Ever since the day that Falsekit could understand that Thornkit was his brother, he scorned him. Many queens would admit it to be odd, for a kitten to be born with hatred imbued into each muscle and intertwined betwixt each nerve. The tabby kit knew the mellow sensation as easily as breathing or eating. It existed as part of her, really. It was a strange but not entirely unwelcome feeling, like it burgeoned from deep within a chasm in his chest, creeping from an innate and instinctual part of them. Perhaps it was the way that Thornkit tried to act as the protector of the brood, puffing out his chest and flashing his teeth. Perhaps it was the way he hovered too closely to Faithkit, as though he were any better of a brother than Falsekit. It should have been you instead of our mother. Childishly dark thought clouded at Falsekit's mind, like sanguine scarring an ivory coat, visceral color sinking into raw flesh. Thornkit was not his hero, not his shield, not his anything aside from an ill-begotten clump of fur and fat that so happened to share his blood.
Tonight, the moon palled behind the reliable cover of unlit clouds. Falsekit restlessly rustled through the tight-knit tendrils of moss that composed their nest. Sleeplessness often captured him within the still-unfamiliar nursery, as though their wires still fired in the face of unknowable and immateral danger. This was not his home. It would be, in time, but not now. Greyish-blue gaze drifted towards the striped coat of Thornkit, with his flank slowly rising and falling with the tides of twilight. Still, the fawn-furred kit knew that he wasn't asleep - the other's body looked too tense, and not at all like a limply-hanging corpse. "We should sneak outside. Let's find our mother. I mean, what if she's not really dead?" Falsekit whispered out of nowhere as he nudged at Thornkit's side, a little rougher than the too-careful child often doled out, as if their rounded paw were rimed in the frost of uncharacteristic callousness. Maybe, if they could go out together... Thornkit would get lost in the woods, somehow. And Falsekit would toddle back to the camp, as if nothing had ever happened. That way, they could be rid of their brother forever. It was a foolproof plan, at least to the naive child who harbored so much loathing within their rotted heart. Slowly getting up, they stretched and shook out the remainders of the yarn-string from the trodden floor. They then leapt out of the divot of warmth, and into the harsher fray of nightly air. "If you don't come with me... I'll tell the queens that it was your idea." Falsekit added, with the lithe fawn tabby already a few mouse-lengths from their shared nest at this point, a stark rift between the kitten and the forms of their family. He offered Thornkit a sly smile, a crescent of ivory-white, though it held little playfulness to it.
Tonight, the moon palled behind the reliable cover of unlit clouds. Falsekit restlessly rustled through the tight-knit tendrils of moss that composed their nest. Sleeplessness often captured him within the still-unfamiliar nursery, as though their wires still fired in the face of unknowable and immateral danger. This was not his home. It would be, in time, but not now. Greyish-blue gaze drifted towards the striped coat of Thornkit, with his flank slowly rising and falling with the tides of twilight. Still, the fawn-furred kit knew that he wasn't asleep - the other's body looked too tense, and not at all like a limply-hanging corpse. "We should sneak outside. Let's find our mother. I mean, what if she's not really dead?" Falsekit whispered out of nowhere as he nudged at Thornkit's side, a little rougher than the too-careful child often doled out, as if their rounded paw were rimed in the frost of uncharacteristic callousness. Maybe, if they could go out together... Thornkit would get lost in the woods, somehow. And Falsekit would toddle back to the camp, as if nothing had ever happened. That way, they could be rid of their brother forever. It was a foolproof plan, at least to the naive child who harbored so much loathing within their rotted heart. Slowly getting up, they stretched and shook out the remainders of the yarn-string from the trodden floor. They then leapt out of the divot of warmth, and into the harsher fray of nightly air. "If you don't come with me... I'll tell the queens that it was your idea." Falsekit added, with the lithe fawn tabby already a few mouse-lengths from their shared nest at this point, a stark rift between the kitten and the forms of their family. He offered Thornkit a sly smile, a crescent of ivory-white, though it held little playfulness to it.
- OOC. @Thornkit <3
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NOTE: This is a very loose reference until I can draw a more accurate reference. <3 -
