Posts by HORNETSTING.

The weak voice that reached his ears made him wince, his stuffed nose watering his eyes but he caught glimpse of the familiar emeralds boring into his being. "there you are" he sighed with relief but he couldn’t escape the twinge of guilt he felt for waking her up. She still wasn’t fully recovered but words couldn’t express how happy he was she was alive. If she would’ve died, Starclan knew damn well the chaos he would drag to Darkclan. Her smile evaporating his worries as she offered it to him in greeting. She was a good friend, quite honestly, it was hard to believe this wise soul was something he had been assigned to teach.

A chuckle dropping from his sore throat, "I doubt that dear, you must be in so much pain" he countered gently, always being the one to put the pain of others before his and in this case it was true. Wolfheart was in rough shape, to even compare to her he would need to swan dive from a tree into traffic quite honestly. ‘Nightfire has been worried sick’ her words pressed to his chest with an electric bolt he couldn’t stifle a light wince. "I’ll visit her sometime today…. good thing about having a polyamorous mate… she has Sorrelstar to visit her as well" he admitted with a slight smirk, a cough rattling him in which he pulled a wrist to cover his mouth quickly.

"Thought I’d spend some time with my good ol’ friend Wolfy" he chuckled raspily. Reaching his muzzle forth to press his nose to her ear with friendly affection behind it, a testament to how worried he was for her, surely.

// aw shit :/ maybe an admin can recover it?

Last time, their trip had been foiled by the news of bears in the territory. Then, he just had to get sick didn’t he? Anyways, he was better and well, … restless. He had a family, but a chest heavier than the weights his whitecough had placed on him. He had to expel this unwelcome gravity, but he couldn’t. No, he wouldn’t dare spill these guts to Nightfire. This had venom, this had a secret deeper than him and his family itself. He needed a friend, not just any friend. He needed one of his best friends, between Briarthorn and Ratshadow he was stuck but something, well something in his heart pointed his paws toward the tabby molly with dull tired eyes flickering in his half-lidded sockets.

He want to talk to her, so badly. No, want was a weak interpretation of his feelings, he needed to talk to her. What he didn’t know, is just how much she wanted to talk to him as well. Just how angry she was, he couldn’t fathom. He would though, he would learn from her just as she would learn from him tonight. Something, digging at his skin, piercing through muscle and grazing nerves. He needed her to hear, he needed her to see this light show. It’ll blow her mind won’t it? It’ll water down his words. God, he hoped.

"Bri …. hey.. .. you busy today?…. " he tried so hard to keep his tone as it always was, lively just as it was friendly. Accept, this time his windpipe was squeezed with anxiety’s cold fingers. His molten gold hues flicking around camp, landing on the nursery momentarily before flicking back to the deputy.

BRIARSTAR.

He shook the walls of the apprentice’s den with a massive paw, peering in with narrowed sunflower hues. "up and at em’ , Sleepyears" he cooed into the shadows, a smirk crawling across his jaws. It was an ungodly hour, the sun wasn’t even peeking above the horizon yet. He felt guilty quite honestly, his negligence in Canarypaw’s training burrowed deeply into the back of his mind. So much had happened these past few moons, he was made a father, the bear attack, and then finally, whitecough. He owed her, a massive apology. "Let’s go hunting Caiman! … or if you want, we can do some spar practice? " he suggested with a flick of his feathery tail tip, scanning the shadows of the bramble den. The tuxedo blending in damn well. Ravenwatcher

"ambitious" he chuckled, turning on axis as she drew in proximity. "Let’s go to Stoneroots, get some sand beneath our paws" he suggested, accelerating to a trot and flicking his ears with intentions to hold casual conversation despite the early hour. "How’s it been dear, training with the other apprentices? I noticed you guys are quite a tight knit group…. it’s good to see you guys get along" he rambled on a bit, mind drifting to Flaxenpaw momentarily. The kid, his mate’s spawn who was causing chaos in his family. Did he get along with the other apprentices, would he cause problems with his kits? One more moon, and his children will be apprentices and Flaxenpaw would be a warrior. No issues then, huh? It was clear his mind was drifting now.

The hollow was bleeding into view now, and he rolled his shoulders as he whipped through the ferns and trampled the small mounds of mud that edged the training clearing. "Do you… get any of her memories?" he spit forth, out of nowhere. Rumor had touched his ear with delicate bewilderment. He had always suspected it, he had always known. Hadn’t he?

Like a phantom, the serpent of a feline slithered from pine limb to the next with grace. Nettles combing the feathery tendrils of his fur, the hoot of a distant owl whispering its alarm with his presence but his molten optics rested on the floor below. A tumultuous feline, with the gull to pass the border with tensions running so high. Prancing over it without a moment’s worth of care. A spit in his face it was, not only had Darkclan lured a bear into their swamps but now, a buffoon.

The interaction was bizarre, especially from the height he stood. At first, it had appeared to be an attack and his claws had slid from the sheathes at the ready. Only now, it appeared to be a reunion. An unwelcome one at that. Valley, Hornetsting had met him so very long ago, he didn’t even know if they remembered him. He was Lucian back then, but the past was a blur at best and Darkclanners were enemies. The present spoke, it was time for history to take its silence.

Flaxenpaw’s shrill voice detonated from the darkness, stripes pouring into vision. Hornetsting couldn’t help but groan and rub his temple when he realized he was agreeing with the brat. Cautiously, the snowy feline was a ballet of claws and balance as he shuffled down the bark, landing with a thump behind Sorrelstar’s son. "Flaxenpaw, that’s enough" he barked forth, furrowing his brows as he approached the reunited duo.

"though, I have to agree on some aspect … " he narrowed his daggers upon Vulturesnap, "you have some sort of death wish, frolicking across our border throwing insults? " he challenged but then tossed his bewildered gaze to Marshsky. "what is going on?" his tone softened a touch, but his mane bristled with hostility.

Dia, his sweetest daughter. A kindness in her heart, certainly not from his genetics. It was bizzare wasn’t it? grand-daughter of an infamous tyrant she was. Her father, once a prince of killers. Her mother, a monarch of foreign land. A mix of mayhem and mayflower she seemed to be. Someone who would place a smile on the face of the world. Dragging his talons across a chalky stone, he sharpened them to the point of razors as he watched his daughter play with Tansyface’s kid. Chuckling as the curled eared youth pinned Dia. He missed being a kit, Hornetsting reminisced to the time he and Dualeyes had been young and quite dumb. He and his sister had been the kings of Bloodclan pranks. He had even been as bold as to fake his death, rest assured, his mother whooped his ass for it to.

Pulling his paw from his sharpening stone, he peered closer at the strange jingling metal Curledkit wedged between her teeth. Den and monster openers, he recalled from his life in the city. Twolegs always had those things, and the noise carried on the air in a way that made his spine prickle.

Flicking his eyes to the skinny mackerel tabby, another Tansyface spawn, but to his concern the kid didn’t look too happy. The ivory wraith heaved himself to his bony paws and sauntered over to the seated child. "frowns look much better, upside-down " a curve of a smirk carved his porcelain visage. "you alright, kid, why aren’t you playing? … you only get to be a kit once in your life" he finished, inspecting his claws one at a time as he spoke. An obsessive habit he seemed to have but his attention was only delivered to the child.

The scent of the apprentice’s den scored its way through the territory. A youth on her own, Russetpaw, all the information pooled into his thoughts as his senses covered the ground. What was she doing? He wondered, ‘alone’ was the only alarm kicking in the silence with the bells of hell. He jogged, trampling nettle-covered mud as he carved his way through the forest. Finally, stopping at the border where Russetpaw hadn’t. A sigh escaped his jaws, and he tossed his sunny stare sideways. What would her parents think, He felt guilt, why? it wasn’t his place to. He wished he could’ve gotten to know her better, maybe he would have an answer to the question ‘why?’ She was so young, and that alone kept him on the verge of crossing that border. Just to be with her, to ensure her safety to wherever she was going. He wouldn’t stop her, no, he just wanted to know she made it there alive. Indecision crossing his porcelain features, brows furrowing and claws flexing from their sheathes.

An apprentice had left, a child. He couldn’t shake it from his shoulders, he couldn’t fathom it. It only made him realize, just how much he was losing touch with his clan-mates. Just how distant he felt from them. They were his family, he would split the earth to its hellish core for them but, he didn’t understand some of them. He wanted so very much to get to know them, each and every one.

"Anyone up for a few games? " he called from his sunning rock, laid on his side his ears angled forth and his jaws spread into a massive yawn. Right about now would be his bedtime, despite the sun crawling up the horizon. Having spent the whole night patrolling, and even caught a frog, perhaps he had only just gotten lucky. The fresh morning dew soaking in the grassy patch his little boulder seated, his thick muscular limbs handing from the sides as he waited patiently. "I’m feelin’ a bit lonely over here" he chuckled, drawing a barbed tongue over his wrist absently.

Hornetsting, he could never fathom how Briarthorn had felt when she lost Owlflight. He didn’t comprehend it as a feeling, only a loss of self. A part of your soul set for shatter, like losing a lung. Breathing is just never the same. Hornetsting had always run away from love, like a coward he had divided himself from it as a possibility. When he met Nightfire, perhaps it was easier, because she loved Sorrelstar. He didn’t carry the full weight, maybe he was weak? The fear of loss, it spurred from the death of his sister for sure. How could he handle it so close to his heart?

A smile floated his jaws as he pulled the stem of the rose. So close to winter?, he felt like he had won the whole forest for Shadowclan territory. Snipping it with his razor incisors, he snapped his jaws around the falling flower before its ruby petals could even touch the floor. Nightfire, she’d love it wouldn’t she? Cooped up in the nursery with their kids so close to apprentice age. He knew she was tired, so very much so. He needed to see a smile on her face, he needed to know she was happy. Sorrelstar had died twice before her very eyes, that alone, he couldn’t imagine the stress. He felt helpless, he just… didn’t know if she was happy. He wouldn’t ask, no, she would lie. She always put others before herself, so he needed to answer this question for himself.

The scent of rose bathing his nostrils as he made his way through the mire, dipping beneath the snake-like roots that rose from the swamp. ‘nightfire. Can you hear me?’ A voice soaked with loss and fear, the scent of bear overwhelming. Driving away the floral aroma, replacing it with horror. The flower dropped from his jaws as he sprinted forward, staggering, trampling brambles and tearing his skin as he launched himself through the thorns. Paying them no mind as he made for the slouching form of Icefeather.

All the breath left his lungs, all thoughts left his mind. A blackhole, his soul ruptured by the sight before him. Blood, so much blood plastered the grass. His obsidian angel, limp on the ground, gashes so thick. His legs faltered, wrists bending and knees plummeting, connecting with the ground. Golden optics glistening with horror, disbelief. He couldn’t breath, his lungs screamed and begged. Nightfire.

"Sleeping…. she’s just. Sleeping" his broken voice, barely a rasp, barely a breath. Swinging a limb across his mate’s bloodied shoulder, he pressed his muzzle hard to the side of her skull. Drawing in her scent but he was only greeted by that of death. "no… no no no…. babe wake up. Please. Babe, I love you…. I… I … please. please. please. " squeezing his eyes shut, he pulled her head to his chest and choked out a restricted sob that broke from his throat so painfully he felt it rattle his spine. The fur of his paws soaked with blood but he stroked his toes through her fur, tears carving down his cheeks.

The love of his life, the mother of his children. She lie dead, in his arms. "What am I going to do without you…… " he rasped incoherently into her fur. ‘ thank you, for giving me the chance to love you… thank you for being patient…. for showing me…. how to face love… ‘ his heart was beyond broken. He, was broken. Lucian was on the surface now, the cat he used to be, the evil street rat he was born to be. He wanted to hurt, he wanted to kill, he wanted to crumble.

INSPIRATION --

The sight of Lichen wasn’t to be taken as a common thing, and he paid her a dip of his head and a smirk in greeting. A shooting star she was, and it had been quite some time since he had shared a patrol and words with her. She didn’t seem keen on joining in on his shenanigans so he only waved a paw in greeting. A voice greeted his ears, unfamiliarity lining each word and the first stumble of his speech snagged Hornetsting’s eyes from his groomed wrist to the striped metallic male before him. "Well, Hello there " a devilish grin spread his jaws and he rolled on his chest against the boulder to greet the other properly. Extending a paw sideways for the other to connect with, his old roots of Bloodclan showing in this moment as this was a city custom rather than a forest one. "figured we’d play a little game of truth or dare first… " his smile never evaporating. "I’m Hornetsting by the way…. " he introduced himself before dropping his golden stare to the scraggly and wire-furred kitten.

Oliveslip’s kid, not biologically but who wouldn’t claim the little sweetheart? "well now, how can I say no to the cutest little warrior in Shadowclan? " he aimed to boop her nose gently with a toe. Looking away from the diluted Selkirk rex to the tall brown apprentice, Figpaw.

If anyone were to bring the life to the party, it was this kid. His accent, so thick and chirpy, nearly slipping the scarred tom’s ears. "not at all, lad! " he winked, taking notice of how a kid half his age had already outgrown him. "heaven’s sake, kid. Did you eat trees and horses?" he peered up at the mahogany male, a chuckle dropping from his lips.

// retro to Nightfire's death

The loss of his mate, a fresh wound on the snowy tom’s heart. Stained lids, baggy shadows beneath his golden stare. He hadn’t slept, he hardly ate, he barely found it within himself to breath on tempo. Obsidian paws connected with the swamp floor with less grace, tail carrying behind his hocks rather than snaking in the air. He had been patrolling, for hours, and hours. So long he felt his pads cracking, his underarms chaffing from endless pacing. They had buried his beloved, and it had yet to truly sink in.

Memories, relics warped and twisted but dragging him to a time much sweeter. The bitter reality sinking into his skin like snake fangs, when the strike of alarm brought him to the present. The putrid scent of fish, wafting from the border just ahead. Dull unfocused hues, narrowing in on a striped beige feline in the midst of the dark evergreen backdrop.

‘hello?’

One could not simply shake away grief, but the senior warrior would do his best at the expense of professionalism. "Yes, hello. Riverclanner?…. " he sauntered forth, stirring a mess of ferns as he approached the scent line. His placid features planted, giving nothing but a stagnant visage. "What can I do for you?" his tired tone, a rasp weighted by exhaustion.

Relieved of duties for a week, a grieving period he had spent laying by the swamp edge. Pushing mud into a bridge with his heavy black paw, eyes glassy with loss and a long road of recovery. He had slept on her grave, beneath the tallest pine of the forest. His toes wiggled in the sludge, only lifting his stare to follow the swoop of a blue jay in the treetops. A soldiered set of paws stamping the marsh, Firepaw and an NPC warrior marched urgently onward. His dulled optics flicker, his attention absorbed now and he heaved himself to his paws. The ivory widow trudged through the swamp, holding his tail high till he reached the side and sprinted after the pair. Studying their pace, question lingering in his golden optics but he carried on wordlessly.

The iron taste of blood touched his tongue and he accelerated, thundering forth, curved weaponry extending from his paws and lips peeled back into a snarl. The bear, the god forsaken bear. The one that took the mother from my kits, the one who took my mate away. A fresh wound re-opened, salt sprinkled into the wound. A venom coursing his veins, anger and vengeance. The snowy prince halting next to Firepaw, the somali seemed to be speaking to the thicket gently. A stranger, the scent of fear wafting into the senior warrior’s nostrils.

The protector within, revived. Hornetsting’s eyes narrowed to daggers as he lifted them away from the bushes and around the clearing. "Stay here, If you hear my yowl. Run to camp. " he instructed the warrior apprentice duo before sauntering past the thicket and retracing the droplets of blood and matted grass and paw prints. Ears swinging back and forth, nose hovering just above the ground as the hunter crawled the mire.