.:pulled down the depths:. open

[{ { vitanni ♥ } }]

As he spoke, in her senses his voice had fallen into the rhythmical thrumming at once, as he had previously. In her ears, Lashpaw's voice seemed to possess that quality of maintaining a certain pace, now but a subtle hymn amid the myriad of echoes coursing throughout the woodland, whirling through the terrain. It wouldn't be long before the refreshing assembly of her snarled hide & the cleansing of filth would come to a close, it was only a matter of moments to be restored to her former glory. Lush ivory cascades, and her sleek frame in liberty of murk of any specimen. Her orbs glimmered in radiance as the alabaster of her hide mirrored luminosity into her gaze. How lovely it was to be beautiful again, she thought to herself, the concept deluged in the thickness of her own vanity. It was narcissism, she knew, but what's the use in life if you don't love yourself? She gazed at herself in the lucid pool she had looked upon before the grooming, her throat nearly rumbling with a purr of satisfaction.

She registered Lashpaw's words faintly, acknowledging him with the casual swiveling of the ears, or a sideways glance hurled into his direction. Now masking her slight hostility, now inevitable, although well hidden into traces of curiosity & bewilderment. Then there came this one vocal which tore down her vigilance into a still focus. Lashpaw called it "clan." At once, her ever-fluttering voids flitted swiftly into a firm observation, taking in his words fiercely, analyzing each and every bit down to the core. She was interested. This happened when she was interested.

So this boy resided in a mass tribe consisting of a variety of felines, more or less depending on each
other to surive. How hopeless. She nearly crinkled her nose in disgust. Although what's worse would be that this tom seemed oddly in pride of his state of life, as if it were something worthy of another's unwavering reverence. Again, distaste flickered by. "I do believe myself it's best to dwell alone, and alone it is. You are free, you are, only to care for yourself and none else. You can, dear never depend on anyone, but yourself, you are the one who knows what's best for you, and, well you never know what's going to come up and slash you down the back."

Her tail swayed with the pulsing flow of her speech, quietly, intently. "I do suppose you have a superior, one who rules." After all, without one, there'd be nothing but anarchy. "It's dictatorship, and you evidently must believe in his every decision. It's simply not right, we weren't made to live in groups. But after all, as you've been born there, it means everything they do seems right in your eyes, it's the way of life you've been taught, therefore it's difficult for you to change." As she concluded her brief speech, she met his gaze, and she knew she'd pushed the boundaries.

Avalanche bounded to a standstill, rising from her serenity on the dew-flooded earth. She wouldn't dwell here for much longer, there was no need; but she'd allow him yet another period of speech, the opportunity to counter strike her opinions, as in a debate.

-- I finally got a decent source of muse c: {& a decent format}
Avalanche is going all political about her speech...dictatorship...debate..freedom xD

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[Dusk]

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[atrb=background,http://i339.photobucket.com/albums/n480/Shardclaw/lashpawbody-1.jpg] just watch and maybe even learn "Sure you understand me enough?"

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Sometimes simply thinking is better.

Maybe it was a pride-based habit, maybe it was instinct; something ingrained into all loners to clean themselves as soon as they could because looking bloody and beaten might be perceived as weakness by threatening cats. Maybe the feeling of grime clotting one's claws and pores was simply to much to bear. Maybe... maybe Lashpaw was spending far too much time over analyzing a single, insignificant facet of the she-cat. Truly, it was on the mad side, eyeing the white pelted stranger as she worked to clean the remaining signs of her journeying and hardships from her loner lean physique, pink tongue chasing away the story embedded into her fur. No, he wasn't over analyzing - observe all the details, drink in everything for every mark holds a story of its own - only he might be emphasizing upon this at the wrong moment in time. Sitting in the middle of a rained out pine forest, a collection of wadded up moss long forgotten lying nearby where he'd abandoned it, just having an not-so-everyday chat with a rogue on the strengths and weaknesses of various lifestyles. Oh yes, this was situated at the best time, when a clanmate might saunter in and find him, report his failure to his duties to Pyrestar, or worse - he suppressed a chilling shudder - to his mentor.

Poorly timed though this whole charade was, Lashpaw found he couldn't tear himself away. This newcomer was.. fascinating, he had no other way to put it. Obviously he'd never spoken with a rogue, at least not more than a few harsh warnings in a patrol at which point they proceeded to attack until the invader was gone. Were all loners so interesting? If they were, well he might find himself breaking the warrior code more often for a simple chat with one. Then again, Avalanche may have simply been a unique case, and most solitary felines out in the wilds simpletons hardly better than kittypets. A cynical view, perhaps, but why get his hopes up to high? Watching carefully, he could see the faint disdain registering in her face as he spoke of Vertigoclan, a mild shock even. 'Why did I ever expect such a wretched creature to understand the strengths of living together?' He gave an inward groan.

"It's not as though we're incapable as individuals,"[/b] the tom hardly thought before the meow had flown from his tongue, so great was his need to leap to the defense of the clan structure. "We are, each of us, given the skills to survive on our own. We each learn to battle, to hunt, and then we increase are strength by standing together, rather than divided. Those frail with age live to pass on wisdom to younger generations."[/b] Well, he never thought he'd be using Elders as an excuse for something positive, but their were a lot of things Lashpaw thought he'd never do that he'd done now in a single day. As he spoke the apprentice felt a small thrill run through. A good strong debate, that was something he'd missed for a very long time.

His indignation settled, fell from a full on boil to a simmer, and he trailed of for a moment, humming thoughtfully. "I suppose there's always the propensity for a tyrant to rise,"[/b] he conceded quietly, eyes lowering to stare down at dark, soil-stained paws. His head snapped up sharply and he met her clear gaze. "Although we're not blind loons to be shoved about. We take our own intitiative, otherwise you and I wouldn't be seated here having this conversation. And anyways, who're are you to say what one is too blind to see and isn't? I could day largely the same about you, that being a loner for the whole of your existence biases you. This is the only way you see things."[/b]

words;; 620 | notes;; | tagged: avalanche
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