inside these walls || open, revenge! || we watch the tables turn

  • For a week, Venom had spent her time desperately rubbing up against the ice of the canal and what little flowers were left in the forest of Bloodclan's territory. For a week, Venom tried to get that disgusting stench off her fur that just wouldn't leave, and for a week, she would lick at ice to forget the taste, the smell. For a week, Venom had found herself unable to stomach the sight of a dead rat, much less the smell or taste of one. Ever since that damn bucket incident, Venom distanced herself from others and kept to herself more than usual, all the while festering hate for those who decided it would be a hoot and a half to drop said bucket on her head, unleashing with it freezing water that drenched Venom to the bone and embedded into her fur the stench of the still-bodies rats that had drowned in it. For a week, Venom had felt, known, that she would get back at them, and maybe not just once. She doubted she would ever let this go, especially if they wouldn't. So today, as the negative thoughts swam around her mind during her walk, two familiar voices broke her out of her daze.


    Venom slowed her walk until she eventually came to a stop. For a moment, she remained eerily still, her ears pointed forward to pinpoint the owners of the voices, and as they did, Venom had to bite back a growl that rose in her throat. The molly pressed herself up against the wall beside which she had been walking, and despite its freezing temperature, she stalked forward with her body pressed fully against it. As quietly as possible, Venom made it to the corner and slowly peeked her head out to see the familiar form of one of the culprits. Sinclair was standing a bit precariously on a windowsill in the alley Venom looked into, his undivided attention given to a rather compact trash bin below him, or rather, what was inside it. Noise was undoubtedly coming from within the bin, and after a moment's surveillance, Venom knew that it was undoubtedly Ryland inside it. It seemed as if the slender tom was rummaging throughout twoleg trash for food or something similar, and Sinclair was keeping a lookout. He was doing quite a shitty job of it, though, because with the speed of a snail, Venom managed to round the corner and sneak along the wall towards him after a moment's epiphany. With her fur blending in with the snow, she was almost invisible, the only indicators of her presence being her paw and eyes. As she crept, Venom could barely keep her excitement at bay; her plan was working. Slowly, slowly, she made it to the windowsill, Ryland and Sinclair's conversation making it into one of her ears and out the other, as she could focus on nothing other than her mission.


    Venom waited, waited, and then slowly bunched her muscles to make another leap. Waiting longer than necessary, until she was absolutely sure she could make it, the molly uncoiled her body like a snake, muscle propelling her throughout the air and as smoothly as butter onto the windowsill. The moment her paws met the surface, Venom dashed forward with a speed that highly contrasted against her previous pace. With speed and power ever higher due to momentum, Venom barreled through Sinclair's body and shoved him right to the side as she passed by to send his body into the bin he was looking into. Not stopping for a second, Venom made it to the other side of the windowsill and jumped off before turning back the way she came. From there, all it took was was a simple jump and shove of Venom's body to send the bin's lid fly shut, and one more jump to land atop it. Breath heavy from adrenaline, Venom took a seat, placing her entire weight on the lid to keep it from opening. The feline sat there, a dazed yet euphoric look in her eye as her lips slowly curled upwards into a sadistic smirk. A quiet, almost inaudible, breathless laugh escaped her as her actions registered. Venom was high on revenge, and she wasn't leaving anytime soon.


    s. sinclair   RYLAND.

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    tags || Venom || 18 moons || "Speech" || pfp art by midsummer

  • Perched on a windowsill, a pale nose twitched in disgust as he peered over the edge of a black plastic bin wherein his roommate was currently scavenging, rummaging through what little trash remained in the bottom. Whiskers fluttered against the stench- never would he allow his clean, smooth coat to come into contact with such disgusting.. greasy, twoleg filth! Luckily, Ryland had already embraced that look already. He was the perfect man for the job! "You.... You find anythin'?" He mused, pulling back to bring a white-dipped paw to his mouth to comb his tongue through and swipe over his ear. All this grime was beginning to start up in his compulsive grooming habit. He shuddered at the thought of touching any of that.


    The flash of white at the corner of his vision was unexpected. For a split second in time, gazes pale green and ruby red met, white fur ignited by revenge's savage greed. What he saw burning in her pupils was the utter craving for reprisal, and it shook him to the core. "Wh-" bodies collide, and his loose footing on the ledge sends him clambering off the edge. He lands stumblingly, square on Ryland's back. "H-AAAAAAA!" The screech is ear-splitting as the lid is slammed shut atop them, cloaking the explosion of feral chaos in complete darkness.


    Any composure is cast into the void as his feral instinct kicks in, body clutched with utter terror as he embodies a tornado of claws and kicks and screams. A back leg punts something soft, a tangle of limbs clambering aimlessly as he erupts into an aimless frenzy fuelled by his desperation for escape. "LET ME OUT OF HERE!!!" His heart thumps wildly in his ears, a quiet ringing playing the symphony to his graceless descent into madness, "HEY! OPEN THAT LID! HOHHH- OPEN IT RIGHT NOW!" Skin flared as he tries to scramble away from his roommate with no knowledge of where he was or how close they were. Were the walls closing? "I'M GOING TO DIE IN HERE!!! D- DON'T- DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME-" White paws claw at the plastic sides as he presses his stomach up against the wall, searching blindly for the top.

  • Ryland scrunches his nose irritably as he rifles through the assorted twoleg rubbish at the bottom of a mostly empty trashcan, white paws digging through bottle after bottle and bag after bag. He's been at this for at least a few minutes now, and he's not exactly getting anywhere. Each time he moves something out of the way in an attempt to get to the bottom, more trash spills over him, ruining his progress. He may look (and act) perfect for the part of a trash rummager, but contrary to popular belief, it's not as if he likes it. Scowling, he looks up at Sinclair, then back down to the trash, feeling sick form the stench of the rotting food scraps beneath him. "I don't think so," comes his sigh of response, before he once again begins to paw at the garbage mound. "If there's anything in here, it's probably crowfood by now anyway."


    He's casually digging as he chats, not exactly focused on what's going on above him, and therefore what happens next is unexpected. From inside the trash heap, the approach of Venom had gone unnoticed—Ryland had been too focused on his task, and Sinclair too focused on his own compulsive grooming. Ryland can't hear anything either. His ears are filled only by the sound of plastic crackling as he finally gives up and begins to pull himself out of the mess, ready to jump out of this useless bin and go roll in the snow until he no longer smells like vomit; but Venom has other plans for the both of them. In a sudden attack, she shoves Sinclair into the trash, but Ryland hadn't seen what had just transpired. All he feels is a sudden weight pinning him down, claws in his shoulders—and then the displeasure of Sinclair's shrill screaming, right into his ear, prompting a scream of Ryland's own. "A-AHHHHH—!"


    For a moment he assumes he's being attacked. Why his friend would randomly attack him, he's not sure; but he can't ponder his reasons before something slams above, and the both of them are suddenly enveloped in darkness, leaving Ryland to immediately panic in response to the sudden jumpscare. Still under the assumption that his roommate had somehow gone rogue, Ryland attempts furiously to defend himself. "GET OFF OF ME!!! GET OFF—OFF!!!" the tabby tom's own screech joins Sinclair's in a symphony of chaotic terror, and with sudden force he whips around and onto his belly, kicking the ever-loving shit out of his roommate in an attempt to get him away from him. Following the kick is a punt into his own stomach in return, and the angry snap of his own teeth narrowly miss Sinclair's limb before the tuxedo miraculously pulls it away in an attempt to get as far away from Ryland as he can.


    The situation is awful. They're a tangle of limbs and panic, but then Sinclair reveals though his panicked screams that he had, in fact, been forced into this situation. He scrabbles at the wall, screeching at who knows what for relief from this hell, and Ryland presses himself in an arch against the opposite side of the trash can, his body stinging in multiple places from the tornado of knife paws that he had just found himself thrown into. "YOU'RE NOT GONNA DIE! SHUT—UP!" he spits, horribly aware of the fact that Sinclair is so close that he can feel his whiskers brush at the spiked up fur of his spine and feel the flicker of his puffy tail between his own paws. "CALM DOWN!!!!!"

    IN THE END YOU GOTTA—SAY,I WON'T LISTEN!

    RYLAND T. HUNT » BLOODCLANNER » REF & TAGS » PENNED BY GREAHOUND