TW: Sensitive Content Open PAFP Border ThunderClan ShadowClan to ashes and blood // does it make you a god now?

[Copperstorm]

{$title} coalstrike getting hit by a monster thread, dewshine and copperstorm will be gone when coalstrike is found by fleafire and a few warriors.

You walk along the edge of danger
AND IT WILL CHANGE YOU

.

Copperstorm's head swam as he lay on the ground, chest heaving from the fight. Blood stung his eye, and pain threaded through his side and paws, wounds that would mend, he told himself. He had to mend. There were kits growing inside Dewshine. There was Dewshine herself, who had thrown herself into the fray with a fierceness that still made his teeth ache to see. It had happened in a flash. It shouldn't have gone the way it did. If only his father had listened. If only they could have reached some bargain, some small compromise... Two lives, separate but tolerable. They could have lived side by side. But that thread had never been offered. It had been spat on instead by Coalstrike. Ever prideful. Ever resentful. Ever filled with hatred.

The memory of his father's voice came to him like a claw lashed at his face. Do you think the world works that way, boy? That I can simply put aside weakness and betrayal because you feel it's convenient?

Copperstorm shut his eyes tight, forcing himself onto shaking legs. He turned his face toward where the body had been flung, heart stuttering. Was he dead? The birdlike scream that had split the air would have drawn others, too late for all of them if they lingered. He and Dewshine couldn't stay. She might not have been meant to be here, but without her he would have been dead. Weak, his father had called him. Weak because his heart would not harden. Weak for loving when it cost him. Charcoal had blamed him for things out of his control, Cinder's disappearance, Flint's death and had wrapped every failure he couldn't fix around Copperstorm's neck like a chain. He'd clung to hatred the way a drowning cat clings to driftwood. He'd thought that hate would be simpler.

He heard Dewshine and he turned to her, relief carving through him like a blade. " Dewshine? " His voice cracked. Was that his voice, sounding so small and broken...? Was that... Was that his? " Are you... Are you okay? " Another memory, a cold, venomous hiss burned in his head, his head that throbbed. Learn this: every choice you make, every hesitation, every moment of weakness will mark you. You cannot outrun your failures. You cannot hide them. And every day you cling to this pitiful hope of peace, remember: I could end you without a thought. And nothing… nothing would stop me. Copperstorm's throat tightened. He forced a breath. He looked back at the body by the thunderpath, two paws still on the road and felt the sick, awful uncertainty. Was the man dead, or still breathing? Fear clenched his ribs. If he still lived, Copperstorm knew what the choice might be: finish it, or leave him there. For his kits' sake, for Dewshine, for the future he wanted, the thought of ending him flashed hot and white across his mind.

It shamed him...

' Why must protecting what I love mean becoming an executioner? ' The question burned in him. Coalstrike had never been a father. There had been no care, no softening. Only contempt. To call that thing ' family ' was an insult to the word. And yet... A small pitiful part of him wanted to cry and rush over to the body. A small part of him just wanted the other to look at him and see him as his son... A shameful thing to wish for, a weak thing to wish for... His chest heaved, breathing ragged and part of his world was coloured red by the blood in his eye. " We… we have to go... " he murmured, leaning against her for a moment, every breath a trembling promise. " We have to go before… before ShadowClan-- " His words cut off as his gaze snapped back to the roadside. A faint, rattled breath sighed from somewhere on the wind, or perhaps it was his own fear making ghosts. He didn't check. He couldn't risk staying. They needed to go... With some luck, the awful weather... The rain would be their saviour... Would wash their scent away... He didn't know...

You are a mistake in four-legged form. A pampered doll that thinks teeth and claws are toys. You are poison. You bruised my son with your comforts and now you dare to think your kits could be anything but liabilities? Do you have any idea what you've done? Do you even understand the stain you've placed on this bloodline?

He drew Dewshine to her paws and urged her into the shelter of the trees, toward ThunderClan. The words that had been spat toward her, the utter hatred that had filled that tom's voice... There had been no winning here... He understood that now... He had been foolish to think it could have been anything else than what it was... " I'm sorry... " he breathed, head bowed, the world tilting. " I tried to reason… I tried... " The forest swallowed them, bears of rain and mud under their paws. Coalstrike's poisonous verdict echoed one last time as if spit directly into his ear: If I had known what you'd become, I'd have ended you before your first sunrise.

Copperstorm fled the scene, leaving the body where it lay, dying or dead... He could not tell and did not dare to find out. All that moved him now was the single fierce drive that had always beaten in his chest: keep them safe. Keep Dewshine safe. Keep his kits safe. Even if the price was the part of himself that recoiled at what he had done...

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

33 MOONS

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THUNDERCLAN

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SONG

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bio

ooc: wait for dewshine and fleafire first before posting! It's closed for now but once those two posted I will open it!

 

[Dewshine's icon Dewshine Dewshine]

TRIGGER WARNING

Description of a cat being hit by a car, as well as the aftermath, briefly!

Come on, come on
We can go away

.

She'd killed him. The monster was supposed to hit her- or at least she assumed that was Coalstrike's plan when he tried to drag her onto the thunderpath. Instead she had fought, both of them illuminated by the glowing eyes of the monster bearing down on them both and she'd shoved with all her might to throw him off when the massive tom had pinned her down. The sound had been horrific; the dull crunch of an impact ringing in her ears even as the monster roared over and past her crouched form. Untouched.

A heartbeat. Two. Three. Finally she rose onto shaking paws, grimacing as pain shot up her side. There was no way he could have survived that. There was no way.

And yet, as she stepped closer there was the subtle rise and fall of Coalstrike's chest. His legs splayed at an awkward angle, broken, she assumed. The tom's eyes still burned though, trained on her as if he could kill her with a glare alone. Limping forward, Dewshine leans down to the night guard's ear, maw close enough to tickle the delicate hairs inside. "I could put you out of your misery right now," She whispers. "Give a killing bite just like you tried all those moons ago. But I won't. Instead you're going to lay here and the last thought you're going to have is how a kittypet took away all you thought you had control over." The molly rises, ears pricked to listen for any more monsters as she turned to make her way back to the safety of Thunderclan's side of the thunderpath. "And I will sleep easier knowing my children will never have to fear meeting their grandfather."

Copper is frozen on the edge, paws rooted to the spot until she's within reach and its only then that he seems to come back to his senses with a cracking voice. Sounding more like a kit than a tom. Pain is briefly forgotten as she picks up the pace to shove her face into his chest, knowing what he was likely thinking.

"I'm ok, love, I'm ok-" A shudder wracks her frame as the first raindrops begin to fall, stinging still raw scratches but its the severity of what'd just happened that's the true cause of it. If she had been just a little to the left... If she and Coalstrike had switched places... "He's gone. Dead..."

Her mate is all but carrying her to the safety of the treeline, and she lets him with her tail entwining his as they both limped along. "There was no reasoning with him-" It's curt. Perhaps more than she means to be but the adrenaline is beginning to wear off and the exhaustion pulling at her from every direction leaves her impatient. "This was the only way it was going to end. Let's... Let's just go home... Rowanpaw needs to look at you."

The rain only fell harder, in heavy sheets as the two stole away into the night.

37 moons

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thunderclan warrior

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she/her

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bio

We Don't Need Them

DEWSHINE

✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
✦—Silver She Cat W/ Orange Eyes And Dark Stripe Along Her Tail
#8f85c2

@FLEAFIRE

 

[FLEAFIRE]

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tw- descriptions of gore

Paws squelched softly in the muck, ears twitching at the rhythm of Mirepurr and Bluegale's behind her. The patrol was uneventful so far, nothing to fight or hunt. She would finish the patrol, but she was half tempted to call it and head back for something to eat when the acrid stench of the thunderpath hit her nose.

The warrior wrinkled her nose. The air reeked of tar and smoke and ThunderClan, but there was something else. "Do you guys smell that?" Her jaw parted, foulness and copper coating her tongue. By now she knew that scent well. The same stench that filled the pocsin when the coyotes attacked and when she sank her claws into that trespasser.

Blood—alot of blood.

The cinnamon warrior steps forward, head bobbing through the air, trying to locate it. Shadows swallow her cinnamon form until she breaks through the foliage and onto the edge of the thunderpath. Something is lying there, alright. She scoffs. What poor bastard stepped out and caught the underside of a monster? Whatever it was, it was big enough to be a bear. Must've been deaf to not hear the… to hear the monster coming…

As she creeps closer, that shape becomes stark clear. Every detail is painted out in full clarity, shadows stretching long under the moons dull silver. His body was twisted up the wrong way. Limbs bent in ways they shouldn't have been.

"Coalstrike?!" The dark toms shoulders are slumped against the pavement, his lungs still vying for breath. Dark streaks of blood mingle with the oily pavement.

She darts across the blacktop, teeth clenched with panic. Her eyes dart over the night guard's bloodied body, frantically assessing the damage. "What the fuck! W-what happened?!" He wasn't the type to step into danger. He knew this path and the danger that traveled along it. He wouldn't have stepped so close to ThunderClan's side without reason either.

No, all her questions could wait. It had to wait. He was still alive. "Hurry up and help me dammit! We gotta get him to Cicadabuzz now!" An endless stream of thought buzz around in her head. The sound dragging into static.

Fleafire crouches, working underneath one of the tom's large forepaws. Something blowing across the blacktop catches her eye. Amber slits narrow on the rusty tufts of fur tangled between his claws. Her lip curls, crooked teeth bare into a silent snarl.

The stench of ThunderClan was all around him. She didn't need help putting together the pieces. Coalstrike was fighting someone. He fought someone, and they'd driven him onto the road. Someone who was going to get their face pummeled so bad even their family wouldn't recognize them once they got back to camp, and she got some reinforcements.

"Tough bastard like you is going to be fine." She mutters under her breath. But it's not for him, she's the one who needs to hear it. Yeah, it would take a thousand monsters to kill him. Cicadabuzz would know what to do. They could just slap some plants on it.

@bluegale @MIREPURR

In the pines, in the pines where the sun never shines

FLEAFIRE

14 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

We'll shiver the whole night through

 

[bluegale bluegale]

REPAY ME IN KIND

Bluegale's breath catches in his throat at the sight. Coalstrike had been one scary bastard, but he supposes that scary does not quite hold a candle to the ferocity of force and speed brought by a monster. He looks at Mirepurr in silent horror as Fleafire surges ahead of them to see if Coalstrike is still alive. He's shocked when she proclaims that he needs to see Cicadabuzz; Bluegale had been so sure that the rise and fall of life had been still, but he sees now that it's just labored. He chews on his cheek. How are the three of them meant to bring him back to camp...? And in this condition...

"He's barely breathing," Bluegale observes distantly, his eyes fixed on the trees beyond the thunderpath, wondering what sorts of enemies Coalstrike had that would lead him to be left car-struck on the asphalt. He remembers vaguely that Coalstrike has kin outside of ShadowClan, and once again finds himself grateful to be among those who stand with his paws in a singular world. He stands back selfishly for a long moment as Fleafire struggles to pick up the warrior's crushed body. It's vain, he thinks, but he realizes the tiny cinnamon molly is unlikely to be willing to leave him there. Finally, he steps onto the warm, acrid blacktop and hurries to Fleafire's side. "We shouldn't move him far," he advises as he tries to help haul the massive tomcat back to their side of the thunderpath "It might make his injuries worse."

Bluegale tries hard to ignore how strong the smell of blood is. The way it hangs heavy in the humid air and coats the inside of his mouth. The smell of thunderpath, ThunderClan, and blood thicken the air around him, nauseating and dizzying him. He thinks to volunteer to go get Cicadabuzz if not just to get away from the unsightly mess of Coalstrike and the sickening smells. "One of us should go get Cicadabuzz or Magpiepaw..." He suggests, glancing between them and making a point not to look at the withering night guard. Maybe if he doesn't look it will be less real. Maybe if he doesn't look then his reluctance to help won't weigh a boulder of guilt in his belly. His eyes are round and expectant, hoping that they suggest he be the one to get them. If Bluegale wants to run away, he supposes the next best thing he can do is run away and come back with help.
( hidden scroll )

— ⋆˙⟡

⊹ bluegale is a shadowclan warrior who is gregarious and loud.
⊹ 43 moons old, ages on the first day of each month.
⊹ currently has no apprentice, formerly mentored websight.
⊹ in battle, physically difficult and psychologically easy
⊹ his parents are swan x meister and he is siblings to halfshade and hollowmist.
⊹ penned by carat, see his tags here.