when you must {open}

[Rumour]

rumour has it... _____________________________ The moon hangs in the sky, its light glowing proudly. The world seems at ease with the steady wind flow, the beautiful scenery, and the silence. Trees seemed to echo their hollowed song, giving long, eerie, but quiet notes. In this she-cat's mind, everything was linked to some sort of tone and musical number. At least, everything in nature. Her eyes moved, their amber gaze adjusting to the darkness that was below her. This unknown territory was fasinating to the she-cat--big hills, forests, and river islands, all at once, all connected. But paradise such as this could only be occupied. Taking a deep inhale, she could smell cats quite a ways away from her location. She was up a tree, searching for something very vital to her poison remedy she was stirring up at her new temporary den. Her scent was masked with rosemary, a little to much in her opinion. But she wasn't taking any chances. She wanted to stay as quiet as she could. The risk of being discovered and known was a little to great. What if some of her tribe-mates moved to these tribes and still remembered her as a murderer? She could be labeled as that now, with her crafty remedies and unmistakeable arrowhead necklace. A little blood on her claws seemed to be no problem now. She stood quietly, keeping her mouth open to taste for scents. She had to find that last link to her remedy. Did they even have herbs like this here? Did cats use any sort of healing methods? She didn't know. She had only been in the area for a short ammount of time. And then, it hit her. There! she blinks, her head whipping toward a bush, her nose pointing at it anxiously. She'd have to sneak down a little quieter now. Moving quietly down the tree, she slipped into the bush, greeting the ripe read berries. "I found you my precious Night-seeds," she whispers, knocking a few off from their branches. They were plump and ripe, ready to be used in her poisons and remedies. The problem would be moving them back to her small den. She plucked a large leaf off of the bush, rolling the small berries into a small pouch that she could easily carry back home. She'd probably have to take a few trips to get enough, though. _____________________________ "it spreads"; it hears; it thinks; it remembers; it moves word count: 395 comments: -x- tags: open [bg=000000][atrb=border,0,true]

[Rumour]

rumour has it... _____________________________ After rolling up a few perfect bundles, the she-cat carefully moved them into her jaws, making sure not to crush the precious Night-seeds. She had hit the jackpot. Who knew how long these berries would last and grow throughout the year? She could have found her permanent supply. That is if she could keep herself hidden. Her arrowhead necklace was a dead giveaway, but a needed item to her survival. All her training days was usually focusing how to use it to fight with the poison remedies. She could still fight with the mind of a fox, but this giveaway was always her suprise attack. The rogue was always sneaky with this final blow. She was certain that cats didn't use the night-shade berries here, which was a terrible mistake. Why wouldn't they use their resources to their advantage? Stupid cats... Raising her head to the sky, Rumour takes a deep sniff, searching for any unwanted scents. Only stale, she reminded herself as she slowly slipped out of the bush. Her paws were light, keeping as silent as she could. If she was caught, she was sure these cats could ambush her in a small group. Her belly was empty from travel, her mind set on getting these herbs before continuing on her little self-tour of these territories. The only issue tonight would be getting home. The brisk night air pushed at her pelt. The striped she-cat had forgotten about the wind as she emerged from the sheltering bush. Shivering a bit, her eyes adjusted to the light, her pupils growing as they absorbed the moonlight. Now all she had to do was retrace her steps in this confusing territory. This marshy dump was the last thing she could hope to wind up in. But what choices did she have? This was her last item to pick up before moving her nest. The wet earth made her hiss in discust, but she held her tougne, afraid of cats that could pop out of the shadows. She hoped quietly that they had plans elsewhere. Her den was deep into the marsh, hidden behind a large gap of undergrowth. Nothing special, but it was covered in dry pine neettles. She couldn't stand sleeping on damp ground every night. It would be hard to find without her scent carrying with the wind. She really didn't care about her scent, certain that it'd blend with the trees. She smelt of oak, more like a ThunderClan cat than anything else. The pines didn't really blend with her fur either--it was as if she couldn't get rid of where she had come from. The valley of oaks and forest just wouldn't go away. I live here now, she thought in disgust, as if she was spitting at the cats who had banished her in the past. What fools...I was almost a lead hunter and poisonist, she almost growled, making sure to think of the Night-seeds first. She didn't want to lose these precious berries. Not now. Her paws were moving slower now, almost dragging. She was exhausted and starving, her stomache aching with a low grumble. It was hard to catch a clean meal and keep quiet when she was tired from her little journey. Maybe she could land a mouse or two to snack on. No no. She had to take the berries back. Shaking her head a bit, she stopped thinking with her gut and began to move again, closing up on her den. The hidden, twisted undergrowth became more inviting than usual. She felt as if she could sleep in the marsh if she had to tonight. Her paws kicked in again, and she almost tumbled into her small den. Carefully uncovering the berries, she stuffed them into the side of her den next to her other herbs. "Finally I found you, you deadly little berries~," she sang, moving them into a little pile. It wasn't much, but she'd go for them as much as she could. For now, she needed to hunt. Her insides could really be eating theirselves now. Rumour rose to her paws, stretching her already tired limbs. The relief of sitting down had now vanished, replaced with a burning sensation in her paws. Her muscles were sore. No big deal, she pressured, telling her body to push on anyway. Sleep could come later. She pressed out of the undergrowth, getting a few nettles stuck in her thick fur. She stood tall, tasting the air, searching for anything. Not to far away was a fat squirrel--what a rare prize! Her mouth began to water, almost tasting the tender meat. Dropping into a crouch, she kept her body in a perfect position with her tail flicking over the damp ground. Even though this was exciting, she knew she had to keep her mouth shut and keep her body from trembling. She prowled slowly until the brown bundle was found. She leaned back on her haunches, letting her weight release, her forepaws relax before leaping into the air.The squirrel was dead at her paws with a quick snap of it's neck. The clean kill made her purr like an amused kitten. She almost considered batting it around for awhile, but she had to get back to her den. It was her only safe haven in this unforgiving land. Rising to her paws once more, she used the rest of her strength to move home, her tail dragging on the earth to make a snake-like track in the wet ground. The moon was hiding behind a few clouds now, but she ignored it. Soon she slipped into her den, curling up in her dry nest and devowering the helpless peice of prey. It tasted like nothing she has had before, mostly because she had not eaten for a few strait days on her journey. Squirrel was rare in the mountains, usually a sign of skill when you brought one home. But they also gave her unforgiving memories. She had moved up to Lead Hunter after catching four squirrels by their tails and bringing them back with little to no mess. She had proven herself to them. She had woken up and worked to death for them. She loved them dearly. Why did they toss her out into the cold world? She couldn't be so sure. She didn't murder those kits. Rumour was framed. "Exile!" a raspy tone echoed, cats of many coats and colors circled around the small tabby she-cat. Eyes pressed into her coat, their growls cutting deaper than any killing blow. She was ragged, her fur on end covered in crimson. "Pelt of Flaming Sky, your name was giving to you for a purpose. You were ment to move greatly in our tribe," he continued, his peircing blue eyes stabbing through her emotions. "...yet you continue to use your true powers for evil. You murdered three of our youngest kittens today. These three were fighters, surviving the season. They didn't pass away when the disease rid our tribe," murmurs of agreement flowed through the breeze, "they were very strong. They would've been great leaders." Growls erupted from toms while tears rained down from the she-cats. "Kill her, Skyteller! She does not deserve to live as a killer!" a cat cried. "Let us sacrifice her evil soul to our ansestors!" another shouted. Claws inched out, daring to tear the she-cat to shreads. "ENOUGH!" Skyteller rasped, narrowing his eyes. Everything fell quiet. He moved down, landing on a lower rock as he inched toward the she-cat. She wanted to move back, but her body didn't even move and inch. "There is no punishment greater than living with your mistakes," he grumbled, his claws tapping on the stone. "Get out, before I change my mind, child," he spat, turning his back on the she-cat. That put scars on her heart. He was her former mentor when she learned herbs...how could he? Rage built up inside her, her claws gripping fiercely at the stone. "Get out of my sight," he hissed. Slash! The she-cat had jumped over and cut him right over his right eye. He was horrified, moaning in pain. She gasped, backing up. What did I just-, she thought, interupted as cats swarm toward her body, screeching for her blood. Running for her life, her paws squirmed on the gravel and grass, as if it was unfamiliar. This was not her home. She'd never be able to come back. The she-cat jumped in her sleep, waking up with a start. "That squirrel must've eaten a few bad acorns," she murmured, shaking her pelt quietly. Skyteller was right--living with her past was a very horrifying punishment. She didn't know what it had ment when she had been told her new fate, but the nightmares seemed to come every night. She rubbed a paw against her forehead, blinking the nightmares away. Morning light filtered through the undergrowth, most of the dappled beams just barely touching the grass. Only a few spots were bright enough to wake her. The day smelt peacefully. To bad she'd just be moving more berries today. What a bummer. It would take forever to get enough now. She should probably just move into that poisonous bush. _____________________________ "it spreads"; it hears; it moves word count: 1540 comments: i loveddd writing this. c: tags: open [bg=000000][atrb=border,0,true]

[Vesser de Czagy]

Vesser’s tread was quiet, but not quiet enough. Faint crackles accompanied his footfalls, and his pelt stood out like a beacon in the gloomy pines, bright white and pristine. Sun fringed the edges of his thick fur, making it look as though he were glowing faintly. With such an appearance, anycat would have seen him coming a mile away. He didn’t appear to be concerned about being spotted, however. In fact, he was loping along his way as if he had no greater care in the world than the ground being just a bit too damp for his tastes. He’d finally gotten the chance to slip into Clan territory, and he was immensely pleased about it. There had been a patrol on its way or just gone by during most of his attempts, but today everything had been going swimmingly so far, as if the warm, fair weather was influencing his day like a cosmic good luck charm. Even the soggy earth beneath him didn’t bother him near as much as it could. His paws were muddy brown, but he paid no attention to the grime on them, far too focused on exploring. The white tom had gotten a meal outside of Clan territory that morning- he was bold enough to intrude, but not stupid enough to take their prey as well. And anyways, he could get his own food elsewhere without infringing on someone else’s supply, so why bother? He paused to stretch, working out the kinks that had wormed their way into his system over the night. He was still a bit tired, but that paled in comparison to his intrigue at getting to see Clan territory. From what he’d heard from cats that lived nearby or had traveled through, this would be ShadowClan’s home. The descriptions fit, as did the smell. It was strange, but he wasn’t sure if he’d call it unpleasant. Mostly just unfamiliar. Vesser’s eyes gleamed as he passed through another dark patch, shaded by drooping, prickly pine boughs. The left was a lovely, warm golden brown, the other pale blue with a silver-ice sheen. They glimmered briefly, and were back to more mundane hues of their respective colors when he reemerged into the sun. The tom took a deep breath, drawing in the scents of his surroundings. Still no approaching Clan cats. He was lucky. But there- another, different thing. It was a cat, yes, but it didn’t appear to be a ShadowClan one. His whiskers twitched in curiosity. Perhaps someone else was out for a stroll as well. He trotted along, kicking up little misty sprays behind him, until he came onto the trail itself. Definitely not a ShadowClan cat. It may have been from another Clan, but he didn’t know their scents as well yet, so it was difficult to really say. Now highly interested in this strange cat, whoever they might be, he began to follow the traces they left behind. It was covered with some other, heavier smell, and even that was rather stale, but it was worth a try anyhow, he thought. The trail went on for much farther than Vesser had anticipated, and a faint ache had sprung up in his legs. But he was kept from grumbling as the scent grew stronger and fresher the further he followed it. A sense of anticipation built, and he lifted his shapely head to see if he could catch a glimpse of whoever it was in the distance. If they could travel this far, they certainly had staying power. He wouldn’t be all that surprised if they were still walking. He was disappointed in his expectations. The trail stopped suddenly, with no warning or swerve to indicate a change of direction. It just halted, as though the cat had disappeared into the earth and brambles like a ghost. The tom’s ears were pressed back in confusion and concentration as he circled the area, but no amount of investigation gave him any results. He was on the verge of giving up entirely, a rare occurrence for him, when he heard a faint murmur emanating from a tangle he hadn’t been able to penetrate. His ears twitched and turned forward, straining, but he wasn’t quite able to make out what was being said. However, his confidence was renewed and he immediately padded over to the place, nosing it curiously. _____________________ - - acting // "speaking" // thinking ; hearing - - Word Count: 728 Tags: open Comments: gosh, this seems so short in comparison... sorry! @^@ [bg=3c282d][atrb=border,0,true]

[Rumour]

rumour has it... _____________________________ "A few seeds of Foxglove," the rogue hums, wrapping the dry flowers into a leaf as she did quick herb counts. "Some water hemlock," she adds, pushing them aside. She just needed some more night-seeds now to complete her paralys remedy. That and a little touch of tormentil and rosemary to keep her scent hidden. She'd found rosemary earlier, but she still smelt of the valley she came from. Unlike the scent-hidding rosemary, tormentil was very sweet and welcoming, like a warm batch of sunlight in the coldest winter. It would keep her scent from smelling to foreign as she traveled for a while. Rising to her paws, she shook her pelt, freeing peices of moss from her thick tabby pelt. She wondered what her tribemates would think of her now, using her training for her own purposes instead of serving a group of cats. They'd definately look down on her now. But who were they to judge? Those fleabags couldn't tell the difference between a young fox bite and my own bite, she thought, her ears pressing against her skull. I was framed by a few piles of orange and black mangepelts. How could they not tell our scents apart?, she shook her head, making the questions leave. She didn't have time to mope around now. She found the last part of her remedy and she was going to get it. She was going to carry as many night-seeds as she could, even if she had to store some in her mouth. Once you swollowed a night-seed, you would become brain-dead in a matter of seconds. Those poisonous little red devils were killing machines, as well as great fighting wepons, if you knew how to use them. She just hoped those clan cats wouldn't miss those little balls of death--she was prepared for taking half of the bush. She picked up a pile of leaves, heading toward the exit of her makeshift den. Rumour froze, watching the entrance move just a little. The undergrowth was strong enough to not shake during a windy night, so it couldn't be nature. I was followed!, she almost gasped, dropping the leaves quickly as she franticly looked around. How could she hide all of her herbs to make it look as if no cat was here? She couldn't just scatter them all. It would be strange to find a bunch of herbs lying around in the same place, all dry and ready to use. But most importantly, could she escape? Maybe she could pretend to eat the nightseeds and offer the cat some? Roll over and die? She was shaking a little. It had been a while since she picked a fight with an intruder, and she always had some form of poison on her claws. Now, she only had her bare paws. Please, don't discover the tunnel, she prayed as she pressed against a wall, hiding in the shadows. She waited for any sort of sign that the cat had left, still making some noise with her scared, thin body. Rumour was in no shape to fight now. _____________________________ "it spreads"; it hears; it thinks; it remembers; it moves word count: 516 comments: It's alright. I was trying for a 1k post anyway. c: how in the world do you pronounce Czagy? tags: Vesser de Czagy, open [bg=000000][atrb=border,0,true]

[Vesser de Czagy]

A brief flicker of disappointment ran through Vesser when no results came forward from his poking about. Not even a mouse skittered out from the underbrush, much less a cat. It was possible, he conceded, that he’d just imagined the soft words, his brain making things up to accommodate for his high expectations. Still, the scent, however stale, had led here, and there was no evidence to suggest the cat had left yet. No tracks, no smell, nothing. So, by conclusion, somecat had to be here, however well hidden. He had to admit the job they had done was impressive. At this, his whiskers twitched faintly. They must have had some experience with disguise before, or had they simply found the hiding place by luck? Whichever it was, they no doubt had a reason for being as reclusive as they were. His following them would very likely not be invited, poking about their den even less so. The tom paused, drawing his head back and halting his methodical investigation of the tangle. Come to that, they might decide to attack if he barged in that rudely. Or maybe they would attack anyways, if they possessed a singularly irritable nature. Whatever the case, Vesser deemed it unwise to continue as he had been, and tried for a different tactic. If fortune favored him, the cat wouldn’t have a back entrance to flee from, and they wouldn’t be angry or desperate enough to scratch him on their way past if they thought their only option was to make a break for it through this one. He sat back on his haunches, speculating to himself, then cleared his throat quietly and spoke up. His voice still had the peculiar lolling accent of his homeplace that stuck out so distinctly here, though it had diminished over time. ”Hello?” he mewed. “You can come on out of there now, if’n you like, I’m not planning to hurt you. I imagine you don’t fancy being bothered much, but then again socializing’s killed nobody yet.” He attempted to sound non-threatening, and hoped he had succeeded. The continual amused note in his speech may have helped- but then again it might only have come across as mocking, which he certainly hadn’t meant to be. Curiosity glimmered in his odd eyes, and the tip of his tail was twitching. It wasn't every day you found a non-Clan cat on their own territory (well, besides him, currently), so this one was worth knowing. Or, at the very least, speaking to. From what he’d learned from the cats willing to talk about him about their forest counterparts, sneaking onto Clan territory was highly inadvisable, and they usually didn’t take kindly to it. If that was true, then the one he’d just discovered may not have been in the place long. That, or they were better at concealing themselves than he’d first believed. Perhaps they hadn’t caught his own smell while he approached, and thought he himself was a Clan cat. He hadn’t checked the wind, after all, so it was a possibility. With this in mind, he added to his previous attempted reassurance. “I’m not from ShadowClan, if that happens to be worryin’ you.” While the tom waited for a reply, he couldn’t help but note that it was a pity any cat should be holed up in a bramble on such a day. Even here, where only small patches of sun shone, it was warm and there was just enough of a breeze to be pleasant. _____________________ - - acting // "speaking" // thinking ; hearing - - Word Count: 586 Tags: Rumour, open Comments: to be honest, I'm not entirely sure how to pronounce it myself. The general idea was that he sort of made his last name up from a mixture of French and some eastern European language (or rather, their cat equivalent, since I suppose I was thinking the cats would have more regional names), and that even he switches around the pronunciation a bit. Currently, I've got it narrowed down to either being a silent c, so more like "zahhgee" with a hard g, or "ksahhgee", where the c's more like an s. [bg=3c282d][atrb=border,0,true]

[Rumour]

rumour has it... _____________________________ Rumour held her breath, the silence killing her with curious questions of her own. Who would follow her here anyway? Maybe these cats had found her scent and came to dispose of her. She should've sucked it up last night, taken a chance by carrying more Night-seeds, even if she had to swollow them and cough them back up. Now, that's a thought of nonsense, she shook her head, almost rolling her eyes at her own thoughts. A few more pawsteps were heard, making her pelt raise up in fright before they stopped, only a few quiet movements continuing for another silence. She could hear a little bit of sniffing as well. I should've went right for the tormentil... she almost growled. Wait, what am I doing down here, shaking like a mouse? She gazed around, moving slowly toward the entrance. Maybe she could get a peek of this intruder before she caused any action. She could spot a bit of white, her mind now confirming it as another cat. What a relief. She could maybe even win this fight! I should be defending my little home, claimed territory or not! she pumped in her mind, a little confidence ringing in her ears. ”Hello?”

[/s]

Rumour almost flinched at his voice. A tom? she blinked, her ears flattening against her head. She could've probably taken on an emotional she-cat, but a blunt tom? She was in no condition to fight males larger than herself, which would probably only be apprentices.

“You can come on out of there now, if’n you like, I’m not planning to hurt you. I imagine you don’t fancy being bothered much, but then again socializing’s killed nobody yet.”[/s]

Oh, dont worry, it's just Mr.Tom, the friendly intruder, she thought, flicking an ear in irritation. He could still be hostile. What if he was one of those cats around here? He would defending (sarcastic quote) "his" territory. Why couldn't they just share this little dump? It wasn't like the rivers or the lush forests just around it. If she was their commander or leader, she'd move those cats to a much lusher area, one that had dry ground to lay on. There would be tender squirrels and trout instead of tough frogs and lizards. Her stomache almost sent up her squirrel of the thought of a kit tearing through a frog, his mother nodding with approval in the background.

“I’m not from ShadowClan, if that happens to be worryin’ you.”[/s]

Rumour blinked out of her thoughts, realizing she had moved right to the entrance. She peeked out, her amber eyes reflecting off some light. She watched his mouth move as he spoke, his eyes fluttering with curiosity. She pawed at a bit of the undergrowth, sliding out half of her body, just in case if she needed to use the sharp weeds as a defense sheild or something. "ShadowClan? What's that?" she spoke, meaning to keep those words in her mind.

_____________________________

"it spreads"; it hears; it moves
word count: 499
comments: interesting. Rumour is just based off of the Adele song, or at least the British-like spelling is. xD
tags: Vesser, open

[/blockquote][/size][/blockquote][/color][/sup][bg=000000][atrb=border,0,true][/td][/tr][/table][/blockquote]

[Miststar]

Stick to the Shadows~~   Comments: I hope it's alright I play the medicine cat for a moment, since we don't yet have one. If not, I can switch it.

[/i]

"We're out of deathberries, Miststar. Do you think you could go fetch them?" The medicine cat asked.

"Why do I have to do it? I'm the leader- I'm supposed to lead, not collect things for you. And why I'm the name of StarClan do you need a deadly poison in the middle of Greenleaf? No cats are suffering from Greencough!" Miststar scoffed.

"My apprentice and I are helping the elder's aching joints. Tansyflower can't even move, so go!" The medicine cat replied, shooing Miststar out of their den.

The silver tabby sighed and padded out of the den. She was the leader- why did she have to go fetch poison, of all things? It was ridiculous. She was a warrior- the best warrior- and she shouldn't have to go fetch stupid berries that could only kill you. Oh wait- one of those stupid berries wouldn't kill Miststar. She had nine lives, she could eat as many berries as she wanted and not die! Not that it was the smartest idea... But it was still the truth.

The cat padded into the pine forest, sinking her paws in marshy ground for a moment before flicking the mud off. She spread her paws wider for a moment, and then began trifling through the forest, breathing in the scents. A lizard was on a tree branch directly above the leader's head, doing who knew what. The stale scent of a fox that had been killed by a badger also flooded Miststar's nose. The badger had been chased out by a patrol of warriors, and the fox had its pelt taken to line nests in the nursery. It had certainly been a challenge to drive out the large male badger, the tabby had heard.

Tiny red dots were visible on a bush. Miststar padded over to it, sniffing it. Holly, not deathberries. Wait... Miststar was the leader of ShadowClan. She wasn't an apprentice anymore- how dare the medicine cat boss her around! Anger clouding her mind for a moment, the silver tabby walked deeper into the forest, tasting the air for some prey. She should have caught the lizard that she saw earlier. Ehh... Halfkit probably would have just made it filthy again. It had been a pain hunting back all that fresh kill. What a stupid little kit.

Suddenly, two scents flooded her. A rogue... And a ThunderClan cat. The ThunderClan cat patrols had been scenting! They were plotting against ShadowClan! That frog-brain Leopardstar thought she could mess with the Clan's best warrior and her clan? Well, she thought wrong. Angry, Miststar began tracing the scent through the forest. It was coming from a place the cat must have accidentally brushed against. The scent of deathberries also came into the silver tabby's scent range, but she payed attention to the ThunderClan scent. It was one warrior, thank goodness. A she-cat. Leopardstar must have sent a spy over to scout for weaknesses! Ha! As if she would find any!

Peering through a bush, Miststar spotted a tom. He was the rogue. She moved over a bit more, careful not to rustle any leaves. He'd be easy prey for the clans' best warrior, who also had nine lives.

"Hello? You can come on out of there now, if’n you like, I’m not planning to hurt you. I imagine you don’t fancy being bothered much, but then again socializing’s killed nobody yet.” A few moments later, there was more. “I’m not from ShadowClan, if that happens to be worryin’ you.”

That was the tom.

"ShadowClan? What's that?" The she-cat replied. What? She had to know what ShadowClan was if she was a ThunderClan spy. Peering at the she-cat, who had apparently come out of something. A den, perhaps? So she was a rogue.

Stepping out of her shelter, head held high, claws unsheathed, ears alert and tail held high in a show of dominance, Miststar replied in a cold tone, "The clan that lives here. Who I just happen to lead." Her gaze, which had flitted to the tom for a moment, was now fixed on the she-cat who had inquired about the greatest clan in the forest.

[/blockquote][/color][/sup] [bg=000000] [atrb=border,O,true][/td][/tr][/table][/blockquote][/center]

[Vesser de Czagy]

Vesser hid a small smile as this strange fellow intruder finally showed herself. Well, there's the mouse out of her hole, then. Partially, at least. His keen eyes began taking in as much as they could, accustomed to documenting whatever he saw. The she-cat was a tabby, and even if her half-concealed figure spoke of shyness or fright, there was something about her that spoke of a tougher personality than her current attitude implied. He couldn’t place what it was, not quite. It might have been how easily she spoke upon showing herself- a truly scared cat would have often hesitated, or kept silent. Luckily, though, she didn’t look as though she were about to attack. More like she was preparing to go on the defensive, if need be, what with how she was remaining in a sheltered position. She clearly wasn’t stupid, then, either, as she hadn’t immediately believed, or by all appearances retained a healthy amount of skepticism for, his little speech. The she-cat’s amber eyes glinted for a moment, perhaps catching some of the light to achieve such an effect, before she spoke. "ShadowClan? What's that?" Surprise registered briefly on the white tom’s face. He subdued it quickly. Why wouldn’t she know about the Clans? She was practically living at their front door, she must know something about them. Maybe she hadn’t been here long. That was one explanation. The more sinister, of course, was that she was playing for time so she could attack. Vesser’s gaze flicked away from her for a short moment, scanning his surroundings to take stock of what he might have as an advantage in a fight. The wet ground would be good for kicking into an opponent’s eyes to blind them, but other than that there didn’t seem to be anything significant that would benefit the loner. He twitched his ears, far warier of scents and sounds now than he had been earlier. All his observation took only a few seconds, and then he was focusing back on Rumour with all the politeness and the genial attitude he’d had when he first arrived. Answering her question would take a bit of thought. He himself didn’t have a vast extent of knowledge about any of the Clans, so how would one accurately describe specifics to another who had even less of an idea what they were talking about? A shade of concentration passed briefly across his face, though he made sure not to let his eyes wander from the she-cat, lest she take that as an opportunity and make a move. It was in his best interest to pretend as though he suspected nothing whatsoever, to gain time and hopefully take the upper paw. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, another voice cut through the air. With it came the heady scent he’d found at the border of the territory. ShadowClan, he thought grimly. If the she-cat wanted an explanation, she’d certainly be getting one soon. Possibly accompanied by a matter-of-fact set of claws across her inquisitive muzzle. "The Clan that lives here. Who I just happen to lead." A sense of foreboding wound its way through Vesser’s spine. From what he’d heard, if this cat decided to pick an argument, there was next to no chance he’d be able to hold his ground and survive. Even if this she-cat joined forces with him in an attempt to save her own hide, there was, according to those who lived around Clan territory, something that set Clan leaders apart from their subordinates. They seemed stronger, able to last longer in a battle. Whether it was due to some unique training method or sheer unnatural circumstances, by all accounts it was best to be on a leader’s good side. Sneaking into their territory quite without permission was not likely their ‘good side’. Still, despite how the odds seemed stacked very high against him today, Vesser put on his customary smile- called by some, and not without reason, to be completely infuriating-, stood, and turned to meet this new acquaintance. He had no idea how he hadn’t smelled her sooner, but there was no undoing that folly now. The tom’s claws dug themselves into the wet ground beneath him, ready to launch himself in attack or flight, or hold on to defend. The ShadowClan leader radiated confidence, her stance cool and unafraid. She had no reason to be, anyways. Her line of sight was fixed on the she-cat beside Vesser, which the tom took as a bit of an insult, considering he was obviously the more impressive view here, and much easier on the eyes, if he did say so himself (he did). He tilted his head to one side as though silently asking why he wasn’t being paid the fullest attention, and amusement tinged his words. All in all, he appeared totally nonchalant, even casual, as though this were something that happened every day and he’d long since become accustomed to it. Inside, however, he was preparing for a fight, mind racing, and his muscles were tensed and ready under his thick pelt. “Why, hello there, lovely. Splendid day for a walk, don’t you agree? Me and this wonderful lady here were just having a chat, care to join?” _____________________ - - acting // "speaking" // thinking ; "hearing" - - Word Count: 880 Tags: Rumour, Miststar, open Comments: --- [bg=3c282d][atrb=border,0,true]

[Rumour]

rumour has it... _____________________________ Rumour raised her ears, expecting the tom to answer her question right away. Was there really that much to think about a ShadowClan? It must be important if it's really bothering him to look around that much, she thought before realizing his real efforts. What was he doing, looking for someone? I doubt it. She continued to watch his eyes wander and ears twitch at the scenery. The small clearing was definately a nice place to settle down, minus the damp marsh, annoying bugs, and discusting prey. Scratch that. The only thing good around the area was the den itself, which she had to clean up in the first place. It used to stink of fox, but surprisingly, it had abandoned it's nest. Foxes usually did switch dens once they prey began to move, but the she-cat guessed maybe it enjoyed thriving on toads and lizards. But why this one? It was warm and hidden, a nice birthing den for those orange and black vixens. Their cubs would be able to be safe here for a moonlight hunt! Rumour blinked out of thought, realizing the tom was staring at her, and she in return had been staring at him. Her cheeks gave off a little warm in embaressment, but she immediately made sure to keep it under control. The only thing hanging between them was silence, until he began to reply, stopped, and turned toward a rustling bush. Rumour stepped back a bit in fear, hiding her chest and upper body against the thistles and sharp undergrowth. Out of the bushes stepped another tabby she-cat, like herself, only silver. She was much larger than Rumour, or at least she was in her amber eyes. She had glossy fur, but it was raised defensively, making her grow almost twice her size in intimidation. Her claws tickled the earth with smooth, yet deadly movements, as if she'd slayed rogues before. Her tail flicked through the air, slashing the particles of oxygen with a heavy style. This cat meant buisness, and Rumour had to face it. There was no turning back now. If she did move into her den, she'd be caught between being shreaded by brambles or claws. The silver tabby must know how to climb. If she didn't, it would be stupid to move into a forest and not use its advantages. Oh, Tribe of the skies, have mercy on this exile! Don't let there be a fight--I am not ready! she pled as she slid out into full view, her arrowhead necklace pressing against her fur, but now fully visible. She was not like the other cats around here, and even though her scent smelled like one, this was her signature mark. "The clan that lives here. Who I just happen to lead." So, the cats aren't tribes around here? They're Clans... she blinked, hiding her fear with curiosity in her eyes. “Why, hello there, lovely. Splendid day for a walk, don’t you agree? Me and this wonderful lady here were just having a chat, care to join?” Could this tom really trust this cat? How could he be so welcoming to strangers? Even she was cautious about him. What if this was a trick? Maybe he was after her herbs. What if he stole them? Never!, she almost growled, her eyes narrowing at the silver she-cat. The unseathed her claws, just in case, and let them grip at the earth. "I've never heard about this 'ShadowClan' in my life," she blinked, her tail flicking in steady motion behind her. _____________________________ "it spreads"; it hears; it thinks; it remembers; it moves word count: 591 comments: -x- tags: Vesser, Miststar [bg=000000][atrb=border,0,true]

[Leto]

It had been thirty-three moons since his exile; thirty-three moons since his kin had ostracized him. In between all that time between then and now, he had only made the journey back home twice. This little visit would be his third. Each time he came, he destroyed one life or another. Whether it be through manipulation, fear, or just simple murder, he always found a way to create the chaos he so craved. This time would be different, however. This time he would have to do something more. He tired of the insignificant dilemmas he caused; this time he needed more. But how he would find this satisfaction, he knew not. Perhaps I should get a bit closer to the clans. he thought, If I learned more, perhaps I could find a better way to hinder my former clanmates. It was as he was thinking these thoughts that he stumbled upon a pair of cats. As he watched, a third came up and joined the other two. The newcomer, a silver tabby, carried the acrid scent of ShadowClan; one of the two originally there, a brown tabby like himself, had on her the woodsy smell of ThunderClan; the third, a white cat, carried an unfamiliar scent that didn't belong to any of the clans he knew. What an unusual collection. He hid in the shadows, trying his best to remain unseen, and watched the meeting with curiosity. What could they possibly be up to? As he listened, he heard the silver tabby exclaim that she was the leader of ShadowClan. Huh. So Stormstar died since my last visit. His lips twitched. Well, it has been over ten moons since the last time I came; I suppose much has changed since then. His gaze flickered over in the direction of RiverClan. I wonder how my old family is doing. I doubt they've forgotten me; I certainly am one to make an impression. His eyes lingered there for a few seconds longer as the day of his banishment flashed across his mind. Just then, he heard the white tom speak, and his attention was drawn back to the cluster of cats before him. "Why, hello there, lovely. Splendid day for a walk, don’t you agree? Me and this wonderful lady here were just having a chat, care to join?" He stifled a laugh. Polite? To a ShadowClan cat? Right, that's certianly the right approach. He eyed the silver tabby carefully, trying to gauge what her reaction to this strange display of manners would be. As he waited, a thought occured to him. What if I came out and said hello? It has been such a long time since I've had anyone to talk to. Hunger flickered across his amber eyes. Maybe one of them could be of use to me. "I've never heard about this 'ShadowClan' in my life," Just as he was about to step out, he froze. She doesn't know about the clans? Than why does she smell of ThunderClan? He eyed her curiously. Is this just a coincidence? Or is it something more? As he got over the momentary shock from the she-cat's exclamation, his desire to introduce himself arose once more. Stepping forward, he faced the three strangers. "Hello, he mewed in a friendly tone, "How is everyone tonight? _____________________ Word Count: 551 Tags: Rumour, Miststar, Vesser, open Comments: -x- [bg=000000][atrb=border,0,true]