TW: Sensitive Content Private Purrgatory take me in, free your ghosts ✿ — deadwood

[Meadowpaw]

Brittle bones, fragile heart
Both were meant to fall apart

.

Cracking—peeling—burning—hot white pain that crawled like ants over her flesh, clinging to every nerve. A relentless switch of heat and chill left her trembling, quaking to her very core. She fought it at first, thrashing weakly against the fever that burned her up from the inside out. Her flank was scorched, makeshift bandages pressed to raw, angry flesh. Her small form squirmed with each tremor, her swollen face twisted in agony, flickering in and out of consciousness.

Meggie's panicked voice—Glade's soothing—the watery voices of those around who survived the fire. Meadow could hardly make sense of it.

Eventually, she could fight it no longer. She fell—drifting weightlessly into a dreamless sleep. Through pain and memory and for what felt like an eternity.

There, everything was quiet. There was no scent, no shape, no sound—only a pale grey mist stretching across one side, and an endless expanse of dark on the other. The ground beneath her paws felt wrong. As if she were standing on the idea of something solid rather than the real thing, something she could fall through at any moment.

Was she even near the farm anymore? Where was everyone?

Then a cold wind cut through the stillness, so sharp that it felt real. Her whiskers twitched, and she turned, blinking toward the darkness bleeding into the light. Just beyond the haze, there was… a forest? Gnarled branches stretched outward like claws, reaching into the space like it was opening a wound.

Meadow hesitantly stepped toward it. She was surprised to find that it was easier to move… painless. The tortie placed one paw into the dark.

That was when she noticed a tall, gangly-looking cat partly swallowed by the shadows. They hadn't been there before, she was sure of it. Meadow thought that something about them, even from a distance, didn't look quite right. The way they stood made her uneasy. Mama always warned her about strangers, but given where she was, Meadow decided to take a chance.

"'Scuse me!" She called out softly. "Could you tell me where I am?" Meadow frowned, her tired eyes darting around. There was nothing natural about this place…

A sinking feeling settled in her chest. She remembered… a fire and pain… so much pain. Meggie calling to her—frantic—she'd never heard her sister sound like that. All at once her throat went tight.

"Is this…" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Am I dead?"

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

6 MOONS

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WINDCLAN

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SONG

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bio

 

[Deadwood]

——————————————— Skin and bones, and brains and blood ☾

Deadwood had spent a long time patrolling their side of the border, and usually there wasn't anything too exciting. Nothing was exciting in this place, nothing but dreary skies and muddy waters (though he couldn't help but find some solace in the muck—it reminded him of home, after all.) The only sort of exciting things that had been going on was... well, the clans spontaneously sparking back to life was certainly interesting. He couldn't help but feel sick thinking about it for too long, though. So many cats, so very far connected from what the clans used to be... 'and who used to be in those clans', he thought bitterly, the steady trickle of dark gore down his front an ever present reminder of his fate. Deadwood shook his head fervently, trying to dislodge the spiral of thinking he always found himself trapped in, exhaling a sharp pang of air from his nose. The gentle rivulets of blood bubbled up there for a moment in response before continuing to leak downwards, a leak that always seemed to spring to life when he wasn't feeling too hot. Of course, he never felt quite right anymore, but there were times it was more unbearable than others.

A soft voice, something scratchy, something unfamiliar shook him from his derangement, and he froze in his tracks as his ears swiveled up high. That... that sound didn't come from the dark where he stood, rather the dim brightness from somewhere beyond. The tom's pale eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, and as they did a little figure came into view. Thankfully, the little thing had enough sense (or perhaps enough blind stupidity) for Deadwood to not have to cross the border to get to her—she seemed more than happy to come straight to him. He couldn't help but smirk to himself, someone must've been listening to his complaints of boredom. 'Took 'em long enough.'

"Mmm.... Well, it depends." The tom said with a mischievous grin, taking a smooth step towards the unfamiliar form. Of course, there was a familiar sort of hobble to his stride, but the tom had gotten a lifetime of practice with his missing paw. He kept it pulled up close to his body these days, one of the only wounds on his form that had scarred over long, long ago. "Do you really want to know?" Now that she was closer, he could see some more defining details... and found his brow knitting in confusion. She didn't look particularly dead—dying, sure, but not dead. Nor did she look particularly vicious, nor did she look particularly bloody. In fact, she looked a bit lost if anything. "Well..." He began to answer her second question, raising a brow as he tilted his head inquisitively to the side as he studied the small cat. "...Do you want to be?"

They followed us into the trees

Wearing crowns of twigs and leaves

• 
  Deadwood
  ☾—Dark Forest Warrior | 19 Moons
  ☾—He/Him
  ☾—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ☾—A thin, dark brown tabby tom with pale eyes
  #A68040 #ACAB9C

 

[Meadowpaw]

Brittle bones, fragile heart
Both were meant to fall apart

.

A voice came from the shadows, something attuned to branches faintly scraping against a window. She squinted as the figure drifted into view, exhausted irritated eyes struggling to focus on the wobbling shape before her. When the light illuminated his features she couldn't help the soft gasp that slipped out of her mouth.

Immediately, she clamped her jaw shut. What stole her attention first was his leg… or lack of. What she thought was off had been just that. The hobbling pace with which he approached her made her frown. Meadow had never seen a cat missing a leg before, but there were cats back at the barn without eyes or ears, but that was hardly the same. When he spoke again, Meadow realized she'd been staring. She felt awful for being so cruel. Whatever happened to him must've hurt. It didn't look like something any cat could survive.

She averted her eyes, an apology dying in her throat as she stared at the ground instead. Did she want to know where she was? But really, she was afraid of the answer. Afraid that what he told her would confirm what she already knew. Such a strange place could only be…

"...Do you want to be?"

Her head jerked up to look at him, ears flattening. "W-what?" She took a step back, stumbling as she seemed to miss the ground beneath her somehow. Meadow landed hard on her rump, but it didn't hurt. Nothing did. If anything, she felt numb.

Meadow now realized how stupid she had been. That dark place, this strange tom—The signs were there. Instead of listening to her mama's words once again, she knowingly leapt headfirst into the fire. The last time that happened, it was for a good reason. Even now she didn't regret saving Ashen, not even when it led to so much pain—but if she died…? If she never got to see Nugmeg or Peafowl ever again. Meadow swallowed thickly, green eyes welling with tears. "N-no!" She squeaked hoarsely. "I don't want to die!" Meadow stifled a sob, and again tried to put some more distance between them. For some reason, moving was more difficult than it should've been.

She craned her head to look at what was holding her back, and her heart stilled. Where a leg should've been on her left side was an angry, mangled stump. Suddenly, a stranger was the least of her worries. Meadows' frightened eyes blurred with confusion. Could it be a hallucination? Everything in this place was so strange, so it had to be. No, it couldn't be real. What a cruel place this was to scare her like that. And If... if she were dead, then why here? Shouldn't she be in StarClan with the others, like Dustystar said? So why...? Did she do something wrong? Was she being punished for something?

It was all too much. She clenched her jaw, whimpering softly. "I want my sister! I-I want to go home..." A shuddering hiccup broke from her throat as she choked on her tears.

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

6 MOONS

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WINDCLAN

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SONG

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bio

 

[Deadwood]

——————————————— Skin and bones, and brains and blood ☾

He barely even noticed the eyes trained on his leg. At this point, he had grown far too used to eyes on it, or eyes on the blood wound that dug deep within his neck, or eyes on any number of weaknesses in him. Everyone was always looking for something to exploit, and Deadwood couldn't help but be littered with them. The look on the young cat's face was unfamiliar, though—something almost akin to... pity, was it? The unfamiliarity almost made his skin crawl, but thankfully she didn't keep looking for very long. That didn't bode well for her, not in this place...well, it didn't seem like she was supposed to be here anyway.

He... wasn't expecting her next reaction, either. "Careful-!" The tom yelped, mostly without thinking. The poor thing seemed unbalanced, stumbling over herself in a far too familiar way. Pale eyes peered at her curiously, and they eventually settled on a rough patch of ruddy skin, all entangled with charred looking fur. This injury must've been recent, very recent... but thankfully, the place she had shown up in had prevented it from oozing everywhere like his own... 'recent' wounds. Deadwood's eyes focused back on the others face at the sounds of something pitiful, something pathetically heartbreaking, and he found himself blinking in surprise at large tears welling at the edges of the young cat's eyes. "You don'-" The tom began to speak, taking a long stride forward as the other cat scrambled back...and he regretted his decision very, very fast. The young cat—she couldn't have been much younger than apprentice-aged, or just about there—had all but dragged herself back into the border of whatever lay beyond the Dark Forest, and Deadwood, too, had grown a bit too close to it as well. A blindingly white light, something far more brilliant than he ever saw deeper in the forest, erupted forth and the tom fell back with a pained whine. It didn't hurt him, per se, but stars was it bright.

Drawing back from the border, Deadwood blinked away hot tears that suddenly streamed from his eyes, face screwed up in a momentary visage of pain. "You don't have to die—" He rasped, voice breaking slightly as he blinked back the pain. "I- I mean-" The tom shook his head, eyes still scrunched tight. "Sorry..." He muttered, bleary eyes eventually focusing on the distraught little thing. "It's... awfully bright... hurts, y'know?" After a few moments, and with an unsteady clearing of his throat, the scraggly tom attempted to raise his head high once more, trying to seem far more in control of the situation than he really was. "You aren't going to die, I meant—Long as you don't want to, you won't." Deadwood gestured around the dark surrounding him, the familiar dark brambles almost seeming to reach out as they always did. "You'll wake up. They always tend to after a little while. I mean—" He let out an incredulous laugh. "It's not like you got any reason to be..." Once again, the tom glanced around him. "Y'know... here of all places..."

They followed us into the trees

Wearing crowns of twigs and leaves

• 
  Deadwood
  ☾—Dark Forest Warrior | 19 Moons
  ☾—He/Him
  ☾—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ☾—A thin, dark brown tabby tom with pale eyes
  #A68040 #ACAB9C

 

[Meadowpaw]

Brittle bones, fragile heart
Both were meant to fall apart

.

Everything was so overwhelming. A swarm of thoughts bombarded her at once, surrounding her, flaring up like flames. The feeling was all too familiar, but even during the barn fire, she'd been able to act. But right now, she couldn't even breathe.

Panic crept in, curling like vines around her chest—tangling her airway, wrapping tight, constricting. Choked whimpers gave way to desperate gasps.

A voice broke through the chaos. Her eyes lifted, squinting through a thick lens of tears. A shuddering breath hissed through her teeth. "W—what?" She blinked, more droplets dappling her cheeks. Only then did she realize he was crying too. Tears glistened in his eyes, catching the light.

"I-I don't?" She sniffled and tilted her head to better look at him. He'd seemed so… threatening before. She'd been sure that he was going to hurt her. But the way he was speaking now held something gentler that didn't quite fit her previous image of him.

Meadow furrowed her brow. "I-Its bright?" It didn't feel bright to her. But maybe it was like waking up after a long sleep? When the morning light was too sharp to bear and she made her eyes water trying to get used to it.

After all, it looked so dark where he was… so lifeless. Could the sun ever shine in a place like that?

If StarClan existed, then that place must be the opposite of it. So… could she be somewhere else, and if so—Where? "As long as I don't want to…" A small frown creased her soft face, deepening the confusion on her face. "So if… if I did want to die, I would? But why?" She tried to understand, but even with what he'd told her, it felt too big to hold.

Her voice shook. "Wait! D-does that mean none of this is real, or…?" She looked to him with wide, hope-filled eyes. "If I'm not dead, then—my leg is okay? It's not gone?" Relief trickled in, easing some of the trembling that rattled her frail frame.

That cleared a space for a new question to bloom. Why was he here? Meadow always tried to be kind. She didn't yell or say mean things, not even to her mama—who so often did both. But in a place so empty and confusing, how could she not think it was a punishment? But even that didn't compare to where he was. When she looked at him, even recalling how he spoke to her before, he didn't seem so terrible… He'd been concerned when she fell, hadn't he? Surely no one kind could end up in such a horrible place. Was she wrong?

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

6 MOONS

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WINDCLAN

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SONG

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bio

 

[Deadwood]

——————————————— Skin and bones, and brains and blood ☾

If anything, Deadwood was thankful for the moment of blindingly white light—it seemed to knock some sense into the other cat (while simultaneously knocking some of his own out for a few brief moments). Her curious eyes did feel a bit... disarming as he blinked the tears out of his eyes, something was missing there that he had trouble parsing. She was looking at him with something he hadn't seen in a very long time, something so far from the terror-filled glances he was so used to. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it, though something felt tight in his chest at the sight, a feeling of his throat starting to close up—for his sake, he hoped it was some unusual form of dislike or something similarly negative.

At her echoes of his words, he couldn't help but let out a gentle chuckle. "Yeah, well, everything's bright when you're stuck here all the time. Can't exactly go for a walk or anything." The scraggly tom looked up from the calico, eyes squinting into the foggy beyond. "Though I can't say I would want to or anything. There's nothing out there—nothing for someone like me, at least."

Damn, this kid was inquisitive, but he supposed he couldn't blame her. The amount of questions he asked Froststorm... well, if a cat was able to to talk someone's ear off, it would've been bad news for that guy. "I mean..." How on earth did he describe it? This whole death thing was far too familiar to someone like him, but this little thing seemed all but entirely unfamiliar with the topic... '-And there's no reason why she should be familiar with it.' He decided, subconsciously frowning to himself. Not if he had anything to say about it, at least. "If you wanted to give up, I mean—sure, anyone could die if they did that." Deadwood shrugged leisurely, seeming confused at the very idea of wanting to give up. He sure as hell put up a fight against death himself, the gently trickling blood from his chest was proof enough of it. "Long as you can fight, you can live."

The next question, however, stopped the dark cat right in his tracks. For a moment, he stared with confusion clear on his face. Well, 'till it suddenly hit him like some speeding monster, and the little ball of tightness in his chest seemed to contort in a painful way. "Just because you dream it... doesn't mean it's not real." The tom muttered softly, looking away from the little calico. He couldn't bear to see the look on her face. "I never let it slow me down... despite everyone's best efforts." He punctuated the sentence with a bitterly weak laugh, letting his eyes roam the edge of the Dark Forest instead of looking back towards her. A few moments passed of him avoiding eye contact, the same tightness seeming to grow, threatening to wrap around his throat, as though it wished to choke the words from his tongue. Gently, just barely above a whisper, Deadwood muttered to himself. "...You can never let it slow you down."

They followed us into the trees

Wearing crowns of twigs and leaves

• 
  Deadwood
  ☾—Dark Forest Warrior | 19 Moons
  ☾—He/Him
  ☾—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ☾—A thin, dark brown tabby tom with pale eyes
  #A68040 #ACAB9C

 

[Meadowpaw]

Brittle bones, fragile heart
Both were meant to fall apart

.

As he spoke, the puzzled look on Meadow's face didn't fade. If anything, it deepened—his answers only opened the door to more questions. If life was truly so fickle, so fragile… then why was she still hanging on? If she was as close to death as he made it sound, then why hadn't it taken her yet? Was it truly just the will to fight? What could be so bad that it made someone want to give up on living?

How could someone just… let go?

The idea sat uncomfortably in her stomach, but she felt it was better to just let it be for now… not that she needed much encouragement after what he said next.

Meadow leaned forward as she tried to follow his glassy eyes. They drifted away from her, and she couldn't understand why. Just because she dreamed it? What was he trying to tell her?

No, that couldn't be right. Her face twisted with distress as she imagined waking up as she was. "But it can't be. This place—it's not like anywhere I've ever been before. And… and when I last checked, it was there! I swear it was!" The words tumbled out in a rising wave of panic. If this wasn't a trick, if what he said was true… then that changed everything.

Would she ever be able to climb again or run through the snow with Meggie? "But how?" She said hoarsely, "I-I mean wouldn't losing a whole leg be enough to kill someone?" She followed his movements with searching eyes, but he only seemed to drift further away, even if he was standing still. "I'm not… I'm not dead, so it can't be..." The thought hung there. No… no, she refused to believe it. She didn't want to, but doubt was already threading itself quietly through her chest.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The steady plop of something wet striking the ground. Her ears swiveled, homing in on it. That's when she finally noticed it—glinting in the light that reached across, sticky and dark. A steady trickle of it streamed down from his throat.

"Y-you're bleeding!" She rasped and lurched forward too quickly, stumbling before scrambling upright again. Thankfully, there was no pain to stop her from limping toward him, even with how unsteady her paws were. She forced past the invisible boundary between them, worry delving into horror as her eyes landed on his neck. "Ahhh okay, that looks... Okay—Uhmmm…" Meadow swallowed thickly and began searching the ground.

When she got hurt climbing the fence one time, Glade had used cobwebs. Sticky… spiders… "Cobwebs… cobwebs…" A frazzled sound seeped out as she looked around, blinking rapidly to adjust her eyes to the dark. "… it looks like somewhere spiders would…" She crawled forward, nose almost to the ground, body twisted uncomfortable as her paws once again gave out beneath her until she spotted thin white threads tangled inside the hollow of a stump.

She gasped, reaching in without hesitation to scoop the webbing with one paw. But the moment she touched it, it withered and crumbled. "What the?!" She recoiled, green eyes wide in disbelief. The white shimmer trickled to the ground, dissipating before her eyes. "Mmmn…" She clenched her jaw tightly, air fluttering through her nose.

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

6 MOONS

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WINDCLAN

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SONG

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bio