[wolfie]

★ ✧ ˗ˏˋ The Sin Eater ´ˎ˗ ✧ ★

⌗ HE | HIM . . 60 MOONS . . RIVERCLAN WARRIOR ⌗

┆彡 black-furred tall & sinewy tom with vitiligo resulting in white speckles covering his fur; heavily scarred across his entire body, missing half his left ear. his eyes are a light cloudy amber due to his blindness --- has protruding fangs that overlap his bottom lip & walks with a prominent limp. smells like spicy citrus with an underlying petrichor scent. speaks in a low & raspy monotone voice. ✮

interaction warning : this character explores themes of mental illness & complex trauma
post disclaimer : this contains descriptions of flashback, emotional distress, & dissociation

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[ ✦ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ➜ @SuspiciousMindz ]

➺ when he opens his eyes, darkness is all that meets him. moons upon moons had passed to where wormbite had little recall of when his vision had not decayed. that is not what truly startles him; it is the scent of petrichor, of soil, of Rot.(OFTHECOLDNESSINTHEDARKTHEPAINTHATBURNEDTHROUG HHISBODYTHEDAYSTHATPASSEDUPONDAYSUPONDAYSUPON -)

his jaws opened, gasping for air but it felt heavy and suffocating. his mind is chasing itself like a snake swallowing its own tail. he can feel the fire lapping at his hindleg, the claws that ripped through his skin. but he does not smell florals, the strong scent of herbs that made him dizzy. that thought is what startles wormbite. pulls him briefly out of the spiral. even alongside rot, the crazy she-cat had kept fresh herbs to prod at him with.

and then he starts to notice the rough, dead grass against his paws. the dry, cold soil he is digging up with sharp claws. it is not cold stone. droplets of water do not fall upon his fur. he is - somewhere.. else.. before the sin-eater has a chance to wrap his mind around the bubbling confusion, a sickly warm voice cooed out through his misshaped ears. something inviting, like a clanmate coming to chat. the too does not go unheard.

wormbite stiffens, head turning slowly to the direction of the voice. a simple request is offered, he can't help but burst out into a fit of laughter. true laughter, for once. his shoulders shook, and he couldn't recall the last time he had laughed that hard. it wasn't even particularly funny. "oh believe me, i have cursed them over and over and over. i fear nothing i can do can get them to loosen their damned claws on me, " he spoke through gritted teeth, tail tip twitching erratically. death didn't even provide an escape.

his laughter quiets, and he stands up to his full height. his senses are on high alert, attempting to gauge his surroundings. ... perhaps.. was ..he awake? his head felt stuffed full of fog. something - was off.. he needed to return home. .. he.. didn't know how long he had been gone.

the second question deepens his confusion. the voice is still quiet, whoever this was was near.. but not close. he did not think he was hungry. even then, he would rather starve then accept something from an outsider. "why do you you conceal yourself?" wormbite questions instead, unable to resist a curious inquisition. in fact, he wants to ask multiple. who this was -- non-clan cats rarely understood what laid in the stars. this one seemed to possess an idea, a shared dislike.

.. he shakes his head back and forth. no. he had no need to learn about this peculiar stranger. "..nevermind. stay within the shadows. goodbye stranger." he does not turn away, never, of course, his distrust of outsiders had been proven time and time again to be well-informed. instead, he kept taking step by step backwards. (had time worn his sense of familiarity regarding the thicket? in what direction was his home?)

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