THE STRUGGLE YOU ARE UP AGAINST | PRIVATE

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    Perseus was the kind of child who refused to admit that he couldn't do something. That had been obvious from his early days of life, where he progressed from timid staggering steps to a steady walk, to a leap, and a climb. ShadowClan had been that final step, getting to high places all on his own. But it didn't lead him anywhere. No matter how high he got, it seemed that he would always come back down. That first time, it had been when he got stuck, had to rely on someone else. And whether or not Perseus let it show, he was a proud person. He didn't want anyone to feel like they needed to be there to pick him up time and time again. He could stand on his own; his problem was in the fact that he couldn't seem to stay there. Couldn't stay standing for long. Maybe it was just because he was a kid. He wasn't strong enough to hold his own weight.


    It was frustrating, really, because he was someone who lived off of affection. He needed it. For a few months, he'd lived off of it. He lived with good people, and they loved him. Why had he ended up here? Nobody here knew him. Nobody here cared. Ross got him down from the tree, Zowie calmed him down when he was lost, Marauder worried about his piercings healing right. But it still stuck. I don't care.


    The sound that leaves his throat is something between a whine and a simple exhale when he comes to his senses properly, enough that it starts to hurt a little bit. A slow ache, and then something firmer. Steadier. And after that, he inhales again. But that's when it really sets in, and it's with a dazed look that the clouded leopard finds his feet. It's a spiking ache that doesn't go away, his exhale coming in yet another whine as things clear up. Climbing. He'd been climbing. Trying to get higher than he had last time, because the higher he got the prettier it was, and the less like a stranger he felt. But somewhere halfway up it had started to rain, and instead of actually getting anywhere — well, truth be told, he couldn't remember anymore. Whatever adventure he'd started had ended with him here, dazed and aching, breath short and whines only coming a little bit faster.


    "Ow." The word is amazingly matter-of-fact, as if he's startled by the fact that it hurts whenever he puts pressure on it. Yet soon enough, it's increasing almost exponentially, and the clouded leopard can't help but cry out sharply, ground a little slick beneath his paws, mud spiking his fur. But what was the point of all this? Right. He was proud. He didn't want anyone to pick him up all the time, didn't want to be a nuisance. And so, without question, Perseus tries to walk, his stride hitching and short until it becomes too much and — maybe he does need someone to pick him up, sometimes, but it's stupid, it's stupid but frustration wells up in his chest like something living, something biting, and — it's just stupid, that's all. But he can't see from the rain and the tears that are starting to well up. "Stupid," he whispers, though it gets a little bit louder. "This is stupid."
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    information | updated 09/10/2016
    information | updated 09/10/2016

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    They had that in common, then. Marauder as a kid had believed, stupidly, that if he wanted to, he could take on the whole damn world without even breaking a sweat, even with his grasp of reality. He just hadn't known how big the world was at that age, though he'd definitely known how terrible it was, with BloodClan on their back, killing innocent people. At one point he remembered finding a pregnant mother, gutted, and he didn't wonder anymore how he'd lost whatever innocence he might have held onto. He knew who'd taken it from him, and he wasn't the first one they'd tampered with, the first one they'd stained, and he hadn't been the last. Nobody had changed anything in ThunderClan, and he didn't even care anymore how circular his thoughts were, concerning that place and their lack of a role. If Perseus grew up in ThunderClan, or any of those other weak-willed, subservient clans who rolled over for those sadistic assholes- he wouldn't be who he was now. Marauder didn't think he'd be making any friendship bracelets, and maybe he'd have more sense about befriending someone like the caracal.


    He thought he might have successfully chased him off this time. That possibility shouldn't have stung as much as it did, because it was what he'd been trying to do from the start, for Percy's sake, for his own. Perseus didn't need to be invested in someone who was as steady as the ocean on a stormy day, and Marauder- how many times had he gotten his hopes up, just like this? And how many times had he *ed it all up, single-handedly? Too many to count, for sure, but he regretted those three words anyway. That was enough to show that yeah, he did care, too much.


    The dark feline ducked his head down, grumbling to himself at the beginning fall of rain on his shoulders. His hoodie was able to combat most of the rain, keep it from mingling with the more important bandages protecting the worst of his wounds from releasing steam, but there were still some exposed patches, and one of his least favorite activities was changing bandages. The things were just so- he broke away from that at the sound of a whimper, head raising from where it had lowered. He waited, and a beat later, there was another whine, and he didn't think he was imagining that it sounded like Perseus. He'd never heard him like that before, but the thing about being around that so often, so thoroughly- he knew what people would sound like in certain situations. Perseus was no different, no matter how sick it made him believe he was. He didn't waste time seeking the source, searching for the small leopard, and when he did find him, the kid was obviously injured, limping as he tried to walk, muttering to himself as his paws trudged through growing mud.


    "Yeah, it is. Anyone ever tell you not to go limping around in the rain?" Inhaling, the words not even half as sharp as they could have been, he trotted closer, until he was standing next to the smaller feline. "We've got a few options here. I can pick you up and we go, or you sit under a tree to wait this out."
    [spoiler=tags (8/25)][justify][size=8][font=arial]GENERAL:
    -Marauder
    -Son of Coloredpencil and Alois
    -1 year, four months
    -Pansexual panromantic
    -½ Mars (brotp w/ Perseus)


    BODY DESCRIPTION:
    -Caracal dyed black with blue eyes
    -Heavily scarred
    -Broad shouldered and muscular
    -Wears a red hoodie, sometimes switches it out for a brown leather jacket
    -Wears a red, white, and black friendship bracelet (DO NOT TOUCH)

    INTERACTION:
    -Difficulty depends on opponent and circumstances
    -Name in bold red when attacking
    -Ask for serious injury, request capture, closed to death
    -Friendly actions can be powerplayed (at your character's own risk)


    PERSONALITY:
    -Holds serious grudges
    -Aggressive with a quick temper, but will behave most of the time.
    -A bit of an asshole
    -Strong emotions, not-so-great outlets
    -Intelligent, and actually very well-read
    -Possible abandonment issues

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    / what is muse??
    + perc bb no stop


    How many times had he tried to do something that he couldn't do? It was a product of pride and invincibility — because for a while, every kid thought that they could do anything. It was a part of being a kid, right? Until someone tore you down; until someone else broke you, intentionally or not. Because you can't ruin yourself. You can't. You can get frustrated and angry and you can yell at yourself to do better, but as a kid, failing doesn't mean that you can't do it tomorrow. It's when adults are involved that things tend to go south. You can't go to space, you can't be here, you can't think like that. You can't. Well why not? Because the adults didn't know how? Because the adults had a different opinion? Sometimes it was about keeping them safe. Sometimes it was for the best. Marauder was one of those people who didn't do things to be malicious, not when he said you can't, or something like it. That didn't mean that it was appreciated, but it was... Understood, or something like that. Perseus wouldn't always accept it, but he would see where it came from. Marauder was paranoid, but he was alright.


    He'd walked in on something, once. He hadn't understood it, and had walked away shortly afterwards, but someone had been on the ground, and someone else had hit them. For no reason. There had been no reason to be angry. They brought them here and everything, why would you bring someone here and then hurt them? That had confused him more than anything else he'd seen, and maybe something inside of him had faded at that. More than anything else, he didn't want to see people hurting each other without a reason. The child didn't know where Marauder had been or what he had done, but he came back hurt, and it scared him. Who hurt him? Who did he hurt back? Why? Perc didn't find it in himself to ask, at least not out loud. He didn't want to know, but that didn't mean that the worry automatically faded away.


    How many times had he tried to frown at him, back on the topic of trying to do things that he shouldn't? How many times had he tried to look angry, like it didn't bother him? He'd managed it, a few times, but almost immediately after he was smiling again, or give him a day and he's winding between the caracal's paws again, ignoring the idea of personal space. Pointedly, now, because Marauder had tried — and failed — to teach him about that. About staying away from people. But Perseus was innocent to a fault and Marauder was still trying to protect that. It's dumb to try and do it by pushing him away, though. Can't he see that? Because nobody else here is trying to protect him. Nobody else cares, for all the things they say. People keep leaving and vanishing and getting hurt, and Perc is in the middle of a storm anyway. There aren't many calm places in this world. Children should be too young to notice that, but they aren't protected anymore. He felt better when Marauder had his back, even if he hated being protected. He doesn't want to be an inconvenience, he didn't want to get in the way.


    More than that, he didn't want to be that annoying little kid nobody wanted.


    It's a low point, here, standing in the rain with blood pulsing uncomfortably in his leg. Everything feels heavy and uncomfortable and it's frustrating and tiring and he just wants to forget about it, but that's kind of hard to do when everything hurts. It's like the start to some horror movie. Even so, it's not a monster that comes out of the sheets of rain. That doesn't mean that Perseus doesn't tense at it, narrow shoulders drawing up higher at the commentary. "No." They got rain in his old home, sure, but he'd spent most of his life in their home anyway, and rain had always meant staying in and listening to his dad's stories, or watching his grandma work on something. He tries to ignore the fact that this sucks for a while, at least long enough to set his jaw stubbornly and at least try to pretend like he was still mad-worried-hurt. "I'll sit under a tree." He hadn't chased him off. Perc wasn't going to vanish because of a few mean words or stupid decisions, but it was easier than admitting that he would prefer something comforting.
    [hr]

    info | updated 09/18/2016
    info | updated 09/18/2016