- Jun 8, 2022
- 45
- 10
- 8
He can't remember the last time he was alone.
The last time he was left to his own devices, allowed himself to be. The anxiety was still there, sinking, creeping feeling along his spine, a pit in his stomach. The twitch of muscle before he can truly loosen up, the hesitation before each and every step. It was there, he doesn't think it will ever truly go away. But today, it's... tolerable.
Breathe in. Out. There's a rise and fall of his shoulders, the flare of his nostrils with heavy breath, thinning with each intake of air. He's made it this far, hasn't he? A stream sings nearby, he can hear it, calm waters slipping past muddy banks, parted by an occasional stone, or two. There's the sway of branches nearby. The wind grows louder as it catches on swaying fronds, leaving odd chimes in its wake. There's the chirping of birds, a pleasant, but faraway thing. Enjoying the evening air. In that respect, they were similar. And there are... pawsteps.
Hard, heavy, thumping across the ground, approaching him. There's a sharp intake of breath. In a moment, he's on his paws, whips around on instincts he'd think long forgotten until now. Incessant twitching, his ears, whisker, tail. Where— what? It barrels closer. With a hiss, he slides away— Nothing to see, notime to hear, His claws catch on something, root, rock- it hurts. Whoever they are— whatever it is, it snaps at his tail, drags a hiss spiking in his throat, clenched between teeth. Don't let them know your pain— He snaps back, bared in a snarl. Pearly whites catch on fur, flesh, and there's a pained roar in response. Hesitation, he wrenches away, ignores the burning in his paw to charge at the thing again, teeth bared, claws outstretched, adrenaline runs through him and—
He can't remember the last time he's felt so alive.
Blinding Star lands a hit, slashes at something, warmth gushes at his paws in an uneven splatter. Someplace vulnerable, again, there's a hiss in his mind, and he aches to feed it, to satisfy that craving he's been missing. Again, he strides forward with an open maw, prepares for the tear of flesh— Too greedy.
Teeth crash into him instead. Puncture wound. Something bursts, his jaw falls slack. There's aching in his neck. He crashes to the ground. Paws fly out in a twisted flurry, desperate to keep himself afloat. He has more to give—
They sink into his sides. He can feel his weight being shifted, off-balance. It burns, bubbles up and spills out into the world. He crashes to the earth, everything and nothing spins at once. He can't see, can't hear, can't— he can't. He has more to give— He had more to give. Didn't he, once? He aches to scream, to say something, but it peters out into nothing, expells with no more than a shaky breath, a full-body shudder, and he stills. He has more to give, but it refuses— his body screams against the will of his soul. He waits for the killing blow. It doesn't come.
He had more to give.
Shaking, stumbling, he drags himself away. A thousand voices scream in his mind, it hurts, it hurts, and still, he grits his teeth, refuses to show weakness. Spitting, sputtering, it's the state he appears in as he nears Thunderclan. His whole body sags. A heavy head appears held up by little more than needle and thread, loose, limp. Warmth stains his fur. His mind seems to numb the closer he draws. He's not there yet, he knows it, and yet something seems to give the moment he's close. So close to that place he hates. The damned leader, the damned medicine cat. He gnaws at his lips, rubber bitten raw, it aches. "I'm..." -fine, he means to say. And the groan is audible, when he smells her, bitter smoke scent that seems to follow whever she goes. He can't even manage a hiss, it catches in his throat, disgusting sort of croak. "D-on't want you near- me," he growls.
[ TL;DR Blinding Star is fatally injured by a badger </3 ; currently near thunderclan camp looking like a walking corpse; @cinderfrost, not pafp ]
The last time he was left to his own devices, allowed himself to be. The anxiety was still there, sinking, creeping feeling along his spine, a pit in his stomach. The twitch of muscle before he can truly loosen up, the hesitation before each and every step. It was there, he doesn't think it will ever truly go away. But today, it's... tolerable.
Breathe in. Out. There's a rise and fall of his shoulders, the flare of his nostrils with heavy breath, thinning with each intake of air. He's made it this far, hasn't he? A stream sings nearby, he can hear it, calm waters slipping past muddy banks, parted by an occasional stone, or two. There's the sway of branches nearby. The wind grows louder as it catches on swaying fronds, leaving odd chimes in its wake. There's the chirping of birds, a pleasant, but faraway thing. Enjoying the evening air. In that respect, they were similar. And there are... pawsteps.
Hard, heavy, thumping across the ground, approaching him. There's a sharp intake of breath. In a moment, he's on his paws, whips around on instincts he'd think long forgotten until now. Incessant twitching, his ears, whisker, tail. Where— what? It barrels closer. With a hiss, he slides away— Nothing to see, notime to hear, His claws catch on something, root, rock- it hurts. Whoever they are— whatever it is, it snaps at his tail, drags a hiss spiking in his throat, clenched between teeth. Don't let them know your pain— He snaps back, bared in a snarl. Pearly whites catch on fur, flesh, and there's a pained roar in response. Hesitation, he wrenches away, ignores the burning in his paw to charge at the thing again, teeth bared, claws outstretched, adrenaline runs through him and—
He can't remember the last time he's felt so alive.
Blinding Star lands a hit, slashes at something, warmth gushes at his paws in an uneven splatter. Someplace vulnerable, again, there's a hiss in his mind, and he aches to feed it, to satisfy that craving he's been missing. Again, he strides forward with an open maw, prepares for the tear of flesh— Too greedy.
Teeth crash into him instead. Puncture wound. Something bursts, his jaw falls slack. There's aching in his neck. He crashes to the ground. Paws fly out in a twisted flurry, desperate to keep himself afloat. He has more to give—
They sink into his sides. He can feel his weight being shifted, off-balance. It burns, bubbles up and spills out into the world. He crashes to the earth, everything and nothing spins at once. He can't see, can't hear, can't— he can't. He has more to give— He had more to give. Didn't he, once? He aches to scream, to say something, but it peters out into nothing, expells with no more than a shaky breath, a full-body shudder, and he stills. He has more to give, but it refuses— his body screams against the will of his soul. He waits for the killing blow. It doesn't come.
He had more to give.
Shaking, stumbling, he drags himself away. A thousand voices scream in his mind, it hurts, it hurts, and still, he grits his teeth, refuses to show weakness. Spitting, sputtering, it's the state he appears in as he nears Thunderclan. His whole body sags. A heavy head appears held up by little more than needle and thread, loose, limp. Warmth stains his fur. His mind seems to numb the closer he draws. He's not there yet, he knows it, and yet something seems to give the moment he's close. So close to that place he hates. The damned leader, the damned medicine cat. He gnaws at his lips, rubber bitten raw, it aches. "I'm..." -fine, he means to say. And the groan is audible, when he smells her, bitter smoke scent that seems to follow whever she goes. He can't even manage a hiss, it catches in his throat, disgusting sort of croak. "D-on't want you near- me," he growls.
[ TL;DR Blinding Star is fatally injured by a badger </3 ; currently near thunderclan camp looking like a walking corpse; @cinderfrost, not pafp ]
