yesterday's news | aftermath




Normally her anger is dull, almost listless. Never pointed in any other direction save for herself when she fails or has slight irritation. But now, this day her anger is jagged and sharp feeling. She has been feeling this type of anger more and more these days and controlling it is harder than she expected. And here it shows on her face, making her normal cold eyes burn like blazing embers. Blood dribbles down from a cut over her eye and sliding down to the corner to slip along her nose. The blood that dribbles from her shoulder tells of another wound yet it does not seem to hinder her motions as she walks from the direction of the four oak trees. Her claws scrap the ground, blood staining the curved weapons. This walk home is a moment to calm herself. To think rationally but at the core of everything she doesn't want to think rationally. She wants to keep this anger as she clutches the piece of mangled prey which had ignited the whole confrontation. The words that had been spit back and forth before the pine cat had gotten aggressive and so had she.

The squirrel had been torn in half by the end of it and she had managed to get what she could before disengaging. She bore her wounds for it but she was not going back down from kittypets or those that loved to be with them. Approaching camp she takes a deep breath in and releases the stench of squirrel's blood. Stepping into camp she does not look to any cat that looks at her. She does not say a word. She does not need to for they should all see what those thieving cats will do and she simply drops the battered prey before speaking up. "Anyone can have it. It was well earned from a pine cat that tried to steal it from me."

Berry had been fervently avoiding any outgoing hunting parties. The conflict hardly interested him; in fact it made him feel terribly bored. Verbal insults flung about the air, and it was always the same ones, never anything new- there was nothing to be learned from these spats, nothing to be gained. He was an excellent fighter, but could he try as hard as he would in training when it was for a cause he had not his whole heart within? Would he feel proud of scars earned from an ouroboros? They were hungry, but everyone was. The pine cats would be no different.

Voicing not these feelings was hardly rare for Berry. Besides, he did not think they would be popular.

At the offer of a squirrel gifted through Magpie's level tone, pride in her words, Berry lifted his dappled skull. The stench of wounds reached him immediately, and queasiness already began to take hold. He could hardly stand the stench of badly-killed prey with buckets of blood pouring out, let alone the odour of feline ichor that battle-wounds wept. "Have you bled on it...?" His tone was monotonous but muffled through the slant of his jaw, too concentrated on not fainting from nausea to focus on enunciation.
"They tried to steal it?" Briar spoke up, bitterness wrapping around her barbed tongue. The pine cats could say what they wanted about the marsh cats, but Briar did not let them steal. She'd made Willow drop the mouse she'd taken after attacking that youngling. If anyone had the moral high ground to steal, however, it was those in the marshlands. The pine cats got fat off of kittypet pellets and juicy birds while their clumsy hunting skills and detriment to the prey population forced the marsh cats into starvation. Oh for all the stars above, they were eating frogs and lizards because of them! Briar felt anger flare up inside of her, burning hot like the sun on a miserable greenleaf day.

"We're starving... and they tried to steal?" She was in disbelief, repeating the question again so she could hear just how preposterous it sounded on her tongue. Those cats did not need Bone's squirrel when they could climb so well and retired to their kittypet nests at night. She had never felt so angry, imagining their young going hungry and poor pregnant Soot suffering a night worrying about the wellbeing of the kits in her womb because of those thieving, overeating bastards. Her already prickly fur bristled. "I'm glad they didn't get away with it. You did well, Bone."

✵ ღ ☾ I'LL LET YOU DOWN - Cloudy had only felt anger once. True, white molten rage.
The feelings that stirred in her stomach as she watched Bone shoulder her way back into camp with her claims were something else. Judgment, for those plump kitty pets in a territory rich of prey, to try to steal from Bone, and the rest of the famished group.
As she dared to edge closer, the metallic scent of blood became almost over-whelming, and it was difficult to keep her smooth-edged expression.
❝ Why would they try to steal? Are they truly that entitled? ❞ Cloudy echoed after Briar, her tone kept soft as though she were asking a truly innocent question, betraying the bitterness underneath her words. She looked at the mutilated squirrel, her own belly rumbling but her mind dancing to Dew and her children, though the selfish part of her entertained the idea of snatching it up and finding a place to eat.
❝ Speech. ❞

( ) Oh, shit.

Crow inhales sharply, their molten eyes blown wide and following the bloodied Bone. She drops the tattered squirrel to the ground, her explanation chilling Crow's veins. No, their mind breathes. Not again. The frayed rope of the truce could not handle much more tension before it snaps. All hell is going to break loose if this continues. Precious lives would be endangered. Everest's life would be endangered.

Their stomach churns. There has to be a way to stop this.

Hisses are rising up from the furious crowd. Crow stumbles forwards, pushing past a couple of cats to stand face-to-face with Bone. "Why?" He breathes, his ears flattened. "There has to be a reason. We can't- We can't jump to conclusions yet." Everest wouldn't steal. Not without a good reason. Crow has to believe that the rest of Rain's colony are the same.

╰☆☆ Before her confrontation with the pine cats, Twilight had been willing to see their side. Greenleaf and the warmth it brings with it rarely has cats seeing so little prey, but each group has been more or less confined to their respective territories. If marsh dweller and kittypet meet, blood is shed and pride is wounded.

But they'd mocked her. Mocked her and her companions for trying to find sustenance for their children, their vulnerable. Twilight finds them arrogant. She finds them reprehensible.

Still, driving them away, as so many seem wont to do, frightens her as much as attempting to coexist with them. A battle will be costly, and her breath hitches as she gazes at the lives that could be stolen from her. In such a short amount of time, she's grown to love Briar's colony like family.

"They have no shame," she says grimly. Her eyes flash with her hesitation. "Even as hungry as we are, they laugh in our faces with kittypet dust in their whiskers." She bows her head slightly. She does not want this to come to war any more than Crow or Berry does, in truth, but she is starting to see that there is no other way.

She will not call for war, but she will not back down, either. Her son deserves a chance to flourish here, just as Cloudy does, as the children in Soot's belly and the small kits at Dewdrop's side. Twilight is determined to fight for that reality.

− ♱ ABOUT : they were a plague on their lands. clumsy, pampered pets with too - fat stomachs from dry - dusted kibble and twoleg slop scraps. when he was young, before the sickness that decimated his colony, his mother had brought back remnants of twoleg prey from the giant, hollow silver - blue trunks located deep within dark city alleyways quite frequently. she'd tell him stories of his father ; how he was likely feasting on fresh chicken and a great, big bowl of dried food while they -- she - - scrapped in the streets for survival. kittypets were allowed from their colored nests to roam their land, take their prey, starve their youth, and now all the black smoke can do is gawk at the scene unfolding before him. his ribs from the skirmish in the pine forest ache like wildfire with each inward breath, limping from his left shoulder due to tender, mottled bruising ; they were big. well - fed, and strong. the marshlanders starved with each passing day, stomachs growing inward and bone beginning to show through the sink of his pelt into hollow bone. the bitter taste of chewy frog and tough lizard marrow was growing old on his tongue even when he did receive what scrawny scrap remained ambling about the marsh.

he'd arrived in camp earlier than bone, albeit not by much ; docking himself just beneath a shaded thicket to curl into a loaf, covering his injured flank with a thick, curly tail. icewater luminaries watch the woman drag the squirrel carcass into camp, its innards hanging from one side of her maw, lower half nowhere to be seen . . not much of a prize, he'll admit, " of course they tried to steal it ; they're greedy vermin, that's what they do. " his mother had even told him so when she was still around. he levels briar with a tired, burning stare, bicolored features gaunt with starvation. he'd trusted the woman greatly after hare whiskers, but his patience for the situation was waning heavily ; his patience in her inaction even more so. venom dripped from his barbed tongue, though cold and stoic as it is in his exhaustion, " they've only increased in numbers while we starve and wither away in this pit of mud. the half of squirrel is nice, though ; perhaps we should share more often. " the last bit is smothered in thick, accented sarcasm, "it'll put something on the pile, yes?"

cicada lowers his chin to his paws as cloudy speaks, then crow -- and his gaze snaps back up, rubber black lips pulling into a weak snarl," the reason? kittypets do not belong here. they should be kept in their twoleg nests, where they can't try to steal prey from under our noses. they should be driven out, they should've been moons ago. " his chest heaves with a breath and his expression sours with the fiery flash of pain it brings with it, nodding along with twilight's words," they laughed in our faces once their great leader arrived. i imagine it must be amusing for them to watch youth starve, so long as it makes them fatter. "

  • CICADA ; he / him, roughly thirty two months old, marsh group member
    − tall black smoke tortie chimera with icecap eyes and curly fur, homosexual
    − speaks with a german accent, attack in #171717, penned by antlers

  • none.