bathing in my glory** OPEN?!

[lily ♫]

orioleflash**
ridicule me and i'll spurn you for all eternity

Oh, she was a fine little she-cat, wasn't she? As the minuet ZephyrClan femme coaxed her lithe body into the dazzlingly chilled water of the lake, she began to hum a bird's song in her throat. The water lapped at her paws, and as she dipped them further into the water, she shivered with delight. Though the springtime air still had the sharpness of winter hanging in it, Orioleflash enjoyed herself time and time again at the beautiful banks of the body of water. Sunshine sparkled down onto it and glittered in the reflections of the pretty calico's surroundings. Everything that was mirrored had the most gorgeous of all tints about it; a hue close to that of a luscious aquamarine. Shutting her eyes for a short moment as the gentle current that all lakes have tickled at the very edges of her underbelly, the she-cat took a breath and hopped forward. Even with her short size, Orioleflash's paws hit the bottom surface in seconds, and her saffron eyes and ginger-splashed face were back above the water in seconds. Laughter spilled from her split maw as she pulled herself back out and onto the banks.

Driftwood and various shattered rocks peeked up and out of the water, and Orioleflash quickly made her way out to one of the large rocks that jutted out at a nice angle for sunning. Her accurate hops landed her nimbly on her soft-padded paws, and there she sat, undisturbed aside from the occasional 'flop' as a fish came up to say hello to the predator. Like most of the cats in her Clan, Orioleflash didn't enjoy the scaley texture that fish had inside her mouth. Instead, one of her favorite bits of Clan cuisine was that of the rare muskrat, which hardly seemed to show its face until the warmth of greenleaf had come. Sighing wistfully to herself, the she-cat leaned down and rested her head onto her white spattered front paws and began to let herself bask in the weak rays. Before she knew it, a slight snore was escaping her graceful bodice, and the ZephyrClan she-cat was vulnerable to taunting, teasing, and ambush.

[steps `]

aspenstrike
love,
you are foolish.

[/font][/color]

The magnificent Aspenstrike strolled about the forest, his eyes peacefully and calmly half-lidded to reveal, almost demurely, two bright slits of golden amber that gazed absentmindedly at his leafy surroundings. The emerald leaves of the pine trees above let a sparse drizzle of weak sunlight splatter upon the loamy ground, painting the dense, musty soil with glowing splotches of pallid sienna and gently splashing shifting patterns across his sabre-hued back. His bone-white chest was puffed and preened as always, protruded outwards – of course, not in an obscene and unpleasing manner – in a gentlemanly and dapper manner and his head inclined just slightly upwards in what he thought to be comely and carelessly elegant. The stream murmured quietly ahead of him, calling him with its quiet mumble and beckoning him with the thoughts of cool, running water to ease his soft paw pads. Birds twittered quietly above him and he momentarily was lost in the majesty that was life – how great it was to be alive in such wonderful conditions! – and a short, sharp laugh escaped his muzzle, his glittering eyes bright with vitality and vigor. Filled with a rush of energy, the dark-furred warrior bounded forward, pushing gracefully and carelessly through a break in the foliage to come in sight of the rushing water.

The tom took a deep breath of the clean, fresh air, but was suddenly confused at the strange scent of another body within the area. Cocking his head to the side in thought, his muscles clenched, muscular frame immediately tensed, before he caught sight of the petite calico she-cat, basking silently in the sun’s rays. He had never in his life seen such a beautiful creature – well, other than the time he caught a glimpse of himself in a glass-like puddle after a heavy rain – and a small gasp escaped his muzzle, eyes taking in the dazzling spectacle. It was not as if he had never seen the pretty she-cat before – During breaks of admiring his own wondrously beautiful fur, he had seen her around camp, but never took much notice – but here, her fur lit by the weak sun’s rays, it was an image that might even possible have a chance to compete with his own handsomeness.

Or not. Aspenstrike padded cautiously forward, noting her still form with a growing horror. Was she-? Her fur was damp, and she lay as if she had been washed up by the river, having drowned in its merciless depths. Eyes widening with urgency, he felt a great melancholy wash over him, like a thrashing wave over the buff sand, and he resisted the urge to shout to StarClan of how they could take away such a young creature, at the top of her prime, from the clan. Quietly saying a prayer for the passed she-cat, he proceeded to gently cover her slender frame with the loamy soil, wanting to give her a good burial before he announced her death to the clan.