- Mar 1, 2023
- 57
- 12
- 8
don't rush something you want to last forever .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
The queen lay, curled up against Lostmoon’s side, watching the outside world with pinched brows, dual optics fluttering at the gentle rasp of his brother’s tongue against his helm, grooming the petite male who relaxed, becoming putty. A lot of things have changed. Not all of them were good, but he couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. Maybe both. He blinked, peeling his helm back to peer into sleepy optics, lips tilting in a nervous smile because he wasn’t sure.
A gentle rasp of Lostmoon’s tongue against his helm settled most of the churning panic. Right. He shuffled, burrowing deeper into his adoptive brother’s hold with a soft trill, dual-toned optics fluttering.
His mind shifted, drawing a pained whine from the ticked tabby from events that still felt recent. Too raw. He didn’t like how his skin prickled or the churning fear he felt staring into beastly eyes that reminded him so much of Kyungmin. He briefly wondered if all of Thunderclan were like that. But then he thought of the two that came to warn them of something awful, but it made him think. Was every clan like that? He frowned. What if he ruined everything and SkyClan became just the same? No. No. He did.
He kneaded the nest’s walls, ignoring the helplessness that curled and twisted inside his gut. He’d been so so stupid, tripping over himself in search of a rock that he hadn’t even been able to grab before they shoved him into the unforgiving dirt with flashes of silvery blue fur dancing in his vision.
He had been silly then, still is, tucked away from everyone because he was a coward as much as he wanted to change, to be … to be better, it was hopeless. He was a dumb dumb tom with little thoughts, barely scrapping by because he really didn’t know much else, but hadn’t others tried? His mind flickered to Duskpool, heart clenching at the thought look of disappointment.
Shaking his helm, Yukio plucked at the frayed bramble, in need of good fixing, something Yukio had been dreading. He had refused to change anything since the death of his kits, shaking his helm rapidly whenever someone offered. No. No. No. He didn’t want to change it even if it poked at his back leaving red welts because it was the only thing he had left of them. How could he possibly get rid of it?
He muffled the quiver of his chest, tears threatening to spill from dual optics for a completely different reason because he embarrassed his kits. His. Yukio kneaded the ground, claws tearing into old moss, ears falling flat against his helm. He just needed to stay away from the borders, right? Scary and unforgiving. He’d been so so careless then, but he understood now. Oh. He understood. He wasn’t cut out for clan life, or any life, it seemed, but that was fine. He was fine. He had to be.
… Right?
/ prompt
A gentle rasp of Lostmoon’s tongue against his helm settled most of the churning panic. Right. He shuffled, burrowing deeper into his adoptive brother’s hold with a soft trill, dual-toned optics fluttering.
His mind shifted, drawing a pained whine from the ticked tabby from events that still felt recent. Too raw. He didn’t like how his skin prickled or the churning fear he felt staring into beastly eyes that reminded him so much of Kyungmin. He briefly wondered if all of Thunderclan were like that. But then he thought of the two that came to warn them of something awful, but it made him think. Was every clan like that? He frowned. What if he ruined everything and SkyClan became just the same? No. No. He did.
He kneaded the nest’s walls, ignoring the helplessness that curled and twisted inside his gut. He’d been so so stupid, tripping over himself in search of a rock that he hadn’t even been able to grab before they shoved him into the unforgiving dirt with flashes of silvery blue fur dancing in his vision.
He had been silly then, still is, tucked away from everyone because he was a coward as much as he wanted to change, to be … to be better, it was hopeless. He was a dumb dumb tom with little thoughts, barely scrapping by because he really didn’t know much else, but hadn’t others tried? His mind flickered to Duskpool, heart clenching at the thought look of disappointment.
Shaking his helm, Yukio plucked at the frayed bramble, in need of good fixing, something Yukio had been dreading. He had refused to change anything since the death of his kits, shaking his helm rapidly whenever someone offered. No. No. No. He didn’t want to change it even if it poked at his back leaving red welts because it was the only thing he had left of them. How could he possibly get rid of it?
He muffled the quiver of his chest, tears threatening to spill from dual optics for a completely different reason because he embarrassed his kits. His. Yukio kneaded the ground, claws tearing into old moss, ears falling flat against his helm. He just needed to stay away from the borders, right? Scary and unforgiving. He’d been so so careless then, but he understood now. Oh. He understood. He wasn’t cut out for clan life, or any life, it seemed, but that was fine. He was fine. He had to be.
… Right?
/ prompt
yukios recent incident at the border has caused skyclan a lot of trouble, but more so, it's shown that the clans neighbors aren't all as friendly as he might have thought. what are his feelings on thunderclan now that he's seen their claws up close? has he become more wary of the presence of borders, or will it be lost to the drifting winds that are his mind?
thought speech
