Interactions With A Ripped Rose
[Rosebriar is currently in the medicine cat’s den due to injuries caused by dogs. When she’s woken up and is recovering, she realizes just how badly she’s been injured and is extremely devastated and depressed. These roleplays will take place in the medicine cat’s den, but it’s in a separate thread as to not fill Peachfrost’s den with a bunch of posts. This is also open to anyone, but each roleplay will be treated separately (unless a character is directly interfering/acting with a cat who is interacting with Rosebriar).]
~ ROSEBRIAR ~
Nightmares. That was all that her dreams were filled with. Huge dogs that loomed over her, a horrible, meaty scent rolling off of them, their jaws slavering with drool that was absolutely disgusting. They were always around her, snapping at her where she was weak, tearing her apart. They wanted to kill her, or even worse, to ruin her. Rosebriar would scream and struggle, but her fighting Clanmates would always look away from her. Why? Were they too busy fighting? Didn’t they see that the prettiest she-cat in the Clan was getting mauled? Maimed by dogs? But that was why they weren’t saving her. She was ugly, and now always would be. She was awful, disfigured, like one of those… those lowly cats, Ashfeather. Twistedface. Deadpaw, Morningpaw. Oh, StarClan, why her? How could she live like this?
Rosebriar always woke up, back in the medicine cat’s den. But the reality could be worse. She was safe, sure… but was she really? No, of course not. She had to deal with being ugly now. Her… her life was ruined. What would Featherwhisker think? Would her Clanmates laugh at her now, ridicule her for her awful appearance? A sob rose in her throat. Waking up in a world of pain and terror wasn’t fun. Everything felt like a blur. Rosebriar hated it all right now. Why couldn’t she just die? Her wounds would be healed in StarClan, right? She hated herself… oh, why her… why those dogs? Why, why, why? But then again, with all her self-pity and self-hate… dying was scary. But she didn’t have the looks to brave herself through life. Rosebriar wished so hard that she could go back to her glamorous, elegant self…
Right now, Rosebriar was curled up in the medicine cat’s den, in her nest of woven grasses and feathers. Her elegantly bushy tail, her main remaining beauty, was wrapped around her twisted right leg. She wanted to hide it. Meanwhile, her face was buried in her paws. She wanted to hide the missing eye, the mauled and furless side of her face, the shredded and ripped ear… but not seeing scared her. She wouldn’t see her enemies as clearly as before. A sob rose in her throat. Ugly cats deserved to be alone, and suffer… like she was right now. Rosebriar hated it. She didn’t deserve this… but now she was ugly and pathetic, struggling to do normal stuff. Why… Rosebriar had to hide herself. She deserved to be sad and alone. She didn’t like it, but that was her life now. Living as a shell of her former lovely self…
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