Headphone warning- RIP THE ART- TW: death Death SRP* )) Gar // 2 moons(flicker) // Pyrothys tom // he/him // )) Gar laid in the snow, cold, weak, and hungry. He…he would get up when he wanted to. He just wanted to rest for a bit, that was all. He just wanted to rest for a bit, that was all. Memories flashed before his eyes: playing in the forest, desperately wishing to know what lay beyond the clouds. He never did find out. Striding among the greenery, peeking this way and that, hoping he might one day find something new. He never quite knew what he had been looking for. A hidden world? An amazing new discovery? …a friend? Regardless, it didn't matter now. None of it did. All that mattered was that…was that Gar kept his eyes open. He wouldn’t give up. He wasn’t that kind of cat. He was the cat that kept fighting, no matter how hard it was. Another flash of remembrance stung his eyes. Splashing in ponds with his pa, the ol’ Captain. Transmittide, grumbly as always, had loved him with all his heart, despite his thorny personality. Gar would do anything to hear his father grumble at him again. Anything to be startled by a rough, gravely voice complaining about how ‘Kits these days have no discipline, none at all.’ Or how ‘one of these days, I’ll teach yew how to settle down. Yes, yes, that would be nice.’ Then he would sigh, and Gar would beg him to tell him another story. Just one more! He would plead. His father would grunt, mutter something about overexcited kits and whatnot, and then spiral into one of his epic tales. Tales of adventure, of exploration, of fighting, battle, and loss. Tales of honor, and bravery, and immense courage. Things that Gar always had wished he would one day become. Tales of cats with hats, travelling infinite distances across the great masses of water, finding all sorts of treasures along the way. Sometimes the treasures would be physical things, like infinite supplies of prey or huge new territories. And sometimes they were things you couldn’t quit touch, things like lessons learned, memories made and relationships strengthened. Tales of strength, even when it was hard. Strength Gar was pushing so, so hard to harness now. His eyes. Would stay open. Another memory. Gar, tackling a stick like it owed him something one random, insignificant day. Faceless cats, crowds of cats, whispering and muttering and talking. Words Gar couldn’t make out. Then, two older cats ushering him to the shore, whispering amongst themselves the entire time. Then…he had seem it. The body. Still tangled in vines, permanent scowl etched into his face. Transmittide. Dead. He had washed up on shore, gone before the medics could do anything about it. What could they have done? Anything! Gar had screamed at them. Do /anything/! He had pleaded. Save him! Bring him back!!! They had just shook their heads at him, faces downcast in grief. He’s not coming back, they had said. Never. Gar wanted to blink away the tears he was faintly aware were now pouring down his muzzle. But he would not. Close his eyes. The days after the heartbreaking news, Gar had wandered aimlessly around the forest. What…what was the point? Why look beyond the trees If the one person who had ever loved him, his own /father/ wouldn’t be there to look with him? The cats of Pyrothys had found him a half-moon afterwards. Broken, defeated, alone. They had taken him in, giving him food and shelter despite the dark times. And then…and then they hadn’t been able to spare any. Not anymore. Gar could feel the tears pooling below him, freezing and sticking to his fur. He would not. Close. His eyes. He hadn’t ever quite fit into this makeshift clan, though they never liked to call it as such. They were always so…aggressive. Desperate, longing to destroy anything that got in their way. Gar couldn't bring himself to trust anyone who burned down trees, despite the fact that they had taken him in. Not that…not that any of it mattered now. Who knew what laid beyond? Some said it was Starclan, a life of endless hunting and infinite pleasure. Some said the only thing in the beyond was bleak, empty nothingness. Gar liked to believe there wasn't just nothingness. The Captain had always told him he would go to Starclan, whenever he had worried about that sort of thing. He had said, ‘You’re too good a kit to lose, you furball. Now stop feeling bad about yourself and chin up!’ Gar would nod, slowly rise to his paws again, and keep going. He…couldn't bring himself to do the same. Not now. Probably not…Ev—NO. Gar would not close his eyes. He would not. But his mind, as always flitted over the possibilities. Would this be the end? He was so…so hungry. Would anyone even notice? Gar let out the barest, weakest, most pitiful squeak anyone would ever hear, though it was drowned out in the muffled depths of the snow and night. No. No they would not. There was nobody to care, not now, not ever. (Cont. In notes & credits)
Not even Transmit. He had never gotten to say goodbye. And now, soon he would be gone, and there would be nobody to miss him, nobody to mourn. Truly, this was not at all how he had ever imagined it would end. Dark. Alone. His fur slowly being buried under the snow, his paws already numb from the cold. The hunger gnawing at his belly from the inside, or so it felt. “P-Pa?” He mewed. No answer. There was no one to hear. Nobody to listen, nobody to care. He was alone, save for the cold and the small, frozen puddle of tears beneath him. His eyelids started to droop. “N-no!” He suddenly cried, forcing them open again. In doing so, he thought he caught a glimpse of something floating above him. A familiar muzzle, worn and scarred over time. “P-pa? Capt…ain? Captain!” Gar could have sworn he saw Transmittide give one last small, sad smile before fading into the darkness. Another tear rolled down Gar’s muzzle, seeping into the snow. Then another. Suddenly, it was a torrent of pain, and frustration, and anger and rage and guilt and grief and sadness and regret and the same, sharp pang of loss again and again and again. Loss loss loss loss, and more loss. Gar cried out, another sharp stab of hunger piercing his chest. “C-Captain!” He squeaked, “Make it stop! Make it go away! I hate it! I hate it I hate it I—” he swallowed in one final breath of air, “Please…” His eyelids fluttered closed. [[ERP. Sobbing so hard rn guys </3 ]] *Final cause of death was starvation *died at 4 moons Audio (NOT MINE) is Muffin Song (distorted + slowed) by ??? (It’s a joke y’all welcome to my kind of dark humor-)
