faithful

[Fawn]

↭ Frozenberry 🃏

.nausea.

Frozenberry had passed out somewhere along the journey of returning to camp, and they stirred to life with kaleidoscope eyes and raisin-level dehydration. The occasional brain zap parted their vision into mirror images a sliver apart only to slide together again. And then they were back on the trail with shaking legs. Not even a chain to show for it, yet they were undeniably a prisoner to RiverClan. diseased with the mark of the beast. both of them.

-

They couldn't discern where on the path precisely they'd scented him first. It was the leftover hallucination of their escape from the battle enveloping their senses. Cruel irony that their mind painted the familiar smell over the route to camp like a subconscious reminder they were on borrowed time, doomed to be the murder-victim-love-interest of another instead of filling their own existence with meaning. Frozenberry could use a revenge arc (only to fail in the end because they were astoundingly average in the worst of ways). That very much excluded all aspects of survival they should be average in: mental state, moral compass, witnessing the most depraved of what this forest had to offer.

Frozenberry nosed a spattering of dried blood that'd fallen from some warrior (or maybe themself), pressing roughly into the terrain until they were sated by the earthiness beneath. They didn't dare leave before kicking dirt over the spot.

A fluttering in their chest, followed a clink of their teeth as they ground in frustration. No escape from the scent. It melted them with the dangerous seep of comfort, protection- a promise.

They were seconds from discovering the promise was fulfilled, albeit incorrectly. It was wrong. it was the wild dog watching.

Frozenberry knew him, though unlike they knew.. him and it wouldn't take a hint of convincing to prefer the spectator over a captor. riverclan may as well have been embodied by that single cat. the starer, the one who knew the worst they had to offer, believed them to be a lost cause- worthless. he thought they were scum. (they were. oh, they were.) Reverent, Frozenberry lingered near the camp entrance to fix their gaze onto the figure who wore the scent of another.

now they were the wild dog. sixteen omniscient eyes all trained on Stormtalon.

Unblinking endless judgment.
Unblinking endless judgment.
Unblinking endless judgment.
Unblinking endless judgment.


@Ziera

[Ziera]

// @Dipper

After what seemed like an eternity of holding their breath, RiverClan settled into a different form of silence: heavier, drenched in grim resolve. The battle was over and it was quiet. He loathed it. Despite Stormtalon's shoulders being cleaved raw, throbbing intensely where Sweetsong dragged his talons again and again for the sadistic pleasure of watching insides split and blood run, he preferred this pain ten times over to the one that crippled his mind tonight.

Solitude once provided clarity when Storm’s thoughts were muddled. It used to be safe, sought after, unfathomable to live without—but now? Each musing was a spike dipped in venom puncturing his skin, invading his bloodstream with wicked distortion. Sleep was a useless counter. Too many images he couldn’t stomach flashed at night. Too many…failures. In the end isolation—once a close friend—betrayed him to the hell of rumination, and it hit Stormtalon so much harder this time. The one face he wanted to see after everything, round and soft with youth, didn’t show up to greet him home. He was met with nothing.

...How many times did Storm need to go over this?

Bright was dead. Logically, he understood that. Storm’s baby brother was gone and no matter his internal desperation, even if he was willing to give up everything to change it, death remained a permanent condition; the kid's absence filled every crevice of Stormtalon's being until it left no room for oxygen or reason.

Stormtalon gave everything for this damned clan. Everything. Weariness tugged on his final string of sanity till it snapped, and for tonight, Storm decided RiverClan was a monster. A bloated, disgusting, warped beast possessed only by its voracious hunger. It gorged itself on Storm his entire life, took, took, took from him until the one thing he asked for in return lay dead in the ground as food for the worms. To hell with the stars.

Something rare swept over him in waves. Not grief but an abrupt, unbridled fury; unlike Kestrelstar—their hot-headed beansprout of a leader who masked his mommy-issues behind violence and a loud voice—Storm’s rage burned cold.

He'd noticed them there, in the distance. Staring. Storm returned the look with scalding disdain in his green eyes not truly meant for them, a shade identical to Sweetsong’s. Even the shadows matched. The tabby knew of them: Frozenberry.

His voice took on a calmness he didn’t feel, a darkness he didn’t know he had until Bright’s light went out: “Come out, little leech.” If RiverClan was a monster then its members were bloodsuckers, stealing whatever they damn well could with no regard for the whole. “I see you.”

[Fawn]

↭ Frozenberry 🃏

Frozenberry's nose wrinkled as it occurred to them that the scent was actually emanating from Stormtalon. It wasn't merely a hallucinated lure to draw them here, but they nevertheless stood like a sacrificial lamb in waiting. Didn't want to make the first move, didn't know what this guy was about. Just knew the stares. The stares. Their jaw tightened thinking about it. Hostile eyes upon them from all directions and in the center was Stormtalon.

They hated him for staring so often, for ringleading the idea among the Clan they were messed up beyond repair and could only be watched but never interfered with, lest they bring some other poor unfortunate soul down with them. They wouldn't hesitate to do it. They were ready to let the stars come crashing around them and admire the shattering on impact.

Still. Would it actually kill him to take a bath once and a while?

Little leech. yeah. that was somewhat accurate if the leech imploded after sucking in enough blood because everything they did was in the interest of destruction. Their admirer had an astute pet name for them, and they were kind of put-off by the notion they were perceived as hiding. Dude needed a bath and his eyes checked if he believed standing in an entryway was an adequate disguise—they'd come up with a much better one.

Frozenberry wouldn't want to disappoint, and also could do without the calm demeanor because that was what Stormtalon said to them after all this time of watching their every move? A "come out" as if they were a scared, frail kit? Every day. Every damn day they remember the Stare, and this was the best line he'd come up with in that year? Kind of insulting, when they thought about it.

They emerged into the camp after a glance to ensure it'd emptied—they already were on display, didn't need to make this encounter worse—and strode to gaze into the abyss of Stormtalon's eyes. So familiar. A siren song, the call of the void. Breath hitched in their lungs as it tempted them. His eyes were crazy beautiful, and Frozenberry drew closer. "Eat poison, skunkface."

Alright, great. Affectionate nicknames established. Maybe that'd get something out of him. If not, well, didn't matter, they had other business to attend to. "Now hold still." Frozenberry plopped beside him to assess the damage: stinky like a Falconjerk, also much more torn up than they'd initially realized. "Whoever named you, they were prophetic." They didn't provide additional context. "Might say talon'ted." And on brand, they were about to show him something real special, the leech succ as requested.

Careful to maneuver around the fresh wounds, Frozenberry's tongue dragged over Stormtalon's pelt—normal at first, if anything about the situation could be—then pressed their muzzle to his side to inhale intensely. They would do everybody a favor and vacuum the Falcon off of him.



@Ziera

[Ziera]

// @Dipper

Stormtalon’s eyes stalked Frozenberry’s approach with icy scrutiny. They were too close. Why? He noted the blue of their irises, patterns on their fur, silver folded ears—that gentle sound of breath catching when Frozen looked at him as if debating something. Storm didn’t want to know what slithered in their mind. When Frozenberry pushed their luck and inched forward, his ears swiveled down and stayed pinned, but otherwise the tom refused to move. Instead? Stormtalon stared. Hoped it withered them.

Eat poison, skunkface.

A huff of wry amusement escaped his lips. Fair request. Perhaps he should steal into Snakeheart’s den and snack on some deathberries (if there were any left after the ridiculous poison claws fiasco) and see his brother ahead of schedule…if Bright would even allow it, that is. Dubious, with Stormtalon’s fantastic sin count growing exponentially day by day.

It said something about their mental state that they neared him like this, Storm’s ears back, eyes slitted with something dark and territorial brewing inside. The audacity of this damned leech with their command for Stormtalon to stay still. They sat beside him in order to what—give a friendly once over?

“Wit suits you less than silence.” Stormtalon clearly wasn't in the mood for this. For their terrible humor, for their closeness, for—what the actual hell. A shiver of revulsion traveled down his spine when he felt it: Frozenberry’s tongue, sweet as acid. They pressed into him and inhaled. Scents of congealed blood, death, and that massive slab of meat masquerading as a cat would flood their nose.

A low growl hummed in Stormtalon's throat as Frozenberry’s muzzle nestled into his fur. Muscles flexed threateningly but Storm restrained himself for the time being, opting to shift so that his dagger-like eyes could flay theirs instead; Frozen's proximity turned his stomach like crowfood left in the sun.

“Touch me again,” Storm started with that eerie calm (because he noticed their disappointment in his ‘composure’ earlier), an edge of disgust creeping into his tone, “and I’ll put you in the ground.” A simple promise made easy for their slow brain to comprehend. A dark voice inside whispered that it didn't sound so bad, sinking his claws into something able to scream - carving out his rage into another living thing like how rage was carved into him. Stormtalon's mouth formed a sardonic smile. “Unless that’s what you want me to do.”

Twisted but not unimaginable. Approaching Stormtalon in this unhinged state made little sense otherwise - although - perhaps he should abandon his rationalizations. Trying to understand why Frozen did what they did could be like searching Blizzardsky for braincells; doable, but time-consuming and unlikely to yield significant results.

Whatever went on in that head of theirs, Stormtalon thought it safe to say it didn’t involve him. They were somewhere far away and he was ten feet under. Maybe it was dangerous to be caught up in their own worlds like this, guzzling separate poisons while simultaneously colliding, their ghosts refusing to materialize but Frozen and Storm still here -- breathing, tangible.

“Find a different host, Frozenleech. Maybe one who still has something left to give. Shall I show you to Kestrelstar’s den?” After all. Frozen had a track record with RiverClan leaders, didn’t they?

A distant thought said he shouldn’t stay here. Storm should reign himself back under control, keep his shield of composure at the ready—but why did Stormtalon have to be the collected one? Mature, poised, his agony repressed for the sake of others every damn time. He stayed strong for Bright. Frost. Stream. Mist. Misty. Iris. But why. Why couldn’t he do what every fiber of his being had been doing silently for moons - scream his fury into the void? Something to ponder or a pattern to break - Stormtalon would decide by the end of the night.

[Fawn]

↭ Frozenberry 🃏

Was weird. Frozenberry couldn't discern the last time they'd done this ultra-mundane activity that was anything but normal for them even if a staple of Clan life and what they were supposed to be doing. (don't overthink this.) Attempting to drown themselves in the repetitive motion didn't last, their being a bundle of nervous static set off and made thicker upon Stormtalon's warning. So much for therapeutic behaviors.

It led them to halt their movements but they didn't retract, reconsidering the approach (overthink it? okay) before trashing it entirely with a stone settling in their stomach. Weird weird weird. The wild dog was right to reject the contact knowing the best they could give was venomous and vile, dangerous undertones, rather than the comforting touches of a clanmate. (A walking disaster, bound to drag anyone who dared down with them—Stormtalon opted out, Frozenberry wished it could be that simple.)

"Hi."

What else were they supposed to say when Stormtalon was looking at them like that? They didn't know what he was expecting. Maybe something more formal, based on how he'd shied away from being cleaned of Falcondive, so Frozenberry would try to speak his language, "Good day, sir." Separating themselves from Stormtalon, their tongue slid across their muzzle with trailing traces of both Falcon and Storm in its wake, and Frozenberry could merely hum at the unique combination.

A shrug rolled off their shoulders, their own unscarred by … what, a bird, maybe the raid. (If he could see the internal damage…) The Falcon-copy, perhaps. Frozenberry discarded the notion. (Made too little sense, hit too close.) Bold statement from the more obviously-victimized of the two, Frozenberry could take them if they bothered to fight back at all. "There are worse places." Death was a kindness they didn't deserve, or they would've done it themselves. It eluded them despite their valiant efforts. (They already knew Stormtalon wouldn't.) If it had been an actual offer instead of some child's play version of a threat intended to ward off intimacy, they may have taken him up on it.

Gaze drifting to the stars, they waited for answers and found the nihilistic pleasure in wondering how many Clan leaders, medicine cats—were doing the same following the turmoil, but genuinely expecting results only to be disappointed. (try again the next night, or drink the bathwater of the ancestors, go to their hideout and beg for guidance.) Frozenberry had never prayed a day in their life, just another normal item they wouldn't check off the list bringing them closer to acceptable.

If they didn't keep up their freakshow appearance for the Clan, who would? to believe they had any place at all in riverclan, even as an outcast, was a massive overstatement of their importance. they weren't a main character, more like the throwaway side one who should've died in the first act and everyone would've cheered.

"I'd want you to," they confirmed evenly despite the grooming long-since ceased, having made their peace with the Storm-Falcon scent mixed with gore—it was doing Stormtalon a favor to clean it off, not them. The metallic smoke tang fed them stories of visceral pain and bonds formed through hurt. A slow inhale dragged through their lungs. Frozenberry's eyes fluttered closed. "I'd want you to do anything."


@Ziera

[Ziera]

// @Dipper

Not all cats wanted to share tongues with a stranger in the middle of the night—shocking and how horrible of them - ? Therapeutic behavior…sure. If Frozen was one of the two cats Stormtalon could stomach letting touch him. But they weren’t, and on top of that he trusted Frozen about as far as Iriskit could throw them. So.

Stormtalon’s dead-serious resolve to reopen the stripes in his shoulders if they pushed him—despite the lashing it would earn him from Snakeheart—faltered when Frozenberry’s unwanted ministrations did. Their hi and good day, sir confirmed it; taking out his anger on Frozen would be dissatisfying. Unfortunate. Just five minutes into their first interaction (beyond trading judgmental stares) and the flop-eared feline was already a severe disappointment.

But as much as Stormtalon treated Frozen like they were the embodiment of everything he hated, spawn of this RiverClan beast responsible for the death of his brother, they weren’t. They were just there. A physical being convenient to blame.

It was smart to stop violating boundaries. To remove themself, and with every added inch of distance between them Storm’s bloodlust subsided all the more; at least now there was room enough to breathe. Stormtalon said nothing. Only watched Frozenberry’s pink tongue disappear to where it belonged, his frosty green eyes melting into neutrality or something more like him, for now. Mainly because Frozen started to pique interest.

Frozenleech acknowledged his words but took them in stride with no pushback; it was unclear whether Stormtalon failed creativity-wise or if they were just…familiar with violent promises directed at them. Huh. Storm’s penchant for indulging misplaced curiosity had a temporary numbing effect on his fury. He analyzed Frozen in a different light, distracted himself from the painful sensation of tearing at the seams.

Worse indeed. He would've hurt, not killed them, obviously—the latter too dramatic for his taste. That and Storm already snuffed out enough life to earn him a one-way ticket downstairs when the time came. But he did agree with Frozen: there were worse places to be than a grave like his brother rotted in. For instance, stuck in this damned clearing, where reminders of Brightpaw teased Storm mercilessly, stoked longing in his chest for things he could never have and a voice he’d never hear again.

They didn’t seem much better, now that Storm tried looking at them with slightly less hostility. For science. Perhaps this leech was as miserable as he was. The tabby watched them as they watched the stars, ears perking when Frozen spoke resonating words.

To which he answered: “Pathetic.” Both of them. Not even intending to be personal, Stormtalon just preferred blunt honesty. He shut his eyes against the rhythmic ache of his pulsing shoulders which...was finally starting to grate on him. It still felt like Storm was trapped in some sort of inescapable free-fall, leaving his insides twisted and lurching. “Are you really so apathetic you can’t state a preference?” A hint of dry banter in the words, even if he meant them. “Kills the mood.”

[Fawn]

↭ Frozenberry 🃏

Frozenberry didn't even crack an eye open to slur their way through, "And they said you weren't astute. They did call me a liar, though." In comparison, they were hoarse, disenchanted. Frozenberry could imagine he had harder blows to strike than merely calling them pathetic because yeah, they wore it around like a pelt. they were the debilitated freak show terrorball who'd knife anybody through the heart if cornered, then twist for good measure. (Except they wouldn't and they couldn't.)

For all its familiarity, murder shot fear into their veins. If they couldn't be the murderer, they were fated to be the victim. (It wasn't as bad if it could be on their own terms, they were in control—) apathetically pathetic, pathetically apathetic, pray for them. pathetically entwined in panic. "don't overthink this, don't—"

Focus.

Anxiety buzzed within. Their toes felt numb. They could feel the static returning and didn't know how far into their soul his gaze could stare, if he could use his eyes to harvest the deconstruction in progress. Overcome with a bout of shy, Frozenberry craned their neck away from Stormtalon to recollect themselves because they couldn't do this without coming apart at the seams and he hadn't actually done anything except accommodate them. it was sweeter than what they could've asked for, the lack of violence, the lack of external voices calling them useless and irreparable, untrainable.

A muffled "thank you" rolled from their tongue into the fur of their shoulder. this was good. they couldn't imagine anybody else would've stood for this nonsense. it WAS pathetic and gross like the rest of them.

But they couldn't hide forever, especially as it seemed the weight on their chest wasn't lifting. Frozenberry unraveled, tried not to flinch as they peered at Stormtalon. (He'd been more consistent in their life than their mother, father, brother. And they were screwing it up, that was worse.) Frozenberry wondered if he was happy behind his own pathetic apathy.

(They would do better next time. All their friends were dead.)

Frozenberry felt a tightness in their throat. "It's not apathy, it's being tolerable. Trying to." Irrelevant preferences weren't freely given if uninvited, that sounded like a recipe for pain. Stormtalon was in charge here, though they tormented themselves with the reminder that a sudden movement would chase them off regardless. (normalcy! was it working, frozen?? was it?) they tried to beat Stormtalon to it this time: they were pathetic, and humiliated by this abject failure.

They couldn't imagine any other outcome.

"tell me again what you'd do if i touched you..?" tell them how awful they were, just to ensure it stuck. Didn't want it getting lost in the fringes of their mind. "You don't have to feel bad. Blame the tides." the sway of the universe, the perpetual back-and-forth, the flip-flopping and non-permanency of everything. (what's the most heinous thing you've ever done? did it matter?) There was no supernatural, mysteries were myths.

Frozenberry didn't like the static inching closer to threaten them with a mental mirror-image of impending embarrassment, wondered if they may as well rip off the bandage that covered the wound of possibly coming home to nothing.

(pathetic, apathetic, coward.)

A light whine morphed into, "What's sinister about you?"


@Ziera

[Ziera]

// @Dipper

His mistake was looking for patterns when either they didn't exist, or finding them required more effort than it was worth. Frozenleech’s thoughts seemed to swarm in unorganized chaos, and after that realization hit, Storm decided not to put too much stock in their words. For now. Frozen could say what they liked; he would continue to observe from where he sat in the clearing, talons absently curling into the earth then retracting over and over again.

Don’t overthink this, don’t. Storm's brows arched. Curious. They were entangled in some some internal battle with themselves he couldn’t perceive—Frozen versus Frozen, who would win? In any case, he didn’t mind waiting for them to come back to themselves. However long it took to regain control. Far be it from him to judge anyone for losing their way in mental mazes crafted by their own ingenuity; Storm mapped labyrinths of his own.

They turned away from him for a time, murmured gratitude for stars knew what reason…(once again. Storm gave up trying to understand the logic of them). Then Frozenberry looked back. Didn’t offer anything valuable in the way of clarification, but now that Storm was prepared for it, their ambiguity didn’t bother him. Being tolerable. “For who?” Somehow he doubted they were motivated by healthy personal goals.

A dangerous spark glimmered in Stormtalon’s eyes at the following question, which unlike the rest of their comments, was quite straightforward. He disliked the way they asked--disliked that his pelt burned where Forzenleech already touched him. Funny how they thought they could absolve him of whatever his answer would be, as if their soothing words had the power to assuage guilt or relieve him of his obligation to morality. Arrogance.

Save for his breathing, Stormtalon's marred body remained completely still. He debated whether or not to play this little game; normally the answer would be instant no, but in this state...why not? Since they weren’t impressed by his first answer—how about spicing it up to experiment with Frozenleech’s reactions? The tabby drew his tongue down matted chest fur before answering.

“I would start by sinking my claws in the scruff of your neck. They'll slide in easier than you'd think.” Verdant eyes took on a faraway quality as they drifted from Frozenleech to settle on his own paws. Memories inspired him to continue, vicious, painful bursts in his mind. “Then I’d push till you could taste dirt—hold you down while I tried to expose your shoulder blades to the elements. After a layer of skin is gone, maybe I’d tear into you again. Not for any real reason. Just because I can. Then we’d match.” Stormtalon’s gaze sharpened once more—rested on Frozenberry with a challenge. “Still think I should blame the tides?”

Sinister enough for you?

It should be obvious to Frozenleech this little story was about Sweetsong, the generous one who gave Storm these pretty future scars, rather than an actual threat. But he didn’t care if they believed the charade either. For his part? Stormtalon disliked unnecessary violence; despite the deadpan delivery these theatrics were just that, driven by curiosity and a dash of lived experience. Perhaps it would rock their cup till something real spilled out or perhaps they would stay unfazed. Who knew?

[Fawn]

↭ Frozenberry 🃏

They wished they could capture the response to replay over to themselves without missing an inflection, a single syllable, afraid it would become muddled by time. No second opportunity would come along to correct or overwrite it.

Drawing in a deep inhale only to expel it in shaky bursts, their shoulders pulled tighter with ghost tingling while attempting to imagine the relief from inner turmoil in the form of sadistic pain. Administered by request, like a treatment.

Claws would slide into their skin nicely. Probably. If they didn't, they could sport marks that uncovered a mere fraction of their internal devastation.

Frozenberry blinked. "Slimy?" Either the kind that grew on the stream's pebbles, though their clanmate could have evolved to grow the slime himself. "You are the gray goo scenar-i-oo?" Stormario. Or if it was commentary on the thoughts themselves, Stormtalon was correct: claws would sink into their pelt easier than their mind processed the world. One was made for that purpose, the other was in the wrong plane of existence.

okay okay okay getting caught up in the details, those were for overanalyzing later not right now while stormtalon was obliging them in the worst way but didn't seem that opposed and that should be just as alarming as the words—

They didn't care. (Apathy? No, indulgent.) It was a poisoned moment, and despite the disjointedness in every fragment of his and Stormtalon's lives, they were perfectly aligned right now.

..oh. Oh. The vivid description didn't jerk them into a world of fear as they'd hoped if only for the thrill, unable to consider Stormtalon a genuine threat given how gently he handled them—they appreciated it and his demonstrated interest in appeasing them. "Would you want me to cry out?" It would sound so, so sweet, helpless and delicate. Frozenberry would ensure that.

As if commenting on the hypothetical element of it, Frozenberry mumbled, "...would feel better." Matching or not, it sounded like a necessary fight.

The tides?.. tides. they'd forgotten about the tides. who even gave a damn about the tides? "If it helps you sleep." Frozenberry didn't know why else Stormtalon would be out here, lest he was waiting for their return to alert the Clan, prepare their exile. he was the lousiest guard yet, blabbing about some dumb tides with riverclan's loser.

Frozenberry held Stormtalon's gaze, calculating. They appreciated him. The lack of pity, the untypical reaction, the obliging. Not shouting from the dens that they were a freak deserving of the worst fates, didn't try to attack him or force him into awful situations. And that separated Stormtalon from the rest, alongside his staring, his considerate nature. it was kinder than they'd expect. "Weirdo." that's what he was. a big weirdo. "Blaming the tides—tch, very strange."

maybe they were joking. (did they do that anymore?)


@Ziera

[Ziera]

// @Dipper

He observed with detached interest as if they were separated by a thick pane of glass, taking mental notes on Frozenberry and filing them away in case they became pertinent in the future. Like Stormtalon did for all his clanmates…although Frozen’s would end up being one of the more interesting reads.

All it took was the verbal equivalent of pulling a string for them to unravel. Stormtalon did nothing. He made no physical advances, only recounted horrific details of his own encounter and watched them writhe; Frozen’s reactivity was interesting (if disturbing at some base level he didn’t care to acknowledge.) Their willingness sickened him. Stormtalon considered feeding their warped imagination as a willing participant only to ruin it at its peak, just to see them squirm in disappointment.

Would you want me to cry out? Perhaps under different circumstances, little leech. Not like this.

Storm imagined the cat responsible for his striped shoulders would be greedy for Frozen’s cries, though. It was likely ThunderClan’s tank was the type to find another’s helplessness tantalizing, relishing their pitiful attempts to escape while ensuring they were completely overwhelmed. (One reason Stormtalon took it quietly as possible; he would rather close his eyes forever than give a sadist that particular satisfaction.)

To keep in character, he said: “I'd want you to scream.” A dry comment. One where Frozen was meant to taste the faintest flavor of his mockery.

Fantasy. All of this was some sick, perverted fantasy that if carried out would leave Frozen dead sooner than later - but if they didn’t care, why should he? If they wanted to self-destruct, let them. Storm understood the feeling now more than ever. They just had different methods of taking themselves apart.

Could he truly claim the high ground? Stormtalon admitted there was a part of him that saw Sweetsong’s claws as some sort of divine justice for his sins, though he never had an ounce of faith in his life; the pain felt right. Deserved. But Storm would have to unpack that later (or never)...not now.

After some of Frozen's mumbling, Stormtalon decided he didn't need to see anymore. Not like he wanted to see any of this in the first place. It had just boiled down to a simple choice of whose poison chalice he wanted to drink, whose menacing thoughts of guilt, hatred, and wretchedness he wanted to court. Up till now the answer had been Frozen’s...but these games were tiring. Pointless.

“You’d take anything, wouldn’t you?” Stormtalon’s voice was cold, laced with aversion. Not angry at them. Just done. “You really are a little leech. Unable to state a preference because you’re desperate for anything anyone would give.” Even if it hurt them—because nothing hurt more than the torture of being in their own head, was that it?

Unclear if because of the sheer absurdity of the moment or their commentary, Stormtalon’s lips twitched in a half smile when blue eyes met his. Stars take them. “Weirdo, indeed. But feel free to come up with something better.” Unless they’d like to blame the tides for their lack of creativity.