The dead of night gave Merlinpaw little reprieve, and the silent world did not welcome her openly. The dilute tortoiseshell padded through the tangling underbrush, as though even the foliage grew inwards in vindication, much like the knot that curled as a tight fist. Unwieldy paws, befitting of the burden of a body she harbored, dragged along the ground. She should not be out here, she knew the guilt of existence so intimately... She hardly ever snuck out, but this time it was for good reason (to her revenge-addled and naive mind). Shame ate away at the hollowed bones that made her, like a self-consuming prophecy, of which she had weaned and watched as it soon became her own. Violence bred violence, and she was but a mere cog in the endlessly-machinating cycle. If she wanted to stop the turmoil that immolated her, she would have to put out the fire how she was taught. Imitation of soldiers ran deep within her blood, so much so that she would use it to shed the blood of her enemies. Each step the Thunderclan apprentice took did not waver nor wane, but instead brandished her like an ash-spewing fire, staining her paws in an inextricable blackness. I shouldn't be doing this. I'll get in trouble. Flamestar and my family will be mad at me. I'll be punished.
But I have to. I really, really have to. It's the only way I know how.
She knew that she must make it right, as if she had wreaked her own fate, as if there were nothing else for her to do. Honor stood as a strange concept to Merlinpaw, until a moon ago. Now, she understood the anger that coursed through her brethren, the means that justified an untimely end. Just as her father bled out onto the ground, she would make it so that her enemies would feel a fraction of the pain that she did, a craving for bloodshed that had never bloomed in her until after that fateful day. She wondered where this furious cat had come from, whether it had always lived within her or had given itself life in that moment. As much as hands reached to grab at the knotted vines, aimed to push them out of herself, for she did not recognize who they belonged to - she never did. The garden of her own wrath kept her warm, kept her moving, gave her something to strive towards. The smoke sepia waited for the urge to subside, as if it were like all other follies of fleeting childish emotion, but it only leached further into the earth of her beating heart. This was no youthful emotion, no wool-soft sentiment. It was rage, it was what she had seen all of the other adults spew out in bile and sanguine. Had she grown up, then? Was this great pain "adulthood"?
Moonlight purled upon a tousled pelt, a sweet sea of silver that decried her intention, belied the oil-spill ocean underneath her delicate skin that she had to tame. Whiskers twitched in the meager winds as she stood upon the bridge now, with the Owl Tree simply waving to her idly. The idyllic night had no idea of what was to come, no warning to usher who would happen upon aureate gaze. Golden eyes caught upon her guiltless victim - the same too-young warrior that she had encountered last Gathering, as though Starclan itself had granted herself an intemperate fate. Periwinkle-light fur shimmered in the moonlit dance, so much sleeker and eager than her own messy coat. The stench of fish whacked at her nostrils, and she visibly scrunched her muzzle as her memories began to flood back to her. Riverclan. They didn't deserve to live as normal while being all buddy-buddy with the clan that killed her father. They didn't deserve to breathe the same air as she did when they had taken so much from her kin. "Y-You'll pay for - for what you d-did!" Merlinpaw yowled as she barrelled for Twinkleflight, claws splayed out like they vied for massacre, anything to stop the pounding within her that did not belong to her heartbeat. I remember you now! The prodigal warrior, granted her full name despite being the same age as Merlinpaw. Her attack had been half-fueled by a smoldering jealousy, allowing such terrible emotions to come to the forefront of a peach-fuzz face contorted and twisted into hatred.
( @Twinkleflight hehehe / also this technically takes place on riverclan territory but it's on the bridge between fourtrees and rc territory! also meant to take place after the december gathering wawawa )
But I have to. I really, really have to. It's the only way I know how.
She knew that she must make it right, as if she had wreaked her own fate, as if there were nothing else for her to do. Honor stood as a strange concept to Merlinpaw, until a moon ago. Now, she understood the anger that coursed through her brethren, the means that justified an untimely end. Just as her father bled out onto the ground, she would make it so that her enemies would feel a fraction of the pain that she did, a craving for bloodshed that had never bloomed in her until after that fateful day. She wondered where this furious cat had come from, whether it had always lived within her or had given itself life in that moment. As much as hands reached to grab at the knotted vines, aimed to push them out of herself, for she did not recognize who they belonged to - she never did. The garden of her own wrath kept her warm, kept her moving, gave her something to strive towards. The smoke sepia waited for the urge to subside, as if it were like all other follies of fleeting childish emotion, but it only leached further into the earth of her beating heart. This was no youthful emotion, no wool-soft sentiment. It was rage, it was what she had seen all of the other adults spew out in bile and sanguine. Had she grown up, then? Was this great pain "adulthood"?
Moonlight purled upon a tousled pelt, a sweet sea of silver that decried her intention, belied the oil-spill ocean underneath her delicate skin that she had to tame. Whiskers twitched in the meager winds as she stood upon the bridge now, with the Owl Tree simply waving to her idly. The idyllic night had no idea of what was to come, no warning to usher who would happen upon aureate gaze. Golden eyes caught upon her guiltless victim - the same too-young warrior that she had encountered last Gathering, as though Starclan itself had granted herself an intemperate fate. Periwinkle-light fur shimmered in the moonlit dance, so much sleeker and eager than her own messy coat. The stench of fish whacked at her nostrils, and she visibly scrunched her muzzle as her memories began to flood back to her. Riverclan. They didn't deserve to live as normal while being all buddy-buddy with the clan that killed her father. They didn't deserve to breathe the same air as she did when they had taken so much from her kin. "Y-You'll pay for - for what you d-did!" Merlinpaw yowled as she barrelled for Twinkleflight, claws splayed out like they vied for massacre, anything to stop the pounding within her that did not belong to her heartbeat. I remember you now! The prodigal warrior, granted her full name despite being the same age as Merlinpaw. Her attack had been half-fueled by a smoldering jealousy, allowing such terrible emotions to come to the forefront of a peach-fuzz face contorted and twisted into hatred.
( @Twinkleflight hehehe / also this technically takes place on riverclan territory but it's on the bridge between fourtrees and rc territory! also meant to take place after the december gathering wawawa )