[oats]

Originally Posted by woly

larkfall wanted to cry. how close he was to his ear, how he pressed against him so romantically yet the words he mewed in his ears were like thick poison. cuckoo could crush him with a single swipe. but one thing that comforted larkfall is that he would never kill him. as much as he hurt him, as many scars that were along his body from punishments,he would never kill him. after all, that would only draw more attention to cuckoo, and larkfall knew he didnt want to be in the spotlight of their leader. the thought only gave him a sliver of confidence. he gave a small whimper, but he sat up a bit more, leaning away from cuckoos touch,¨your scent...¨ he repeated, voice still trembling. he had never stood up to his mate before. green eyes watered at he stared at him. he wanted to back down, to say nevermind and apologize over and over again, to beg for forgiveness. but they were in the clearing,public, cuckoo couldnt hurt him with cats watching, could he?, ¨it isnt mine.¨ it hurt. it really did. to know his mate didnt love him enough to stick around, that alrk would never be his one and only. that lark wasnt good enough. what did he have to do to prove himself? did he have to praise and worship him? did he have to dedicate his all to him? check and check. lark was done.

The stench of fear came off Larkfall in waves, and it was almost… endearing. The calico tom was terrified, deathly scared of defying his love, his mate. In a way, Cuckoosnarl could’ve said that he loved him. Loved the dedication he had shown. But he knew that wasn’t true, he was only too aware of the fact that he was hooked on his control over Larkfall, of being to pull and tug at him like he was a marionette, a puppet with no sense of self or limits. It wasn’t always like that. He had just wanted to see how far he could go, but then he went further.

The breeze meandered its way through the moor, cold as anything. His pelt was just thick enough for him to not feel it.

Sudden bravery was unexpected from his kitten. Cuckoosnarl would’ve expected more weeping, begging for forgiveness, and not… this. He knew of Larkfall’s intellect, but considerations for the tom’s rebellion had completely foregone him. He’d have to think fast, and decisions like that were usually reckless. He was done? Was going to, what, leave him for some of the most minor of transgressions? This wouldn’t do.

Upturning his lip even further, he let out a guttural snarl, vehemence lining every hair in his pelt. “Of course it isn’t, Larkfall. When you treat me like I don’t exist, what am I to do? I’ve seen you talking to other toms. Don’t think you’re the victim in all this; don’t waste your tears, lest I give you reason to cry.” He was more than aware of the way Lark edged away from him; he wasn’t going to get away so easily. Getting up, posturing himself as if he was completely calm and not ready to strike, Cuckoosnarl simply turned, and mewed, “I honestly don’t know why I love you. You aren’t even appreciative of the slightest things, and when I try and settle, try to cope, you accuse me like this. It’s unforgivable. But you’re lucky--” Here, he spat out the word, “That I do feel for you the way I do. Because if I didn’t you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be anything without me.”