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Post by lilura on Apr 30, 2011 13:01:51 GMT -5
[/FONT] -------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/CENTER] It was interesting how much sway four ordinary trees held over cats. Near pathetic, but digress... The Clans just wanted to believe there was life after death, a reason to their actions instead of truly living as they wanted to. A code to live by, to control. Supposedly set up by their ancestors. Dead cats living through live ones. It brought back the word control. How many cats had broken said code? Was it even effective anymore? After awhile some deluded themselves by breaking some rules, believing they were still loyal. From what she gathered by this code, by the Clans and their belief system; there was no room for trial-and-error, unless you happened to be higher up on the monarchy to get away with it. The she-cat tittered, salmon colored tongue clicking madly against her cheeks. Who'd argue with StarClan-chosen when they broke their own law? Leaders and medicine cats could tell their followers anything they wanted. Who would question them, when ordinary warriors didn't speak to their ancestors? All a perfect scheme. Play the favorite game, let some get away with it so not to arouse suspicion, etc etc. Cats today didn't want to burden themselves with living alone, to depend on themselves and show real strength so they follow blindly. There were perks on the other side of the white picket fence, sure! Always knew where you were sleeping, protection and food. But who wants the easy life all the time?
''I did!' rasped a voice so close she started. Lightset blue eyes stretched wide, nearly blending into white. No matter how many times that voice was heard, how familiar it was, the hateful spite of it always caught her off guard. She drew a paw up and cuffed her ear several times, trying to block it out but it went on speaking. Speaking to her and her alone. 'I had that life. I built on it until those damned ThunderClanners chased me out. How dare they, when their precious honor is failing? Then again, I can't complain. I bred with a queen without dignity and out popped you. My little mistake.'
Quiet! she shut her eyes, wishing this bout would pass quickly. Deep down she knew it was easier to talk to her father than the 'others'. Liam was direct. His hate was placed. She couldn't bear to listen to the disappointment and betrayal, often see faces long gone. Guilt, guilt, guilt! All the guilt eating her up. The she-cat could deal with the stress of a nagging, hateful father but suppose she saw her mother again?
You shut up, you spiteful tom cat. You have no power over me! she thought angrily, opening her sight to glaring out at random shadows in the night. Any movement could be them. The voices manifesting form. She'd see them again. Dead faces not forgotten. How wonderful for the Clanners to live blissfully, to keep their dead close at heart when she was haunted by them. Cursed, ha. Her father spoke of it enough, she no longer needed him to be a thorn in her ear. Cursed since birth. No littermates to keep her company, no blood relatives alive and nothing to keep her here. But she stayed anyway. It was melodramatic to keep saying misfortune followed her. You made your own riches. Besides, the stories her father did tell her when he was alive made her curious about the forest cats. Oh, if nobody got it thus far, there was nobody else there on the lonely winter - oh, sorry, leaf-bare to the Clanners - night. Hearing voices, believing their were real... She had a disease. Something a medicine cat couldn't cure with berry and leaf.
It was funny how everyday, one gets up in the morning to believe this'll be an ordinary day. Of course they think that if they're suffering from something. Some kind of predicament, torment or emotion. The calico didn't have that hope. Her routine of taking a stroll in solitude through the forest or on the skirts never changed. She didn't live in the barn like other loners. Too crowded. Instead her residence was wandering. Never liked one place for too long. It changed with her mood.
Tonight she made a little den near the road, coming out to look at the stars in the clearing not far off. Lilura - her namesake - didn't come to Fourtress that much. She preferred to leave the zealots far behind her. What better way than to ignore their sacred worshiping spots? Alas, the forest was better for prey then skulking around for rats. More variety.
A sigh issued from her short muzzle, clouding the air with smoke. The voices were quiet all day, making an entrance recently. Why? Did it really matter the reason?
"Suppose not" the she-cat breathed "and yet.. T'was nice to be by myself for a change"
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i got away i only got so far the other
me is dead i hear voices in my head [/FONT] -------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/CENTER] OOC:: FIRST POSTAGEEEE! -zoooooom- ...-cough- Still trying to figure out Lilura's personality a bit. Haven't rped her mainstream for awhile.
TAGGED:: docpo! and whoever wants to join in
WEATHER:: night, winter, snow falling
SUMMARY:: voices of 'other people' that actually don't talk to other characters but influence her personality. Again, she is schizophrenic. color coded!
'lilura's father speaks' 'lilura's mother speaks'
finally: "Lilura speaking" Lilura thinking
MUSE:: Dead Memories, Slipknot. Bubbles, Biffy Clyro
WORDS:: 817! Wow, I had muse [/size] |
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Post by poisonpaw on May 2, 2011 12:27:23 GMT -5
poisonfang of riverclan Cataclysm raining down, insides crying 'save me know' | [atrb=border,0,true] The night had fell rapidly upon this mysterious spinning globe, ice dotting the thick black blanket. The drops sparkled and twinkled, while the beautiful orb in the sky gave enough light for the tomcat to pass through. An evil grin was plastered across his maw, clouds of hot air billowing out of his nostrils. He loved this time of year, it always had brought a thrill to him. Perhaps it was because everything must fight to survive, and food was always scarce. He paused and tasted the frosty air, wondering what to do know. Just the other night, Midnight had called him, and told him of the wonderful plot she had laid down for ShadowClan. Now, Poisonfang's claws were itching to rip flesh, while his fangs longed for salty tang of blood.
The river gurgled under the thin sheet of ice, trying to escape the frozen prison. Hm, sorry. Not for a while, he thought silently. He chuckled slightly, thinking of how soon he would be the ice over the Clans. Narrowing his yellow eyes, he tried to see into the shadows. There was no way he was going back to camp, that would be useless since he couldn't sleep. No, he would go further in the territory, maybe even beyond that. If he was a loner, he wouldn't be teathered to the forest. Soon... he promised himself. After they battle ShadowClan, he would leave RiverClan for good.
This exciting thought coursed through his blood with every heartbeat, and he focused on the thought for so long, he never paid attention to where he was putting his paws. The wind blew a strange scent, a mixture of all four clans...but something else. Orbs widened with the realization that he had traveled all the way to fourtrees. He heard a faint noise, it sounded as if someone was talking. Confused, the black tom looked around. Slowly, he slid his claws out and arched his back. He wasn't going to be surprised with a sudden attack.
He walked into the clearing, his eyes darting around. It wasn't long before he saw another feline shape. He paused and stared, his yellow eyes blazing with an orange fire. He didn't say anything, he only let out a small hisss.
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THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY WILMETTA OF CAUTION. |
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Post by thorns and roses * on May 6, 2011 9:18:55 GMT -5
The frosty chill of leaf-bare froze the she-cat's paws, flakes coating long whiskers and her dappled black fur. The moon was high over her head, eerily shining its dim light over the forest, highlighting the threes with a dusky glow and reflecting off her partially unsheathed claws. The calm, the quiet... it was somehow disturbing and Thorncloud's small paws urged her forward and farther away from her home of Riverclan territory. Her once sleeping form had roused from her dreamless slumber and the confines of the Warrior's Den felt empty and cold. She thought that some time out could perhaps ease her mind. Maybe the stars of Silverpelt could soothe her nerves and just maybe, she'd be able to rest under the watch of her ancestors. However, a scent so familiar, yet so foreign had caught her off guard. She froze in place, glinting amber eyes hoping to catch sight of the black tom. He'd been pass here and the scent was still fresh. "P-Poisonfang...?" Her voice was barely a whisper as she continued to stroll forward, her pace slower than before. The distant tom never seemed to enjoy her company. Her faint smiles and her playful laughs never seemed to effect him, but she constantly drew herself near - or tried. What if she was becoming an annoyance? Her pads tingled. Go back to camp, She told herself, still heading towards the unknown. Thorncloud's mouth pursed shut, her lips in a tight, firm line, though her eyes glittered nervously. You could never be sure what was lurking in the vast expanse of undergrowth, trees and twigs. Being alone hadn't helped her anxiety. Her thoughts dwindled as she recognized her surroundings to be Fourtrees. The she-cat hadn't realized how far she had taken herself and her eyes narrowed. The Gathering place wasn't somewhere she'd visited often. She'd traveled here as an apprentice, but as a warrior, she had yet to officially make herself known here amongst the other clans. Those bright eyes stared at the low-lying branches ahead where the Leaders would perch themselves and she wondered what it feel like to just... sit and gaze out. Feel the breeze over her ears and the stars looking down at her. Her dream-like state had promptly came to an end and she jumped, swiveling around to search for the new scent that she had taken in. It reminded her of moss, though quite unlike the cats from Thunder or Shadowclan. A hesitant step back was followed by a lowly hiss and the she-cat's eyes bulged. What had she gotten herself into? Her legs bunched beneath her and she prepared to run, however, stunning yellow eyes reflecting the moon's light and her mouth parted slightly. Lowering her body, she expected the tom and unfamiliar cat probably knew of her presence from her noisy entrance to the clearing. Her ears pressed back against her head and her tail patted the cold ground. She suppressed a shudder. She didn't know whether it was from the snow or again, the eerie night. Thorncloud blinked, following the lead of the other sleek Riverclan cat and hissed as well, though the downward cast of her eyes betrayed her. She was frightened, for reasons she didn't know herself. But with a fellow Clanmate near, she should feel somewhat relieved. ...Right?
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Post by lilura on May 7, 2011 10:04:41 GMT -5
[/FONT] -------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/CENTER] "Is this not neutral terrain?"
[/b] she whispered, a low but lingering sound traveling to the ears of anyone nearby. The she-cat did not lift her head or make a movement to acknowledge the presence of the RiverClan warrior. Twas the 'perk' of being an animal. Smell alone told you oh-so-much. Each Clan had their stench. Fish, wood, pine, grass. All had the smell of being around a bundle of cats. It was...claustrophobic. Suffocated by smell alone. Lilura drew in a sharp breath, closing her eyes tight as if she could see those many cats just materializing. She still did not move. Though she hated her father, he gave her ThunderClan blood. She was entitled to be here. They didn't have to know that, but it was a comforting thought. Hm, no. More like ego. She had initially ignored the cat's show of hostility. Her gaze traveled to the huge rock in front of her. Her rear, covered with patches of ginger-brown-and-black, was as rigid as her whole body. Nothing. There was nothing spiritual about this place. Desolate. Lonely. A symbol. A symbol of faithful zealots waiting to claw anybody who disagreed. Did they bleed them on that rock, she wondered, or was the rock too good for the unfaithful? The corners of her mouth twitched in a cruel grin. There was no point voicing her opinions to this hostile warrior, who surely would prove the wonder. However, he did nothing but hiss! Standing there, making no movement like herself. Ah, why stopping? These are no soldiers unless in army. Uncertain. Wary when approaching a stranger. Brave when attacking in a group she thought, grin stretching wider. 'No, precious' to her dread, the voice of her mother cooed in her ear. 'some are driven with worse purpose. You don't know. Nobody knows. Not until it's too late.'Like us, mother? she thought sadly, reflecting past actions. Warrior or not, cats did have dark parts about them. Nobody was truly good or truly evil. Caution, caution. Or was it a mother's unending worry about her offspring? Either way, she was both glad and guilty. A similar stench wafted toward her, similar to the tom she had ignored for a few minutes. RiverClan. Though a female. Hah, Lilura wondered if more would come. She had briefly met a rogue around these parts twelve moons ago. A...well, he was quite the character. Eager to show her the ropes. He said; 'where there is one Clannie, there is bound to be more swooping in on you!' She found it mildly amusing. Twas true. So far in all the years - well, these Clan cats claimed 'moons' (such an irritating system of counting) - she had never stumbled upon one just alone. Always patrolling, always paranoid someone else was going to steal their territory. What could one loner do? How was she a threat to them and their precious StarClan? At the RiverClan she-cat's hiss, Lilura finally gave the two her time of day. Her head swirled, fixing them with a blank stare, almost surprised of their intrusion. Naturally widened eyes appeared blinded; so light blue, lighter than the sky. Would they stumble around her false ailment? She hoped so. Twas fun to watch the blind lead those with sight. "But"[/b] Lilura looked over the two carefully, not moving her head. Oh-so-like a statue, betrayed only by flanks drawing breath. "may hap this is a normal RiverClan greeting? ThunderClan...would not like you spoiling its fun of chasing trespassers off their terrain. I am camped on their side, if the two had bothered sniffing the moss?"[/b] Like her eyes, the loner's voice was blank. She could have put emotion in it, but it was best to feign honesty when facing down two hostiles. Besides, what had she to hide? Nothing and everything. As if she would share and care. Neither the place or time. Bad enough the words she spoke were forced out, her paws itching to dash back to the makeshift nest and move on where there were no cats... She didn't like to talk. But her words would hopefully spare her from binding wounds. Cut flesh attracted unwanted attention. She attracted unwanted attention enough by just being a loner. She had all ready turned back to the rock-that-held-no-value, instead looking at the sky above. She was not ignoring two hostiles, simply putting them out of her mind while she enjoyed the stars. Or taunting the warriors by indirectly making them believe they were no threat. Either way she wouldn't have them spoil her evening. Lilura was ThunderClan's problem. Not RiverClan's. Did she see any ThunderClanners? No. But the night was young! Oh so young. [/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/font] -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
i got away i only got so far the other
me is dead i hear voices in my head [/FONT] -------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/CENTER] OOC:: Welcome, welcome! Sorry for the wait in replying. I had some appointments to tend to. Keep that in mind, guys. I'll be busy for a few days but I'll always come back!
TAGGED:: poisonfang, thorncloud
WEATHER:: night, winter, snow falling
SUMMARY:: voices of 'other people' that actually don't talk to other characters but influence her personality. Again, she is schizophrenic. color coded!
'lilura's father speaks' 'lilura's mother speaks'
finally: "Lilura speaking" Lilura thinking
MUSE:: Dead Memories, Slipknot. Bubbles, Biffy Clyro
WORDS:: 784 [/size] |
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