sensitive topics this is the hunt — shredded prey

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He paused, staring at the viscera that lay before them when the musky order of badger warranted a sharp hiss from the scarred brute, shredded ear curling to lie flat against his helm. His nose crinkled in mild disgust, not the foulest of smells, but certainly one of the worst that Duskpool wasn't too keen on smelling again when he limped forward, mindful of his injury that he could barely move without causing strain. It was a slow process, one the scarred warrior didn't have, but he could live with the repercussions. He might not climb, but he sure as hell wasn't someone to ignore in a physical fight, even if it was a weakness.

He breathed, staring deadpan at the sight of the viscera, half-eaten and still fresh. "Must've just left." He muttered, glancing around the dense oak with a crinkled optic, molten copper illuminated by the sheer darkness they found themselves in. "Be careful." He rumbled, stepping backward. In a morbid sense, it reminded Duskpool of the incarcerated bodies left behind, viscera spilling from deep gashes, staining the ground a haunting ichor. Somethin' that never really left his mind. Nothin' more than an afterthought until now, staring at the scattered remains of a ground squirrel, no doubt meeting a gruesome end.

Blinking, Duskpool pulled himself out of his thoughts to stare ahead, refusing to look at the bloody heap that was making his skin crawl. Damnit. He really needed to get a grip on himself. "Better we steer clear of it. Don't know when it'll come back." His maw parted, overwhelmed by the potent smell of oak, but the musky order remained strong, almost overpowering if he focused hard enough.

/ skyclan word prompt " viscera "​

​

thought speech​

 

[Cherryblossom]

To the apprentice, Duskpool is now simply an older version of Slate, scarred and gruff and soot-stained. Neither of them could help at all on the cliffs, but they made sure everyone knew what they actually used those hefty claws for. The senior warrior doesn't inspire annoyance like the lead does though, bubbling beneath her tongue, begging to be spilled free at each scoff and dismisive glance. Duskpool's dour silence is only somewhat preferable to that.

Cherrypaw is traipsing alongside her fellow SkyClanner, mind elsewhere, when a baritone hiss draws it back. "Duskpool?" she tensely whispers, whiskers twitching as rose-dusted nostrils flare. Her silent question is quickly answered by a pungent wave of scent. Another question brims behind her lips, but she wisely keeps them shut until the warrior speaks. Instinct tells her it had to be some big, four-legged predator, much like but infinitely stinkier than the dog-scent that once splashed Bobbie's pelt.

She spares him a quick glance, then follows his gaze downward. Her nose wrinkles almost immediately. "Ugh." So it definitely wasn't a cat. Cherrypaw doesn't know anyone who would leave such a mess instead of burying it, especially not anyone this smelly. What nervousness had sprung in her expression is quickly replaced by obvious disdain, brow deeping and lip curling.

Unlike the warrior besides her, the gorey scene does not immediately remind her of the events almost a quarter-moon ago. Still, the abundance of red does spark something in the shaken back of her skull. Perhaps this sight of what was once a squirrel presages yet another tragedy.

Cherrypaw wants to say something, about Little Wolf, about her injuries, but she finds no good place for the words. Instead, she grouses, "What even did that?" and pettily kicks a bit of leaf litter over it.​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He kept quiet, staring wearily ahead, only then did he move forward, maw parted to drink in the foul smell, noting Cherrypaw kicking leaves for the dismembered prey. "Badger." He rumbled, tossing a glance in the apprentice's direction, steering away from the remaining prey.

His tail flickering, urging them forward. "Come on, kid." He grunted, deadpan. He sure didn't want to wait around, something as pungent as that left the fur along his neck prickle, standing on end. ​

​

thought speech​

 

[FERNGILL]

Fernpaw shared Cherrypaw's sentiment- nothing civilised would have left a pile of viscera on the ground like this. Dirtied bones, stinking of badger and blood- he wrinkled his snout in badly-hidden disgust. For once, in his repulsion he wasn't alone- Cherrypaw kicked some fallen leaves over it, and Duskpool stared straight ahead as if merely looking at it would make him throw up his dinner. Fernpaw found he sympathised with the Skyclanner in that respect... the sight was starting to make him feel dirty, like he had some kind of illness- or would inevitably catch one just from looking at that pile...

Swallowing hard, he cast an emerald eye to the other onlookers. Nodding at Duskpool urging them to keep moving, Fernpaw couldn't stop his hackles from pointing heavenward, pushed on edge by the grisly sight. "We should warn everyone. Doesn't smell like there's more than one, but..." In this undergrowth, this overwhelming forest floor? "... It's difficult to tell."​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ OH HOME, LET ME COME HOME ❀❀​

---

periwinklebreeze & 15 moons & demi-boy & he/they & windclan moor runner ​

---

The smell of blood is just as sickening as ever, but periwinklebreeze says nothing - stomach churning as he's forced to look away from such a sight. He will never understand the need to leave such sights - not from predators, and not from other cats. Food should be eaten - not destroyed. "Th-the faster w-we leave th-the better," he mumbles quietly, ears flattened as he picks up his pace - all but fleeing as he follows the others. The last thing they need is yet another fight.

— home is wherever I'm with you ❀

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: —
  tw/cw: —
  
• 
  — a lithe figured black and white tom with a false-pointed pattern and clear blue eyes that gleam periwinkle in the right lighting. he seems perpetually worn and exhausted, with heavy bags beneath his eyes and a slouched posture. he has a speech impediment which leaves him with a stutter and sometimes even completely non-verbal, and his fluffy tail is adorned with carefully woven daisies.
  
  — physically medium && mentally easy && pacifist
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=#ccccff]action here[/color][/b] and tag account