❝ tw : insects ❞ ────── [ .❖. ] ────── ( alastor's gamemaker ☂ Alastor could taste a terrible, rotting smell in the air way before he even took a step inside the withered garden. His paws were dirty from the churned-up earth beneath him, moist from the fog. The tom's usual pearly-white pelt was now dusted brown, and Alastor grimaced in disgust. Alastor was someone who prized their long and untainted pelt, but in this sort of environment, there was no way that he could make it out without getting dirty. And that brought him to his next point. Death. He could die here if he wasn't careful. But what was the point in fearing death? That would only disrupt the peace and silence. Alastor was no scaredy-cat, but he still didn't like fighting because of the trouble it brought afterwards. When the large white tom took a step through the gates, he heard the sound of laughing cats in the background and looked up to see where the voices came from. His green gaze landed on a viewing box, high above the garden. The gamemakers. Alastor narrowed his eyes at the group of cats gathered inside the "safe-zone," but quickly turned his gaze towards the shape of a flower. There was no point in waiting anymore, so Alastor quickly took off, his paws thudding against the ground like thunder. Large cat-sized beetles buzzed not far behind him and flexed their pincers menacingly. Vines shot at him from all directions as the tom tried to swerve around to dodge them. He could see the corpse flower not far in front of him, perhaps only a good many-more fox-lengths. It would have been actually taken less time for Alastor to get to his destination if not for his many pursuers that surrounded him from all angles. Alastor tried to regulate his quick, heavy panting back to normal as they tried to think of a plan. But unbeknownst to the tom, vines had begun to ensnare his back legs as time continued to tick by. Still lost in thought, the tom only realized that he was starting to get ensnared in a trap a moment too late. Struggling to grab the sharpened knives from his pouch, Alastor began to cut the vines that were wrapped around his back-half. But of course, the plants had to retaliate, didn't they? When Alastor managed to cut through the last vine, the plants began to sway around vigorously. Alastor, who had realized the danger quickly put on a burst of speed to evade the vines and climbed over a broken fence that blocked the corpse flower from being easily accessible. Rotting plants laid across the ground as the white tom stared curiously at the flower. Still being cautious, Alastor prepared his knives and took a step forward. Lashing his tail, he leapt towards the flower, managing to snag out the fleshy heart just before a large ant attempted to deal the finishing blow. The white feline quickly finished off the insect, still holding the heart in his paws. His pelt was dirty, but his work was finished. Lifting the heart up, Alastor looked directly at the gamemakers with a solemn look. "This is what it's worth." ( note : slightly rushed since i tried to finish it before the due date ) ────── [ .❖. ] ────── ❝ careful, don't break your stance ❞
