private When the cats kill one by one ☾ Yip & Howl

[THRASHKIT]

-ˋˏ ༻☾༺ ˎˊ-​

So this was ThunderClan. This was the promised safety and care that Thrash and his littermates had been given. In less a month that sense of security had been ripped out from under them, had it really been there to begin with? It died alongside Howlingstar as far as she was concerned, if she was foolish enough to believe that it was there with the late leader. He didn’t understand the politics at play here, nor did he have any desire to. Thrash was shown that it was best to keep her head down unless absolutely necessary, so why should Thrashkit have to learn any different. Clearly this was still a necessary skill for survival, Skyclaw and his group hadn’t given her any reason to assume that the safety and care would continue.

If he closed his eyes he could swear that the smell of the nursery melted away to a long stale scent of fox in their burrow, against cold earth and bristling at any small sound. When it opened them she wasn’t there, she was in ThunderClan. In this supposed place of safety. At least there she could be afforded privacy with Yip and Howl, now there were always too many eyes. Unsure of who’s eyes were friendly and who’s weren't, apart from Doepath And Tansyshine anyways, even then she was uncertain. They often wondered if these anxieties were shared, if his siblings had found this to actually be a sanctuary of sorts.

This place sounded a lot like the stories of the cruel world that Baying Hound would tell. Jaw tense and muscles wound tight he found himself gesturing for his siblings to follow him to a quieter corner of the nursery. They sit rigid, a puffball of a kitten at this point trying to press herself against the wall to try and draw less attention to themself. “Do you think she’s right” They ask in a hushed whisper, unable to say bring itself to try and use past tense when referring to their mother.

“I mean- this is… scary… right? Just like the stories” He locks his jaw so tight after speaking that he fears it may snap. It was in a futile attempt to not let it tremble. Baying Hound wouldn’t shake, even at her weakest, right? So she shouldn’t shake right now either. I miss the fox-burrow, though if that was the case then why even now can they not bring himself to say it out loud?

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I was born hungry ☆ What do I need‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

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  @YIP @HOWL It took so much strength to not reference the is fortnite actually overrated image when deciding on a title lmao
  

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• THRASH
  any pronouns, 3 moons
  ☆ A black smoke with abnormally bright amber eyes and a habit of crouching while they walk.
  ☆ Baying Hound x Duke | Littermates with Howl & Yip
  ☆ Due to her circumstances surrounding it's life she will be confrontational in the majority of their interactions { will start fights | will not end fights | will not run away and might be merciful }
  ☆ "speech" | thoughts | attacking
  ☆ All opinions are IC only!

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[HOWL]

Howl has always been vigilant, ever since it can remember. Every shadow, every whisper of wind, is a potential threat, and Baying Hound had drilled that awareness into its very bones. The clans are no different—no safer than the wilds they came from. If anything, they are worse, hiding their cruelty behind soft words and false promises, only for violence and bloodshed to jump forth and take their place immediately. Howl feels the truth of that in every fiber of its being as it huddles in the nursery, the walls of the den doing little to ease its perpetual unease. It assumes the scent of the nursery is supposed to be comforting, a mix of milk and warm earth, but to Howl, it is just another layer of deception. Beneath it all, it can almost smell the blood, the danger that lurks just out of sight. Thrash’s words cut through the haze of its thoughts, pulling it back to the present. It flicks its ears towards its sibling, taking in the tension in her voice, the way she presses against the wall as if trying to disappear.

Doepath and Tansyshine have tried to offer kindness, but Howl isn’t naive enough to believe it. Their smiles are just another mask, hiding their true intentions. Howl trusts no one here—not fully. It’s only a matter of time before their true colors show, before they reveal themselves as the monsters Baying Hound has always warned them about. Howl’s muscles tense as it considers Thrash’s question. Is their mother right? Everything about this place screams danger, the same kind of danger that Baying Hound had spent her life preparing them for. It is just a different kind of beast, one that wears its skin like a friend but is ready to turn at any moment.

Its amber eyes, ever watchful, scan the nursery, noting every unfamiliar face, every glance that seems to linger too long. “She’s right,” Howl murmurs, its voice low and heavy with conviction. “This place isn’t safe. It’s just another trap, waiting to spring.” The words feel like stones in its mouth, heavy and unyielding. Howl’s distrust runs deep, a river that has carved its way through the very core of its being. No matter how many sweet words or gestures of care ThunderClan offers, Howl can’t shake the feeling that it is all a facade, that beneath the surface, they are no different from the world Baying Hound had shown them. The memory of the fox-burrow surfaces, unbidden, a twisted sort of comfort. The scent of cold earth, the way the walls press close, offering a kind of safety that Howl can understand—a safety built on wariness and fear, on knowing that every day is a fight for survival. It isn’t comfort in the traditional sense, but it is real, tangible, unlike the hollow security ThunderClan pretends to offer.

Howl’s voice drops to a whisper, its tone tight with barely restrained emotion. “We can’t trust them. Not fully. We have to stay on guard, always. They might act kind, but it’s just like the stories—just another way to get close before they strike.” It can feel its jaw tightening, the muscles straining as it fights to keep the tremor from its voice. Baying Hound wouldn’t have shaken, not even at her weakest, and Howl is determined to be just as strong. But it can’t help the flicker of longing for the fox-burrow, for the certainty of its dangers, even as it tries to bury that weakness deep down. “We’ll survive,” Howl whispers, more to itself than to Thrash. “But we have to stay sharp. We can’t let them lull us into a false sense of security. We have to be ready, always.” Its amber eyes are hard, filled with a steely determination that belies its age. No matter how much ThunderClan tries to soften it, Howl remains vigilant, always ready for the moment when the claws come out.​

 

[YIPPINGKIT]

ThunderClan is certainly not the home that Fallowbite and Howlingstar had promised. Safety, warmth, and food have all been thwarted by Skyclaw's mutiny; he had tossed any shred of hope Yippingkit had maintained over the edge of camp with Howlingstar's corpse. It is just as Baying Hound has always told them: there is danger in every corner. Nothing is sacred. Death waits for no cat, not even for the mother who had instilled the lesson in him. Some days, Yippingkit hopes that death would claim more of his kin — Fallowbite, maybe. Himself. Living in tumultuous times takes its toll on his psyche.

The hyper-vigilance wears on him. Baying Hound has taught them to be wary, but Yippingkit jumps at each shadow, each bump in the night, each prying eye that might want something from him. They find a shred of solace in their littermates. Howl and Thrash — Howlkit and Thrashkit now, he reminds himself — would surely never hurt him. But what does he know? Fallowbite had claimed it was their sister, and still she had hurt him; hurt him irreparably; torn safety from his claws like candy.

It has been easiest to keep their head ducked and not say anything to anyone. A corpse in their own right, Yippingkit has most enjoyed the static peace of sitting still in the nursery and being generally unresponsive. Not moving or speaking keeps them safe from criticism, except maybe the critique of being very very boring, but that is not something Yippingkit minds much. They can live in this stasis for as long as it takes, they think. But they can't. The facade is beginning to crack — a jaw clenched too tightly for milk teeth, fur over-groomed to the point of blooming crimson rosettes. When Thrashkit invites conversation, Yippingkit is grateful to be relieved of this stasis.

They mostly whisper about safety versus danger, survival versus expiration. Thrash is afraid. Howl is distrustful. And Yip? "I hate this," he concurs, nausea swirling like lampreys in his stomach. At least the fox burrow's danger had been predictable. Mutiny was a concept hardly grasped by such a young kitten, but the danger Skyclaw and his cronies generate is a language easily understood and equally unwelcome. Ebony child flicks their gaze to their littermates, soft ears folding backwards. "But we would never make it if we went back."

A heavy pause. It's true, isn't it? They don't know how to hunt for themselves. They can't fight to defend any claims they might make to land or dens or burrows. ThunderClanners know these things, but they deem the kittens too incapable to teach for several moons yet. Could they learn, and then escape? Or would they fall into scheming claws too soon? Yippingkit's heart lurches. "Do you think Fallowbite will kill us?" It's not an unreasonable question to ask, they don't think. It had killed their mother, after all. Yip's ear twitches. Howl insists on suspicion, on staying sharp, on facades. It makes Yippingkit's brain shake off its dust. "Maybe, we... maybe if everyone likes us, they won't kill us. We can make them like us. Maybe they wouldn't suspect anything."

𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐓 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 !

• ooc.
  
• YIPPINGKIT —— kit of thunderclan . baying hound x duke . littermate to howlkit and thrashkit, sibling to many ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a hulking black smoke with low white. striking dual-toned eyes. fluctuates between total apathy and a need to fit in; difficult to befriend, and does not trust easily. unsure of thunderclan as a whole.
  ✦ intersex, nb masculine / he they pronouns / 03 moons & ages every 5th
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. a kitten, he can hardly defend himself, but that will not stop him from trying. apt against opponents his age thanks to his sheer size.
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

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[THRASHKIT]

-ˋˏ ༻☾༺ ˎˊ-​

It's just another trap, that's what Howl says. He believes him, surely this was some kind of trap. Thrash curls up in a tighter ball against the wall of the nursery, still rigid but trying to make themself smaller. It's what he knows best after all, to make himself small and unseen. Howl makes sense to him, Thrash had always considered him to be smart like that, knowing what to say. “So should we not… talk about ourselves?” What about their time in the forest? Of Baying Hound? What was considered to be too much information?

Yip also comes from a place of solid reasoning, as much as Thrash wants to protest he was right. They wouldn't make it out in the forest by themself, they had no means of hunting. Pinprick claws and milk teeth had no chance of actually killing prey. Foolishly, he held enough convinction to think that if that they really tried they could do it, maybe they could just try chewing grass for a while or something in between long streches of food. It wouldn't be a happy life though, but they were convinced that their time in ThunderClan would be just as miserable. Their littermates question is one that she herself had considered in those quiet nights in the nursery. Always keeping one eye open until sleep consumed them, just in case a familiar hulking shadow was seen by the entrance. Wide eyes look at his littermate curiously, did they think Fallowbite would kill them? “Yes” it answers quickly though he doesn't sound too sure. “It could have killed us instead of taking us to the clan though” so he guessed the answer could have been maybe? It doesn't stop his growing unease about it though, minds and emotions can change as quickly as the weather, Thrash knew that.

It was confusing, this whole situation was confusing. His head hurt just thinking about it. It hurt even more at the idea of pretending to be likeable, it was a clever suggestion. If they were likeable then no one would suspect anything, they could blend in, take advantage and leave. “If we make them like us we could learn enough to be able to live on our own right?” There's hope in Thrash's tone, for the first time in as long as the kit can remember. It's good to not be killed, survival should be the main goal in a place like this. Yet he believes that there could be a further purpose for this, in an ideal world he hopes that it will result in learning how to live with just his littermates. Far from here and far from anymore troubles that plague him, in the mean time he could try to be nice while not being too vulnerable.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I was born hungry ☆ What do I need‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

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• 

• THRASHKIT
  any pronouns, 3 moons
  ☆ A black smoke with abnormally bright amber eyes and a habit of crouching while they walk.
  ☆ Bayinghound x Duke | Littermates with Howlkit & Yippingkit
  ☆ Due to her circumstances surrounding it's life she will be confrontational in the majority of their interactions { will start fights | will not end fights | will not run away and might be merciful }
  ☆ "speech" | thoughts | attacking
  ☆ All opinions are IC only!

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