blood too- something very bad had happened here. Twitchpaw knew it before he even really listened, fully took in the graveness of what they were saying-

Centipedepaw. Blood-no, no, no. Sombre expressions lingered upon the faces of the warriors, the leader- he looked even toward Butterflypaw. Blazestar gave her instruction, and surely he had to go with her, and yet, yet, yet-

Breath quickened, heartbeat picked up. This was- this was everything he could ever be afraid of, the worst thing that could happen to anyone. Blood spattering the ground, no body in sight- wherever it could have gone. Dogs, and yet no scent of canid- no hawks, no two leg stench. No, everything was feline, Centipedepaw, blood. The ground felt real, his breaths felt cold, and yet this scenario seemed plucked right out of his nightmares. A night-terror at daytime, reality thrusting forward the worse-case scenario. This was- this was sickening, he was going to be sick, he was- he was-

He was going to get Daisyflight.​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[Daisyflight]

"SUREFIRE, YEAH, THE SETTING SUN WANTS COMPANY"​

Daisyflight's expression was stone-set as she arrived on the scene, the taste of tension brittle in her lungs. Twitchpaw had found her not far from the group, and let her in on the situation. While the apprentice could often appear frazzled, the bearing he greeted her with tore the weariness from her limbs and pushed her into a jog. Blood was thick in the air, unapologetic. Catching sight of the torn pelt scraps left along the forest floor juddered a chill down the spine.

Not the first time having witnessed a trail like this, the distressing conclusion the patchwork molly came to pulled her claws from their sheathes. Even if they found him alive, he'd be a very different apprentice to the one that had left that sunrise. Centipedepaw had never ingratiated himself to Daisyflight, however the thought of the teak tom out of their reach, wounded... The woe scratched deeper into her thoughts.

"I'm here." Head bowed, she spoke soberly. Temptations to lunge after the crimson wake reared breathlessly within her, but with raised voices already on the wind adding to them would only lay further panic. She could only offer her assistance.

/sorry for any mistakes- big sleepy​

✿ ✿ ✿​

 

[ThistleBack]

Though he traveled far behind, where Deersong’s paws pad, Thistleback’s would always echo. Long calculated strides bring him to his beloved’s side as she takes a step back. ’ We won’t give up on him ‘ the words of one Blazestar rise from the scene of a gruesome crime.

Thistleback’s stare is unmoving from the display of brutality, young skin torn and battered. The scrapes on the ground, overturned and made waste. It was a parent’s nightmare, a son, a child squeezed of all life and future. Stained on the ground, what could’ve been. Hope is what Blazestar asks for. A pleading distraught Squallmist. Daisyflight along with a few other pelts arrive. The pine forest of Skyclan was roaring now with the song of vengeance.

whoever did this, Thistleback understood now- it shouldn’t live. Every moment its heart beats, is owed to this missing broken boy. To the what ifs, and cannot ever be now. The scent of cat is palpable but of no clan. A rogue, much too strong for Centipedepaw to have had even a chance. Vile coward indeed, he agrees with amanita silently before pressing his shoulder to Deersong’s.

Silver optics turn on the leader again, tattered ears perked .

​

OOC INFO REF

• —
  
  
• — Thistleback | thirty moons | cis-male
  — daylight warrior of Skyclan
  — bisexual | fallen for Deersong 9.29.22
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes. Wears a purple collar with brass clasp.
  
• 
  
  

​

 

[sheepcurl]

Death after death, injury after injury, following in to the scene behind the others left a tight hold on her heart; his fur was clumped upon the ground, blood everywhere and… The scent of death, its brought with the sheer amount of blood, smeared upon the Earth and she finds herself wondering why she just feels so defeated, indifferent to this situation. Mexico, it would have never been like this (oh it was, and there were plenty of times she had seen them), fear. Fear for Greenpaw, bile rises in her throat and upon that ground she instead sees ginger and white fluff.

Battle training… Yes… She’ll focus on battle training here soon. She could not bring herself to think any longer of the potential murderer living in Skyclan walls. A long sigh escapes through her nose, dejected, eyes searching her clan members, her stomach twists and turns.

“Let me know… if I can do anything, amigos.” a murmur, but she thinks Blazestar already knows what happened. He speaks of hope and her eyes wander the scene- there wasn’t much hope for this. Poor Centipede, little baby, she still remembers it, him asking what bébé meant. She shuts her eyes and keeps them closed.

She’ll honor his spirit. She’ll help find this child murderer.