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Played By: tybaxel
Custom Title: 決定 the moon
Joined: 18-December 17
Last Seen: Yesterday at 01:46 pm
Local Time: Apr 25 2018, 01:52 AM
57 posts (0.4 per day)
( 0.18% of total forum posts )
Feb 2 2018, 01:34 PM
Hollowkit had always been a remarkably fearful little tom, reclusive and clinging to his mother’s side like a persistent, tangled burr. Never had he seen a mere blink of what was promised outside the protective reed walls of the camp that, at his size, seemed to reach for the clouds and perhaps beyond. He wasn’t really sure if he ever wanted to. Though, after seeing Supernatural working diligently despite her healing injury, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of guilt at the sight. Surely he could do something to help? He knew quite a bit about herbs from watching his mother, but rummaging through the territory for them would mean leaving the camp, and StarClan forbid he did such a terrible thing. There had to be foxes and badgers and mean ShadowClan cats just outside, and he’d walk right into their open jaws.
So, Hollowkit decided he would help his mother in a different way. He had never exactly hunted anything outside of fallen leaves, pebbles, scraps of moss ... basically anything that wasn’t real prey. But surely he could try? It couldn’t be too hard - he could try to catch a fish in the little streams that surrounded camp. He’d even pick out the eyes like Supernatural did. He wasn’t sure how long it’d take, but he’d work until moonhigh if he had to.
The weak noon sun blazed overhead through a thick layer of cloud, dim rays cast across the snow-dusted grass as the silver-furred kitten clambered his way up onto a low rock just at the edge of the camp’s island. Pale green eyes peered curiously through the reeds as he parted them with a hesitant forepaw - below him was the gushing, churning waters of the stream, dotted with chunks of slate-gray ice leftover from the night before. From his perch, he was unable to detect moving shadows beneath the surface, but he supposed he could just wait and see. Maybe a fish would jump right out of the water and he could snag it on his claws! The vision played out perfectly in his head. This would be easy.
He sat there for a while, inquisitive stare trained carefully on the waters below. It was difficult to see beneath the bubbling foam, but for once the tom actually held onto a fragile scrap of confidence. At some point, Hollowkit leaned dangerously over the edge of his perch, straining to get a clearer view of what he assumed was a dark shape wiggling beneath the stormy waters.
One thing led to another. Tiny forepaws failed to grip the sleek, ice-coated rock and instead flailed out into open air. The lack of balance had Hollowkit scrambling for a grip, and his frantic movements soon toppled his entire body over the edge. He hit the water with a crash, and cold unlike any he’d ever felt soon filled every crevice - his nose, his mouth, his eyes, making his fur rigid with frost and limbs stiff with incomprehensible chill. Sheer panic shot through him as his lungs burned with a white-hot fire, freezing water rushing inside as he tried to breathe. With flailing limbs he struggled to pull his head back above the surface; a hacking cough dispelled of the water in his lungs as he took a greedy gulp of air, but the violent waves soon had him pulled under once again.
He could not see, but he could feel the stream pushing him along at what felt like lightning speed. All that could be seen from camp was a damp gray bundle occasionally bobbing into view amongst the similarly colored winter waters. His screeches of blind terror were muffled beneath the water, releasing themselves only in bubbles of precious oxygen that he failed to preserve. At one point, Hollowkit did manage to let out a strained cry above the surface, but whether or not went heard was a mystery as he was again dragged underwater as if by cruel, relentless claws.
He could not hear the water as it filled his ears. All he could hear was the thrilled, screeching laughter of the dark forest spirits, eager to finally pull him into their clutches once and for all.
Dec 28 2017, 08:56 PM
They were back and persistent as ever - the voices, their words twisted and illegible but whispering into his very soul like the brittle leafbare winds as if they expected him to understand. They seemed to drain every last ounce of warmth from his little limbs as he huddled in his mother's fur, desperate for any form of protection from what had yet to establish itself as an immediate threat, but frightened him nonetheless. Occasionally, these soft but equally sharp voices would manifest themselves into swirling, cat-shaped forms, some with eyes like the stars and pelts glittering with stardust - these spirits were much more inviting, much gentler with an almost motherly essence to them. While still disturbed by their presence, he was nowhere near as frightened as when the shadowy spirits plagued him, snarling into his ear as if scolding him for...something. These came more often than the starry spirits, and they were his reason for dreading sleep each night.
He couldn't understand what it was he was doing wrong, nor could he understand why no one else could see what he did. He didn't understand why he was seeing them in the first place.
Tonight they were particularly quiet. They had yet to appear physically before him, and their howling voices were quieted to mere whispers, but his fear had yet to dwindle - in fact, it made him even more frightened, as if they were planning to jump out and scare him at any moment. He screwed his eyes shut, his violent shivers racking against his mother's flank as he tried to force sleep upon himself.
His mother. Despite being blood related, he knew little about her. She was like the shadowy spirits, shrouded in mystery and an aura of darkness - and yet, Hollowkit trusted her with his life. He figured she wouldn't understand his situation...but regardless, he craved some sort of comfort.
Turning, the pale tabby pawed at Supernatural's muzzle as she slept, his sea-green eyes rounded with fright, but also glazed over with exhaustion. "Momma," he mewled hoarsely, "I can't sleep. I'm scared."
Dec 23 2017, 08:32 PM
Hollowkit, since he’d first opened his eyes to the world, first perceived the cruelties of life manifested in his impaired sister and the stares she attracted, had tried tirelessly to be a good brother. A good son. When Wraithkit and the other kits, along with their own mother, had taken to avoiding them as much as possible, Hollowkit did his best to be there for Optickit in her suffering. However, despite all the time he spent with her, he struggled to feel a strong connection. Of course he loved her, he loved her dearly - but ever since his small family had begun to crumble rapidly under an unknown weight, a source of internal pain that his fragile young mind had yet to comprehend, he didn’t feel as though he belonged. He felt detached from all that he was supposed to call his kin, as if they never loved him in the first place.
Except for one. His grandfather, Superpaw’s father, his namesake - Hollowstar. The Riverclan leader had intrigued him ever since he’d learned of his existence. After all, Hollowkit bore his name, and that alone had questions spiraling in his head as he wondered about the black tom and his legacy, and what Superpaw had seen in him to give him the honor of bearing her father’s name. Hollowkit had yet to really speak to his grandfather, but he felt drawn to him as if a claw hooked under his skin were urging him to the leader’s den on the other end of the camp.
Night had fallen long ago, but Hollowkit’s pale green eyes were round and awake as he slowly rose from his nest - the same as Superpaw and his siblings, but they all were separated as if they were strangers. Trying his best to ignore them, he stepped over their sleeping bodies and stuck to the edge of the camp, cautiously making his way over to Hollowstar’s den. Anxiety quickened his pawsteps as the distant screech of an owl rang out across the clearing, and he soon darted into the den with unintentionally thundering pawsteps.