Arrogance Down to a Science

[Mama Oak]

frosttalon, the sleaze
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Y O U ’ R E x N O T x T H E x F I R S T x A N D x Y O U ’ R E x N O T x T H E
L A S T , x B U T x Y O U ’ R E x P O S S I B L Y x T H E x P R E T T I E S T

It wasn’t how he had wanted it to end, really, it wasn’t. Frosttalon despised the sound of tears, but not for the right reasons; not for the reasons any conscience-ridden feline would. He didn’t run from the sound of hysterical sobs because they were the toneless symphonies of broken heart strings, but moreso because they just sounded dreadful! Blubbering madness and hitched breathing — it sliced right through his mind with sharpened talons of migraine-inducing ailment. Far too much trouble for him to stick around. So he had run from the streams of salty agony, and fled from the clingy she-cat whose eyes bore such insufferable rivers. Honestly, the RiverClan tom couldn’t wrap his mind around it — why couldn’t Lichenfrost, in all her gorgeous beauty, simply understand? Just as the toys of senseless kittypets eventually got battered and broken and the pampered felines began favoring other devices of entertainment, it was only a matter of time before Frosttalon’s infatuations for a single she-cat would wane and he’d detach himself to find another plaything. How could she not know that? How could she possibly stare into his lust-filled orbs of pale cerulean and convince herself she saw a love with the capability of endurance? Surely, if she wasn’t up for the fast-paced, passion-driven fun his relationships entailed, she would have been warded off by the multiple warnings and moaning of past lovers he’d already touched, already conquered, and already disposed of.

But then again, Frosttalon couldn’t blame her for testing his waters. She would have missed out if she had not, as he was certain his past lovers also stressed. It was a vicious cycle of baited love and glorious freedom; a game that he played well. Lichenfrost had simply gotten attached, and this time around the gameboard, the loser hadn’t the best sportsmanship. For all the losers and players of the past, some hated Frosttalon, some dared to continue loving him, some trailed him in hopes of rekindling past flames, but all — that were, of course, willing — were still friends to him. She-cats were toys at his disposal; simple, spineless things to be captivated by his devilish appearance, to fall at the paws of his wicked charisma. There were those who subjected themselves to his unlasting passions happily, prepared to hungrily absorb his affections while they lasted, but those just never seemed quite the challenge. Then there were those who immersed themselves too fondly in the game, deluding themselves to the rationality of pre-disclosed rules. Frosttalon found those endings much too messy, as it usually took moons for wounds to heal and friendships to, inevitably, return. And then finally, there were those select felines who wanted nothing to do with him — those were the best. Actual challenges! She-cats he was required to gradually chip away at, the ones who in-fact had a spine and were unaffected (seemingly of course) by his smooth-talking and clever innuendos. These felines walked an entire new level of difficulty. They blazed their own paths of intrigue and lust; trails that Frosttalon found his paws, when placed upon them, tingling with treading anticipation. The harder he had to fight, the higher he had to climb, the more he would love his prize.

Frosttalon sprinted along the pebbly shore, the weeping Lichenfrost an entire lifetime away. A light chuckle slipped warmly between his teeth as his light steps sunk slightly into the small, shifting rocks with each step. Golden sunlight gleamed from his sleek pelt, the color of freshly-fallen snow, and sent prickles of warmth pooling beneath his coat. Stopping and turning to gaze out across the lake’s surface, a crooked grin tugged across his muzzle as he swiftly slipped his body into the deep bow of a satisfying stretch. So many wonders warmth encased. The blushing of heat beneath the fur of an innocent she-cat as his tongue met their cheek for the very first time; the heated touch of a pink pawpad as he placed it to a she-cat’s chest, reassuring her that he felt the beating of her heart; the fervid hush of his breath as he whispered into their ears, honey-laced overtures of desire and lust. These thoughts of warmth coaxed a pleasant purr from the chasms of Frosttalon’s chest as he walked his forelegs in front of him, bending his lithe body until it complied with a sigh-inducing pop.

As he pulled himself back into an upright position, Frosttalon’s icy gaze was finally drawn to another feline stretched out further along the shore. It appeared he had disrupted the fellow RiverClanner’s solitude. A smirk threatened to pull across the warrior’s white-colored maw. Disrupted, or... enriched?

With fluid steps of measured pace and practiced gait, Frosttalon continued padded, in a manner that expressed he was in no particular hurry, along the water’s lapping edge. His broad tail swished through the air behind him, in sync with the subtle swaying of his slender body. He paused a few fox-lengths away from his clanmate and fixed her with his cool, calculating gaze — unashamedly quite observing. Blinking slowly, the smile broadened as the RiverClan tom dipped his head in a mandatory greeting of conveyed respect. "Fancy finding you here,” he mewed quietly, his voice shattering the silence — previously only occupied by the gentle lull of the water — with each syllable, though they were soft-spoken and hushed. "I was beginning to get lonely.”


// Tom or she-cat, warrior or apprentice, Frosttalon will have his fun.

[Waffu-Waffu]

Lakesong

Lakesong was a watchful cat, always looking out after those in the clan that could possibly need his guidance or assistance, and one way or another, he always knew what was going on with who. The apathetic cat watched from his perch on the slippery branches that spanned across the sky of the Riverclan territory as a familiar tom broke the heart of another young she-cat. He had done it countless amounts of time before, and each time, he felt a twinge of pity for the female that was left behind like a broken plaything on the beach of their territory in his otherwise uncaring heart. It was only a small prick though, like that of a tick that wouldn’t let go of his skin; they should have known after the number of heartbreaks throughout the clan that such a childish cat was not desirable, no matter how attractive he was. It was a relationship they walked into knowing full well of the nature of the beast.

However, there was nothing more in the world that the grey tabby hated more than a Tom that didn’t know where to stop. Such savage things weren’t deserving of the title of a Warrior. They were supposed to be dignified, respectable cats that protected the clan, and Frosttalon was everything that title was not. Sure he was clever, and he was probably a good fighter, but the hotheaded womanizer didn’t spare a second thought to the emotions of those he was toying with. They were nothing in his eyes, and such behavior was despicable.

His green eyes were locked on the bright white furball as he swam through the clear Riverclan water. He was something that females wanted to sire their kits and stay by their sides for the rest of their life, but his words held as much promise as a leaf could hold water. He decided to place himself strategically in Frosttalon’s way in an attempt to passively confront the creature. The unbalanced feline made his way clumsily down the branches as quickly as possible, his thick tail throwing him off balance even though his brightly colored fins were pressed tightly against his body. He only slipped a few times on his way down, but finally, after careful movement and a few heart attacks from nearly falling more than once, his webbed paws were once more on the ground, and he pressed his white underside onto the warm sand. The back half of his body was in the water, while the other half was sprawled out in the grains beneath his fur. Now, not only was he comofortable, he was placed where Frosttalon could not miss him, and if he was correct about his personality, he wouldn’t have to wait long. And he didn’t; soon enough, he had himself some undesirable company.

If there was one thing that Lakesong was, he was brutally honest, and as claming as his presence could be, there was no stopping him from telling his feelings. “’Fancy’ isn’t quiet the right word. It's too positive. 'Unfortunate' is a better word to describe the current circumstances about the pleasure of meeting you here, for me at least,” He blatantly mewed, his eyes never drifting to Frosttalon. He wouldn’t give him the pleasure of trying to use his attractive gaze to try to sway his emotions, not that it would work; Medicine cats could not feel the emotion of love. “Perhaps if you were beginning to feel lonely, you shouldn’t have dumped your previous…” he clicked his tongue, hating to use such vocabulary to describe another cat, especially a female. “’Toy’,” he drawled out, his tongue flicking with disgust as the putrid word rolled off of his tongue,”so quickly. I’m sure Lichenfrost is feeling worse then your right now, though I sorely wish it was the opposite.”

[Mama Oak]

frosttalon, the sleaze
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Y O U ’ R E x N O T x T H E x F I R S T x A N D x Y O U ’ R E x N O T x T H E
L A S T , x B U T x Y O U ’ R E x P O S S I B L Y x T H E x P R E T T I E S T

The medicine cat’s words were void of readable inflection, cold and monotonous, but Frosttalon’s ear flickered forward, noting — or possibly imagining — an echo of obvious disdain. A toneless regard of blatant disapproval. As Lakesong’s long, carefully-constructed greeting continued, the RiverClan tom smirked with amusement, tail cutting the air slowly. His cerulean gaze studied his unenthused clanmate as he spoke, disappointed to find those glorious green eyes — an indulgent sight to say the least — purposely avoiding his own.

Lakesong was a wistful, unconscious beauty, his appearance only marred by a constant aura of disinterested neutrality. His distance made him cold, deprived his striking mint-colored orbs of further brilliance, and shrouded him in mystery. Frosttalon wanted to see emotion flicker in those pale optics, to see an expression contort those blank features, and to discover those well-hidden weaknesses in the medicine cat’s unyielding aloofness. It was virtually impossible to resist the temptation to provoke the gray tabby; to wonder what could possibly lay beyond such impenetrable apathy. Frosttalon longed for a reaction and was already amused, irritated, and completely maddened by the medicine cat’s apparent disregard.

Once the icy tom finally exhausted his speech, Frosttalon paused eloquently to let his voice — soft, soothing, but so very empty — linger upon the air a moment longer, wondering if the medicine cat would be feeling some sort of smug satisfaction for the subtly-barbed words. ”Oh I know, I know, I absolutely detest myself,” he then replied easily, smoothly, walking his paws out before him in a leisurely stretch. Rather than immediately pulling back to his paws once his spine gave a fulfilled pop, he lowered himself further to the ground and slowly pulled himself closer to Lakesong, as if hunting. A devilish tilt tugged at his maw and a rumbling purr struck from his chest. ”I’m just such a monster. Heartless. Careless.” Each word was an inch closer. ”Insensitive. Infuriating. Wickedly attractive...” Now his warm breath was right in Lakesong’s ear. ”Irresistible?” He chuckled, abandoning and forgetting the stupid little toying between the velvety chimes of his laughter.

”What would you know about it anyway?” Frosttalon mewed tactlessly as he drew away and settled back on his haunches, feathery tail wrapping neatly around himself. ”Aren’t medicine cats too... cultivated...to discern themselves with petty, romantic affairs? Especially those of someone as ’unpleasant’ as myself?” His eyes fell back on the medicine cat, hoping his kittish games would goad some sort of anger. In his icy carapace, Lakesong was a cold-store temptation; completely forbidden. He looked young but seemed much older — so much so that it was difficult to remember that they had once shared a nursery.

[Waffu-Waffu]

Lakesong

Lakesong, true to his nature, didn’t even bat an eye as he closed in on him. He patiently waited for Frosttalon to pause in his attempts to provoke him. “Only irresistible and attractive to those who are as impulsive, imprudent, and hormone-driven as you are. Sadly, I don’t have quite the luxury to allow my body to control my mind.” He flicked his bored gaze up at the icy hearted warrior, his apathetic green gaze boring into the white tom’s blue one. If he was trying to get some sort of reaction out of him, he’d be left with nothing more than disappointment. “And, please, refrain from coming near me with such horrendous breath.”

The only thing that made Frosttalon an undesirable companion was the fact that he had such a horrendous…habit. He was a striking white, a rarity in Riverclan, and perhaps if things were different, the two would have become friends. They were in the same nursery for a while, but Lakesong couldn’t remember talking with the tom. Was he always this way, or was it just some undesirable behavior he learned on his own? It was a pity; he possibly could have piqued his interest should he have been something more…desirable.

Frosttalon wasn’t the only one at fault though; Lakesong, as much as he would hate to admit to himself (much less in the open), had grown very distant from everything other then his role in the clan. It was like a long term form of depression; he didn’t have as much time to mourn over the first medicine cat’s death as he had to take care of Eelkit, who was now grown into a strapping young lad. He had to cope with making his emotions unknown, unwavering, and impenetrable.

“Fix your horrific behavior, Frosttalon. I’m tired of dealing with she-cats that cry to me over losing such jewel of a mate. I have to be the one to clean up their tears when no one else wants to.” His voice, still beautifully calm, was laced with sarcasm through and through. He rose onto his feet and wshook the sand from his short, scaly coat.

_{(I’m so sorry for taking so long, and that Lakesong is such a crabby little cat fish pun not intended.)}

[Maggles]

Celadon hued scales flashed in the warm sunlight as a pale she-cat lounged on a warm, flat rock, her emerald eyes closed in a plesant slumber. One of the queens had offered to watch her kits while Fishtail went out for some fresh air and sunshine. Oh it felt so nice to not worry about kits every single second. Her eyes opened when she heard a voice and she looked out across the river to see none other than Frosttalon. "Hey, don't you have anything better to do than to go chasing after she-cats? Like, for example, hunting? Do something to actually help your clan." Her voice had a slight annoyed tone to it. She came out here for peace and what did she get? A hormone-driven tom. Great.

OOC: Celadon is a blue-ish green-ish shade: www.artsmia.org/art-of-asia/ceramics/images/lung-chuan-celadon-image.jpg

[Mama Oak]

frosttalon, the sleaze
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"Oh, sticks and stones, Lakesong... sticks and stones." Frosttalon mewed lightly, the other tom's blunt comments finding minimal purchase on his pride. The beautiful white tom lowered himself to the sandy shore and rolled over onto his back, squirming and wiggling in the sand. He gazed up at Lakesong through playful eyes, untouched by the medicine cat's harsh reprimand. One would think a tom as vain as Frosttalon — and finding a cat more narcissistic would certainly be a trying task — would despise getting his fine, snow-white pelt dirty. But, on the contrary, the RiverClan tom rather enjoyed it. One of the delights of his long, beautiful fur was cleaning it. Making it shine. Not to mention, it always provided an excellent excuse to share tongues with a chance she-cat. The thought coaxed a deep purr from Frosttalon's chest as he continued to shake his lengthy body side-to-side. He wondered how long it would take him to get Lakesong to curl up beside him rasp his tongue through his pelt. Certainly longer than most cats, but everyone had a breaking point — no one could resist him forever, not even a cat with vows.

At the sound of another voice, a feminine voice, Frosttalon stopped his squirming and turned his gaze toward the sound. Seeing Fishtail, perched lazily upon a large slab of rock, he smiled (choosing to be oblivious to the annoyance lacing her tone). The she-cat had some squealing bundles of fur back at camp, but here she was... likely hoping to chance upon him. Ever since her mate, whats-his-name, had died, no doubt the she-cat's eyes were upon him every time he came to visit his own kittens in the nursery. Surely she had grown lonely by now, longing for company far different than that of her young ones.

Well, wasn't today the queen's most fortunate day?

Rolling back onto his paws and shaking out his brilliant white pelt, he fixed the spotted she-cat with a sweet, innocent grin, his eyes glistening with reciprocated wit. "Chasing she-cats, hunting, two activities, one and the same. And I," — a smug grin as he flitted his gaze from Fishtail to Lakesong and back again — "Am a very good hunter, I'll have you know."

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Words: 376
Tagged: Lakesong/SML & Fishtail/Maggles
Post Scriptum: ---

[Sprout]

Pebblewing
I'm gunna break your little heart

It was a glorious day. The warm, golden sun hung in a pure blue sky. Beams of light shone upon the flowing water of the river, and the constant slapping of the water against the bank formed a steady rhythm. It was the perfect day to soak up some sun, and Pebblewing seemed to think so too. The handsome black and white tom lay sprawled in the sunshine. His glossy pelt and sparse green scales shone brilliantly against the grey stone upon he lay. The tom certainly looked splendid, and although he was relaxed, he still seemed to hold a regal air. 

Voices drifted from downstream, and Pebblewing flicked his ears. He recognized the voices of Lakesong, the medicine cat, and his daft sister Fishtail, but there was another that he hadn't heard before, or perhaps he did, he just couldn't put a name to it. For a moment, he was tempted to ignore the conversation and remain where he was, but curiosity got the better of him, and hopefully this time it wouldn't kill the cat. 

As he neared the small party, the voices grew clearer and louder. the unrecognized voice was definitely a tom's, for it was deep. Not only was it deep, it was charming. No, charming didn't quite cut it. It was beguiling. Pebblewing's ears pricked with interest, and a smug smile tugged on his face. Perhaps today could be fun.

Soon the cat's came into view; the grey tabby medicine cat, his sister and a handsome white cat. He moved with a fluid grace, and although he was tall and lithe, he wasn't awkward at all. Pebblewing's interest piqued. What was he doing here, and how on earth had Pebblewing ever missed him? The black and white tom was interested in she-cats, but boy would he have a fling with a tom like that. 

The white tom rolled on the damp sand almost playfully, before shaking his long coat. He then turned and replied to Fishtail's icy words. Pebblewing smirked and approached the party. His strong shoulders flexed as he strode, and his tail waved nonchalantly. And I'll have you know you're not the only hunter around. Pebblewing remarked, And perhaps not the best.


Oh, what fun to be had today. 

[Mama Oak]

frosttalon, the sleaze
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you're not the first and you're not the
last, but you're possibly the prettiest

Frosttalon turned to the new voice, such a rich and velvety voice, and flicked his tail in welcome. Pebblewing, a tom whose caliber and beauty could almost rival his own. His fur gleamed a glossy ebony beneath the sun, interrupted by patches of white that provided a pleasant contrast — striking, certainly, but not nearly as dazzling as his own. Frosttalon's grin tugged crooked with that thought as he placidly watched Pebblewing's approach, not entirely oblivious to the capturing way his clanmate strode; a perfect, enticing balance between grace and strength. His words coaxed the beginning of a purr from his chest.

At least there was someone willing to have fun, or at least capable of bantering Frosttalon's unmatchable charm.

His smile pulled into a full-fledged beam, his pointed teeth making their appearance only barely from slightly-parted lips. His eyes lifted to Lakesong, flitted to Fishtail, and came to rest upon Pebblewing. The ice maiden, the desperate widow, and now a playful newcomer. All beautiful, all unconquered, and all so tempting — he couldn't help but wonder which prize he would leave with. Suddenly, the quick and joyful build of it all became too much and Frosttalon's laughter could not be contained any longer. Light, twinkling chimes of gaiety burst from his lips and his eyes slid closed while the sounds of amusement spent their echoes about the unlikely group.

He let his cerulean gaze wander into those large orbs of greenish-gold, before his tail curled behind him, he tilted his head, and replied in a tone of met challenge. "Such a silly notion," of course he was the best, "but it does take two to dance."

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Words: 277
Tagged: Lakesong/SML, Fishtail/Maggles, & Pebblewing/Lady
Post Scriptum: Wow, that was crummy, sowwy. xD I didn't want to do a whole bunch, for fear of abandoning Fishtail and/or Lakesong, but Frosty was so darn insistent.

[Maggles]

She knew he was here before she even saw him. Pebblewing. Her ears flicked in annoyance. "Pebblewing, we were having a nice little chat and you had to just waltz right in and ruin everything." Her fur rose slightly. "Keep our nose out of everyone's fur." As for Frosttalon, she'd find some way to get rid of him. the stare the alabaster tom gave her sent shivers up her spine. No cat had looked at her like that since... no. She can't think about Stormcloud. Not now. He died a long time ago. The past is the past. She looked away and rested her head on her paws and let out a sad sigh.

[Sprout]

P E B B L E W I N G
i'm gunna break your little heart

Such a convivial situation. So many ways he could play it. Would he play coy and shy, perhaps brash and rugged? Or, or... perhaps just be himself. Sometimes, Pebblewing forgot he could just be his own fabulous self. A smug simper remained on Pebblewing's lips as Frosttalon spoke, his smooth voice cutting through the warm air like ice. It was the kind of voice Pebblewing could listen to all day. Such a silly notion, but it does take two to dance. The handsome white tom didn't even attempt to conceal the challenge laced through his words. Pebblewing cocked his head, about to answer when he was distracted by his idiot of a sister. 

At her words her rolled his eyes, standing poised on his toes. He took a few steps towards her before answering. Oh darling sister, if you think there is anything nice about this tom, apart from his appearance, you are more deluded that I could have ever imagined. You have such obvious disdain for me, your own brother, yet favor this tom, who is really, no different from me at all. He then turned to Frosttalon, his tail waving like a banner. Am I right, or am I wrong? Perhaps, perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps we are nothing alike, we just share a common goal. the tom continued, green and gold eyes flashing. I hope you know of which I speak, or must I elucidate? Pebblewing sat down once more, his eyes fixed on the handsome white cat.

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Word count: 253
Notes: sorry for late reply