we build, we break ______ {open}

[steps `]

*slatestar
get off the ledge and drop the knife,
not a victim of a victim's life.

[/i][/color][/center]

The morning brought a cool atmosphere into the campsite, an early mist dancing lightly upon the branches of the dens that ringed the area. Ashen clouds drifted carelessly across the sky, blanketing the azure blue with the monotonous shades of gray and shielding the fields that ran endless across the ZephyrClan territory from even one delicate ray of sunlight. The delicate cotton-like puffs hung low in the atmosphere, and a chilly breeze whispered softly across the lands, calling the fresh, bottle-green shrubs and grasses of spring to dance and sway. Speckled across the flatlands were the tiny crowds of flowers, peeking up to remind the world of their existence after a harsh leafbare, and curious rabbits and mice, back after the months of hibernating in the warmth of underground burrows, to chase butterflies and bees across the meadows. As the sun began its journey shyly, peeking initially from behind the hills of the east, thin rays of warmth squeezed through the crowds of slate gray clouds, occasionally successfully passing through to touch the earth and light up the lands.
Back at the camp, a she-cat woke, early as always, ready for another day at her beloved clan. Her pelt, a pallid shade of creamy taupe, was messy and unkempt as always, and she did not bother to comb it down as she had tried, constantly, during her younger moons. It had a life of its own, and could never be tamed to mimic the glorious, pristine sheen of the CelestialClan pelts, but she loved it all the same, the perfect shade for hiding in the snow during leafbare during an adrenaline-filled hunt. The fresh, shockingly cool air that filled the campsite beckoned her as she padded out of her warm, moss-strewn den, and she breathed a sigh of contentment, sharp periwinkle eyes glancing around the quiet, silent area. After a harsh leafbare, the clan was ready for a new start, hopeful for plentiful prey and litters of playing kits, and she hoped that this time, things would be better.
The fresh-kill pile lay at the centre of the camp, meagre and lacking, and Slatestar felt a wave of discontent. Leafbare had been especially cruel and every cat of the clan had been left to sleep with barely filled stomachs for the past few moons, but newleaf was here and prey would be plentiful. The leader sat beside her den, back curved elegantly and tailed curled lightly around her paws, her head raised as she observed the campsite, mind whirring as thoughts filled her head. An observer would have thought she were merely monitoring the area, but inside, she was thinking, planning for the moons ahead. More hunting patrols were needed in order refill the fresh-kill pile to strengthen the clan, and a new deputy had to be chosen. Her brows furrowed at the thought of that, she had to keep an eye out for potential warriors that could fill such an important position, and her tail twitched in concentration. The wind whistled past her ears, but she paid no need, buried in her thoughts. For now, she would take over the duties of the deputy, but how long would she be able to keep this up? There were other, more pressing matters that lay ahead, and who knew what was planned for ZephyrClan in the coming newleaf.

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[MiNTY♥]

i wanna be pushed aside so let me go
let me take back my life, i'd rather be all alone
anywhere on my own 'cause I can see
the very worst part of you is me

ASHENFLiGHT

Ashenflight was awoke with quite a start as a cat rolled into his side and he jumped to his paws, claws immediately sliding from there sheathes as he glares at the creature that had woken him. As it turned out it had been an accident and the ginger she-cat who had bowled into him seemed to be having some sort of unsettling dream. Aiming a hiss in her direction he quickly slipped out of the den and carried himself to a quiet corner of the camp. He always slept beside the entrance tunnel to the warriors den. Even though he shared the den with other he should have been able to trust, his clan mates, he didn't trust them and so sleeping by an exit made him more at ease because that way he could easily distance himself from any of the warriors in that den. Without paying any attention to his surroundings he glared with narrowed eyes in the direction of the warrior den once more before circling a few times and settling himself down to rest, with no such luck. If they were supposed to be warriors then they should be a lot more careful and proud of themselves than that, they always seemed to be but then they go and knock you over in your sleep and they still march around as if they own the place. Ashenflight wasn't a very good warrior, he had no ambition and no reason to try but at least he didn't pretend otherwise. He would rather blend in with the walls of the camp and eavesdrop on everyone else, only that pass time just seemed to make him even angrier listening to all the pathetic things that crossed the minds of so called Zephyrclan warriors. How disappointed his father would have been to see what his clan was really like under what he thought to be the pelts of skilled warriors. Ashenflight could easily have been a good warrior, a dedicated one, much better than some of these useless mouse-brains, but he wasn't and his attitude nor his ways were about to change.

After taking some time to ponder over what had just happened he began to notice his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the cool air, but he knew he would rather be sleeping out in the cold than inside with them. The thick grey coat he wore offered him perfectly suitable protection from this weather and as well as the cold it seemed to keep out the moisture in the air as well, although the tips of it were starting to get a little damp and tangled. Opening one dull green eye he glanced towards the sky and felt a pang of empathy towards it. He knew how tiring it could get having to try and shine day after day when nobody really appreciated you and all the hard work you were putting into it was going to waste so after a while you just stopped trying. Yes, the sky was his friend as it's dull aura was shared by him so they clearly had quite a lot in common. Best of all though, it couldn't talk to him so he could get on in peace and quiet without being disturbed. From his point of view words were something that were forced and usually brought with them pleasantries and so one was often better off without having them around but most of the cats in Zephyrclan couldn't seem to carry on without their banter or gossip. They seemed to thrive on it where as he felt the opposite.

[steps `]

*slatestar
get off the ledge and drop the knife,
not a victim of a victim's life.

[/i][/color][/center]

The cream-furred she-cat let a contented sigh escape her petite muzzle and opened her bright pallid blue eyes, feeling a chilly breeze brush past and whistle secretly in her ears. She was not sure how much time had passed since she had woken and glanced at the sky, taking note of the shy sun creeping up in the east. Soon, cats would wake and clan duties would be the weight upon her slender shoulders, but for now, she would pass time as an ordinary warrior, not beholden to anything but the clan and the flat plains that made up the territory of ZephyrClan. It wasn’t that leader duties were taxing or tiring, she would never be sick of taking care of her own clan, but she liked to take some time every morning, waking up just a little earlier that most, to appreciate what StarClan had gifted upon them, the prey, the lands, the wind, the sun, without any obligations or weight burdening her. The past few moons had been difficult, few of the frailer cats had passed on to StarClan, and it was up to her to keep the clan from dissolving in the chaos that had ensued after that, but now that newleaf was here, hope had come, and things would look up.

Smiling to herself, Slatestar let her lidded eyes pass once more around the camp, scenting the familiar smell of a warrior she had known since birth. Her brother, Ashenflight, lay quietly outside the Warriors’ Den, no doubt trying to get some sleep after being woken by some of the more exciteable cats of the clan. Her brows furrowed slightly, and she felt a pang of regret, one she knew well, for the tom. Growing up, she had tried her best to keep his path straight, to keep him from wandering away from an honourable lifestyle after the two betrayals in his life, his mother and then his father. She often felt like she had failed as a sister, as a friend, to him, and always tried so hard to keep his spirits high, no matter how often her attempts would fail. The sight of his staring dully at the grey sky reminded her that he seemed to be growing more and more despondent, growing apart from her, drifting while she scrabbled to scavenge whatever remains of their torn relationship apart.

Resolving that this year would be different, that things could change between them, she let a small smile lace her muzzle and padded towards him, nudging his shoulder gently. “Morning, brother. How was your sleep? Was one of the she-cats having bad dreams again?” She knew her attempts would, as always, provoke a one-word response from the silent wallflower of a tom, but a small shred of hope remained in her mind, the hopeful glow that lies deep within the ashes of a dying fire, crying to be relit with just a breath of air needed to burst to flames once again. “I was going send out a patrol – do you have any suggestions? We need to rebuild our stocks of prey after the horror that was leafbare.” The she-cat was getting desperate. They were running out of things to say to each other and often the conversation would dissolve to nothing but a desolate atmosphere, hanging drearily in the air, a constant reminder of what they had become, of the different paths they had taken, of the emptiness that now seemed to lay in his heart.

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[MiNTY♥]

i wanna be pushed aside so let me go
let me take back my life, i'd rather be all alone
anywhere on my own 'cause I can see
the very worst part of you is me

ASHENFLiGHT

A mottled pattern of orange sunlight fell across his fur as it began rise in the sky, the mottled pattern coming from the fact that it was trying it's best to break through the dull coloured clouds and the tall shimmering trees. That was one of the few pleasantries about the ice, when it coated everything in a fine layer it would sparkle and shine in the light giving the illusion that the landscape was nicer than it actually was. Although, one was often disappointed when the ice was gone and everything was just as dreary and unimpressive as you had always thought it to be. Again this could be compared to his own personality. Occasionally you may think that you see something within him, a spark, determination, trying to shine through his outer shell. That is until you get a better look as it was probably just some sort of fluke such as a sarcastic comment that you may have chosen to ignore or have been mouse-brained enough not to notice. Or maybe it could be the sun reflecting in his eyes either way it wasn't him because it could simply never be him. He was Ashenflight, your resident party-pooper, brooder or whatever you want to refer to him as. Not the type to have any sort of ambition in his life.

Despite this, feeling the sun on his pelt was one of the few pleasant things he had been able to appreciate so far in his life time, after all if he didn't appreciate the little things there wasn't much left for him to appreciate, which certainly didn't include the scent of a certain character looming over him, or the certain character to whom the scent belonged waking him up which would mean he had been woken up twice in one morning. Such things just put him in the most perfect mood, prefect for a day of dread and humiliation. Exactly how most of his days were spent no thanks to Slatestar. It made his chances of slipping past silently even more unlikely because he was related to the clan leader and often gossiped about by the clan. He was the 'bad seed' in the family. He was supposed to be an impressive warrior, supporting his sister rather than making things harder for her. Well if she seemed to think he was being difficult right now then she could just wait, he was only getting started. Some way, somehow he had to get revenge for all those moons of pain and suffering he endured as a result of her and the rest of his kin, and was still enduring.

Eventually he recalled some noise coming from her maw. He hadn't exactly been paying attention to her. With a sigh he opened both eyes and glanced at her briefly before staring straight ahead of him and thought of the most negative thing he could manage to say. "No." He replied. However, to his own surprise he was paying attention to what she said next. She was asking him for advice about the clan. Alright then. "Not me, I don't rebuild anything well." He said to her. Did she always have to say so much? She almost made it a challenge for him to say very little where as others just accepted it. When was she going to learn there was nothing left for him.

[steps `]

*slatestar
get off the ledge and drop the knife,
not a victim of a victim's life.

[/i][/color][/center]

His responses were as despondent and cold as ever, frigid and careless like the leafbare that had passed, almost as if the snowed had penetrated deep in his heart and was nowhere near defrosting. The slender she-cat struggled to remain optimistic, and she gave him a little tensed smile and a quiet nod, accepting his words and mulling over them to herself. Was it pathetic that she couldn’t even remember the last time she had seen a smile grace his ash-grey maw? Or the last time she had heard him partake in an actual conversation that lasted more than two sentences? She blamed herself – it was no use blaming the dead – and accepted it gracefully and regretfully. But it was never too late for change, something deep within her seemed to whisper hopefully, perhaps even foolishly, and this small voice seemed to tell her that one day they would be able to speak casually and comfortably to each other. Was she being naive? Perhaps so, but she did not regret feeling that little shred of hope, and clung on to it, like a cat clinging for dear life off the edge of an abyss. And with that, the cream-furred she-cat gave a firm exhale of resolve, periwinkle eyes narrowed with determination and a cool ferocity, falling back into reality.

Slatestar shifted to a laying position beside her brother, her movements swift and elegant, far enough so as to not scare him away – as she had learnt many times before, it was important to maintain a distance with the ever frigid Ashenflight – but as close to that invisible line that separated the two massively different forms, both in colour and personality, as she possibly could. Something in her wanted to shout at him, to force him to speak to her, to be ‘normal’, but she knew it would be futile. He would give her a stare, most likely, and walk away, not bothering. She had tried everything, from anger to pity to sadness, but nothing worked. So she continued as per normal and spoke to him as she would to her brother, masking her despair for their unsalvageable relationship.

“Ashenflight...” The isabelline fur of her pelt seemed to come alive when she gave a little shiver, feeling a strange coldness run down her spine, and she narrowed her pale, cornflower blue eyes, staring with deep concentration at the floor as she exhaled, pausing after breathing his name. “I have a bad feeling... about the coming moons. Something doesn’t seem right. I don’t know if StarClan is trying to tell me something. She shivered again, turning to fix her bright azure orbs upon his own, a glare that for a moment seemed to reveal everything she tried to hide, a flash of pure, uncertain fear, before she glanced away hurriedly, turning her gaze to her paws once again. ”It’s... It’s probably nothing.” The she-cat breathed, her voice hoarse, and she straightened her back, getting to her paws swiftly and averting her gaze from the dark gray tom, a little uncomfortable. ”I’ll arrange a patrol. You can join them. Be... Be careful, brother.” Seemingly distant, Slatestar fought to keep her mind together. She murmured the last words softly, her gaze fixed on her blood kin once again, before she tore it away, giving her fur a shake and finally regaining her composure.

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[cloudy]

f e a t h e r b o n e

there's always a siren
singing you to shipwreck.
(don't reach out, don't reach out)


A twitch of her left ear to flick away a speck, and she was awake. Morning brought a faint breeze to her whiskers and the slight nip to the air caused her fur to rise a touch. Featherbone lifted her head up from her paws and inhaled slightly,drawing in the hints of spring in the atmosphere. The long leaf-bare which had exhausted the land was giving way to the newborn season. She twisted around in her spot, and saw that there were only a couple of flattened spaces in the den which would probably still be warm judging by the freshness of the scents. The earlier she awoke the better for her; time for a hunt before the patrol perhaps, or just a wash if Slatestar was already up and ready. Featherbone loved the routine of patrols, especially the way she could be concentrating on monitoring scents and observing everything on her route and therefore not pushed into too much chat with the other cats. A little she could stand, but her limits were sharp.

Pushing herself to a standing position with her paws still stiff from the night, she briefly shook her shoulders to get rid of the scraps clinging to her pelt then nosed her way out of the den. Many cats she knew would have immediately eyed the diminishing prey heap in the centre of the camp, and so did she, but only to judge whether a hunting patrol should be brought together first. Aware that she was not alone, Featherbone flicked her gaze around her and found her leader, and Ashenflight. Despite not getting involved in useless gossiping, her ears heard it all, everything they said about those two. But it's not my business, unless things start getting ugly. We can't have the leader distracted too much from her duties. But she couldn't detect anything between them, being just out of earshot to their quiet words.

It was not in the tabby's nature to go interrupting family chats but the quicker they started the patrols of the day the more they could get done, such was her logic. She wanted to walk right up to Slatestar but something stopped her.. Perhaps it was the she-cat's expression, or just the fact it seemed like there was tension. Featherbone instead made sure that her leader could see that she was awake, and turned her head to give her flanks a few rough licks, just to flatten some spikes that had formed in the night. As she was doing so, movement in the apprentices' den caught her attention. It looked at first to be a scuffle and her yellow eyes narrowed in slight disapproval, but when the realisation came to her that the two young ones were simply playing, her gaze softened a touch. Not from endearment, but from something else she couldn't put a name to. Those two apprentices were two young she-cats she knew fairly well and from her experience were closer than some siblings..

Thank goodness I'm not a naive young cat anymore. She looked away sharply, but not before gazing a little moment longer. I remember everything I want to forget. Feeling that familiar tendril of memory probe her conscious thoughts, she fixed her eyes on a branch ahead and above her, visualising leaping up to it, feeling the breeze grow in strength and ruffle her whiskers and seeing her Clan's territory spread out beyond her. Her paws itched to be running out on the moor, where she felt the most alive and the least troubled.

[MiNTY♥]

i wanna be pushed aside so let me go
let me take back my life, i'd rather be all alone
anywhere on my own 'cause I can see
the very worst part of you is me

ASHENFLiGHT

To his pleasant surprise that had seemed to quieten his sister down, it was about time anyway since his ears where starting to burn with the mindless chatter. He took this opportunity to rest his white marked chin on his paws and let his green eyes glaze over with boredom. Slatestar seemed to think that she had some sort of reason to be talking to him. Maybe it was the fact that she was the clan leader and that was going to her head but there were times when he began to feel that he should not have to put up with it any longer. It was as though she seemed to think she understood how he felt. Well she could never understand how he felt. Nobody could understand how he felt. He had to force himself to wake up each morning, to take a step out of the den and try and do at least something each day. There was nothing good for him here and there never had been. Starclan had clearly cursed him when he was born, forever destined to be pathetic, never good enough, a friendless mouse-brain. At times he had to take a minute to stop and ask himself why it always seemed to be him? Was it not possible for them to chose someone else to torture, to make their life hell instead of his. Surely they could have picked a stronger cat to play tricks on. There were plenty of strong warriors out there among the clans, or so they seemed to think, why didn't Starclan play some of their cruel mind tricks or prey on them with their heartless misfortunes then maybe they would find out who was really a strong warrior and who was just all talk and no work. It had come to the point where he had accepted that he was a failure.

The large grey cat tensed as he heard his name spoken. Hearing his name pronounced always sent shivers down his spine and his muscles tense readying himself for what was to come. It was a shame since he had been trying his hardest to ignore Slatestar as well. However, the mighty Slatestar wasn't as great as everyone thought she was and things weren't just fine and dandy as she seemed to make the rest of the clan think. How was it possible for her to be the one they all loved and looked up to when he would never lie just to make another feel better, wouldn't they rather hear the truth?! The truth may be cold and bitter at times but at least it was real. After all, it was only the strongest who could deal with the truth so maybe that meant she didn't think very highly of her clan. "Maybe they are trying to tell you to give up." He said to her and focused his gaze on hers for a brief moment rather than staring right through her. He saw her fear but chose to turn his back on it. Maybe if things started going badly for her she would finally understand him since things almost always went well for his perfect sister. It made him sick and at the thought of a patrol he did feel sick. He felt sick with resentment and fury, it filled every inch of his insides and every pore on his surface. Just then Featherbone entered the camp and he closed the space between them with a sharp glare. He knew he wasn't going to enjoy any of this even before it began. "I'm always careful." He added, sarcasm laced thickly with his words.

[steps `]

closed for inactivity. sorry! (: