private WILDER THAN MOONLIGHT | vulturekit

[GRAVELPAW]

The sun changes above, but the cats below are ever-present, ever-stable, ever-strong. And like that, that is what Gravelpaw is. They have not moved much since they returned, watching Vulturekit like a hawk would, fearful of Ebonylights rough paw being placed upon their head, fearful of the same treatment they had received when they had been roughly plopped in the middle of the camp. Gravelpaw stays hunched over, turned slightly away from the kit.

"I'm sorry." it tumbles between their lips so fast that they can't catch it in time no matter how fast their paws scrabble to erase what they just said. They cannot change the present, nor the past. A long sigh leaves them, their figure deflating before the kit. Are they older than him? Or is he older than them? Or are they the same age? Would they have been denmates if Gravelpaw had been born differently? If Mama had not left them behind, would a... kinder cat have come along? Or is it Ebonylight in every way possible, their shadow, their father. In every timeline, would Gravel had turned out the same?

Would I disappoint myself in each life-time? Existential thoughts scare them whole-heartedly. They don't know when they began. They don't know when they'd stop.

"I'm sorry." they repeat, broken, a record. "I know you're scared. But I promised no one would hurt you. I won't let them." they want to go back on what they did, but the prospect of having someone else around the same age excites them. They sharply inhale. They could play games that Gravelpaw had been too scared to ask anyone else about. They could play pretend, pretend that just for a second everything is okay. "...Uhm... Do you know... Of any games...?" its asked awkwardly. They had never indulged in those games, not here, and had barely been weened from their mothers milk when found. How long ago? Two moons now? They bow their head in guilt.

They want to ask if hes mad at them, but the question dies on their tongue much like their motivation to keep the conversation going. They were comfortable sitting here in silence, if he so chose not to respond.

𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙰 𝚆𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴, ˚⋆｡°✩₊🦇 𝙰𝚁𝙼𝚈 𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚁𝚂

• @vulturekit.
• 
  ❥ baby ,, gravelkit ,, gravelpaw
  ❥ demi-girl ,, she/they ,, 04 months
  ❥ duskclan apprentice ,, mentored by thriftfeather
  ❥ black/blue smoke chimera with high white and blue eyes
  ❥ "speech, 9d9adf" ,, thoughts
  ❥ too young to be interested in anything ,, single
  ❥ smells like heather and pine needles
  ❥ art by woodlandpest ,, penned by chuff

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[Vulturepaw]

˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖ 　He sticks beside his guiding spirit. Wispy and smoke-tinged, leading him to this place of death. It stinks of copper and sick here, and Vulturekit does his best to breathe. He wants to trust her. He wanted to trust her, when she promised to show him somewhere better. He chokes down the anger that coats his tongue, the betrayal he has no words to express. Apologies fall upon his lap, earning little but a viperlike lashing of a spiny tail. He offers no absolution, not when he himself seeks it too. He cannot apologize to his family for abandoning them, and so, spitefully, he does not let this smoke-spectre apologize to him.

Still, there is a balm in the words. Somehting soothing in the acknowledgement of fear, the promises they give again and again. No one will hurt him here. They have not yet broken his trust fully; his fragile skin remains unbloodied. "...Okay. Okay," tumbles in a whisper from the kitten's maw, fearful and trying desperately to be placated.

Games. She asks after games and - how can she think of such things at a time like this? He almost wants to laught, hysterically. He wavers, amber eyes catching on her. How old is she? Not much older than him, not much older than his littermates.

He does not laugh. He feels terribly homesick. "I - My siblings like games." It's not quite an answer. It feels like an admittance. Vulturekit never much cared for his sibling's games, but now he thinks he'd give anything to join one. To be away from here, to be home. He swallows thickly. "I d-d-d -" A sharp inhale, half a hiss. It shakes. His eyes screw shut, willing himself to focus. "I d-don't, um. Know many. Buh-b-but I can..." She keeps apologizing, and it makes him feel like the guilty one. He cracks one eye open to look at her childish face. "...If you wanna play, I c-can think of - uh, something, I guess..."

‎‎┌── FOR I HATE THE BUILDINGS ⛧ AND THE WAY THEY TOWER OVER ME ──┐‎

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• 

  
  
  "SPEECH"
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• 
  VULTUREKIT ⛧ he / they, kit of windclan, four moons.
  ⭃ a spiky-furred dark tabby with amber eyes.
  ⭃ skittish and dour, with little time for typical kit games.
  ⭃ micheal x npc, adopted by periwinklebreeze. sibling to dustkit and bilberrykit.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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