Blood On My Name [open]

[Deleted]

DROUGHT OF DARKPOOL

Drought came back to himself slowly, as if he was waking up from the longest sleep of his life.

Disorientation struck as soon as he opened his eyes and recalled what had happened. At first, looking up at the dark sky obscured by pine branches, Drought thought he was still in DeathClan's main clearing. Nobody seemed to be around. Had he survived somehow? Upon pulling himself up to stand on unsteady legs, the fallen king frowned.

This place was unfamiliar. He lifted a paw and brought it to his neck, shivering at the memory of Vale's betrayal. Upon inspecting the paw for blood, however, there was none… and more importantly, he could see through himself as if he was half-transparent.

So he was a ghost, then, doomed to eternally wander in what he now recognized as Darkpool's murky forest. A hysterical laugh tore its way out of Drought's jaws. He had nothing left except for himself and the ever-growing paranoia… but was it really paranoia now that there was solid proof that his suspicions were correct?

Vale had murdered him in cold blood. Oh, Darkpool, Vale of all cats…

Drought sat down and hunched over, attempting to curl into himself. Had everything been a lie? Had Vale been thinking of murdering him during all their adventures over the seasons? What was real anymore?

WORDS: 223 || WRITTEN FOR: Darkpool Spirits

NOTES - n/a

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[Woollyfoot]

Woollyfoot trekked through the murky, dark forest. He'd grown to like the place, despite its damp, thick air. But what he didn't like about being in Darkpool, was his lack of enjoyment. He used to like pulling 'pranks' on his Clan (which, in all honestly, he hadn't liked very much, so he didn't feel any guilt when bad things would befall his Clanmates.). 

A hysterical laugh drifted through the trees, and the patched tom paused his walking to listen. It wasn't too strange to hear such odd sounds—after all, Darkpool was a place for those the Clanners called insane. Insane is just a title for those they are frightened of.

Woolly thought about joining in with the laughter, just for the heck of it, but it soon subsided. With nothing better to do, the darkpool tom bushed through the sticky-leafed bushes in search for the source of noise. 

He quickly found the black and white body huddled on the ground. Drought. Woolly had always admired the tom. They had similar ideas and goals, but he had managed to get a large group of cats on his side. Though Woolly preferred working alone, he still thought it was worth some praise. However, like all things, DeathClan would fail.

"The mighty king has finally fallen, I see," Woollyfoot said, his voice booming confidently across the clearing. He wasn't scared of Drought, but curious. He circled around the other feline, tilting his head. "I thought his entrance would be much... bolder."

@//drought

[Llamafuzz]

I am Pretty

Where there was hysterical laughter, Llamafuzz was sure to tread. It seemed he was one of the last to appear, or so he said last, because he truly respected no one past Woollyfoot within the Darkpool, and so didn't bother recognizing anything past him. He wasn't surprised to see Drought; in truth he'd been surprised over how long the Deathclan leader truly had lasted. He was strong, and not necessarily stupid, but he raised a group of cats that weren't dependent upon him for anything. He didn't make himself important enough to be protected. Of course he'd be betrayed eventually.

"Welcome to the Darkspa. It used to be the Darkpool but I was so hot the water boiled" Llamafuzz greeted, allowing a brief smile to grace his features. "You finally decided to join us, hey?"

[Deleted]

DROUGHT OF DARKPOOL

In the tiny fragment of his mind that was not currently occupied by frantic thoughts, Drought realized that someone was approaching.

Immediately he leaped back to his paws, fur bristling as his amber gaze darted around wildly. The former leader didn't relax upon recognizing this particular spirit. Woollyfoot was moving in a way that suggested danger, making Drought turn to watch him as he circled. Given his current state of mind, it wouldn't take much to get the patched tom to lash out.

Upon spotting Llamafuzz as well, Drought finally broke his tense silence. "You're here to hurt me, aren't you?" he hissed with eyes as round as full moons. "Don't you come any closer; I'll fight you both!"

This was a drastic change from the scarred feline's typical demeanor. Despite the fact that he hardly looked capable of doing much more than laying on the ground and continuing his breakdown, Drought was obviously not joking. He looked between the two, body trembling but claws unsheathed. What would happen if they tried to kill him? Could he die again; would he cease to exist if he did?

Despite the promise of empty oblivion, Drought didn't want to find out.

WORDS: 199 || WRITTEN FOR: Darkpool Spirits

NOTES - n/a

template by Margie @ Adoxography v2

[Woollyfoot]

Woollyfoot paused his circling, as if to consider the thought. "Not unless you wish us to," he responded, tilting his head. "I was hoping to speak to the tom that ruled DeathClan, but it seems he isn't here." Woolly narrowed his eyes, glancing over at Llama. Drought certainly seemed as if he changed. "In his place is a cowering mouse." A rather disappointed look crossed his face.

"I was hoping to come to terms with you, actually," he said, flicking his tail tip back and forth. "'Friends' are important when you're new to DeathClan," he added with a twitch of his whiskers. The newcomer definitely wasn't as menacing without his usually confident cool. "But I think we'd like to pass if this is what the once-admirable leader has been reduced to," he said.

@//tag

[Llamafuzz]

I am Pretty

He could tell Woollyfoot was disappointed in the previous Deathclan leader; not Llamafuzz though. No, this was basically everything he'd been expecting from Drought. "Oh don't be too hard on the naive lad. I'm sure complete and utter betrayal came as quite a shock to him." Llama replied sarcastically. He lifted a paw and absently began nibbling on one of his unsheathed claws, watching the cowering Drought closely.

"You're going to take us both on? I'd almost be intimidated if you weren't so busy shivering," he purred, drinking in Drought's fear.

[Deleted]

DROUGHT OF DARKPOOL

Like mist under morning sunlight, his will to fight quickly evaporated.

The dead king glanced at both of his adversaries once more before suddenly slumping back to the ground. Defeated before the conflict had even begun. What did he have left to fight for, really? It didn't look like these spirits were interested in a round of bloodshed either way.

"All ruined; everything is ruined," Drought muttered as he stared at the ground. "Allies don't matter, 'family' doesn't matter. Does anything matter now?" It was hard to tell whether he was talking to himself or not at this point. Truth be told, he wasn't sure himself.

WORDS: 106 || WRITTEN FOR: Darkpool Spirits

NOTES - whoops late

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