▷ my path was called "tripwires of fate"

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  • // note! i’d prefer if only 1-3 characters notice/interact with him, he’s been assumed dead and is passing through BloodClan fairly quickly. presumably the mood is a bit surreal.



    His failure must have been preordained.


    The tips of his claws had just touched the edges of the mirage, as if a vision of utter fulfilment could be held and devoured like prey. He’d let his eyes fill with fiery stars, triumphant passion and heady pride. A king, in his own limited imagination; an undeserving mate to WindClan’s even brighter queen; and then a father, too, to a family that defied borders. For the living emptiness between the heartbeats, that blink of time before he grasped at everything he had ever wanted (and what he thought would forever end his troubles), he had certainly never been prouder.


    But such hubris could never go unpunished.


    The grip of rough hands around his flanks, the sensation of lift, and being handled without much grace or gentleness was a sickening reminder that he was, after all, no more than an animal. A thing off the streets, to be doused, dried, inspected, caged, fed, watched, and eventually, forgotten. He was no stranger to humans, not their groping touch nor white-lit dens, but never before had he really been threatened with the loss of anything more than his freedom. But despite how he resisted, they seemed determined to drag him off the precipice of serenity and back into the solemn prison of his own unhappy thoughts. Being an animal, he was not one to understand their inexplicable, human expression of empathy for a lesser creature- to Sergei, those figures that loomed overhead may well have been cruel Fates themselves, toying with something fallen, amused by the scattered shards of his pride. And as he crouched in the darkness of a featureless cage, he felt acutely the loss of everything he had come to love slipping away once again.


    No amount of care would ever set his disheveled coat in true order, but still they cleaned away the grime and fleas until he shone a dull silver. His stained collar was tossed, metal hooks plucked from his ears, the dog’s teeth pried off his claws. Likely the removal of the ornaments saved him some risk of infection, but Sergei felt stripped, weaker and wilder without them. Time passed slowly in confinement, and the once-BloodClan leader had nothing more to occupy himself with than staring blankly at the walls and artifice that surrounded him on all sides, grieving.


    Rage tore through him first- anger on his own behalf, for his lost dream of power and dominion. It was brief, exhausting, and was snuffed so easily when a black sadness crashed ashore next to drag him into its depths. There he found endless visions of Brightstar and his kits, always out of reach, always taunting him with terrible loneliness. He had abandoned his mate, and his children would not be young forever. They would grow up without him, fatherless as Sergei had once been. He had vowed never to inflict that pain on any kit- and yet, classically, a struggle against what was fated only brought him closer in its grip.


    It was practically a relief, then, when the fount of his emotions eventually ran dry and a near-catatonic numbness took its place. He slept, ate, watched the clouds tiredly from his place far below them all. After a lifetime of relentlessly pursuing short-sighted ambition, after killing for it, he only wanted to be with his family again. To feel soft grass or cutting stone beneath his paws again- anything but the bleak comfort of this harmless, false earth.



    He hadn’t meant to escape. A blazing need for freedom had not burnt his wick from within, or lit his paws and sent him racing into the great, wonderful unknown. Rather, he had only fallen asleep- and then awoken just as he was shaken gently from carrier onto the familiar embrace of concrete and grit.


    The creature overhead muttered something, perhaps apologetically. The cat he had found on these streets, unfortunately, was no fun at all these days. He only ate, slept, and stared ahead unresponsively or hissed when they drew near to pet his rough flanks. And some infection seemed to fester in his lungs, and the veterinarian didn’t work for free. It was callous, maybe cruel, to return him here, but then so was the world. Sorry, big guy. Try your best out there.


    BloodClan – his home, his hated, beloved family – was gone. The rogues and loners who lingered in the street-corners were not eager to speak what they knew, but even stripped of teeth and title the muscle-memory of a lethal threat came easily to Sergei. Claws pressed against a throat coaxed out the knowledge of where they had gone.


    He frowned as he stepped away from the other tom, who rubbed at his neck reproachfully before slinking away. He had lamented so often the curse of being a BloodClanner, the instinctual viciousness he knew by name. Had wished for the chance to choose a better path. Was this- the untimely abduction, the amputation of his ascension- was it not the rebirth he wished for? A second, even a third chance? And still, he strayed to what he had known before. Perhaps, he realized with a painful start, it would be better not to return to BloodClan at all.


    But that was a thought he could postpone. Above all else, he needed to make it back to Brightstar and their kits. He nervously swallowed the thought that she may have already moved on, or been too betrayed by his absence to ever love him again. He was surely the most unneeded part of their family- but what did he have left but them? And so his small echo of the clans’ great journey to the lake pressed on.



    These weren’t his streets. It was easier to let go of what had never been his, he assured himself. But even as he held his breath and tried not to look back, the scent of home still filled his head. BloodClan was everywhere, in the dark corners and under the streetlights. Cats he knew lingered here, somewhere just out of sight. He didn’t want to look at them, be made to stare his final act of abandonment in the eye. His tail tucked in close, and the massive creature flitted through the streets like a shade.

    * * *

    THE REST IS SILENCE.

    The post was edited 2 times, last by SERGEI. ().

  • He thought he'd never see him again. Unlike his brother, he honestly, truly, thought at the bottom of his heart, that his father was gone forever, taken from his world without a choice. Despite his earlier attempts to fill his heart with hope, it all felt so superficial, like he was trying to reassure himself that a lie was a truth. Yet here they were, a meeting that shouldn't have happened because Sergei had been left behind in the old world, but the childish mind of Mikhail wanted to convince him that maybe his father really had followed his footprints to their new home. But... would he stay? Stitches had just become leader, and it was well accepted that both he and Aspen were assumed dead. Would he be able to find a place among the town cats again? "Dad?" He asked, tentatively, wanting to know if what he saw was reality.


    It came to him in his mind that this was, in fact, going to be the first time his father heard his voice. He was also vaguely aware of the fact that it would be an odd sight upon any others stumbling upon the two. He was the spitting image of Sergei, but unscathed and golden, hence the reason he was named Gildedkit. Would the others see his father as merely a remnant of the past? If he wanted to come home, would they accept him? Could he earn their trust back? He felt uncomfortably scared, afraid to move, as if he'd disappear like a mirage in the desert. Internally, he simply hoped, 'Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me.'

    "speaking in #daa520"

    - tags -

    HEARTBREAKER, GATEKEEPER

    ✧༺☼༻∞

    ∞༺☼༻✧

    ⋇ ⋆ ☀ ⋆ ⋇

    ( I'M FEELING FAR AWAY, I'M FEELING RIGHT HERE )

    mikhail | bloodclan tyro | melo-crisis

  • [ BIOGRAPHY ] Sergei is an unfamiliar one to her, someone as old of time of tales of old BloodClan, his name being spoken in sharing tongues among the elderly enough for the name to stick in her mind. But never she really thinks of him, other than the leader who once had been, just like Caledon, Sheogorath, and the many names that had gone down in the history of BloodClan. Of them all, the only one who would truly stands out to her is perhaps Waspwing, simply because she's still here, alive, and kicking. She briefly wonders for a moment if Cal had chosen to leave this Clan. The last time she had seen him, it was at the rogue attack during their journey to the lake. He, two apprentices, and her had fought off the furballs that ran with tail between their legs. But as soon as he appeared, he disappeared, like a rolling mist at the ocean and he was gone before she could speak to him.


    She could imagine Sergei might be the same. Maybe these leaders have seen enough of the world as the crowned king of the Clan, that their stories would end here and they would start new in a different path. A chance to be forgotten and start over again, to come back to square one and live from scratch. It must be nice, right? To be able to move on. That's why Para couldn't envision herself as a leader, as much as she don't mind power. It's too much power. Too much influences, variables, factors that could affect everything she knows. Being a leader is not an easy feat and requires a lot of dedication, judgement, and choices. Which she could not care less to deal with for the Clan that she's not really invested into. She would rather sit back and be among the crowd. It's easier here than to be at the very front where every action you makes is scrutinized.


    Copper eyes dart to the sound of Mikhail calling out into the streets of darkness, but she don't see Segei at first. All she sees is the kitten who wishes to see his father again, staring in to the darkness that surrounds him. The tabby would make her way over to the younger clanmate, attempting to lightly graze him as a touch of comfort as she searches for the father figure he's calling out to. She barely sees the back of the former leader, but even so, she wouldn't be able to identify Sergei as she had never seen what he looked like. Instead, she would keep silence as she waits with curiosity to see if that feline would turn to look at his son. Or chooses to move on for good.


    paradox_by_silverlightss_de2hcjh-fullview.png

    WILL WE BURN INSIDE THE FIRES OF A THOUSAND SUNS?


  • He'd held onto his belief, even if it had been stupid, and even though everyone else had given up on it. Sergei was alive; he had to be alive, because he'd never leave him and Mikhail and Mischa, and the rest of their family. The BloodClan kittens had needed him and Henrik knew that the father who had given him this new name and this new life in a Clan much different from the one of his birth would never have abandoned him. Large, clumsy paws would carry him over to a scent- he could not often be found far from Mikhail, for he believed that the two of them should stick together in the current climate- stay close, content.


    Family was always drawn to family. He believed that; it was probably why he'd always kept a spare eye on his brother, because his body naturally took him in the direction of where that which was familiar to him dwelled. Every day without Sergei, a little bit of hope within him died, but not enough to change his mind. Henrik, like his mother, was stubbornly optimistic. Even all the signs in the world would not convince him that Sergei was gone forever. And when he heard Mikhail's words, his ears pricked up, and his gaze befell something that everyone else had given up on.


    Sky met storm as his blue gaze collided with his father's pelt, and for the first time in days, weeks, moons... the light from his smile reached his eyes. Sharp fangs shown off in his undying grin, fumbling paws moved quickly, gaze gleaming in the sallow city light, resting upon a tom so familiar to him yet so far away. "Dad!" he exclaimed, no doubt in his voice like there had been in Mikhail's. His exclamation had not been a question, but an answer- the answer he'd been hoping to speak for moons, that he'd been right. "I told 'em, Dad!! Didn't I, Mik? I told 'em all that you'd come back, that you weren't gone." he cheered, bounding closer, despite what seemed to be a lack of reciprocation. "I knew you wouldn't be gone."

    I SAW SOME TERRIBLE THINGS ON THAT NIGHT

    I'VE DONE A LOT OF BAD THINGS IN MY LIFE

    BLOODCLAN — KIT — TAGS, PENNED BY WALUIGIPINBALL

  • Mikhail's voice wandered out onto the night air, and he froze stock-still. He felt like a hunted deer, a tall ear swiveling to catch the sound— an odd premise for the reunion of a father and his kit. But he was prey, to his own failings, and there was no brighter harbinger of those than the golden, brilliant child. He could face a cougar with a glinting grin, but the possibility of rejection by his own kin set his heart thrumming at a nervous pace. He didn't notice Paradox in the darkness, but he might have felt relieved for her understanding, and wished they might have had the chance to know each other.


    "Mikhail... Stars, you've grown so much already," he said quietly, looking with disbelief on his son— closer to a prince than a mewling kit. Had it been that long? "You're- you're all-" Henrik burst forth from the night, his unabashed happiness lessening the twinge in Sergei's chest that Mikhail's all-seeing eyes had inflicted. He stepped closer, more confidently now, as a smile broke across his weathered face. His dark nose touched to Henrik's forehead, eye closing for a moment as he felt the golden thread of family and fatherhood wind back between them all. Hopelessness had torn that love away from him before, but now a complete certainty had taken its place. Nothing would come between him and his kits ever again. And he would protect them all with his life.


    "Good lad," he said, his deep voice strained as it almost never was as he fought to keep tears out of his eyes. He invited Mikhail closer with a gesture his tail, giving the top of his golden head an affectionate lick. "Of course I came back. Even if it was a hell of a walk," he chuckled weakly, regaining control over his voice. "You kids are taking care of each other, right? Mischa's okay too?" He had so many questions for them, and again was struck by a pang of regret for having missed so much of their lives. Had they started training? Were they making friends? Were they fitting into BloodClan despite their mixed heritage— and what had become of the clan in his absence? But of the thousand things he wanted to know, their well-being would be enough for now.


    "...Stars... Mika, Henrik, I... I'll never leave any of you again. I'll kill the damn Twoleg next time, if I have to." He smiled tiredly, the relief of the reunion having given rise to exhaustion in his bones. "I hope... you two can forgive me."

    THE REST IS SILENCE.

  • He almost let out a sob as he joined the embrace, nuzzling into his father's fur and welcoming the lick upon his head, the familiar scent of family calming him. There were so many things that he wanted to say. Mikhail wanted to forgive him. For all the pain, the sleepless nights wondering of his whereabouts, and with his heart too soft for such a rough town, he nodded, "Of course!" He didn't like holding grudges, he didn't like to act like he was cold and tough. No, this was his authentic self: he loved his father, he wanted to stay right there forever, until the end of time. He couldn't even think about how initially bitter he had been, a silent pain that festered in his heart forgotten. He gave a little chuckle as his dad mentioned how he'd kill a twoleg. Those creatures were big, but no doubt he could do it! He pondered for a second, wondering if he should talk about Mischa. At least their father would know that she's safe, right? "Mischa went to WindClan to be with mom, it's just me and Henrik here now." He informed, hoping that he'd understand.

    "speaking in #daa520"

    - tags -

    HEARTBREAKER, GATEKEEPER

    ✧༺☼༻∞

    ∞༺☼༻✧

    ⋇ ⋆ ☀ ⋆ ⋇

    ( I'M FEELING FAR AWAY, I'M FEELING RIGHT HERE )

    mikhail | bloodclan tyro | melo-crisis