well, lets face it (graystride)

[slatekit]

[bg=57B4FF] he was confused. deeply and utterly confused. it was supposed to be an adventure, him going out with cougarkit. they'd traveled a short distance to the gorge, just for fun, and it'd turned into a disaster. a disaster that left him feeling that maybe his sister, wrenkit, who'd died young, had the wrong idea of courage. that perhaps he needed to rethink the idea that she had convinced him. but to throw away a promise...maybe he was right. after all winning a battle was courageous right? going into a fight against the odds was courageous, right? proving you were better...was courageous...right? he didn't even know anymore. a sign escaped his mouth. it was just that he was confused about. what about minnowpaw? she'd said some mean things, and he had to, but that's how he dealt with terror. he was terrified at first, and then angry, so very angry that she'd come to the rescue. that she'd been the one to act all high and mighty about it. and that slatepaw had turned around and scorned her for it, told minnowpaw that he didn't want her company, nor her friendship. and he was beyond sorry. he found himself approaching the fresh-kill pile, and he paused for a moment, unsure what to do. as a last minute decision he grabbed two decent size-d fish and made his way towards the elders den, where graystride sat. he made his way in, pausing in front of the familiar elder, and dropping both fish in front of him. hey, ol' graystride! you up for telling me one of your stories? its been too long, he mewed, a grin spreading onto his face. indeed it had been a long time since he'd heard one of the elders stories. but he wanted to hear a story that would make him know he was right. or maybe he wanted a story that would prove him wrong. notes; word count; 336 muse; disgusting. colors; E0E0E0 tags; graystride :3 comments; this is crap.

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[graystride]

Graystride.
All day, starin' at the ceilin',
makin' friends with shadows on my wall.
All night, hearin' voices tellin' me
that I should get some sleep,
because tomorrow might be good for somethin'.

In the darkest depths of the elder’s den, snoring rather loudly and making an awful racket was situated a giant mass of unkempt gray fur. It didn’t seem to do much, really; it only sat, twitching occasionally and moving erratically with the ragged intake of breath the old timer took as he napped. A few pesky flies would buzz in and out of their own accord, being drawn in by the odd stench this feline wore, but upon finding nothing to snack on thusly left. As they visited him, they crawled about his pelt, possibly hoping he’d missed a piece of his meal some time before and it was still clinging to his pelt. Which wasn’t uncommon, really; if they were to dig deep enough there was sure to be a rotting piece somewhere within the mass.

Still, even though it was a rather unpleasant sight, that giant lump of useless old gray fur wedged in the very corner of the elder’s den, it appeared like he was snoozing peacefully. At least… It appeared that way. When in fact, all the seeming meaningless movements the tom made were all coordinated carefully, in synch with his vivid, strange dream. In this dream, he was young again, as the elder so wished he could be again. And he was battle training with his apprentice, Eaglepaw, way back when. Diving and dodging his apprentice’s moves as the other tom skillfully leapt and retreated just as he’d been taught very tediously by the older warrior.

“MUSKRATS!”

Jolting awake just as his dream version of Eaglepaw pinned him to the ground, a victorious gleam in the youngster’s eyes, Graystride let out a yelp of surprise, the word randomly coming to his tongue and being blurted out before he could stop it. Sitting completely upright in a tangle of his own legs, the tom’s wide, cloudy eyes gaze around his surroundings, completely confused. Where was he? Looking down, the elder gingerly picked up a paw and placed it delicately back down on his soft nest made of clover and moss. The confusion slowly subsided as his slow-set brain gathered a grip upon his surroundings and he realized, finally, after a rare moment of silence, that he was indeed back in the elder’s den in the RiverClan camp. He sighed to himself, really of no reason, and wondered when he’d fallen asleep. The tom had only come in here to this spot to gather up something… His memory failed him, he had no idea what he’d been doing in here previously, but just how he ended up asleep was totally beyond him.

Shrugging to himself, Graystride unsteadily rocked to his paws and hobbled toward the entrance. What time of day was it? Poking his head out, the tom’s eyes gazed upward. Everything above him was totally out of focus, but he thought he could see some spots of sunlight. Still, just what time it was was impossible for him to detect. “Eyes, why won’t you work with me? All I want to know is the time of day. Can’t just give me that much? I mean, these younger ruffians, afterall… They can tell the time of day whenever they want to. Cause their eyes actually work for them. But you? Nooo, not you. Feh.” As the elder spoke, rambling about nonsense, he’d hobbled himself over into a sitting position, just outside of the entrance to the elder’s den. “Look at ‘em, just sittin’ around. Why aren’t they out and about? Doin’ stuff? StarClan knows if I could I’d be out and about too. Just you wait and see.” He paused for a moment, silence taking over as it seemed like he was gathering his thoughts. Then, however, he narrowed his eyes and made a face at an invisible being before him. “What? No. What’re you carryin’ on about, anyways? I told you before, that I do that. My snacks are out there, after all, I can’t just abandon them. What if they miss me? If I were you, I’d-”

“Hey, ol’ Graystride! You up for telling me one of your stories? It’s been so long.”

Pausing in his argument with invisible beings, the tom glanced over just in time to see a blurry dark gray form before him, dropping something in front of his paws. The elder grinned that crooked, happy grin of his, and leaned in closely to examine what had been dropped before him, narrowing his eyes as if scrutinizing every detail. “Ah, snacks! Good lad!” Rocking back into his sitting position, his eyes refused to identify just who this feline was. The voice was distant, and he’d no chance to remember just who it was by hearing. Wobbily getting to his paws once more, the tom leaned over the fish he’d been awarded and squinted his eyes at the apprentice, ignoring all rules of personal boundaries. “Ah, Rainpaw! Good, good.” pleased that he’d gotten the name correct, though it was obvious to everyone else besides him that he was, in fact, wrong, the tom settled down quickly again and herded the fish before him with an unsteady, shaky paw.

“One ‘f my stories, eh? Not anyone usually ask me for one of those. I mean, if you ask me, more of your ruffians should be getting interesting in what we older folk have to say, ya know? We know best, that’s what’s what, and the sooner you fellas realize that, the better off you’ll be.” The old coot could have easily talked the young tom’s ear off if he hadn’t paused to take a bite of the fish before him. Teeth painful and taste buds receding, the fresh-kill tasted dull and flavorless, but good ol’ Graystride did enjoy his snacks, and so ate without complaint. “Well I got one on m’ mind, if yer interested.”

[slatekit]

[bg=57B4FF] the elder stared hard at the frresh-kill as if seeing something that no one else could, narrowing his eyes. the young tom had to remind himself that graystride was an elder meaning his eye sight was most likely failing him, which explained why his pelt was in such bad condition. a grin planted itself on slatepaws face, as the elder collapsed on himself into a sitting position. “Ah, snacks! Good lad!” he exclaimed before getting shakily to his feet. he then studied slatepaw, his eyes narrowed into tiny slits as if that helped him to see better. he was right in slatepaw's face. “Ah, Rainpaw! Good, good.” his breath smelled like stale fish, and he seemed pleased with himself. slatepaw rolled his cerulean blue eyes, giving his chest fur a couple of licks. aw, c'mon graystride, you've seen me around plenty of times from back when i was kit. rainpaws a good deal younger than me, and a she-cat. its slatepaw, he mewed good-natureadley. while other cats might get mad at the wrong name, slatepaw was always happy to talk to the elder. sure, it'd been a while. for a little slatepaw thought that the other apprentices would laugh at him if he went in for a story when he could be battle training, or hunting to feed the clan. but it was fighting and confusion that had brought him to the place that he had visited so many times when he was a kit. “One ‘f my stories, eh? Not anyone usually ask me for one of those. I mean, if you ask me, more of your ruffians should be getting interesting in what we older folk have to say, ya know? We know best, that’s what’s what, and the sooner you fellas realize that, the better off you’ll be.”

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the young tom rolled his eyes. graystride had a knack for rambling until he put someone to sleep. “Well I got one on m’ mind, if yer interested.”[/i] slatepaw grinned, glad that the tom hadn't rambled on about something slatepaw didn't care about. it was a good thing he brought the snacks. of course im interested, go on, he mewed, settling into a laying position. he had a feeling he would he would be here for a while.


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notes;
word count; 395
muse; disgusting.
colors; E0E0E0
tags; graystride :3
comments; im sorry you had to wait so long for such a shitty post.
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[graystride]

G R A Y S T R I D E
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At the correction this tom gave, Graystride nearly doubled over in laughter. Apparently something was funny. He cackled in his hoarse voice, and finally righted himself, nodding. “Slatepaw, right, right. I ‘member now.” Such a good kid he was. Slatepaw had been a nice kit, always a pleasure to tell stories to. It truly had been too long; it was nice to be visited here and there, and this gray tom was no exception. The elder smiled crookedly through bites, making various unattractive grumbling and munching noises as he chewed. He was a noisy eater, this much was for certain.

“Of course I’m interested, go on.”

The giant ball of unkempt gray fur quietened down, eating thoughtfully. It was almost a rare sight to see this elder slow down when he was eating; it only happened when he was catching up with his thoughts. They seemed to be all over the place, leaving him scrambling after them. Therefore, he was a bit… Slow, to say it nicely. Suddenly, though, the old tom started eating quickly again, paying no attention at all to his surroundings. He hardly had time to breathe through the food. Disgusting to any external feline, the tom finally finished after a few moments and rocked back on his haunches, licking his chops happily, that goofy grin of his sitting contently upon his jaw.

Then his cloudy eyes caught a form in front of him, and he squinted, making a face, and craned his neck in closer to make out features. Gray fur. Definitely a feline… Were those blue eyes? Rainpaw? No. Wait. Slatepaw. “Eh?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “What’re you doin’ here, Slatepaw? Been a long time since you’ve visited me,” he meowed, that kind old timer voice shining through brightly. He was such a sweet heart, he really was, he was just a sweet heart with a bad memory.

And then, it clicked.

The elder’s eyes went wider slightly, and the grin grew in size. “A story! Oh yes. Now where was I?” Finally getting himself back on track, the tom nodded briefly, gathering thoughts. “Ehh, let’s see… ‘ave I told you ‘bout Dappledrose?” his eyes softened at her name, and he smiled, this time in real happiness. His old face went gentle at the memory of her; one that will always, always stay with him. “Ah, she was purty, she was. She ‘ad blue eyes, like yours, but hers would always shine this one way.” Graystride smiled, truly smiled at this, his eyes now looking up and distant as he remembered his past mate. In reality, he probably talked about her to any passerby, but he didn’t exactly know that. He never did remember the stories he’d told, how many times over he’d told them, and to who he told them to. But he sure did like talking about her.


ooc; I'm so sorry for the wait. ;.;