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| [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 70px; height: 250px; background-image: url(here); background-size: 210%; background-position: center;][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 1px solid white; width: 50px; height: 60px; background-image: url(http://66.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_llts4teNQR1qbdfj5.gif); background-size: 160%; background-position: center; margin-top: 8.5px; margin-left: -5.3px;][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 1px solid white; width: 50px; height: 60px; background-image: url(https://67.media.tumblr.com/08…pib3lvKr1ub3147o1_500.gif); background-size: 168%; background-position: center; margin-top: 8px; margin-left: -5.3px;][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 1px solid white; width: 50px; height: 60px; background-image: url(http://67.media.tumblr.com/961…no885oMyc31spqrb6_500.gif); background-size: 140%; background-position: center; margin-top: 8px; margin-left: -5.3px;][/fancypost][/fancypost] | [fancypost bgcolor=white; border-top: 3px solid white; border-bottom: none; border-left: 3px solid white; border-right: 3px solid white; width: 425px; height: 249px; overflow: auto; padding: 4px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; color: black; line-height: 11px; margin-left: -4px;]In his short life of currently five months, he had already felt like so many bad things had happened. It wasn't right, a kitten shouldn't of had to of seen so much blood at such a young age. The memories from his mom, watching project be ripped to shreds and nearly die, actually of been mistaken for dead, the fox that had torn into his shoulder. His shoulder had healed, but under the fur you could find scars from where it's teeth had punctured the skin. His first battle scar, and he wasn't even supossed to be out of camp. It weighed down on him, pressed against him shoulders. Ocassionaly he tried making a crappy joke to hide it, but it didn't always work. He had PTSD, waking up from nightmares in the middle of the night and avoiding anything and everything that could trigger the memories. Even innocent games such as warriors, where one person was a piece of prey and another was a warrior and they play faught. When the elders joked around that they were hungry badgers looking for fresh meat. Dean knew it was all a game, and just a game, but whenever it happened he slunk away, suppressing the bad memories and sometimes even fightin back tears. One thing that kept him around were the danger of the outside world. Here he was safe and protected, with people who cared for his well being and made sure he was fed. Another was his brother, whom he wanted to make sure never experienced such horrors. To shield his innocent eyes from the bad things that were out there for as long as he could. Play an innocent game of mossball with him, make sure that he remained inside the observatory where nothing could harm him. Normally, there were very few things in everyday life that triggered the memories. Today had been different. A new apprentice had made a sloppy kill, bringing in a mouse that was covered in blood. The mental barrier he had done his best to put up between everyday life and the bad memories couldn't hold them back at such a strong reminder and came crashing down, causing the brown to kit to flee behind the nursery and bury his head under his paws curled it in a tight ball much like Fawnpelt did on instinct. His tail was tightly curled around him and he squeezed himself inbetween the walls of the nursery and the walls of the observatory, fighting back tears at said memories, his breathes coming in quick short gasps and out in long, slow exhales. He struggled to push back the memories, regain control of his emotions and just hope that no one thought any of his mad dash into such a small area. [/fancypost] |
[fancypost bgcolor=white; border: none; width: 509px; height: 25px; margin-top: -3px;][/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 550px; font-size: 14px; color: black; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-top: -35px;][size=14px]✧ . °[/size] [b][i]I NEVER MEANT TO BE YOUR PROBLEM CHILD[/fancypost]
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