monsters creep and crawl [longshadow]

[rufio]

Today was not better than the last. And he figured tomorrow would be just as bad. And to think, he had been hoping, only the day before, and the many days before that, that he'd get an easily manipulated apprentice. But he got someone pretentious. Really, it wasn't his place to think that, but he didn't know as much. Enraged, Inkpaw made his way out of the apprentice den. He had had to move there. Again, only yesterday. Right after the ceremony. It had gone completely haywire. He had been expecting one of the younger, stupider warriors to step up and have their name called. But no. Longshadow. He repeated that name, over and over, practically howling it in his head. He let out a sharp snarl, but kept it low. It was early. Early enough that he didn't have to worry about pretending to be all goody two-paws. How he hated pretending to be something he wasn't. Something he despised. He felt the warm prickles of humidity on his skin. It would be a long summer. His first summer, actually. And from what he had heard, being thick-pelted or darkly colored didn't do much for you in the heat. Inkpaw harrumphed, in a rather grumpy fashion. Once more, he tried to keep it relatively quiet, ears swiveling frantically to make sure no one had heard him. He really hated this. Had he already told himself that today? He'd probably remind himself of that fact, over and over, all day. Longshadow. Ugh, it made bile rise up in his mouth. Such a disgusting name. Such a disgusting cat! And a horrible taste in his mouth.

He was almost desperate enough that he'd swallow the dirt beneath his paws. But he had the fresh kill pile. It rested there, right in front of him. He had to make sure that everything from yesterday wasn't too fouled up. This humidity made the fresh kills lose their whole freshness faster than it usually did. If what others said was true. And they usually spoke the truth, amongst themselves. As long as no kits were around, or apprentices, the older warriors pretty much talked openly. And as much as he disliked the elders and the prospect of having to take care of them, you could always get good information, if you worked their addled brains the right way. Which he had learned he could do, very well. Especially with the younger warriors. And the kits and his fellow apprentices. if he just worked them hard enough, he could pretty much get anything he wanted. And he always did. Always.

But now, things would be difficult. Longshadow, his newly appointed mentor... He had heard a lot about him, from the others. Starclan knows how much they gossip. And gossip. And gossip. If any of them were awake, about half of them would be gossiping, right then. He yawned, one of those rare moments where his youth really showed, and not just to hide how he really acted. His mouth grew wide, and he exhaled deeply, tongue curling between his teeth. He let his mouth close, but not before swiping his tongue over his whiskers and fur. He really was hungry. And somewhat tired. He couldn't allow himself to sleep in like the others. And this was one of the rare times, every single day, that he could be himself and no one pestered him with their stupidity.

He stared down at the fresh kill pile once more, sweeping over it once more. And then another time for good measure. He wasn't one for squirrel, too much fur, and not enough meat. That plump bird in the corner looked nice, he decided. And with a swift motion, he had it before him. he clamped it tightly in his jaws, enjoying the feeling of his still-growing canines sinking into the sinnowy flesh. His lips curled back in what one might consider a smile, though it was warped by the bird that rested in his mouth. He curled up in a corner, far away from all the dens, and ate in peace, allowing himself some time to work up plans for the day, and any excuses he'd need afterwards. Maybe he'd bully some of the others. He could try and worm his way out of going out with Longshadow today. He doubted that creepy old fart would want to hang out with him more than he did. In fact, he might even hate the apprentice more than the apprentice hated him! Now that would be a sight to see.

[aero ❥]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #f1f1f1] take the blindfold off wandering in the dead of night knowing every minute is a lie It had been another long night in the fen. Wandering the undergrowth and following the streams that zigzagged their way across the damp earth. His mind had been restless with his nightly routine of configuring what he knew about her, what he had learned that day, and what he wanted to learn in the future. She had been so violent yesterday, short-tempered and loaded with tension she didn't know how to release. A gun cocked and aimed that seemed to be owned by someone a little too trigger-happy. He had studied carefully her body language and how she glanced at the nursery from time to time as she walked through camp. At first he hadn't noted anything strange about the looks she gave the well-protected den, but slowly he was starting to adapt his own explanation. Nearing the the camp entrance, he considered if his speculations were even close to what she really needed, clover eyes chilled and vaguely seeing what was presently around him. All he clearly saw was her face and what he wanted to give her. Ducking his head to shuffle through the main tunnel, he exited into a clearing. In it an extremely large tree that held dens and sleeping cats. What time is it? He looked up at the sky, lengthy neck not having to tilt far. The heavens were fresh with morning, so he could anticipate having a little more time to himself before the hustle of clan life would chase him back out, this time to the grove. He hadn't eaten (Or slept for that matter.) for a full day, and he could feel the effects hunger had on one as gangly as himself. Exhaling, the area around his lips became moist, humidity at work yet again on this fine summer day. "Damned heat." He muttered, long tail lashing irritably. Collecting himself enough, he quietly stalked past the hollowed tree, finding his way to the fresh kill pile that held the victims of a clan-mate. It wasn't like him to eat leftovers, though that was what he always had to pick from. Most days he would either slink around camp and wait for the hunting patrol to leave and return with fresh goods or go out himself - but right now he just wanted to settle and eat his fill of raw meat. Gripping a water vole tightly he raised his head only to spot a tuxedo curled tightly around his own breakfast in a reclusive corner. His clover orbs narrowed slightly at the lonesome sight. Someone else might have felt pity for the solitary apprentice, they might have taken their meal over to him and sat; offering up some friendly conversation. Longshadow honestly didn't give a mouse's tail what the pretentious dirt-bag had playing in his twisted little head - and wasn't going out of his way to find out. If he wanted to sit solely in a damp corner looking like a neglected kit by all means, let him go right ahead. But he couldn't really do that, could he? Yesterday, about sun high Voidstar (Damn you Voidstar, damn you.) had called together the clan for a ceremony. It had been made clear to him then that he was pretty much the only adult feline without an apprentice, the news dreadful and hilariously insulting in their own way. I'm a last resort mentor. That had been his first thought, and his stone expression had gradually curved to sneer as he had thought that one over. The next thought had been this: That means I'm getting this apprentice. Oh. Shit. Honestly, the only good thing about that entire day was him getting to be closer to Dreamfeather as he was summoned to touch noses with the unsightly creature. Only half paying attention to the shorter black and white tom, he could even then tell he was not pleased with his match up. Oh, something in common? How sweet, to know the same dull ache of hatred was felt by the cat you were staring at. Looking at him now, he wasn't sure if - Inkpaw was it? - had noticed him or not. I'll be expected to take him out today. (Dreamfeather will be watching.) A large chunk of him wanted to purposely not take the bratty tuxedo out - then Dreamfeather would be forced to confront him. But she had seemed angry enough as of late, and that alone doomed Inkpaw to a certain hour and a half with the lanky black warrior. A grimace crossed his obsidian face, making the water vole drop the ground with a small, sickening slap. Shaking off the displeasure that mauled his insides, Longshadow gingerly padded closer to the odd young cat. "Get up. We're going out." He said these words cheerlessly and coldly - having a robotic ring to them. It was like having the responsibility of taking out a rotten, foul piece of prey from camp. But in his case he had to carry it around with him. but you still keep wanting more tags: Inkpaw word count: 832 notes: My inspiration for this boy is on FIRE. this template was made by madcap @ caution.

[rufio]

He had not truly been paying attention, entering into his own thoughts. Plotting. Thinking. Enjoying the subtle silence. But, as was his luck, a certain voice he dreaded hearing split through the silence like a well-kept blade through paper. God, even his voice was ugly. Yet, he knew very well, it wasn't directed at him. That for a few more moments he could be normal. Well, if he really thought about it, he could be normal with Longshadow. No one trusted him. No one would listen to him if he went around saying what a horrid cat Inkpaw was. He could act all the more cruel around Longshadow. So long as they weren't around anyone else, he could say what he wanted. Do what he wanted. And his mentor couldn't stop him.. If it got into a fight, Inkpaw was most aware that he would fall first. He was not that strong, despite his rather large appearance. Not yet, that is. He would milk his mentor dry. Take every bit of knowledge he had. And then, if he was feeling up to it, maybe he would end the poor thing's life. Yes, and Longshadow would thank him and thank him as he was doing it. That did sound like such a wonderful plan.

"Damned heat." Mmm, yes, it was very hot. At least his words rang true when he spoke to himself. When he thought no one was there in the early hues of the morning, watching with what one might consider curiosity. He looked up, for a split second, his yellowing eyes gleaming with contempt. But they were gone, those ovals of hatred and rage shot back down to the bird. He had pretty much picked it clean, but he didn't dare move. He couldn't help himself. He savored these last few minutes, almost begging Starclan above for the older cat to take him out. For his mentor to take him out. So he could see the lands that one day he would conquer. And own. Possess and lord over with a cruel paw. He liked that idea even better than the one before. He'd have to put some motions into work about that. That'd take a long time. he'd have to start work on it now, instead of later. That way when he became a warrior he can seal the deal. Wonderful, more work. But it'd be worth it, surely.

"Get up. We're going out." This time, his voice was different. Totally devoid of any emotion. Except maybe hatred. That was there. But that didn't really count as something he could build off of and pester him about... Or was it? He could probably pester him about that.

"Of course, Longshadow!" He bolted up, feigning enthusiasm and excitement. He'd keep that up until they were long gone from anywhere anybody else could find them. He padded up beside his mentor, eyeing him sideways, taking in his physical appearance. Well, he lived up to his name, though it seemed like a backwards and confusing way to go about it. Why not just call him Tallstalker? That fit him pretty well. Though the suffix fit well. If he just slunk into the shadows, he would be gone. Unlike Inkpaw, he was completely blackened. Maybe even to the core. However, his apprentice was unlucky enough to have all these annoying white patches. Which, by the way, he completely abhorred. Made it harder to disappear into the night. He'd have to work on that, too.

[aero ❥]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #f1f1f1] take the blindfold off wandering in the dead of night knowing every minute is a lie The lofty warrior gazed down at the apprentice with sickening reproach, cold clover eyes gauging him mercilessly. He doesn't deserve mercy. He hadn't done anything in this life, he hadn't accomplished any great feat. He had barely left this camp. Longshadow wasn't dense, he could distinguish the innocent from the corrupt. He could make these calls because he was once judged the same way. But maybe he was wrong - maybe Inkpaw was just bizarre and showed the seldom signs of a spoiled inside. The dark tom frankly didn't care what was up with him, just as long as they kept out of each others ways when they could. Evaluating the tuxedo's physical attributes, he noted a few things. He had a sound build, muscles looking sturdy and promising. His legs were lengthy, possibly gawky and uncoordinated in battle. Fighting with stilts could be a challenge if you didn't know your body well. In Longshadow's case, some moves had to be recreated to his personal needs. Banishing the thoughts of training that had somehow materialized from realizations about the apprentice, he refocused and dismissed the cat's sideways glance. Long strides towards the entrance, he took no time in hesitating for the young cat. "I'll show you the territory and then I'll test you on scents." He meowed as he ducked under the foliage he proved to be too tall to avoid. "If we get that far," He never got tired of talking in this cold, robotic tone. "Then maybe I'll teach you how to track." He wasn't keen on any of these plans, of course. The time taken to show the smaller tom around the territory could be him enjoying a long, solitary meal. The span used to test his scenting capabilities would usually be the minutes he observed Dreamfeather for the first time that day, occasionally she would look over at him, maybe feeling his intent stare. The feeling of someone watching you was an odd ability to have, and he wondered what alerted the mind to it. A little after sun-high (When the pair would be tracking, if they made it that far.) would consist of him hunting or roaming the grove. Possibly tracing the shore. That was his routine for those times of day. Evening (Which he expected to still have to himself.) he came back to camp if only to watch her again. Once the sun fell beyond sight, he would leave for the last time until dawn to saunter the grove or fen. It was a very lifeless, dull cycle he seemed to enjoy. Emerging into the undergrowth, Longshadow felt a new burst of humidity. Camp provided shade, and here with the dapples of sunlight on the spongy earth he couldn't remember why felines liked summer. Each breath was a struggle, and he found in-taking air an inconvenience to his survival needs. Personally, leaf-bare was his favorite season. True he didn't blend in well among snow, the chill of the air electrified something in him. In his crooked mind he revered the struggles winter brought with it - the hunger and illness. The tense moods and sadness. It was his atmosphere, his game when the world as they knew it was engulfed in white. As his heart lusted for the sullen weather, his mind manufactured a plan as to where in Tempestclan land they would go first. The fen made up a large part of their territory, and was the most common place for their clan to be found. The fen. The yellowed marsh-like place wasn't far, it would take well under five minutes to get there running. Without further adieu the black warrior took off, sheer speed from his long legs sending him rocketing toward his destination. Maybe he wasn't the strongest, but he was certainly fast. Inkpaw had the potential, one day the calculating apprentice might be as fast or faster, if Longshadow mentored him correctly. Honestly he loathed the inexperienced cat, and wanted nothing to do with him, but no doubt some clan-member would be paying attention to his mentoring. (Doubting his abilities no doubt.) If they saw he wasn't doing as he was supposed to, surely they would take it to Dreamfeather or Voidstar himself. A smirk threatened his stone expression at the thought of Dreamfeather forced to deal with him, it was almost as appealing as her dealing with him willingly. And Voidstar, well, get would try to give Longshadow as much vinegar to swallow as possible. So Longshadow would mentor the cat - but spend no more time than necessary doing so. but you still keep wanting more tags: Inkpaw word count: 760 notes: none this template was made by madcap @ caution.