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Post by aero ❥ on Nov 27, 2011 16:07:50 GMT -5
the only one that I have ever known, don't know where it goes
the difference between the truth and a lie
is the same difference between you and i
you know the truth and i live the lie
It was cold. The breeze carried swirls of snow, white flakes dancing over the blanketed earth. The ancient pines shot up towards the grey Nimbostratus clouds that brewed threateningly overhead. Cloaked in frozen ice like everything else, the trees gave little protection. Vertigoclan's territory wasn't all that warm anyway, but when you're tired and hungry, the dark tom guessed things just got to you. He wasn't all that far from camp; in fact he could see it in the short distance. It too was white.
did you ever consider i'd end up just like you
telling the lies and knowing the truth
Crowpaw wasn't sure why he was out here, or where he planned to go from this lonely spot. He'd felt particularly desolate within the last moon or so. Yet another group of apprentices had moved up in the ranks to become warriors, and here he was, a grown tom still sleeping in the apprentice's den. It was degrading and embarrassing, frankly he felt cheated. Lynxstar had kept him back the first time, and with all of the fighting for leader between Pyrestar and Lilythorn, no one had really paid much attention to his situation. Wraithlight, one of his only friends, had even moved on. The anger all of this caused him was immeasurable. Sitting by himself in the leaf-bare snow he shook with rage, his stone green eyes narrowed and deadly. By now he had learned life wasn't fair, but no one could control life. So that was justifiable. Someone could control his rank, therefore this was the true definition of unfairness. Was he wining? A little. Who wouldn't be at this point. And oh, his father (Whoever he was.) must be so glad he never stepped forward to claim his kit. What father would want their son of warrior age to still be an apprentice? Who could be proud of that? Crowpaw spat into the frostbitten bushes beside him. His father, if he was ashamed of his kin, could go get his nose stuck in a hive.
Maybe it was the unknown tom's fault his offspring had no true life as a clan cat, maybe it was his fault that he didn't have the drive to bother his mentor for training he couldn't give himself, maybe, maybe, maybe; the word replayed through his mind like a broken record. Finally he gave up on blaming and sat quietly, dragging his paw to make lines through the snow. He was a full grown adult, maybe not a warrior but he was an adult. He had to let go of childish ways and do things for himself. Find his own answers. The world was big, and even if he had to walk it alone, that shouldn't stop him from seeing it any differently. He looked back up at the grey sky. If only he knew who he was.
oh i blame you
i blame you for everything you do
Oh I'm on fire.
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Post by Dawn on Dec 7, 2011 21:28:14 GMT -5
Can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time? Two and a half moons had come to pass since Pyrethroat had become leader of Vertigoclan. In that time, a considerable amount of things had happened. Almost too many to comprehend at once... For moons, a terrible sickness had seized hold of the clans and refused to let go. This was the same thing that took their noble leader, Lynxstar; and the reason Vertigoclan would come to see her replaced with the verdant eyed female, Pyrestar. That wasn't all, of course, that had happened. A Tempestclan warrior had murdered a Celestialclan warrior in cold blood over a border scuffle; and paid the price steeply in a battle between the two clans. There had been no clear winner, but he had heard his cousin, Silvertalon, speak of how disgraced he'd heard Tempestclan and Voidstar both had come out. Serves them right, anyway. The battle was their fault. Still, the plague had come and gone. Battles had passed, and peace now reigned... for a short time. Under the calico beauty's rule, Jetfang doubted highly that peace would last. True, she was a good leader, a strong leader. But the pains fighting could bring didn't seem to be foremost on her mind. The sting of wounds, and the mournful cries of clanmates burying their kin... perhaps they were not easily visualized by such a young leader. True, Pyrestar was about the same age as Jetfang, probably a bit older. But Lynxstar had been far more aged, far more experienced... And she would have wanted Lilythorn as leader, for another thing.
While Lynxstar had led the clan, another female had served under her. He didn't want to rush visualizing this cat in his mind, for several reasons. Firstly, it brought him a rush of fresh pain; but secondly, her beauty required a bit more thought, and perhaps entailed far more longing, than one would've expected. Lilythorn. Her pelt was a mixture of hues, none running pure... cream, orange, even white in places. She was faintly striped, but her winter coat did a good job of hiding most markings. And then... her eyes. They were the color of ice, but several times in his life, he had seen those cool gems thaw... with love? He still didn't know. What he did know, was that they had hardly spoken at all in the past few moons. Ever since she'd been cheated of her nine lives, and her title as Lilystar. Jetfang had thought... no, hoped, desperately and with all of his heart, that this would change things. The time of dire need had passed, and since she remained a deputy, they could still... surely, they could--? Jetfang pressed his head against the ground, forehead pushing flat and hard against the bare, cold earth. He was so sick and tired of thinking. When he was stricken with the plague, holed up in a nest, he had plenty of time to think... and to rot. Now, he couldn't stand to hear his thoughts anymore, or to remember all of the words she had said, all of the things they had shared. It had to be nothing to him now- and if it wasn't, he had to pretend like it was. She has duties that I'll never be able to share. Feeling just as much cheated as the deputy, the black and white tom rose from his nest and headed out into the pine clearing.
With leafbare, he had become even thinner, perhaps because it was so hard to bounce back from the sickness. Still, he had begun to fill out a little, and even though he was hurting inside, Jetfang carried himself with pride. He would never burden someone else with his problems, his stupid little worries and his overthinking. It was hard enough to carry it on his own shoulders; he couldn't worry about sharing it with another. So, he gave an irritated shake, and fluffed out his fur. It had grown in twice as thick because of the cold season, and his mismatched gaze hadn't lost its brilliantly warm light yet, either; hadn't lost the glint that told others silently, things will get better. And so, he hoped, they would. Glancing at the edge of the camp, his eyes skimmed the snowy base of a thick pine where his nest had been when he was ill. Wincing, he tried not to remember what Lilythorn had last said to him, when they stood there together, hopeless. If I die, I want to be next to you. But she hadn't died, she hadn't... Shaking free, Jetfang spun away from the spot, and only then did his eyes flicker, light, upon something even farther away. Something in the thick pines, a dark pelt much like his own. It could have been anyone in the clan with a black coloring to their fur. There were several young cats that looked that way. But somehow, he thought the slump to the figure was familiar. Perhaps because it reminded him so much, instantly, of another cat... Or, perhaps, simply, because it was Crowpaw.
Before he had any more utterly depressing, pointless thoughts, he turned his back on the clearing and headed off in the direction of the young tom. Everywhere, it was boundless white. In went his black paws, and out they came, every single one splashed with ebony. It was chilly, but he was making progress, so he didn't stop. It was just a feeling that he had... that something was wrong. When Jetfang was close enough to see that it was, indeed, Crowpaw, he called out a greeting. "Hey, Crow!" It didn't seem right, speaking the apprentice name out loud. After all, the black tom was approaching full size rapidly, and was by far the oldest 'paw in the clan. Just like everyone else, he's been cheated too. He couldn't pretend he didn't have at least some guess as to what was wrong, or what could be wrong. Instead of asking, he settled close beside the smaller tom, and curled his tail about his paws. Jetfang fixed his amber and blue eyes on Crowpaw for a moment, then looked off toward camp. "Want to talk about it?"
WORD COUNT: 1025 TAGGED: Crowpaw (aero) NOTES: <3 Longer than I was expecting. Once I fell into his character again, it was easy to just keep writing with him. I forgot how much I missed/loved Jetfang.
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