Mama Oak
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Post by Mama Oak on Jun 11, 2013 0:32:33 GMT -5
elmstar of thunderclan ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ N O T x F A R x F R O M x S I N I S T E R , x A x C H A R M I N G x T O M , W H O x W A S x C A P A B L E x O F x B E I N G x T E R R I B L ESlipping further into the jungle, body nimble and senses alert, Elmstar weaved silently among the ferns and trees. Each graceful, fluid movement made not a sound as his claws and toes gripped the rough bark of tree after tree. Each powerful push from his haunches brought him skyward, quickly and flawlessly. The slender tom leaped from one trunk to another, ascending a steady climb, until he reached a thick, supportive branch. Rising to his full height on the flatter limb, his able paws continued onward in a fluid trot; flight still silent and undetectable.
This forest was his. Seventy-four long moons among the foliage and he had become a part of the territory; cut from the same fabric as the jungle’s stealthy shadows.
Abandoning his horizontal perch in one, sudden leap, the leader’s body dropped through the air for a long, stretching moment; descent a graceful combination of glide and plummet. When his strong, sturdy toes met the surface of another trunk — body long-trained to absorb the shock just right —he was sky-bound once more, the beginning of electricity building like a crackling power at the base of his brown-furred pelt.
He reached the treetops in what felt like seconds, curling his tail around himself as he settled soundly on one of the large, broad leaves. The air, denied to him in the thickness below, immediately tugged at his thin fur and washed a feeling of satisfaction over him. With the gentle breeze buffeting softly in his ears, he took a silent, strict account of his body. His muscles burned, his worn legs trembling slightly; though his breathing was far from labored, his lungs ached as his chest expanded and constricted hungrily; his heart thundered, pulse beating loudly in his skull.
On his last life, Elmstar’s body was growing weary, and each rigorous romp through the jungle made the fact more and more apparent.
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Post by Petrichor on Jun 21, 2013 14:51:55 GMT -5
Crackle. The final distress scream of a squirrel were suddenly cut short by an electrified bite to the jugular. Fangs popping with unrestricted electricity, Flowerfur grabbed her prey to bring back to ThunderClan. The rustling leaves above leaving dappled shadows on her pelt were comforting to the she-cat; she had lived under them all her life. The breeze had been kind to her this time; the squirrel had not scented her before she killed it. Said breeze was comfortable against her thick, fluffy pelt, especially in such heat. Standing on a branch thick and long to support several cats, she took a moment to simply stand there and let the sounds of the forests wash around her.
It was all there. The leaves rustling in the breeze. The occasional chatter of squirrels and chirping of birds. The dew dripping from the trees. But there was something different. Her ear twitched trying to figure out what it was. Ah, right. Panting.
Panting? Flowerfur panicked a little before laughing at her own foolishness. Dogs couldn't climb trees the way ThunderClan cats could. That was the panting of a cat. A slightly overworked apprentice, maybe?
No. This was the panting of a full-grown cat, and Flowerfur suddenly knew exactly who it was. The leader, Elmstar. She didn't like Elmstar much, true. There was something off about him, even if Flowerfur didn't know what. Still, it was impolite not to go over and see what was going on; she was hunting alone, not restricted to a hunting party, and he was being too loud to be on a (successful) hunt, anyway.
Flowerfur leapt over several branches, climbing to one branch and then leaping down to another until she landed next to the ThunderClan leader. Looking at him, she almost felt bad. He was old, and was prone to sickness. His body was almost that of an elder's, and the leader was on his last life.
Still, Flowerfur wasn't going to insult his stamina or point out any flaws. Even facing someone distasteful, one must be polite.
Flowerfur dropped the squirrel in front over her to free her mouth. "Hello, Elmstar. Off on a walk?" Tagged: Elmstar / Oakey Status: xxx Muse: xxx Notes: xxx
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Mama Oak
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Post by Mama Oak on Jun 22, 2013 4:29:22 GMT -5
Obligatory Precursor: Spell-check wouldn’t work for me, I don’t know why, but apologize in advance for my atrocious mistakes. elmstar of thunderclan ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬N O T x F A R x F R O M x S I N I S T E R , x A x C H A R M I N G x T O M ,[/size][/font][/center] As his breathing began to slow and the breeze dutifully cooled his warm pelt (as much as the tropical climate would permit, at least), the ThunderClan leader straightened his posture at the short, muffled screech of a squirrel; tiny lungs beating out its last annoyance as the creature’s life was quickly snuffed out. In the silence that followed death, the tip of Elmstar’s strong, flexible tail twitched precariously, eyes closing as he reached out his keen senses and searched the territory around him. Pinpointing the subtle, almost-undetectable sounds of the successful killer near him, he flicked an ear as the hunder made way toward him. The tom’s maw slightly parted to draw in the scent (thankful for the cooperative breeze) of his approaching clanmate, and he had the cat identified just as she reached the branch directly above him.
Flowerfur; a sensible and well-respected feline. He’d had the privelage of seeing the she-cat grow from an eager kitten to a kind, admirable warrior; had felt the pride and satisfaction as he assigned her and her littermates mentors and then, moons later, their warrior names. She had trained beside his daughter and apprentice; very early showing herself to be a cat of good integrity, virtue, and potential. Many times since then, he had trusted the she-cat with several apprentices, possessing complete confidence in her capability to mold them into fine warriors like herself.
Even Quailfoot had commended the she-cat’s undeniable potential. In fact, her name had come up in conversation between them only a few sun-highs earlier, when they had shared a quick meal before departing to their own responsibilities. Observing as he thoughtfully and carefully picked at his prey, Elmstar had very quickly deduced that a pressing matter weighed quite heavily on his deputy’s mind and made prompt work of coaxing it from him. When Quailfoot expressed his thoughts of retiring, they had then mulled over the appointment of his successor. Elaborating on the virtues and strengths of their clanmates. Assessing their character and caliber.
All the while, he hadn’t been able to suppress a certain feeling of loss. For the past fifty moons, Quailfoot had proved himself many times over as a competant and dedicated deputy. Elmstar had chosen the tom with confident faith and, in the many seasons that had passed since his appointment, that faith had proven well-placed. But their bodies weren’t ageless and their minds not immune to the gradual erosion of time. Elmstar knew his friend’s strength and capability — undoubtedly his own as well— would soon fail, and he was not so ignorant to deny the simple fact that one day they both would fall and need replaced. Long after their lives were spent, ThunderClan would continue on.
But the matter of appointing their replacements was no simple task. A deputy had to be chosen carefully, for the solemn duty and devotion that accompanied such responsibility was not a light one. It was one that could only be successfully shouldered by a select minority. It had been a true blessing that Elmstar was able to muse the decision over with Quailfoot — most leaders had to choose a new deputy without the valuable counsel of the one being replaced. Quailfoot’s opinions had been sensible and practical as always; Flowerfur’s name slipping from his muzzle more than once. He obviously thought highly of her and Elmstar had made enthusiastic note of it, his own opinion of the she-cat also approving.
When the tabby warrioress dropped beside him, Elmstar flicked an ear and drew his light-green gaze slowly toward her. Once-brilliant and piercing in color, the champagne orbs had been dulled considerably by age. But intelligence and analytical perception still radiated vividly from the depths, as brightly as they had sixty-eight moons ago when he possessed the youth and vitality of a newly-named apprentice. Unlike Redstar before him, the seasons had not yet robbed him of his mind; time had not yet stole the awareness from his eyes. He brought his gaze upon her lightly, the pale depths offering her the polite, profound respect that she had long-earned. He twitched his whiskers as she spoke, demeanor the collected disposition of a leader in the unexpected company of a fellow clanmate.
Her words were nothing more or less than conversational, but Elmstar knew. He knew she didn’t like him. It wasn’t something she blatantly advertised or made apparent, but he had always been conscious of her discomfort about him. Not fear, exactly. Suspicion, perhaps, or maybe wonder. Were he not under her observation, the thought might have tugged the corners of his muzzle into an amused smirk. He couldn’t feel offended or hurt by any accusation or dislike on Flowerfur’s part — he was not, in fact, an innocent cat. Quite the opposite, Elmstar only felt mildly impressed. His darkness was well-hidden from the watchful eyes of those around him; the idea that she was not so oblivious... not so... easily-sold, only added to her broad resume of commendable strengths.
Dipping his head in a deferential gesture, he smiled a modest smile. ”Indeed, and how nice it is to come across you,” his tail and whiskers twitched simultaneously as he paused thoughtfully. Depending how conversation went, perhaps he could breach the topic of Quailfoot’s retirement and assess her thoughts on the impending ceremony. ”Though, I hope I haven’t upset your hunt,” here his gaze flickered toward the squirrel at her paws and he, for good measure, chuckled quietly, ”A dash through the territory isn’t as easy as it once was.” W H O x W A S x C A P A B L E x O F x B E I N G x T E R R I B L E ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Words: 926 Tagged: Storm/Flowerfur Post Scriptum: What say you, about maybe allowing this thread to become Elmstar’s June/July assignment? Perhaps a sudden storm rolling in? I think having these two stuck with one other’s company in some small, claustrophobic shelter could be... epsecially interesting. Flowerfur much too close to and breathing the same air as the one tom she’d rather not be. *laughs* But if you’d rather not, totally cool with me! I can get Elmstar set up elsewhere, no big deal. ^__^ Also, let me know if there’s something about this that doesn’t jive with you... I may have made some general assumptions. I’ve been excited for this pair since you posted Flowerfur’s bio. Useless Information: Also, reading your thread with Miststar/Cobalt, I noticed that you incorporated her dialogue in your reply. Just in case you do that with Elm's, *shrugs*, his speech color is B7AF66!
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Petrichor
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Post by Petrichor on Jun 22, 2013 14:54:09 GMT -5
Flowerfur wasn't a stupid cat. She knew somehow that Elmstar had sinned. In what way, she did not know, but she didn't trust him. That did not mean she did not respect him. Elmstar was her leader, and she would be polite if it killed her. The phrase is "It takes one to know one." This is how Flowerfur knew that both cats were judging the other, even if in different ways. Her leader's intelligent eyes on her made Flowerfur want to stiffen and make herself appear taller like a newly-made apprentice, but she kept still and calm. Though old, he was still an intimidating cat.
"Indeed, how nice it is to come across you," was the response. He's thinking about what to say, Flowerfur thought to herself. He's trying to get to a point without directly switching topics. the she-cat's intuition told her. "Though, I hope I haven't disturbed your hunt." the warrior picked up an almost silent chuckle from Elmstar, though it wasn't sinister. The current conversation was simply small talk, though Flowerfur was curious as to what he truly wanted to talk about. "A dash through the territory isn't quite what it once was."
Flowerfur knew the last sentence didn't apply to her, and shrugged it off. She appreciated his sense of humor about his age, though laughing would definitely not be called for. "No, you haven't disturbed me. If I had wanted to continue hunting, the option was available to me," the she-cat said, carefully applying respect and humor to her response. Flowerfur knew she could be rather flippant, and was trying very hard to suppress that habit. "In all honesty, I was about to turn back to the HomeTree when I heard you. Have I bothered you at all?" Flowerfur knew she hadn't, but had she simply stopped at her previous sentence, an awkward silence might have been created, and she hated awkward silences.
Well, no. Flowerfur was genuinely curious as to what the ThunderClan leader wished to talk about, even though her intuition was screaming that something bad was going to happen today, and that Elmstar was going to play a part in it. He wasn't going to directly cause the "bad thing," but he would be a part of it.
And Flowerfur was going to find out what part he played. Tagged: Elmstar / Oakey Status: xxx Muse: xxx Notes: I would like that! I, too, have been looking forward to seeing how my character will interact with yours. Feel free to begin the storm or what have you. Oh, and don't worry about assumptions; so far, you've pinned her feelings about him perfectly!
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Mama Oak
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Post by Mama Oak on Jun 24, 2013 4:07:43 GMT -5
elmstar of thunderclan ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬N O T x F A R x F R O M x S I N I S T E R , x A x C H A R M I N G x T O M , W H O x W A S x C A P A B L E x O F x B E I N G x T E R R I B L E Flowerfur’s words were careful, a cautious guard which was not lost on Elmstar. She was a very conscious and self-aware warrior, admirable traits that too many felines often lacked. ”No, no, of course not.” He mewed quietly, his own words constructed with the peppering of well-measured overtones; all lacing together to create an easy lilt of casual professionalism. His voice was neither too soft nor too sharp; a firm address that was neither too relaxed nor excessively formal. In his tone, it was clear he was a feline who was used to obedience and more, yet he spoke with a refined elegance that wasn’t overtly authoritive. The ThunderClan leader practiced a dangerous control, his intentions always hidden from his voice and eyes — only revealing what needed showing and often deceiving. He pondered briefly the idea that Flowerfur was aware of this. He was certain she couldn’t see through him, but he didn’t doubt that she wasn’t fooled. ”I was simply thinking on some particularly pressing matters, the nature of which sometimes require a fresh perspective, away from the activity of camp.” He studied her as the quiet words fell evenly from his lips.
The leaves around them rattled and hissed in the wind, which was becoming steadily stronger and warmer; warning of an approaching storm. Elmstar’s ears pricked forward and his nose twitched as it caught the faint tang of rain on the way. For a moment his eyes lingered on Flowerfur, then his gaze released her and rose. Above him, through the thin layer of branches between the two felines and the forest’s very top, the sky was still clear. The beginning of night was quickly unfurling — the color of pale blue battling approaching cobalt — and soon stars would uncover themselves and attempt to out-sparkle the moon. The moon itself was only a sliver, but stood in radiant defiance against the gathering clouds. Though brave, it would not be able to prevent the inevitable. Elmstar flicked an ear and sniffed absently. ”The storms of late have been notoriously quick-moving,” he observed dryly, before once more offering his attention to the warrioress beside him, ”Perhaps returning to HomeTree isn’t such a bad idea.” The past few sun-highs had been riddled with the sky’s many tantrums; all of them rolling in with a sudden intensity and stealth that one didn’t realize until they were soaked to their very bones.
Even as he spoke, a low rumble filled the air and the sky brightened with the white brilliance of a distant lightning bolt. The heavy heat reached Elmstar’s lungs and he flattened his ears disdainfully. Even if they departed now, they wouldn’t make it to camp before the storm moved swiftly upon them; the clear sky would be eaten away by dark clouds which would beat the moon’s silverly light into forceful submission as they released their tears of rage. ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Words: 477 Tagged: Storm/Flowerfur Post Scriptum: Ack, sorry this isn’t very good at all. >_< What Was Playing: Landfill, Daughter; Daniel, Bat For Lashes; Little Clown, PhemieC; Paris Is Burning, St. Vincent; On My Own, Samantha Barks
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Post by Petrichor on Jun 24, 2013 15:23:35 GMT -5
"No, no, of course not," Flowerfur heard her leader mumble. His voice is very well-rehearsed, Flowerfur thought to herself. Not too sweet, nor too strict, nor too casual. He's done this many, many times before. The warrior dared not interrupt; she prized herself on being a good listener. What good was intuition, after all, if you choose not to use it to your advantage? "I was simply thinking on some particularly pressing matters, the nature of which sometimes require a fresh perspective, away from the activity of camp."
Elmstar was finally getting to the point. She knew that she could offer her perspective at this point, but chose not to; if he wished to hear Flowerfur's opinion, he could ask it of her himself. However, she wasn't simply going to halt the conversation there. "Yes, I find that--" Flowerfur stopped as the wind began to pick up, and her catch began to edge its way off the tree. She grabbed it and tucked it between her chin and chest, an awkward position, but at least she wouldn't have to chase after it onto the forest floor.
The significance of the wind and clouds suddenly appearing wasn't lost on either cat. It was going to storm, and soon. It had been doing that quite a lot, lately, Flowerfur noted. It was annoying, but surely StarClan was doing it for a reason. "The storms of late have been notoriously quick-moving," Flowerfur heard through the wind. The sentence was so dry and flippant it almost made her proud. She gave Elmstar her full attention as he turned back to her, offering one last comment. "Perhaps returning to HomeTree isn't such a bad idea."
Flowerfur was about to agree when a sudden gust of wind blew against her, nearly knocking the small cat off her feet. Flowerfur honestly doubted at this point that they would have time to make the long trip back. "I don't think we have time, Elmstar," Flowerfur shouted above the screaming wind. "We'd be better off finding shelter nearby until the storm has lessened." Flowerfur, now wishing to gain complete balance, dropped the squirrel to grab it in her mouth again. If the storm lasted longer than normal, she would hit herself for leaving the fresh-kill behind and going hungry. Flowerfur didn't make a move yet, waiting for her leader to either agree or disagree with her. The warrior code did state that she had to obey his commands no matter her opinion, after all. Stupid, tyrannical rule.
Tagged: Elmstar / Oakey Status: xxx Muse: xxx Notes: And now we get to the good part! Your turn, my friend!
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Mama Oak
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Post by Mama Oak on Jun 26, 2013 7:30:10 GMT -5
elmstar of thunderclan ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬N O T x F A R x F R O M x S I N I S T E R , x A x C H A R M I N G x T O M , W H O x W A S x C A P A B L E x O F x B E I N G x T E R R I B L E Elmstar’s gaze flitted from the sky to Flowerfur as she dove for her prey, which had slyly attempted to escape their company. He started forward quickly as her body was visibly unbalanced by the wind; already in a rather-compromising position, he feared the strengthening gale would sweep her from their perch. His own, thick tail — needing no conscious instruction from his mind — was curling and uncurling instintively, ready to wrap itself around the branch in-case of a stumble. The tabby she-cat managed her equilibrium well though and, in seconds, had the squirrel firmly between her jaws and her intelligent, amber eyes expectedly upon him, awaiting his move.
Elmstar nodded once then, without sparing another moment, turned his back to Flowerfur and began slipping once more through the leaves and branches, which were now alive and angry. His long, nimble body moved expertly through the foliage, blazing a quick, graceful path through the frenzied chaos of storm and jungle. As they spiraled downward, away from the treetops, he could sense Flowerfur following and made a point to be ever-conscious of her pursuit. He had no doubt that she was a capable cat and as skilled in traversing the territory as he, but with the burden of a rather large squirrel and the speed and complexity of his footwork, even the most sure-footed of felines could easily be tripped up, especially with the weather’s mounting rage.
All the while he also kept a careful eye out for tree hollows; seeking any suitable (and hopefully vacant) cavity large enough to shelter the both of them. Refuge would be easier found (though more dangerous) on the forest-floor, but Elmstar knew the storm would be long-upon them before they could reach the ground. And as the first few, forceful raindrops made their way through the treetops, the ThunderClan leader was all-too aware of the cold moisture soaking uninvitedly through his terribly-thin pelt. Though leaf-bare was far off, and with it the fear of greencough, Elmstar had grown to be wary of the wet and cold. With a weak immune system, he was prone to illness and had lost an unusual amount of lives to quick, devastating infirmities that he hadn’t been able to shake. Just in the previous leaf-bare, he had returned to StarClan two of the nine lives they had granted him. The memory of those two, painful deaths, when he had choked out his last, terrible breaths while curled in a sickly mess of tremors and sweat, danced for a single moment in his mind. It was unspoken knowledge that his health would be more frail on his last life... being soaked to the bone was a situation obviously best avoided.
The trees howled fiercely in the wind, their cries soon joined by the rhythmic drum of strong, eager rain shattering itself upon large, hungry leaves. Elmstar’s pelt was wet in what felt like a few, quick seconds, but just before the downfall had considerably handicapped his visibility, he had caught sight of the perfect opening; a small hollow in the trunk of a rather-large tree. Ears pinned to his skull, paws shifting toward the refuge, the tabby tom looked once over his shoulder to ensure Flowerfur’s presence. The shelter was large enough to home the both of them (but only just so) and as he entered with a parted maw, he could detect no strong, recent scent, though there was a faint, trace of sparrow. Content with this, the ThunderClan leader immediately shook out his dark, umber fur and pressed himself to one side of the small refuge to make room for his clanmate.
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Petrichor
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Post by Petrichor on Jun 26, 2013 16:52:43 GMT -5
Flowerfur took her leader's nod and a rush against the trees as an agreement, and began to follow. Her small size and speed made it easy to traverse down the trees, but there were a couple of times that she nearly lost her footing. Plummeting to her death was fortunately not StarClan's will, though. For once in her life, the ThunderClan warrior was glad to be on the ground rather than the trees.
The running didn't stop yet, however. Her leader was quite obviously looking for hiding places as he ran, and Flowerfur didn't really want to abandon him in the storm. She knew his weak immune system well; He'd lost at least four lives to illness, and four in the last leafbare alone. If he became too drenched or cold... Flowerfur didn't really want to think about the possibility of damning her leader to a last, horrific death, even if she didn't quite trust him.
Suddenly, the bottom fell out of the sky, and what seemed like a constant waterfall fell from the clouds. Both cats were completely drenched almost immediately, and a moment before Flowerfur lost her sight, smell, and taste, she saw her leader duck into a tree hollow. Keeping his path in mind, Flowerfur slid into the hollow beside him, Elmstar's pressing against the wall the only thing preventing her from running directly into him.
Relieved to be out of the rain, Flowerfur began to notice just how tight the hiding place was. She turned around as best she could so that she could face the outside, and pressed herself to the opposite wall. There wasn't enough room for either cat to do anything particularly nasty to each other, but Flowerfur wasn't taking any chances. She dropped the squirrel from her mouth and nudged it between her chest and paw, making sure it wouldn't fly or slide away again.
Her leader had shook himself out, but there wasn't enough room for Flowerfur to do the same. The she-cat's small size was well-known, but she looked almost scrawny rather than lean with her fluffy pelt soaked. the ThunderClan warrior didn't bother tasting the air; there wasn't enough room for anything particularly dangerous, and her leader was smart enough to taste a room before going in. The refuge was so small that the two cats' pelts were almost touching.
Flowerfur had rarely felt this uncomfortable before, but she tried her best not to show it, keeping her breathing and heartbeat regular. Her pelt drowning out most of her fear-scent helped, as well. She took this time looking at the exit and entrance to the hollow. You'd have thought the two cats had taken refuge in the crack of a waterfall. A few small branches fell from some of the younger trees, and the rain above was nearly deafening. Her mind flashed to the other warriors, and sent a whispered prayer to StarClan. "Please let every cat be safe."
Were other ThunderClan cats worried about them? She knew that they were hoping for Elmstar's return, but among the chaos, did any cat think about her? Did the kits in the nursery miss her? No. That wasn't important right now. What mattered now was staying safe and alive.
Flowerfur almost didn't want to look at Elmstar, but it would be discourteous to ignore him. She looked over to her leader, looking for any twisted paw or signs of injury, and deducted nothing was wrong. "Nice job finding this place," she commented. "It's not the best refuge, but it'll keep us safe." Wait. Would that be taken as an insult? She hoped not. She wouldn't blame Elmstar for settling on a small space. She probably would have done the same thing!
No, he was smart enough to tell a remark from an insult. Flowerfur was not going to get riled up about this, not now.
"You'd think that a river was falling from the sky," she joked. The ThunderClan warrior knew how to lighten moods, and doing so relaxed her. This wasn't humor a kit would find funny, but it might cut the tension. Tagged: Elmstar / Oakey Status: xxx Muse: xxx Notes: And we're here, and Flowerfur is so nervous that I feel bad for her. I believe it's your go, Oakey.
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Mama Oak
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Post by Mama Oak on Jul 3, 2013 14:40:42 GMT -5
elmstar of thunderclan ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬N O T x F A R x F R O M x S I N I S T E R , x A x C H A R M I N G x T O M , W H O x W A S x C A P A B L E x O F x B E I N G x T E R R I B L E ”Yes,” Elmstar mewed in response, his tone matching the humor in her own as he volleyed back an equally-joking counter. Whether the light-hearted laughter in his voice was genuine or fabricated was difficult to discern (as always with Elmstar’s many impentrable facades), but a more-perceptive feline would suspect the latter, for the amusement did not quite reach his olive-green eyes. His two, shimmering pools of dark champagne were fortresses of emptied emotion, guarded by well-constructed defenses, not the least bit deteriorated by time. Although Elmstar had no need to be particuarly reserved around Flowerfur, nor desired himself to seem overtly distant, he wasn’t a tom who was ever caught off-guard. He dressed his comments with an acceptable pleasantness; a humble disposition that inspired comfort and intimated friendliness. Flowerfur was a clanmate, a well-respected clanmate, and even if she did not like him, he wanted only for them — especially in the current circumstance, stuck pelt-to-pelt in a damp, moldy-scented tree hollow — to speak as such. Certainly, he had an elevated status and had been in a position of power before she was even born, but that hardly entitled him to speak to her as if she were subservient, for she was far, far from inferior. As a successful and well-lived leader, Elmstar was a tom demanding of respect, but would treat his clanmate with the esteem and reverance that she, too, deserved. ”One might think we’ve escaped a malevolent waterfall rather than rain.” Although his tone may not have been entirely convincing in humor, his high regard of Flowerfur was undeniably genuine; he spoke to her not as a haughty leader to a mere warrior, but a competant and intelligent tom to a competant and intelligent she-cat that he admired as an equal. And this consideration was not something he felt inclined to tuck away from audible deciphering; it was there, tangible upon the air, for her to hear and discern. ”Let us hope any of our clanmates caught in this torrent were as fortunate as we,” he sniffed suddenly, trying (unsuccessfully) to suppress a shiver that trembled up his spine and spread throughout his pelt. He hoped there was no cat caught alone on the forest floor, and that no young apprentice had desperately found shelter in the den of some unfriendly beast. He could imagine Quailfoot’s large, burly frame darting from the nursery to the apprentice den; making it a duty to take account of the felines in camp. Assuring which warriors and apprentices were out hunting, what patrols were discharged, and that no one had gone out alone. Quieting and calming the frightened kittens with a few, tactful mews; leaving them awed and their mothers grateful.
It would be difficult to find a feline that could fill the deputy’s pawsteps. For a moment, Elmstar doubted any warrior could possibly meet the exceptionally high-standard that Quailfoot had impressed.
Flicking an ear as his intellectual orbs peered out of their shelter, unable to see beyond the curtain of water that fell in an unbroken sheet before them, Elmstar let his eyes wander sidelong, where he couldn’t help but note the way Flowerfur’s pelt was hugging each frame and knob of her body; soaked fur accenting the capable muscle that padded each angle and plane. While her immune system surely wasn’t as fragile as his, if she let the chill cling to her so, illness was likely to be swift. Unlike him though, any ailment would probably be fleeting; amounting to nothing more than temporary sniffles. An unpleasantness that would be shrugged away as quick as it had descended. Yet still, the ThunderClan leader couldn’t supress a thrill of concern. ”And pray this cold doesn’t bring with it any illness.” Swallowing, Elmstar’s lowered his slender, cold body closer to ground, trying to gather his own warmth about him as he curled his long, slender tail around himself. He hoped the warrioress was not holding out on shaking her pelt free for his own sake, and momentarilly considered the prospect of offering to share tongues. It would be a reasonable effort to keep her dry and bring about some sort of warmth. Maybe he could breach the topic of Quailfoot’s retiring between cleansing strokes; a casual conversastion between intellectuals while they waited out the storm. He tried to imagine the idea but was unable to. It was an act often shared between clanmates but Elmstar suspected it was something that would only bring Flowerfur discomfort. He had a feeling though that, if he offered, she would have too much respect (or perhaps pride) to refuse. Contemplative, he weighed this potential malaise against the practical sense that it would distract the both of them, keep them warm, and minimalize the possibility of sickness. In the end, torn between the pros and cons, Elmstar only flicked an ear and brought his gaze sidelong once more, the depths extending a certain non-verbal request for permission, as his maw parted to mew quietly, almost dismissively: ”You're drenched, Flowerfur.” ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Words: 832 of rambling awkwardness Tagged: Storm/Flowerfur Post Scriptum: I really like the lyrics you added to all the posts! And apologize for the tardiness of this reply — here's to hoping that the following will be more punctual!
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Petrichor
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Post by Petrichor on Jul 4, 2013 12:59:39 GMT -5
"Yes," was the short reply to Flowerfur's light jest. "One might think we've escaped a malevolent waterfall rather than rain." While Flowerfur still refused to completely let her guard down around the tom, she was somewhat comforted by the tone of their conversation. Neither cat was trying to be better than the other; it was simply conversation. He's still dodging the point of his conversation, Flowerfur thought with more than a hint of frustration.
"Let us hope any of our Clanmates caught in this torrent were as fortunate as we," Flowerfur heard. She was about to form an assertive agreement when she felt a shiver pass through her leader's coat. Again, her mind flashed to his deaths by illness, and a brief spell of worry entranced her mind, but she would address that if and when Elmstar brought it up; he was not a whiny elder to dance around. If he were truly in danger, he would likely say something. Flowerfur shook her mind of such things. "I'm sure Quailfoot has things under control back in the Hometree, but I think I might comb through the forest for less lucky cats when this lightens up a little," Flowerfur commented offhandedly. She set up her sentence as a possibility rather than a certainty in case Elmstar wished company on the trip back.
Flowerfur was suddenly aware of her leader's gaze on her own pelt. She looked over just in time to catch a hint of concern before Elmstar's eyes reverted back to their usual state. "And pray this cold doesn't bring with it any illness." Elmstar's statement was immediately followed by him curling into himself. So he is cold. The next few moments were spent with Flowerfur watching Elmstar's mind work. He was clearly trying to say something, but weighing whether or not to say it in his head. Flowerfur showed no emotion, though her mind roiled with it. Why are you worried about my health? You're the one who's in danger. Stop thinking about what to say and just say it. Please let every cat be safe. Most of the thoughts that passed through Flowerfur's head followed these guidelines, though she dared not speak a single one out loud. The first few topics seemed almost demeaning to the very capable leader, and the last topic was more a prayer to StarClan than anything else.
"You're drenched, Flowerfur." Flowerfur almost missed Elmstar's comment. The she-cat wanted to curse in frustration. She wished he would just get to the point. "And you're cold," Flowerfur responded. An idea flashed through her head, and though she was disgusted by it, she knew it was probably the best thing to do right now. Flowerfur suppressed a frustrated sigh and looked Elmstar directly in the eye. "I suppose we can share tongues. That way I'll stop being drenched, you might warm up a little, and maybe our conversation can finally get to the point, hmm?" Flowerfur was so done with the political bit of the conversation. She wasn't sure if what she had said was the right thing, but it felt right, and that was what's important.
Her instinct had damn well better not fail her now.
Tagged: Elmstar / Oakey Status: xxx Muse: xxx Notes: Flowerfur has either finally gotten somewhere or royally messed up. Which one she's done is up to you, Oaks. I love this dynamic. Do you love this dynamic? I sure do. Poor Flower.
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Mama Oak
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Post by Mama Oak on Jul 5, 2013 11:23:31 GMT -5
elmstar of thunderclan ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬N O T x F A R x F R O M x S I N I S T E R , x A x C H A R M I N G x T O M , W H O x W A S x C A P A B L E x O F x B E I N G x T E R R I B L E Elmstar’s ears flicked once as Flowerfur spoke the very suggestion that he was torn over. He could detect the irritation, which was no big feat, for the frustration was not exactly concealed. Where one leader might feel a flush of anger toward such blunt forwardness, the ThunderClan tom only felt a prickle of agreement. Her exhausted patience was expected, really, for they’d been carefully dancing around each other for the entire course of their encounter, never taking a step forward without one step back; their conversation a stalemate of stagnancy. He had wanted to converse as equals, and so now they were. With a nod, he shifted his body closer to his clanmate’s and into the typical position of grooming. Any other cat might say it was a familiar position, but Elmstar had only very rarely shared tongues with anyone.
”Okay, Flowerfur,” Elmstar began steadily, as he drew his tongue across her wet pelt. Best to continue the conversation immediately, so as to distract from their grooming, which he knew his she-cat counterpart would find nothing more or less than unpleasant. She had offered out of necessity, not kindness; the gesture was nothing more than practical and could bear none of the comforting weight it would have between most clanmates. There would be no soft, relaxed purrs and no warm thrills of platonic affection, which suited Elmstar just fine — he wouldn’t miss the sentiments and could not feel disappointed by their lacking. He hadn’t complied and curled against Flowerfur in a search for soothing companionship, but to save them both from any visit to the medicine cat den. Any strain on his immune system would wreck him; tear down all his strength and rebuild him in a frail, deteriorating weakness — a state that he would never recover from.
Within him though, a stirring of gratitude slowly unfurled itself, licking at his insides with subtle appreciation. The fact that Flowerfur was able to stiffle her dislike and offer herself to their sharing tongues, despite how abhorred she might actually be by it — the gesture was not lost on the ThunderClan leader. For Flowerfur, a visit to the medicine cat’s den would probably be little more than inconvenient; a case of sniffles, gone and forgotten after a few days. She could easily have not spoken and left Elmstar to his own devices; left him to his own warmth and prayers.
But she hadn’t. And while it was an act that any clanmate might do for another, Elmstar would not dismiss it as a simple, fleeting kindess.
”We’ll shed the empty rhetoric and get to the point,” he continued between the drying swipes of his rough, pink tongue. It was a frank statement, but if she had resorted to being direct, than so would he. It was what they both desired anyway. No unneeded dressing up or imitated pleasantries; only conversation that went somewhere and meant something. ”The particularly pressing matter on mind is, actually, concerning Quailfoot,” Flowerfur was one of the few senior warriors that Elmstar had frequently consulted in the past to discuss major clan hapennings. He had made it apoint to be reasonably democratic in his leadership and now he spoke like he did in those moments where he pooled the diverse opinions of his most-respected clanmates. Hearing and lending thought to each of their perspectives. Encouraging their takes on the issues presented. ”A few sunhighs ago he came to me and requested his retiring to the elders den.”
He let a moment pass for this to completely settle in; to let Flowerfur absorb and ponder the situation. In this tiny pause, he seemed to focus on bringing his tongue through a rather tough part of her pelt; the sandpaper-surface slowly but surely capturing and banishing the moisture. ”Since then we’ve discussed and I’ve been mulling over the task of choosing a feline to take his place as deputy.” And there it was, the point of the conversation, as she had requested. The topic was breached; his predicament and intentions now voiced. ”It is a decision that obviously can not be made without significant consideration. Especially since whomever I appoint will quite likely be taking my place come leaf-bare.” The words were as steady and matter-of-fact as they had been before, Elmstar’s cleansing strokes not faltering in the least. He knew the probablility of his impending death, and did not see the point of treating it with sensitivity. It was not something he refused to acknowledge. The thin, elderly tom was not afraid of his life coming to an end; the fact that his sun-highs could now be numbered did not inspire within him any bitterness or dismay. His only true concern lay in the matter of naming his successor; he could not embrace his descent unless he was certain he would be leaving ThunderClan in good paws once he fell. His time was coming to an end, he could accept that, but he knew his responsibility to his clan did not cease with his last breath.
This concern was translated into the soft words that now gracefully slipped from hsi lips. ”The choice I make now will decide who leads and represents ThunderClan for the generations to come; who will stand at the head of all its warriors, its apprentices, its elders, its queens and their kittens; who will speak with their voice. Many felines are capable of this position, certainly...” But being a leader was much more than authority, status, and a new prefix. Much, much more. ”But not all can live nine lifetimes in an undying dedication to their clan whiler remaining dutifully conscientious of the potential that weighs upon their every action and word.” There were many cautions of being a leader, when your words and reactions could potentially throw your clan into costly war. And there were those leaders whom, once given a position of elevation, abandoned all sense of humility and distorted their idea of self-significance. It was a delicate game of politics, diplomacy, and caution. Not every feline could balance it and when the figurehead of an entire clan toppled, the results could be ruining. ”But some,” Another thoughtful pause, in which Elmstar raised his gaze to Flowerfur’s. His next words were heavy with meaning as he held her eyes with his own. ”Well, a select few... they could live many more.” What he meant was clear, and he only waited to gauge her reaction. The words not spoken were easily seen in the depths of olive-green, which glimmered with the high thoughts of his clan-mate. Danced with the many praises of Quailfoot. You are one of those select few..
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Words: 1,074 Tagged: Storm/Flowerfur Post Scriptum: Woops! Someone got a little chatty! What Was Playing: ’Still Breathing’ by Mayday Parade, on repeat/loop for the entirety of this post.
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Petrichor
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Post by Petrichor on Jul 5, 2013 16:47:34 GMT -5
Flowerfur's breathing was halted for a moment as she watched Elmstar process her words. It was only when he began to relax into the next responsibility that she began breathing again. Her intuition was right again, thank StarClan. The position of sharing tongues was more familiar to Flowerfur, though her tongue was often used to work out knots in apprentices' and kits' pelts rather than that of her colleagues. Perhaps because she preferred that company, perhaps because that company flocked to her, Flowerfur didn't really know.
As much as Flowerfur tried, her discomfort was only eased when she focused on Elmstar's words and the more difficult spots on his pelt rather than letting her mind wander. Elmstar's pelt was dryer than hers, but she could smooth it down and get the wet spots he'd missed to the best of her abilities.
"We'll shed the empty rhetoric and get right to the point." Finally. Flowerfur was pretty good at dancing around a subject as she would a cat in combat, but one had to attack eventually. Whether or not the attack would be painful was currently hard to discern, but Flowerfur was going to endure no matter what. "The particularly pressing matter on my mind is, actually, concerning Quailfoot." What? Quailfoot? Flowerfur drew at recent reasons that Elmstar might be thinking about him, and she drew a blank. The deputy hadn't unnecessarily caused a border skirmish or misdirected anything lately, so why would Elmstar be thinking about him so hard right now?
"A few sunhighs ago he came to me and requested his retiring to the elders' den." Oh. Oh. Flowerfur sometimes forgot that Quailfoot and Elmstar were as old as they were; their bodies still functioned properly, and their minds were still sharp. It was only if Flowerfur paid attention that she really noticed anything out of the ordinary, but she was paying attention now.
Quailfoot always taking the back on the patrols. How he was coming back with less fresh-kill lately. All the signs were there, but Flowerfur didn't find it a pressing enough matter to look into. After all, these two had led ThunderClan since she could remember. It seemed she only really paid attention to her intuition if it was something not-obvious.
Flowerfur continued listening silently, taking in Elmstar's words. "Since then we've discussed and I've been mulling over the task of choosing a feline to take his place as deputy." Well, yeah. Can't have a Clan without a leader and a deputy. "It is a decision that obviously can not be made without significant consideration. Especially since whomever I appoint will quite likely be taking my place come leaf-bare." Flowerfur shivered slightly. She respected that Elmstar didn't fear death, but she couldn't really imagine saying something like that as if it were just a matter of fact. Perhaps it wasn't his tone, but the fact that he was right, and Flowerfur couldn't really imagine ThunderClan without Elmstar. Or a combination of both.
Nonetheless, Flowerfur continued to listen. She would give her input when Elmstar was done talking. Her leader's voice slowly went from diplomatic and sharp to soft and almost quiet. It was almost unsettling seeing Elmstar so thoughtful about a subject. Leaders usually made these decisions in their den, away from distractions, and Flowerfur wasn't sure what to make of this side of Elmstar she rarely, if ever saw.
"The choice I make now will decide who leads and represents ThunderClan for the generations to come; who will stand at the head of all its warriors, its apprentices, its elders, its queens and their kittens; who will speak with their voice. Many felines are capable of this position, certainly, but not all can live nine lifetimes in an undying dedication to their clan while remaining dutifully conscientious of the potential that weighs upon their every action and word." There was a slight pause. Flowerfur stopped her licking for a second, her ears perked for what he said next. She rose as Elmstar did. Flowerfur's pelt was almost dry now, and Elmstar's fur had been mostly smoothed out. The two mature, respected ThunderClan cats looked each other in the eye, and for a moment there was nothing but the sound of their breathing and the rain outside.
"But some," Flowerfur barely heard Elmstar's sentence. No, that wasn't true. His words were quiet, but their meaning resonated through the stale air in the tree hollow. "Well, a select few... they could live many more."
Flowerfur stiffened as thoughts rushed to her head. The meaning was clear, even if Flowerfur briefly wished that she hadn't heard it, hadn't heard him correctly. Flowerfur saw the truth in his eyes, though, and protests sprang to the tip of her tongue, though none went spoken... aloud. What about your kits? I'm too old to be a leader, wouldn't a younger cat be a better choice? Have they been planning this, Quailfoot and Elmstar? The last question echoed through her mind, and her peripheral vision suddenly became clear. She had heard her name mentioned many times earlier, under hushed voices. She noticed, now of all times, Quailfoot had been watching her almost every time she turned around with... pride in his eyes.
Flowerfur stopped looking into Elmstar's eyes, and looked at her reflection in them, trying to see what he saw in her. What they saw in her. "But why me, Elmstar? There are so many cats in ThunderClan vying for that position. I guess... what do you see in me that I don't?" The words were spoken. She couldn't take them back. Her eyes were filled with both understanding and confusion; all it would take from Elmstar was the right words and maybe, just maybe she'd realize what she'd done. Who she was. Tagged: Elmstar / Oakey Status: xxx Muse: xxx Notes: Oooooh, here we go. I'm excited to see what Elmstar will say. Eeeee, my spine is tingling with excitement! Reply as soon as you can, Oakey, but I'll wait eons for whatever comes next!
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Mama Oak
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Have you come to make me a martyr?
You are my love, my angle, don't treat me like potato.
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Post by Mama Oak on Jul 5, 2013 22:13:55 GMT -5
elmstar of thunderclan ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬N O T x F A R x F R O M x S I N I S T E R , x A x C H A R M I N G x T O M , W H O x W A S x C A P A B L E x O F x B E I N G x T E R R I B L E Something in Flowerfur’s eyes, no longer guarded, reached out to Elmstar and touched his deeply-buried (some would say non-existant) reserve of empathy. She seemed to be confused, as if she didn’t quite see in herself what they — himself, Quailfoot, and the entire clan — saw. She needed convincing; the correct string of words that would inspire her to strip away her own modesty and embrace the simple fact that it just... it had be her. ”Who else, Flowerfur? Who better?” Was his only response before he shook his head; the slightest movement from side to side. ”Not one cat would question the decision. For every cat vying for their own appointment, there are two more baying for yours.” He chuckled lightly, inspiring comfort, even though the sounds seemed almost misplaced coming from his throat. ”Quailfoot speaks so highly of you... and I am not deaf to your name upon the lips of our clanmates. Not that I need convincing.” There was almost a touch of... dare it be... good-natured amusement to the last word. He was already concrete in his belief in her and he would like her to know that.
The amusement fell from his face and he sobered considerably, jaw tightening. When he spoke again, his words were more stolid. Reaching to her with subdued depth. ”I would name you deputy tomorrow, Flowerfur, you know,” Elmstar swallowed as the weight of what he was trying to say filled his chest with the stirrings of difficulty, ”And I truly believe doing so would be calling you to a position that you, perhaps, were always meant for. Equipped for.” The ThunderClan tom dipped his head the slightest, pausing as his eyes continued to hold hers, imploring her to believe him; to acknowledge her own capability and to place faith in the high regards of her many clanmates. But Elmstar also knew he would never appoint a she-cat leader, not without first acquring their consent — he was all-too-aware of what Flowerfur would have to sacrifice if she accepted the ascension in rank. And the ThunderClan tom had seen her around the camp... the kittens as much drawn to her as she was to them. Just as she was equipped for the leadership, she also had all the proper sentiments and requisites of a loving and caring queen. And Elmstar was far from blind or oblivious — he was quite aware it was something she desired. He would not strip her of that chance, of that dream, should it be something she really wanted. He was not so apathetic to take that that right from her, even if he knew she was the best cat to take Quailfoot’s place.
”But I could never allow myself to do such a thing, without first asking your permission.” Something in his gaze shifted. Warmed. And the corners of his maw pulled upward in the slightest of smiles; a tiny expression that offered all the confidence he had in her, all the faith, and all the deeply-rooted reverence. But the small tilt to his lips was also a little... well... almost sad at the edges — he knew just how much he was asking of her. ”You would be a great mother, Flowerfur.” The words were kind and soft, openly so, which was something quite rarely heard in the tom’s voice. ”And I would never force you to surrender the right to become one.” The smile pulled slightly more upward and his ears flickered as he noticed that the thundering of rain had begun to grow less violent; the sky’s tantrum beginning to calm. ”But if you chose to accept this responsibility, all of ThunderClan — every kit, every apprentice, every member — would be yours to nurture, to protect, and to care for.” He nodded slowly, a certain, subtle excitement reaching his olive-green optics. He couldn’t claim to know how far or fierce the depths of a queen’s passionate care extended, but he often felt that being a leader was not much different. That accepting the position awoke something, perhaps, even more fierce than a mother’s love.
For a moment, Elmstar let this feeling wash over him... the immense pride and insurmountable love he had for ThunderClan and the great contentedness it brought him to have been their leader for his long nine lives. He could easily lose himself in that feeling... but he kept himself firmly grounded, his attention offered unceasingly to his clanmate. ”There’s not a single feline beside Quailfoot himself, capable of the fierce, unmovable dedication I know you would lead this clan with. Flowerfur... I believe you to already possess, in your one life, everything many leaders have possessed in all their nine.” ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Words: 783 Tagged: Storm/Flowerfur Post Scriptum: Awh. :3 I like it.
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Petrichor
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Post by Petrichor on Jul 5, 2013 23:43:01 GMT -5
And just like that, everything fell into place. Memories rushed into the ThunderClan warrior's head; herself as a kit being first to leave the den, as an apprentice, being the honorary head of Elmstar's litter, as a warrior, leading a squadron of apprentices to warriorhood themselves.
There was a sense of irony to the whole thing. The one kit and apprentice who didn't want to be leader now first in line to become one.
Flowerfur took a moment to think to herself, hoping Elmstar would understand. She wasn't going to immediately deny her role, but she wouldn't snap up at the chance, either. Her eyes misted over, and she was obviously somewhere else for the next few painful minutes.
Flowerstar. The name sounded alien to the warrior. And if Elmstar were to die by leaf-bare, who would Flowerfur appoint as deputy after him? Flowerfur wasn't much of a fighter, either. Who was she to lead a battle against another Clan, if the need arose? This decision had never appeared in Flowerfur's wildest dreams or nightmares. Was it a dream or a nightmare? That seemed to be the question.
Flowerfur would never be a queen, true. But the warrioress had been around a long time, and many suitors had approached her. Not a single one had succeeded. Too ambitious, too mushy, too annoying, too snooty. So yes, she would never have kits, but that seemed to be her destiny anyway. And, like her leader said, she would be sort of the surrogate mother to the whole Clan, all its elders, queens, warriors, apprentices, and kits.
Flowerfur was suddenly aware of Elmstar's expression towards her. Warmth. Pride. Reverence. Flowerfur knew the leader respected her, but never like this.
Yes, there was something... wrong... with Elmstar. Flowerfur knew it, and she would figure it out before he died. Yes, being deputy meant she would share close quarters with him often. But there was something else that rushed to Flowerfur's head, too. Like memories, but different. Visions. Flowerstar climbing up the branches of the Hometree to give ceremonies. Appointing new warriors and apprentices. Sitting next to the other leaders at the Gathering, making small talk before the real thing began. Flowerfur was uncomfortable with it, but the character in her visions was confident and comfortable, relaxed into her responsibilities. Herself permanently etched into the list of every leader of ThunderClan back to Thunder himself. And beyond, if the legends of there being Clans before theirs was true. And if every cat in ThunderClan wanted her to become deputy, well, who was she to refuse?
Flowerfur blinked, suddenly returning to the present. She had forgotten, for a moment, that she was sitting in a small tree hollow with pouring rain outside. She slowly looked up to Elmstar with the same respect he was currently giving her. He had said something about dedication to the Clan in the last part of his speech, Flowerfur remembered that much.
"If you, Quailfoot, and as many warriors claim that I should take on such a position of responsibility, I won't deny them... you... that. I accept your offer, Elmstar, knowing and accepting all that it entails." That was it, then. The ceremony needed to be performed, of course, but the decision was made. Flowerfur would become deputy of ThunderClan, and she would fight with and for it with the determination of a thousand queens.
As if the very weather had been waiting for the decision to be made, the endless waterfall outside began to let up. It wasn't completely safe to traverse under yet, but it would be before nightfall. Flowerfur looked over to the exit and back over to Elmstar. Her amber eyes meeting his. Flowerfur took a moment from the confidence and pride, reminding herself of her intuition, her goal to be completed before leaf-bare. Don't think this frees you from your secret, Elmstar. I'll find out what you're hiding if I have to fight StarClan for your soul. None of this escaped her mind, but it echoed within. Whether Elmstar chose to listen or not was up to him. Tagged: Elmstar / Oakey Status: xxx Muse: xxx Notes: Like it's implied, Oaks, I think the thread might be winding up to an end, but I'd like to see Elmstar's response to Flowerfur's acceptance, Maybe they'll eat that squirrel together (The one Flowerfur brought way back when they first entered) as a curtain close. That sounds cool.
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Mama Oak
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Have you come to make me a martyr?
You are my love, my angle, don't treat me like potato.
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Post by Mama Oak on Jul 7, 2013 10:12:15 GMT -5
elmstar of thunderclan ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬N O T x F A R x F R O M x S I N I S T E R , x A x C H A R M I N G x T O M , W H O x W A S x C A P A B L E x O F x B E I N G x T E R R I B L E Elmstar’s patient gaze remained upon his warrioress counterpart as she took a moment to herself; to absorb all that he had said and sort out her own thoughts about it. He wanted to assure her that she didn’t have to choose now, that she could take a day to think it over and let him know her decision when she came to it, but... as he studied her, the ThunderClan leader realized that she was no longer with him. Her eyes were foggy with thought, fixed on him but gazing beyond, watching something only she could see. Though they were practically nose-to-nose in the small tree hollow, Flowerfur seemed a million foxlengths away.
He said nothing as he watched her, not wanting to disturb whatever thoughts had momentarilly swept her away. He waited patiently, silently, for her to return and his own mind spun back to that moment when he had been chosen deputy. Just as with Flowerfur, he had been an ideal and expected candidate. But unlike his clanmate, Elmstar — or Elmwhisker, then — had consciously worked toward the position his entire life. Every act he did had been done with the knowledge that he was being watched. Flowerfur did good deeds because it was her nature, Elmwhisker had done them out of politics. He had been gaining favor in the eyes of his peers; she needed no such thing, for she had effortlessly earned the broad approval, even before her warrior name. Her actions were governed by a state of mind considerably distinct from his own. With an inward smile, the ThunderClan leader flicked an ear. Perhaps she would be a better leader than him, yet.
He thought of Redstar. No doubt she would have solved that nuisance in a duifferent manner than him. But his choices had been resolute and necessary; he felt the exact same about his close companion’s death now, than when he had personally dealt the unpleasant finality, fifty moons before. There had been no remorse then and nine long lives had born no guilt regarding the treachery.
The memory was easily dismissed from his consideration as Flowerfur shifted and came back to him. He nodded at her words of acceptance, permitting a small, contained smile. ”Wonderful. The whole of ThunderClan will have reason to be proud, with you as their deputy.” Her yellow-brown gaze flitted to the entrance of their shelter and, when it came back to his own, there was something sharper there. Elmstar’s eyes slid closed and he felt a prickling of amusement deep within his chest. No, he did not expect his faith in her to replace her disdain in him. As it rightly shouldn’t — were her suspicions of him swayed by his words and compliments then just what use was the suspicion at all? Elmstar’s confidence in Flowerfur was justly placed; she could not be bought by pleasantries and gestures. She would not relent in her distrust of him and that made him want to chuckle. It would, indeed, be quite interesting to grow closer to the other feline as leader and deputy. To pick each others minds; Flowerfur trying to pinpoint the cause of her innate suspicion and him darkly anticipating the moment she finally did. It was a completely different dance and one his paws itched to play out. ”How curious,” he mewed quietly, turning his face toward the entrace. ”With the timely convenience that this storm’s beginning to secede, one would think it was sent by StarClan just to get us stuck here.” It was a off-paw remark, shrugged away as he looked back at Flowerfur and dipped his chin downward; the gesture open with his gratitude for the grooming and his satisfaction at the outcome of their encounter. Tucked into the small nod, also, so subtle that it could possibly have been imagined, was the acknowledgement of her suspicions; a tiny flicker of wicked amusement that could have been sinister, were it not dressed up with charm and tact. ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Words: 663 Tagged: Storm/Flowerfur Post Scriptum: Wow, sorry this came out the way it did. It’s a whole lot of ”what-is-this-weird” and ”not-very-good”. Would you like me to post the ceremony? :D
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