THE WORLD IS ONLY WHITE NOISE // OPEN

"Except instead of showing up in your territory in the middle of the goddamn night, we gave him a chance."

"Do you consider nearly suffocating me as giving me a chance? Complete bullshit," The maine coon said with a harsh hiss, as the male found himself quickly padding into an escalating mess. Gaberiel must not know that when Bucky got accused, one of his clanmates nearly committed murder. Bucky remember vividly gasping for air, as he helplessly dug his claws into the lioness before him. If it wasn't for Marina, he wouldn't be here today. Giving him a chance would have been questioning him like they originally planned, not pressuring him into mental manipulation. Everything would have been fine if the Ascendants just did like they agreed to. But they proved to Sunhaven they weren't friends, and the Ascendants thought neutrals weren't low enough. What a bunch of fucking cowards.

Bucky probably shouldn't have taken Harland. Buckingham generally doesn't capture- the last time he did it was when he was in that war torn clan. And even captures from himself there were rare, generally he had to be quite pissed off for it to occur. But Harland, Bucky has no ill intentions for him. Bucky grabbed Harland because Har is his brother, he wasn't about to allow his little brother to live in a clan of murders. A clan that can't stop their children from running into a dangerous battle. A clan that might get him killed one day if they continue to be so neglectful. Bucky didn't want to see that happen.

Bucky had been focused on Gabe, nearly ready to pounce, when a faint voice entered his skull. For a split of a second, the male froze in alarm- his phobia of mental manipulation includes telepathy- but then, he recognized it. Bucky heard this tiny, faint voice before- it's Harland! Shoving his alarmed thoughts beside, his head snapped towards Harland, finally picking up the bombay's scent. His brother was heading right over to the hybrid, who was beginning to limp from the fighting and speak in a language the male can't understand. It almost made him feel uneasy, what the hell were they saying? Bucky wanted to run forward, grab Harland's scruff and pull him away- but he could hear those faint words.

"Where is Moon, is he okay?"

Bucky couldn't tear Harland away, not yet. He wanted to so, so badly- his legs were nearly shaking as he watched Gabriel converse with his brother, hatred burning in his eyes as he stared the hybrid down. "If you lay a single claw on Har, you'll regret it," He threatened with a dangerously low tone, tail swishing back and forth as he kept his eyes on Gabriel- ready to make a move if they dared to try.

Curl of lips, faint sound drawn from throat encased within note of bitter anger. Alien to his tongue, drawn across it in a sudden burst before it was fading, hiccup of breath escaping teeth held tightly. Mind caught, found brief respite as it broke apart. Little hope was there in such actions, steps drawn around futile attempt to keep him away as small paws skittered across the sand. He can feel it, a beat buried in the depth of bones that have grown weary. Too young for such weight, shoulders slumped with such as uneven breath rushes forth.

“Want to but... scared,” paws curl, work into the fine grains of sand. All around Harland words rise and fall, tempo given ragged beat as anger touches each, familiar as his mind touches upon the structure of syllables. But it fades, moments slipping away until there is nothing. Darkness crowds about vision grown weak, laughter pressing through cage of teeth, head falling forward until his weight almost drags him down. Barely does he catch himself, tremor to small body. “I don't want Moon to hate me.”

Eyes rose, tears about curve of lids. Slight shake to dark head, want to keep them back. Don't hurt him. Words circled his mind but never allowed to escape, minimal energy reserved depleted until nothing was there. He had been too late, moments passing in which those around him – the enemy, they were his enemy so why did he care – had sought to inflict injury, some succeeding in such action. A part of his mind, buried beneath conscious stream of thought, longed for it, sought to render flesh until sweet taste of blood was his.

A pause, time enough for Har to pull forth the courage to turn back, frown taking hold. The state he is within proves a greater worry than any that might come to him, viewing nothing wrong with such beyond breaks of skin, weeping freely. Struggle to tear away from it all, force attention back to eyes that seem unfocused, blown out until they seem pools of darkness.