Post by SIMPEHH AHHH!! on Oct 14, 2009 17:05:22 GMT -8
[/color]ooc; Part III isn't done yet, lol.
A large silver tabby tom trotted into the camp, his head up high and his tail swishing. He passed by the cat you're playing with a smirk on his face, thinking himself as really clever. As he watched the cat with a smirk on his face, he decided then that he would be rude and abrasive for absolutely no reason. So, he came up to your cat.
"Well hello there, beautiful," he purred slowly, sitting in a flirty position as he looked your cat in the eye. "Why are you here in a place like this?"
This guy seemed to think he was all that. It could be seen in his orange eyes, focused on your cat. What would your cat say in response in this situation?
___________________________
CROOKEDSTAR
waitin’, watching the clock
it’s four o’clock, it’s got to stop[/center]
Pelt streaked with traces of mire from where he’d pulled his massive frame from the river, Crookedstar sat quietly in front of his den, thoughtfully grooming away the flakes of mud embedded in his pelt. His light fur, almost tawny in hue, was barred once more by true stripes; tabby ones who would never be erased by any amount of washing. Musingly, the leader of RiverClan allowed his leaf-green eyes to pass over his Clan, his cats; their names etched into his memory from the moment he’d given them himself, their pelts sleek and glossy so that the clear water of the river simply rolled off their strong bodies.
The tom blinked slowly, straightening up, his eyes flickering over his Clan once more. There was something dischordant in their midst, and in a moment he realized what it was from the looks of surprise and wariness in the silver tom’s direction. A silver tabby, pelt of same shade and hue as his daughter’s—but there was nothing of Silverstream in the self-satisfied smirk on the tom’s face, nor of the cocky set to his swishing tail. I don’t remember him, Crookedstar thought, vaguely unnerved as the tom sauntered by. He seems pretty proud of himself, doesn’t he?[/color] Gritting his misshapen jaw, frustrated not so much with the smug cat as he was with his inability to remember his name, the tawny giant was nonetheless surprised when the cat turned towards him, a slight smile growing on that arrogant muzzle.
”Hello,”[/color] Crookedstar began, guardedly but keeping a friendly tone to his voice. ”Erh… can I help you?”[/color] A moment later the other cat struck a flirty position and locked the leader’s astonished green gaze with his own. ”Well hello there, beautiful! Why are you here in a place like this?” This was so beyond anything Crookedstar could take seriously he actually laughed aloud. His mate had been the only one to think him beautiful, ever. He’d lost his good looks as a kit when he’d fallen from the Sunningrocks and broken his jaw. Cute that this cat sought some kind of favor from him and so attempted to seduce him. ”Why, you mean my den?”[/color] he was shaking his head as his body racked by chuckles, amused by the tom’s pitiful attempt at flirting with him.
”Please. If you want something, just ask and I’ll think about giving it. Good enough?”[/color] His crooked grin was tinged slightly with pity for this cat, so caught up in his own self-contemplation that he missed everything going on around him. Which queen had allowed him to grow up this way? Picking more mud out of his fur with his teeth, he waited patiently for the cat to tell him what he really wanted, because sure as StarClan it wasn’t his gorgeous body![/color]
Nice that you were probably just minding your own business. Suddenly, your cat hears screeching behind him/her, and suddenly, a weight drops onto the back of your cat. The screeching is loud, and blood is being splattered everywhere as all around your cat, your cat can tell that its whole Clan/family is being attacked.
With massive, light brown paws soundless on the powdery damp earth, the tom paced back and forth in an aggravated manner, the tip of his tail slicing nameless patterns into the hazy air. The unusual shape of his jaw jutted out as he ground his sharp teeth together, claws yet sheathed but itching slightly with stress. There’d been reports of cats at the border, cats whose scent was never quite strong enough to identify—there’d been sightings of these wraithlike figures, but whether they were rogues or other warriors was impossible to tell. "This mist isn't helping, either," the leader muttered to himself darkly, still pacing restlessly. In this season, where fog tightly bound the forest in tendrils of smoke, it was exceedingly difficult to make out anything. And now—his mate had swum downstream, not needing to worry about kits now that Silverpaw was an apprentice, and she had not returned. Crookedstar knew he was being foolish, but there was something about the cold mist that sent the warning tingles of hysteria shuddering down his spine. His warriors were nervous, on guard, but nonetheless when the attack came there was no warning.
Screeching suddenly deafened the massive tom and frayed as his nerves were, he did not even have time to whip around before a heavy body dropped onto his broad tawny shoulders. With a yowl of fury the leader fell sideways, transforming it into a roll that flattened the other cat under his greater mass. Nevertheless, whichever Clan it was from, the other warrior had leapt up again when he’d turned about. "Get out of our camp, crowfood!" the tabby snarled, digging his claws into the ground. The other cat had no response but to hiss and back away into the fog. Crookedstar bared his teeth and slashed with his forepaws at the shadows dancing through the mist, trying to block out the horrible sounds of screaming from his Clan, the cats he loved and wanted to protect with all his heart. Was this his fault, then? His fault that warriors might even now lie still on the murky ground, that he had not set enough patrols to guard the camp? His claws found an enemy and crimson droplets stained the smoke pink. His pale emerald eyes blazed with anger and battle-rage, the tinted irises reflecting streaks of the scarlet smeared across his fur.
Without hesitation he slammed into a cat that materialized from the fog, and was momentarily distracted at the sight of a familiar face on the ground below. His heart lurched—silver in shape and form. ”No!”[/color] he yowled as he recognized his mate still on the ground, blood flowing in a poisoned river from her throat. His grip loosened on the other cat from grief, and the skinny warrior twisted around and hit him between the eyes. Such force was the blow that he was thrown off, the slash across his forehead beginning to burn with flame and drip into his eyes. It would have stung had they not already been flooded with tears as he crouched for a moment over the only cat who’d ever found him beautiful, the only one who’d ever loved him. ”Don’t leave me…”[/color] he whispered, but he knew it was already too late. His face suddenly twisted in grief and burning anger as he whirled and leapt back into the fray where his Clanmates howled, dove into the hurricane of blood where he had nothing left to lose. He had enough lives for nine cats—and yet, he could not save the one of the only cat who’d ever really mattered.
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