trusting you's obliteration [♧] o, visitor

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    [center][fancypost=background-color:;border:0px;width:450px;text-align:justify;font-size:8pt;line-height:1.4]water, its everywhere and its endless, your (admittedly shortsighted) gaze only able to catch thin strips of land here and there between the indigo waves that rally around the island. it surrounds this place, surrounds you, and leaves you restless. you dont favor water, havent been a fan of it for the longest of times so needless to say, hawkclans territory puts you on edge.


    though, as you trek further into the woodland, a tiny piece of your mind doubts that the peninsula and the ocean are the sole cause for the anxiety that tightens around your chest, the pressure not painful but firm enough that its presence has been made known. no, this nervousness had blossomed earlier in the day, sometime in the morning, when you finally made a decision. you had faintly hoped that when the time had come the apprehension that you feel now would have been squashed underfoot, but in the end it merely magnified.


    you almost want to turn back but you literally just got here, and it'd be a pointless journey if you went away without anything to show for it. and besides, you'll probably get an earful of yelling from steampunk or chara or heck, maybe even victoria when you get back; the sole doctor, gone all day? not very responsible on your part, but your duties had been far from your mind when you got on the road.


    now you're at the border, and your head tilts up as you manipulate the scent on your pelt, magnify the smell of the flowers on your neck so that it overwhelms the rebellions own candy-and-rust smell (you're well aware that hawkclan isnt a fan of bill cipher, and while you arent sure if theyre aware that they now lead trot, you wont risk it) and the fainter smell of shadowclan (you left that group at the beginning of the month, but the stench has not yet gone away, and like with bill, you're not risking the chance of it being detected). you put your voice to work, force words to formulate and spill from your throat, your mouth, "ah, hello! is frenchie here?" and by that you mean mercy; you have trouble dropping the little petname everyone used for her back in shadowclan. hopefully she wont take offense to you still calling her that, "i want to see her!"


    /kinda rushed @MERCY .
    [fancypost=border-width:0; font-size: 8pt; text-align: center; line-height: 95%; width:400px;] ✧ —AND I WALK THE EMPTY HALLWAYS / [color=#FFF]TAGS

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    vanburgh pinecliffe . undecided . member
    I WAITED AND I GOT NOTHING — tags

    wow, so many new people. this particular person seemed to be very petite, and although he was small, he wasn't exactly as fragile as them.


    "ah, sorry, who is this frenchie?" he said. he was a bit new to hawkclan and had no idea who that was - little did he know that it was his deputy, mercy. [fancypost=background:#COLORHERE;height:1px;padding:0;width:450px;]

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    [ i said a prayer and buried your name — tags ]


    It had been nearly a month since she'd been captured by ShadowClan, and while the idea of leaving the territory still sent a prickle of fear through her (what if someone tried to snatch her again?), the ordeal was slowly fading into the back of her mind. Had she not been so busy with other affairs, such as her relationship with Twilightzone, Cassiopeia's disappearance, and her duties to HawkClan, perhaps the memory would have plagued her mind more harshly. But it had been buried under all of her more pressing issues, things that effected her lifestyle far more deeply than venemous threats and a kick to the face. Up until today, all that had remained to torment her were the nightmares, but they were easy enough to ignore.


    As always, hearing her old nickname was enough to bring it all rushing back, and in an instant, she was rooted to the spot. Sucking in a sharp breath, Mercy turned her gaze in the direction the voice had come from, recognizing it with ease. Frisk. Had they been sent by ShadowClan? Why else would they want to see her? They'd... they'd looked so scared when they'd heard about what she'd done, and Mercy couldn't imagine them coming here willingly to speak with her.


    In a way, it was nice to be called by that name again. Frenchie. She was so used to it being used out of spite, as a way for Sango to break down her defenses and reduce her to a shaky, sobbing mess. Candy had used it, too, when he'd come to join HawkClan, but she'd kindly asked that he cease in doing so. It brought back too many memories. She wasn't Frenchie, not really. She'd lost her right to the name when she'd broken her promise to Sango.


    "I am," she told Vanburgh with a tremulous voice, and then stopped to stare down at the kitten who sought her. "What're you doing here, Frisk?" In spite of her previous thoughts, she couldn't find it in herself to correct them. Ordering them to call her Mercy almost felt cruel, when she'd been proven to show everything but that in their presence.