Posts by ROBIN, RED.

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]"That's because you're killing them. Nothing wants to die. At the end of the day, all anybody cares about is their own survival."

Poignant words from such a young soul, but he speaks them factually and coldly, as if he truly believes that that's all there is to nature: self-preservation. Even your closest friend, your mother, your brother - it doesn't matter who they are, because at the end of the day, they're going to betray you, leave you. One way or another, in some subtle or obvious decision, they will prioritise themselves over you. Redkit tilts his head to the side, studying Lucy for a moment. "So when you attacked the prey, it panicked, because it thought it was going to die. So it cried out. That's what people do, isn't it?" it's bad, he knows, but it's life. People kill other people. A family weeps for its loved ones - or is decimated soon afterwards. In the end, everyone dies - but first, they break apart.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]i thought i'd told everyone to stop hurting their characters
this was beautiful,, and now i'm sad. thank you. goodbye
[s]wonderful writing, though!
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STARKCUB wrote:

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px solid white; width: 420px; text-align: justify; height: auto; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 137%; margin-top: -5px; color: #d3d3d3;]Thank goodness things were looking up for him. Look at the Scarclanners protecting him from Winter and Darth. They were nice at times but he was knocked over by Redkit. It slightly broke his concentration on keeping the air out of Wintersolider's lungs and he cut it off completely to focus on his next opponent, using his manipulation of air to send a hard punch of the element aimed at the child's gut sharply before he then attempted to smash his large paw against the side of Redkit's face to throw him off.

UPDATED TAGS 6/7

CURRENT INJURIES ;
healthy

GENERAL ;
starkcub harbringer grimm paelium
stark white clouded leopard with powder blue markings and lines/bands
bandit of scarclan
male
5 months
bisexual
breakdance × standstill
suffers from hallucinations
possessed by demon of envy

POWERS;
not available

INTERACTION;
easy mentally
easy physically
attack in bold
no kill
no maim
pm for capture

LINKS;
biography | plot | ask.fm

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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]A punch of air to the gut only forces what little is left of the air in his lungs out of them, and temporarily winded, Redkit can only lift a paw to block the next blow. It takes a moment and he struggles, but he manages to inhale, narrow his eyes at Starkcub. He can do this. Fighting's easy when it's between equal enemies - he knows how to punch, how to bite, how to rake his talons through flesh and watch it turn into bloody ribbons. That doesn't mean he's going to - not permanently. He's not aiming to kill Starkcub, nor is he aiming to mutilate him. He's only doing this because the other kid is an enemy, and an enemy that got involved in a fight that now makes him a target.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Boypaw, and supposes that the raid will begin a retreat now. They'll grab the lion and run - but that doesn't mean Redkit's going to immediately let up. Claws unsheathe, pushing as far as they'll go and straining his paws, and the cub lashes out at Starkcub, aiming to rake sharp claws down either his face or chest. The wounds won't be permanent, and they won't be fatal - they'll heal completely in time, providing he hits, but they'll bleed, and they'll bleed, and they'll hurt. That's all he wants, for now. He's not inanely cruel.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]"People care for other people. They love them, and they protect them, and they work with them. They'll keep them safe and make sure that they're okay - but everyone's priority is themselves. It's why some people live alone - so they only have to worry about themselves. It's also why most people live in groups like WindClan - there's safety in numbers. You know that you're going to get food here, shelter, people who'll stand in between you and the enemy. The only people who may care about you more than they care about themselves are- are your parents. Maybe. If they love you." but in the end, it's all about survival. Lucy may not understand it, but Redkit's warped views of the world have led him to believe as such, and it shows in his eyes - he means what he says.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]Of all the things to suddenly announce, Heatherstar is not expected. In fact, to Redkit, it makes no sense - is she remembering somebody? Is that her name? Is she calling for somebody? Red doesn't know anybody by the name of Heatherstar, but he's not about to believe that he knows everybody in the clan. The woman herself is a stranger to Redkit - he doesn't know that she's the leader, doesn't know who she is, doesn't know why she's yelling a strange name. In confusion, the male furrows his brow, tilts his head to the side. Tries to work out what's going on, finds that he can't, listens to Wintersoldier. Who's Heatherstar? Not her, then - and not somebody notable, so he doesn't need to worry about the name just yet. He just has to worry about this lioness being unhinged, worry about her being a little off. Even without the are you alright?, he can tell that there's something.. wrong. Call it intuition. Call it observation. He can see it. He can feel it.

The cougar cub makes his way over, hovering beside Phil and focusing on the leader. She's bound to respond to the deputy's words soon enough, so Redkit doesn't have to worry about adding anything - he just has to bide his time, wait, and hope that the meaning behind the situation is revealed to him without him having to dig any deeper.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]It's not that he means to be at ScarClan's border, nor is it that he means to be anywhere near the clan. But things don't always go the way people want them to - and this is indeed one of those instances. The cougar cub was left behind. Not intentionally, perhaps, but all the same, he was separated from the WindClan patrol and is now lost, milling around and dangerously placed, just over the enemy's scent markers and on the fringes of their territory - technically, he's trespassing, fresh meat, free game. Of course, at the moment, he's aware of this, but he's near some bushes, an outcrop that he can dive into and scramble beneath the roots to flee if he needs to. Where he'll flee to is unknown - he hasn't yet memorised the route from ScarClan to WindClan - but fleeing is better than dying, is it not? Paws pressed into the ground, the cub - already battered from his scrap with Starkcub - looks around, searching for some signs of WindClan life that he may be able to trace back home. Home. Is that what WindClan is, now? If nothing else, it's a base, safer than here, and he'd much rather be there than where he is now. But home - it's a heavy word, so he erases it from his thoughts and replaces it with the name of the clan he's affiliated with. It's better, but it still doesn't sit quite right, forcing a painful frown to twist young features as he prods at some of his bruises.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]https://feralfront.com/index.php?topic=2378305.0 here you go! I figured I might as well make it.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]"I don't have parents, either." his voice is far bitterer than Lucy's, because whilst she's never had them, he had, once, and he's lost them. He doesn't agree on her last notion, though - does he have friends? He doesn't think so. Redkit originally tried to make some, but he's disheartened, discouraged by several instances that have soured his mood. He's not closed off, not entirely, but he's no longer putting his heart and soul into befriending his peers and instead working to impress his superiors. Adults, those with genuine authority granted to them - he focuses on those individuals rather than those that could become companions of his, simply because he's always survived working alone, always done well when doing solo work. As an only child, he learned how to entertain himself when his parents were busy - he can continue doing that, if need be.

That doesn't mean he doesn't wish he had friends, but what can he do about it, now? Stare at the people who were once potential associates. In a true Redkit-fashion, he lifts his gaze to Locksmith as the ichneumon begins to speak to him, working to decipher the words obscured by his thick accent and managing not to flinch as he was prodded in the stomach. Naïve. "I believe what I see," he says, glancing down at his paws. "Maybe there are other people out there that are like that." other people. He talks like he's one of those who'd die for those around him - but is he not? He's self-sacrificial, but in his life, there are few that he's seen that could possibly also fit that title. He's been warped by sights and sounds and memories that don't quite fit with Locksmith's definition of people, and he struggles to work out why the ichneumon holds these beliefs. Would he sacrifice himself for another?

"And maybe there are people here that would save their friends and family over themselves." he continues. But he's not their family - he's an outsider. There's nobody in the clan that he feels safe around - and similarly, he's not any of their friends. But- but are they his? It's true that he has never really claimed that these people aren't his friends, aren't his family. Every time he's considered his relationships to his clan-mates, he's always tried to see it from their perspective, and every time, he's rejected himself, just as he believes they do on a daily. Why would they sacrifice themselves for an outsider? "But they'd not do it for me." the last words are mumbled, inaudible and rushed to the point where they're incomprehensible. But he's said it. It's both liberating and imprisoning.

Looking back as Locksmith leans back, commenting on the fresh kill pile, Redkit nods his head. If Lucy doesn't want to hunt, there's already pre-caught prey back at camp, free for anyone who either lacks the skills or the stomach to make a kill for themselves. It's certainly handy.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]Can I just say that I love this and I love Locksmith?? It's really bittersweet and amazing - you're a really talented writer. ; v ;
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]"I told him not to listen to them."

He's not angry, and it's clear - the last of the vehemence in his tone trickles out towards the end, voice cracking as he stares at Victoriankit's corpse. He'd not known the boy well, but from what he'd seen, aside from the lion incident and the overeating, he.. he'd been nice. Redkit had helped him try to find a house, had entertained his presence, and - he's not used to feeling anything for anyone outside his parents and the few people he'd met during his earliest days. Friends, family? Gone, dead, buried - he's never been able to move on, doesn't understand how he's meant to. But Victoriankit was nice to him, if not a little obsessive in his nature, and Redkit- he'd appreciated that, in his own way. He'd never admit it, but he'd liked being dragged around in search of a house he'd rarely set foot in, liked explaining things, liked.. liked having a- a whatever Vic had been.

"I tried to help him, and I failed. And now he's dead." Redkit swallows, stares, his body shaking, limbs trembling and threatening to buckle. Dead, just like his parents. He stumbles backwards, tries to compose himself, narrows eyes glazed with tears to prevent himself from crying. He can't cry. He can't. Whenever he used to cry, his mother or father would hold him and tell him that he was going to be okay. There's nobody to hold him here, so he holds himself, holds the tears in, swallows again and fights back the urge to cry. "We need to bury him." he says in agreement to Wraithstatic, still staring hollowly. He can't tear his eyes away, fixated on the corpse. Dead, dead, dead. Just like everyone else.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]He's never eaten maggots before, but once, in a moment of desperation, he did eat beetles, some grass, some dirt. That had been revolting - and the weird, wriggling things that Jettison seems to be dining on don't look particularly appealing, either. Sapphire eyes study the feline and his meal, and Redkit makes his way over, composing his features and tilting his head. "I don't think so." he says flatly, but not offensively. There's a hint of curiosity in his eyes despite himself, and he waits a moment before speaking. "So, what do they taste like?" he asks after a moment, leaning his weight forwards and pushing it onto his forepaws as he speaks, eventually rocking back and then repeating the movement idly.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]Good luck, Pen!
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;][redkit's open to being attacked!]

"Lucy!" he calls out, running towards the passed out cheetah and attempting to touch her with gentle paws. Passed out, but not dead - he breathes a sigh of relief, fixes angry eyes on Phil. "You- you-" he wants to yell, to scream, but he doesn't, cutting himself off and forcing himself to take a breath. Stand over Lucy, ready to defend her from whatever may come next. Search the dragon for any signs of weakness, ways to defeat him (and Trevor, it turns out, already knows how. One short speech, and Phil seemed to return to normal, even if it was for no time at all).

He wants to hit Phil. Wants to march up to him and hit him hard enough to send him reeling - but he can't. He knows he can't.

"He heard you, for a second. Whatever you said - he heard it." Redkit won't show that he's afraid of Phil, even if the male is attempting to fry everybody with electricity. It's not worth quaking over - he's on the scene, now, and he's trying to piece together information to try and work out how to wake the male up. One swipe of a massive paw could crush the cougar cub in an instant, and he doesn't think running will work - so he stands his ground, searches for weaknesses in that manic mental armour of Phil's. "He cares about you." this is aimed at Trevor. "Maybe that's what woke him up - even if it was only for a second." his words are slow, uncharacteristic and not entirely his own, and it's clear he's trying to keep his voice even. "Keep talking to him." nobody here can overpower him - least of all Redkit (useless). This may be the only current way to bring Phil back from the edge, return him to who he's meant to be.

Redkit just hopes it works. It has to. There's no other way this can end without bloodshed, and he won't accept any more casualties.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]Victoriankit was.. his friend? An acquaintance. Someone that Redkit didn't feel comfortable with, not to the degree that he could call the male his closest companion, but - technically, was he not? Redkit had nobody else and he still doesn't have anybody else. That's.. sad. Sad because he's always been alone, and sad because now he really is alone, because Victoriankit is dead, and Redkit couldn't save him. The idea that someone so young found nothing left for himself in life, it.. it's scary. Redkit wonders why Vic gave in and angrily shakes himself, because no, of course he gave in. WindClan is meant to be welcome, and yet somehow it put enough pressure on this child and kept putting pressure on him until he ended it. What sort of welcoming environment is this, that it kills its youngest members with discrimination? Was he part of it? He hopes not. He quite liked Victoriankit, and if he could bring him back, he would.

Shaky steps carry him towards Kate and Vic's body, hollow blue eyes set on the boy. "He.. I helped him find a house. He was waiting for his parents to come home. I didn't want to tell him that they weren't ever coming back, and I.. I failed him. I failed him." Victoriankit hadn't deserved this - he deserved life, and Redkit is angry that he couldn't give it to him. Yes, the kit had eaten a lion, acted a little rude. But that isn't the Victoriankit Redkit wants to remember. He wants to remember the smiling kid waiting for his parents, prancing around and inspecting houses and asking what "musty" meant. Good memories. Happy memories. "I'm sorry."

/ mobile, but i wanted to post
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]Redkit wants to be loved. It's a small desire, one trapped beneath layers and layers of determination and ambition, but when he's alone in the dark, or when he's looking at someone he wants to care about, it cries out, tiny and distant but real: care for me. Hold me. Please. It frightens him, makes him uncomfortable, but he can't seem to quash it and he can never force himself to voice it. So he says it with his eyes without realising, gaze glazed with angry tears, and he shuts up. Puts up. Closes off. Because it's all he knows how to do, now. He's forgotten what it's like to feel safe and warm, and yet it's all he wants again.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]because cows are adorable and precious and deserve to be talked about
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]No problem!
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]This is no ploy. If it is, then Redkit's unaware of it - and he's not amused by it. He's been left behind, abandoned - that's occurred multiple times in his life, and he's not keen on it happening again, even if it is temporary. Alas - this is not a joke, and there are no WindClanners waiting to leap out of the bushes and accost Faustus; there's just Redkit, sat alone and staring defiantly at the lion. It's a familiar defiance to anyone who's met him before, gleaming and setting those sapphire eyes alight with a flame that stirs within his gut, keeping him from cowering before the paradigm. He will not bow - not today. He's going to stand his ground and get out of this, one way or another. There's nobody he can ask to escort him back, though, so he'll have to go on memory - he's certain he's heading in the right direction (or was, at least, before he was stopped by Faustus), but he can never be entirely sure. It's a matter of guesswork, hoping he reaches safety before something disastrous happens. A shame that he can't see into the future - it's not looking particularly hopeful for him.

"I guess." he admits, ears twitching backwards. Faustus is an enemy, liable to snap at any moment - he can't relax, can't trust, has to keep himself even more closed off than he is when he's in WindClan. "What can you do about it?" capture him like they did with Boypaw, the lion that got him into this situation (inadvertently, considering it was his own desire to help that drove him to ScarClan in the first place)?
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]Livepaw. She's not a friend, either, not really, but she's definitely closer to him than many of the others gathered around. Part of him wants to lean against her, but he doesn't, supporting his own weight and fighting back the angry tears that threaten to spill. "I could've done something, though." he tells her weakly, his eyes despondent and his tone twisted into a dulled edge, no longer holding bite and instead containing only regret. "I could've tried harder, and I didn't, and now he's dead." it's an attack on his person, the sight of Victoriankit's corpse - the boy was so much happier than Redkit seemed, and yet he's the one lying lifeless on the ground. How is that even remotely fair?
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;]His body tenses and he whips around as Kaleidoscopeflare tears onto the scene, his eyes stretching wide and fearful - on noting that her behaviour simply stemmed from misplaced concern, however, he relaxes a little, body loosening just a touch as he turns back to Jettison. He's getting mixed responses - Wintersoldier claims they taste like the rubbish they're feasting on, and everyone else seems either mostly disgusted, but Jettison wants him to try them. He takes a step back; he.. doesn't want to. Not really, so he just shakes his head again. "I don't want to deprive you. You seem like you're enjoying them on your own." he states dryly, ears twitching back against his skull in a subtle betrayal of his discomfort.
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