Hello and welcome to Purrgatory! We are an 18+ Warrior Cat Roleplay set in an AU where the clans were unable to leave the forest territories and perished!
It has been 100 or more years since then, the clans of the forest are but distant memories to any cats still alive, stories passed down to kits of strangely named wild warriors and leaders with nine lives but the time of the clans is upon us once more and the stars shine yet again.
{$title} tw: description of the aftermath of death
Darkness folds around Cicadabuzz like wet earth—heavy, suffocating, dense. But it is not empty.
The first glimpse is moonlit. A ring of medicine cats sits beneath a thinning silver sky. Clouds cast long shadows as wind rustles the pelts of those gathered. Bug is among them—hollow-eyed but whole. Someone speaks, but the words are lost. There is no sound, only the flicker of fireflies dancing between the branches. Noses touch to a faintly glowing stone, bodies settled into comfort.
The image shifts. The moonlight fades into the cold blue of dawn. Cicadabuzz stands beside Sablestar. Sablestar's face is taut with concern or warning. His mouth moves, but there is no sound again—only the slow turn of his head as he looks toward the horizon. Bug follows his gaze. A storm brews in the distance, lightning flashing behind charcoal-crested clouds.
Then—sunlight through reeds. Magpiepaw crouches beside bug, his tiny claws scritching stone as he pulls leaves from stems. Cicadabuzz presses a paw lightly against his to correct him—light motions, less waste. Magpiepaw looks up at bug with wide, eager eyes, nodding as if a lesson had been delivered. He turns back to his task. The den is quiet. Peaceful. Safe.
Darkness again, lit by a single glimmer of red. A single deathberry rests beneath bugs paw. Bug does not do anything with it immediately. Bug simply stares, unmoving, as though weighing a truth too heavy to hold. Bug looks away, out of bugs den, and there is a twitch in bugs features. Bug pulls the berry closer.
The vision shifts once final time.
Two cats stand by the thunderpath. One is taller, tense with purpose, fur ruffled by wind and something deeper. The other seems familiar in posture but distant in detail, a shadow given form. Bug sees them only in silhouette—but then the taller one turns. Just barely. Just long enough.
Bug knows those eyes.
Sablestar's gaze is unmistakable. Stark against the blur of the vision, it burns through the dark like a glint of frost beneath starlight.
A breath—a blink—and the world lurches back into focus.
Cicadabuzz's eyes fly open. The taste of blood still clings to bugs tongue, thick and coppery, congealed thick at the edges of bugs lips. Bugs shoulders scream with every light movement. The damp earth beneath bug has dried around the shape of bugs body, and flies buzz faintly overhead. But the killing wound—Serpentberry's gift to bug—is sealed. Poorly. Awkwardly. Wrong. Bug tries to speak. A wheeze escapes instead, a rattling hitch of breath that scrapes raw behind the scar that now cages bugs throat. The world around bug blurs with heat and exhaustion, but bug moves.
Bug plants one paw, then another, trembling as bug drags bugself upright. Bugs limbs wobble beneath bug like saplings in a flood. Blood still weeps sluggishly from bugs shoulders, soaking dark tracks over the wings and down bugs legs. Bugs jaw tenses against the pain. A wet cough wracks bugs frame. The sound—croaking, jagged, barely a breath—precedes the spitting of thick, tar-like blood, half dried where it had filled bugs throat, bugs lungs. But bug is standing. Still standing. Bug reaches back with one paw, tail flicking forward, and claws clumsily catch on the silky strands always wrapped around the end. The cobwebs are sticky and wrinkled from moisture, but Cicadabuzz peels them loose, pressing them haphazardly to the worst of the wounds along bugs shoulders. It's not clean. It's not precise. But it will slow the bleeding. It will do. It must.
They look once, just once, in the direction Serpentberry's scent has fled. No anger burns behind their eyes. No fear, either. Just the dull, empty silence of something that has died, and risen once more.
[ wait for @Magpiepaw to find bug first please :) ]
The first glimpse is moonlit. A ring of medicine cats sits beneath a thinning silver sky. Clouds cast long shadows as wind rustles the pelts of those gathered. Bug is among them—hollow-eyed but whole. Someone speaks, but the words are lost. There is no sound, only the flicker of fireflies dancing between the branches. Noses touch to a faintly glowing stone, bodies settled into comfort.
The image shifts. The moonlight fades into the cold blue of dawn. Cicadabuzz stands beside Sablestar. Sablestar's face is taut with concern or warning. His mouth moves, but there is no sound again—only the slow turn of his head as he looks toward the horizon. Bug follows his gaze. A storm brews in the distance, lightning flashing behind charcoal-crested clouds.
Then—sunlight through reeds. Magpiepaw crouches beside bug, his tiny claws scritching stone as he pulls leaves from stems. Cicadabuzz presses a paw lightly against his to correct him—light motions, less waste. Magpiepaw looks up at bug with wide, eager eyes, nodding as if a lesson had been delivered. He turns back to his task. The den is quiet. Peaceful. Safe.
Darkness again, lit by a single glimmer of red. A single deathberry rests beneath bugs paw. Bug does not do anything with it immediately. Bug simply stares, unmoving, as though weighing a truth too heavy to hold. Bug looks away, out of bugs den, and there is a twitch in bugs features. Bug pulls the berry closer.
The vision shifts once final time.
Two cats stand by the thunderpath. One is taller, tense with purpose, fur ruffled by wind and something deeper. The other seems familiar in posture but distant in detail, a shadow given form. Bug sees them only in silhouette—but then the taller one turns. Just barely. Just long enough.
Bug knows those eyes.
Sablestar's gaze is unmistakable. Stark against the blur of the vision, it burns through the dark like a glint of frost beneath starlight.
A breath—a blink—and the world lurches back into focus.
Cicadabuzz's eyes fly open. The taste of blood still clings to bugs tongue, thick and coppery, congealed thick at the edges of bugs lips. Bugs shoulders scream with every light movement. The damp earth beneath bug has dried around the shape of bugs body, and flies buzz faintly overhead. But the killing wound—Serpentberry's gift to bug—is sealed. Poorly. Awkwardly. Wrong. Bug tries to speak. A wheeze escapes instead, a rattling hitch of breath that scrapes raw behind the scar that now cages bugs throat. The world around bug blurs with heat and exhaustion, but bug moves.
Bug plants one paw, then another, trembling as bug drags bugself upright. Bugs limbs wobble beneath bug like saplings in a flood. Blood still weeps sluggishly from bugs shoulders, soaking dark tracks over the wings and down bugs legs. Bugs jaw tenses against the pain. A wet cough wracks bugs frame. The sound—croaking, jagged, barely a breath—precedes the spitting of thick, tar-like blood, half dried where it had filled bugs throat, bugs lungs. But bug is standing. Still standing. Bug reaches back with one paw, tail flicking forward, and claws clumsily catch on the silky strands always wrapped around the end. The cobwebs are sticky and wrinkled from moisture, but Cicadabuzz peels them loose, pressing them haphazardly to the worst of the wounds along bugs shoulders. It's not clean. It's not precise. But it will slow the bleeding. It will do. It must.
They look once, just once, in the direction Serpentberry's scent has fled. No anger burns behind their eyes. No fear, either. Just the dull, empty silence of something that has died, and risen once more.
[ wait for @Magpiepaw to find bug first please :) ]
