❝ we're children playing at a game, screaming that the rules aren't fair. ❞
// warning for mentions of vomiting
When he was younger, he had convinced himself that he was righteous and strong because of how talented he was as a Warrior. The beginnings of SkyClan, and before that- the Pine Group. Vermilion winced at the idea of how naive he used to be, that he could have been something great- abominable, was he now. Squall speaks, anger and hurt fueled behind his irises. Vermilion tenses at the escalating tempers, though he doesn't move from his place- blocking the party from passing him. His ears brushed against the top of the sewer's tunnels, gathering grime and filth at the tips of them. He smelled horrid, but it wasn't like he had to impress anyone right now. Or at all.
Is that your policy now? Is that why you've come back to SkyClan's territory to steal from us?
"I don't remember stealing anything. I apologized back then, even offered to give you the prey we had caught. None of the sewer cats have entered SkyClan territory since then. I can assure you that, Blazestar. Not since you informed the rules have changed." Vermilion responds with cold distance, hurt in his eyes that the leader would think so low of him. He had left, but hadn't many others? None of his intentions were bad, and he was teaching these rogues to be better cats. His respect for his former Leader wavers then, as Squallmist's accusation graces his ears. What he did? He thinks in confusion, head tilting; what did they mean by that?
We want answers, Vermilionsun. A SkyClan apprentice was murdered by a rogue. His body was dragged beyond our borders.
His world stops then, and his blood runs cold with the iciest burn. He doesn't realize he's stopped breathing until he's heaving in a ragged breath, a disturbing bubble in his stomach causing him to turn his back just as Cat arrives, vomiting down a drain. A child had died? One of his homeclan's kin? "You think.. I would harm a child, Blaise?" Vermilion croaks out softly, face twisted in awful disgust at the mere idea. A little hasty on the accusations, don'tcha think? There's a whole 'lotta rogues in the area, 'nd some of them aren't even part of our little group here in the sewers. He nods along with Nameless' words, finding himself agreeing. "I teach the sewer cats never to hurt kits. Never to hurt Queens. To protect their home fiercely, but not to kill those who can't defend themselves." Ver follows through, Nameless moving to settle the fuming tension down. Vermilion was always a man of action, he always tried his best to avoid a fight if he could. Hurt, betrayal- he knew he couldn't trust those from the Clans anymore. Things had changed far too much.
Blaise has changed far too much. He thinks to himself, before he finally cools down his rumbling stomach enough to speak once more. He lifts his head, making eye contact with Blazestar; a tom who was once his friend. Someone he thought he could trust. And now he was accusing him of murder, his family of murder. "You have come to the wrong place if you seek a child murderer. I now politely ask you to leave the sewers, Blazestar. You will find your answer elsewhere, but not here. Never here." He speaks slowly, enough to properly punctuate himself to make his intentions clear. He was done talking here, done listening to accusations that had no foundation.
"If you think it is one of us sewer cats, bring back proof that they reek of the sewers. You cannot miss the scent, even if you were to attempt to wash it off." He remarks with a stoic expression, shoulders rolling; he hated this, he hated it so much it made him want to cry. But he wouldn't, these cats didn't deserve his tears. He wouldn't turn his back, however- staying in place until the toms all collectively decided to leave. Though, he made it a point to stand in front of Nameless. Even if they weren't close, the feline was apart of the sewers- and Ver was duty-bound to protect anyone who took refuge in the sewers.
