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Post by origami on Apr 2, 2011 15:12:47 GMT -5
i took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart: i am, i am, i am. gently did he watch the world fade, not of scope nor sight, but of age. summer whittled itself away, along with its whining cicadas and rushes of summer breath that would make children think of lemonade. but the lilt of summer's buoyancy slowed, becoming rustic and of the finest bucolic shades. young, his heart still fell heavy against his chest, for this would be his first leaf fall. and it was a spectacle to be breathed in, sought for, and embraced. so quickly were the trees, oak, maple, even the firs matured, to be apt to shed their clothes. like fine maidens, tall and lithe with prominent limbs, they shed their summer wear, bathing themselves in burgundies and golds. o, the scene held itself regal. the thud of his heart echoed against cage, the world beginning to look like golden wine. gone was youth nostalgia of summer and into vintage savor it slipped, ( and they would soon be lost in a forgiving, forgetful winter. ) the flowers would die, something that made his heart ache, nearly weep! to see such youthful splendor so quickly, much more quietly, wilt. ( would he go the same? ) he was never a beauty.
thrusting his chest through the barrier, unto where the sea of turning grass, aging and becoming amber stalks of wheaten shades, he threw himself into the scene. the sky was cutting and bright, the sun an assertive strawberry blonde this afternoon, as it glowered upon the meadow. his amber eyes gazed up at the cotton clouds that dispersed themselves, the wind waving him as though he was an orphan that jumped in the sea. the field tossed its head, some maiden's mane, at his chest. it seemed to wish to swallow him, take him whole, spread him from earth to earth and underground. ( he was a relic for preserving. ) and he could only feel miniscule, like a moonbeam that failed to reflect, and left flat. ( he was just a life size paper doll ). he was only kept alive by means of his own dreams, and by his anchor of others.
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Post by rainstorm on Apr 2, 2011 15:59:03 GMT -5
He watched the young cat through his icy blue eyes. His silver fur stood out against the Riverclan territory, yet he didn't mind. He was hiding under a gorse bush, so it was clear the other tom couldn't see him. He dug his claws into the ground, narrowing his sharp eyes as he watched this cat relax a bit. Wow, was this cat mouse brained! There could be dangers around every corner!
He slipped out of the gorse bush as the wind rustled. He was smart, he wouldn't have left the bush without the wind, as it would have made too much noise. His broad shoulders tensed a little. Then he was flying through the air, heading straight towards the smaller cat. It was clear this young tom was an apprentice, anybody could tell by how small he was. He could easily pin this cat down and cover his maw, so he wouldn't make a sound. And that is exactly what he planned to do.
This tiny apprentice wouldn't even know what had happened until it was too late. And by too late, he meant this cat was going to have his mouth covered so he couldn't make a sound. This large silver tabby didn't want a fight, he just wanted to talk. And this would be an interesting way to talk to him. Who was this large silver cat? His name was Rainstorm.
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Post by origami on Apr 2, 2011 18:16:07 GMT -5
i didn’t want any flowers, i only wanted to lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. the wind rustled, like a thousand thoughts that were all raining down at once, funneled through into a serpentine air. hissing by his ear, it was not a wicked thing, but it was free. ( i suppose many thing free things are wicked, and the vice versa ) for there was always an opposition, to something, be it love, be it hate. ( the peace maker always hated the anarchist. ) and they would embrace each other, in their futility. with a soaring breath, he filled himself with the summer longings of his youth, only to release it out once more into autumnal world of the dream heavy leaves and the stiffening, hibernating trees. he liked others, and could not protest to the ideal, but it was easy to say ( he would be anchorless and free without them. ) he would stand and proclaim: i am anchorless, vast and free! but he knew, that he would never be able to forgot others.
another gust stirred his fur like summer skirts, now lengthening to fall, like the vertical slop of the leaves. sloshing, crinkling, welling about your knees. this relic, he should be more guarded, but it was difficult to judge ( who takes precedence over whom. ) and he was just an apprentice after all, bloom of his youth, ( he would refuse to drink from such a fountain though. ) it was then that the towering tom aimed to leap, but the meadow ( like any good friend ) warned him with their brittle swaying, and thus he dodged the pinning and simply whirled and stared. his honey soaked amber eyes reflected near friendliness, welcome, and disregarded the potentially violent portions of this possible death. because, ( and freud love him ) he saw the iceberg under anything. ( he soaked up the subconscious ) and pardoned for it. with a breath, before he was certainly to be assaulted once more? perhaps, he sweetly, like dew tasting words and a cherubine voice, he breathed: hello there , you are ? taking light steps, planning to dodge the tom who was of greater size but decreased agility.
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Post by rainstorm on Apr 2, 2011 18:53:52 GMT -5
He landed gracefully where the young tom use to be. His large paws sent dust up into the air. Standing straight up, his icy blue eyes landed on the young tom. His ears flicked at the question. "I'm Rainstorm, a loner who was once a clan cat, such as yourself. You should be more guarded, young'n," he mewed, his tail lashing a bit. He dug his claws into the ground a bit.
"Who are you?" he asked, baring his teeth a bit. This Riverclan apprentice was so arrogant. He didn't know what danger was. It was clear Riverclan didn't know how to train their warriors how to guard themselves. Well that was good for him. He would have to report that to the leader of the assassins later. He snorted a little.
"Who is your mentor?" he asked, sitting down. He wrapped his tail around his large paws.
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Post by origami on Apr 2, 2011 19:34:57 GMT -5
there ought, i thought, to be a ritual for being born twice--patched, retreaded and approved for the road the breeze continued its own conversation, amidst their ankles, like the brine swirls in the sea. into his large, gaping eyes and heaving figure made so intimidating compared to his unmasculine petiteness, he looked. the tom flourished a few words, even giving a history. there were many questions, left like unfortunately muted ghosts, hanging in the breeze of humid ice tea afternoons. quietly, he knew it was impolite to pry, and he left the history to die, ( which he felt was more of an art more than a damning. ) quietly, his ears flicked to the shame, his whimsy quickly chaste against the experience of his elder. i do know such wisdom , but if we leave ourselves not open , what thoughts , dreams , can we ever let permeate ? it was not a calling to arms, nor fighting words, nor even arrogance, but suggestion, wonderment, and asking to have a calm conversation.
thrushpaw , i find it nice to meet you , he nodded, flourishing even a gentlemanly bow. speckledwren is my mentor , sir , but i must say , you do not smell of this clan, he paused. but i suppose that should not interrupt our conversation , why were you trying to tackle me , exactly ? he questioned, flicking his head to the few paces away to where rainstorm had leaped just moments before.
o o c : all the beginning quotes are from sylvia plath's the bell jar.
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Post by rainstorm on Apr 8, 2011 15:06:45 GMT -5
A snort came from the large tabby tom as he stated something. "You aren't supposed to be open to those things. You are here to protect your clan. Riverclan really have some mouse-brained apprentices," he growled, digging his thorn sharp claws into the soft ground. His blue eyes narrowed as the smaller tom continued to introduce himself. He flicked his tail. "I am a loner. I use to be from Shadowclan," he added, his voice filled with annoyance and hostility.
He looked around. "I wanted to see what Speckledwren had showed you. You are fast, but your brain is full of bees," he snarled, tail lashing. He bunched up his muscles again, ready for another leap. He sprang and took a flying leap at the smaller tom cat. He landed right in front of the apprentice and faked a swipe to the left. He used his paws to hit at Thrushpaw's front paws to knock him to the ground.
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Post by origami on Apr 8, 2011 20:31:28 GMT -5
i felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullaballoo. o, his head tilted like the breeze and his heart babbled like oak trees ( for they too stir rumbling melodies. ) for brooks, they merely trickle and ring, like thousands of nymphs trying to sing. ( all running together like watercolors. ) YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE OPEN TO THOSE THINGS, like the first drop of water in his barrel bucket heart. ( it made him shudder ) like a fleet of birch trees. his lips fumbled for some reply, until he realized that ignorance was an infallible disease. ( quietly he wished this rogue well, the way he would be missing things. ) like the lonely jigsaw missing those dead center pieces. " there is more, " he breathed. " we are not born guards. did not you not leave your clan to find yourself? or was it to guard yourself ? "
o, a brain full of bees? ( they made the most lovely humming ) and certainly the sweetest honey, for he was a temperate tom with a whimsical mind, ( it seemed to be suitable that he be made a hive ) and he would not change it. " i would love to oblige , " he nodded his head quickly, hoping to preserve his own honor and most of all, speckledwren's. his defenses quickly were spurred into place, like a horse nudged by the boots, with his ears flicking back and hunching his shoulders to protect his neck as soon as he saw rainshadow thunderously land before him. the false swing made him flinch and attempt to spring forward, claws outstretched as he swiped towards his shoulders, chest, and neck. of course, his legs were laced with minor scratches from catching the last portion of rainshadow's swing at his paws. ( but it did not force him to trip. ) for he was quick as jack nimble. whether or not he had made contact, he potential ripped his claws from flesh and sprung backwards, angled to the right. ( rainshadow's left. ) his stomach churned pretty thoughts dosed with adrenaline and determination.
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Post by rainstorm on Apr 9, 2011 8:26:38 GMT -5
Rainstorm had hit his target, yet he hadn't tripped him. It didn't matter, he still scored a few claw marks across the apprentice's front legs. He blinked and noticed the younger tom retaliate. He ducked just in time to save his neck and chest, yet it had caught his ear, putting a V-shaped cut in it. He hissed at the tom as he sprung backwards. His felt a little blood trickle down his ear, but he ignored the small sting. "I didn't leave to find myself. I was chased out," he growled, circling the younger tom.
"You're quick, I'll give you that," he added, his blue eyes filling with anger and amusement. He knew Tigerstar had told the other clan leaders to watch out for him on their territory. He also knew the clan leaders had passed on the messages to their clans. He wasn't welcome in the forest, but that still didn't stop him. He would find more cats to join the assassins. He would have to find the younger warriors and the apprentices and try and convince them. He would even steal kits and train them himself.
His tail curled at the thought of getting more cats. The leader of the assassins had promised him a good place in the 'gang' if he had gotten plenty of cats to join them. He would be command over the training. He would make sure the cats would get good training so they can be powerful toms, as he wouldn't train she-cats. They were too soft hearted, so they would be there to help with the kits and give them new warriors. He blinked, deciding to concentrate on the fight instead of on what lays ahead.
((I was rambling. Haha. I wanted to show my evil plans. *evil cackle*))
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