[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:8pt; text-align:justify; line-height:125%; width:350px; margin-top: -5px;]Maybe that's how it was destined to end. Where it all started.
His paw scuffed against the ground. Dried leaves, autumn’s kisses, scooped up into the air before finding their place on the wet ground again. His brittle gaze - almost longing - traced along the space in front of him. Nothing particularly interesting appeared there, but his head whirred with memories, memories so filled with detail and imagination that it was almost like he was seeing a hologram his own mind was projecting in front of him. Tainted and faint, but figures detailed enough to identify, bloomed before him.
Annabelle, toppling over, her torso heaving with contractions.
He had been the first. The eldest son, the first sight of tiny life. Sprawled across the ground, tiny chest heaving with effort, mouth stretching open to cry as soon as possible.
Three little sisters and a single brother later, the litter was complete, the mother struggling to fight off her exhaustion.
For a moment, Hotline paused this fabricated vision, his unfocused eyes gaining a dreamy film. He did not remember what his sisters looked like, and it was a struggle to even remember their names. What he saw in this vision was something of a guess, three squirming bodies that were undistinguishable from one another. Where had they all gone? Where they were all around three or four months, all but him disappeared. He had not been a good brother. A good big brother. Big brothers were supposed to watch over their siblings. He had not. Back when he still could, he'd been too egotistic and selfish to think of anyone else but himself.
A frown curled at his lips. He took a step forward and touched the wavering Annabelle's cheek. He was envisioning her as how he saw her last - when they had finally found one another again a few months ago, when she told him secrets that nobody else could. They had separated afterwards. Hotline knew he was rejecting her by leaving her side, even after he had confessed about the hole she had left behind by her absence, but he knew what was going to happen to him, and he did not want her to see. He had been there to witness the finding of her dead body. The trauma he went through afterwards was debilitating. He would not put the same scars on his beloved mother.
Death.
Very quietly, he took a seat next to where he imagined her head to be. Slowly, he swallowed, his gaze flickering over the mirage of the litter. His maw opened - and a harsh, cracked voice pried from his throat. "Peroxidekit." He whispered, then tried again, his voice so loud, reaching to scrape at the heavens. "Peroxidekit!" Her foreign name on his lips stung as much as his dry throat did. Then, because he could not stop, he went on, voice uneven and cracking but still loud as before. ”Silentkit, Unicornkit, Goodkit.” The siblings he had always loved, even though they had been forgotten, lost in the abyss of time. So many things had happened to Hotline. So many bad things. But here and now, he did not want to think of them. He would only mourn his family, the blood that he could not keep. He felt like weeping, and though his face scrunched in mourning, no tears sopped down his face. His heart beat slow in his chest. Slowing. Without another word, he pushed his limbs out, sliding to the ground, cheek nestled among the sweet-smelling leaves.
He watched the rest of the made-up memory play out, bits of pieces of stories laced together to build a tapestry in his head. His ma was watching her children. Then, one by one, ColouredClanners began to appear, eyes wide, speculating over the sight of the kittens. The first voice that had rung through the area –
“Are... are you okay?” Trafalgar had asked.
Hotline closed his eyes.
[hr]
There was no right way to write this. Hotline's death has been written and rewritten for seven months, interrupted by currents in my life, but by blocks and struggles as well. I officially give away my last character here on Feralfront in this single post, cutting the last string to this site, and though I remain unhappy with this, I feel as though this must come to an end. No more procrastination.
Thank you to the ColouredClan family, who were great friends and allies when I played Hotline.
tams