Bone Crest Throne

[Wingnettle]

Blood
Atari healer
he/him | age unknown
Chill of Death




Blood watched calmly, coldlyxas the firsy punishment was set out by Area himself. He lashed his tail quietly, unbothered by the sight of scarlet liquid oozing out of Willow's soon-to-be-dead body. While the screams filled the air, he left briefly the sadistic sight to take a look at the other Atari cats. They were all silently watching, silently judging. Good.

His bones quivered. A chill run through his spine, his pelt pricked. He knew exactly the moment this innoble life ceased to exist.

When the body ceased to be warm, he padded up to Ares and rook and rested his tail tip on the Crown's shoulder. He whispered behind his ear, still watching the cruel sight: "Finally, you have accepted it. A Crown must do what they must... and you did it. An eerie, slight smile crossed the old Healer's muzzle. "Now, you have another important decision to make... he suggested, pointing at the crowd who had withdrawn from the clearing.

"... Your cats haven't reported to me for the herb patrols. The herb pile is empty, Ares... this means two things. One" he started, now raising his voice a bit so that the felines around could hear. "Every herb will now be rationed... and kept only for the Crown and the Healers. And two... these cats must learn another lesson." He stared at all of them, not looking into the Crown's eyes while he rested his cheek on his from behind... looking at them. Why in the world did he have to work for these lazy fleapelts?

@Rowan

[crow.]

Rook
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ The Champion ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
He/They | Claw | 29 moons | Atari
``Non Desitas- Non Exieris; No Retreat- No Surrender``

Purrks: Killer Aptitude (T2) [INACTIVE] Ultimate Predator [INACTIVE] HP; Sense [PERM ACTIVE] Just A Scratch [PERM ACTIVE]
⛧⛥⛦⛧

- - -

A slow, cruel smile formed as the blood drained out of the body, dipping into his white fur, staining it the dark red. Golden and green eyes shifted as his gaze turned towards Ares, who was soon accompanied by Blood. The healers own sadistic smile matched his own, his heterochromatic gaze slowly turning to the cats. Horror, judgment, uncertainty. The cocktail of emotions was delicious as he licked his chops.

Another punishment. That's the words Blood spoke. Rook's sharp gaze shifted over. "Blood, with all due respect. Prey is short enough, herbs even less so. Should it suit you, I will take two claws and three trappers to search for herbs. We will not return until we have them." Rooks aid, raising his head as his scrutinizing gaze stared at Blood, the smallest twinge of respect blatant in his lithe form.

"As much as I too enjoy seeing the blood spilt, the tribe is still struggling, the snowstorm will have desecrated any herbs that are near us."

He heard Shy Horse, grateful for Quiet Hail to be shielding his daughter from her bloody, deadly father. The truth.
@Rowan // @Wingnettle