Chase the Evening [Minnowpelt]

[Mama Oak]

frosttalon, the sleaze
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A large lily-pad floated serenely upon the calm water. Upon the slowly-rotating boat, a white tom was quietly stretched. The rhythmic rise and fall of his expanded chest and the periodical twitch at the tip of his long, feathery tail, were Frosttalon’s only movements as he lay there, thinking of many things and nothing all at once, while — every once in a while — actually slipping into a feather-light doze. Camp-life had grown tense the past few moons. Ever since Lionstar had all but declared war on Elmstar, many cats walked around in dread, while others were angry and baying beneath their breaths for ThunderClan blood. After a long day of patrolling and hunting, Frosttalon only wanted a moment’s pleasant grace, so he had retreated from his clanmates and found himself on the lake. Where he had stayed for most of the evening, just relaxing.

The white warrior started from a gentle sleep and blinked open his large, light blue eyes. Further out across the lake, he noticed another lily-pad with another feline upon it. Flicking an ear and lifting his head, Frosttalon blinked himself further awake. It was Minnowpelt — the hue of her pelt and the build of her body, even though she was some distance away, was unmistakable.

It was difficult to think that his daughter was twelve moons. Although she had the body of a full-grown warrioress, there was a certain look of innocence and youth about her features that struck him as cordially genuine. An internal glow of kittish dictation that nearly always made him smile — a warm, appreciative smile. Frosttalon had only been twelve moons himself, when Minnowpelt had been born. At that age, his own features had been shadowed with smug arrogance and charming confidence; a smooth mask to soften his true face of his insatiable, consuming hunger. He hadn’t been mentally equipped to be a father, then.

Sometimes, as he would cross the camp to meet a pretty young apprentice for a patrol, he could feel Dusksong’s eyes on him from the mouth of the nursery, where she watched as her daughter played in the clearing. Her gaze upon his sleek, white pelt was not spiteful, pleading, or even remorseful... not ever asking anything of him... but trained upon him all the same. Just watching as her once-lover brushed past their kitten in pursuit of another she-cat fancy. Sometimes her eyes would make him feel guilty, but only guilty enough to toss his daughter a smile or pause to play with her for a single, passing moment.

Frosttalon blinked the remembering away, before he could recall the color of Dusksong’s eyes or remember that he had loved her for a time. As his lily-pad floated nearer his daughter’s, the white tom pulled himself from his reposing position and called out in a friendly purr. ”Howdy, Minnowpelt!” Then, in a sudden, swift movement, the warrior slipped his body into the lake. Diving down just enough so his snowy fur couldn’t easily be spotted, Frosttalon swam through the water. Kicking out effortlessly, his long, slender figure cut through the depths with ease. When he was just beneath Minnowpelt’s lily-pad, he let himself slowly rise. Parting his maw, he filled his jaws with water and then, forcing himself from the water in a show of playful spirit, he burst through the surface and sent the water arcing from his teeth toward Minnowpelt’s perch. With a joyous laugh, he paddled at the water to keep himself afloat. ”How is my favorite chickadee, today?”

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Words: 588
Tagged: Minnowpelt/Trixie
Post Scriptum: Let me know if you don’t like the set-up. I get the oddest ideas when starting threads. xD And I really wanted to have a nickname that Frosty’s been using with Minnowpelt since she was a kitten. If you’re not okay with that, let me know, and I’ll revise. And if you are okay with that, but have something better than ’chickadee’, say so~ I just thought it would be cute, because I don’t think Minnowpelt's the type to be like ”God, don’t call me that anymore, Dad! *scoff* I’m twelve moons, for StarClan’s sake! Gaw!” But if she is that type, that’s cool, too. *flails*

[Petrichor]

Minnowpelt wasn't sure how she'd ended up on the lily-pad. She didn't mind, though; she liked lily-pads, and she liked the waterfall. In fact, the whole place was just a welcome change from the tense air of the Clan. Some cats talked about ThunderClan with anger, but some talked with fear. It seemed like the air in the camp was urging the cats to fight each other, but it hadn't happened yet. Minnowpelt was happy, because she didn't want to hit any of her friends. Not to mention that she liked water. It seemed obvious, that a RiverClan cat would like water, but Minnowpelt liked water more than any other cat there was. She liked the feel of it on her fur, the way it shone under both the sun and moon, the way she could see Silverpelt in it at night. And that's without mentioning how much she liked to swim! Minnowpelt thought about Frosttalon for some reason. He was her dad, but that's what all the other cats called him. He didn't pay as much attention to her as other cats' fathers did, but she didn't mind. Minnowpelt had to believe that her dad had reasons to leave her alone, because he was an important warrior of RiverClan. It was funny; Minnowpelt had grasped and begged for the times where Frosttalon would smile at her, to play. Now she didn't mind as much. She thought there was probably a reason for that, but her brain told her that she didn't want to remember right now. The copper she-cat jumped slightly with a light "mewl" as the cat she had just been thinking about called for her relatively nearby, and she turned to receive a bit of water as he surfaced beside her. He called her "chickadee", just like he did when he paid attention to her. Minnowpelt liked being called chickadee. "Daddy!" Minnowpelt meowed with joy, pressing down on the edge of the lily-pad to be eye-level with her father. "You're down here, too! Oh, this is so neat! I was thinking about you! Did you go to get away from the fighting, too? I forgot how I got here, but I know that I like this place so that's not a bad thing!" In the midst of Minnowpelt using her motormouth, the lily-pad began to tip slightly forward, used to having cats be on the middle of it. As she reached the end of what she was saying, the lily-pad dumped her straight into the water and, indirectly, on her father's head. Minnowpelt blinked a couple of times, going up after she realized that she was underwater. She looked at her father with a smiling expression, though there was a hint of guilt in her eyes. "Sorry, Daddy."

(How to write for Minnowpelt:
Have her go somewhere with water 
Let her mouth never stop talking - repeating herself is okay 
Shove slapstick in there somewhere
? ? ?
Profit!)

(Oakey this is a good setup and chickadee is now the best nickname for Minnowpelt ever)

[Mama Oak]

frosttalon, the sleaze
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Her excited exclamation brought an immediate grin to Frosttalon’s muzzle. There was still a shadow of Minnowkit in her voice and words as the copper warrioress bent down to happily receive him. The chipper rush of joyous greeting was spoken with the same enthusiasm and love that any kitten would have at seeing their scarce father. Although a feline grown, Minnowpelt still seemed to possess the verve and energy of a she-cat half her age. It was something Frosttalon loved about his daughter. It was something that the RiverClan warrior loved about kittens in general.

A kitten would tell you what he thought of you without the rose-tinting that warriors had learned to color their tones and thoughts with. And they could also be so surprisingly profound and passionate. Frosttalon had come to enjoy nothing more than stopping by the nursery to visit Willowkit or Laurelkit; to engage their young minds on something they loved. Even if their momentary hobby was simply batting around a mossball, or pretending to be a butterfly, Frosttalon would listen with a beaming grin as they prattled on about it. It was an amazing and wonderful force; the pure, untapped passion a kitten could possess for something. For anything. Kittens were enthusiastic, lively, and not yet burdened by the pressures of a warrior’s world. The bad and dark bounced right off them, while they absorbed and radiated the good and bright. Paws down, kittens were much better company than warriors. Frosttalon had taken to hanging around the nursery with his children as often as he could; feeding their energy levels and then matching that energy himself. More often than not, he would much rather be mock-battling his children, laughing, and having a good time with them... instead of sharing-tongues with a group of warriors, who did little more than talk about dull clan happenings.

But the RiverClan tom hadn’t frequented the nursery nearly as much when Minnowpelt had been a kitten. Those many moons ago, all of Frosttalon’s energy and time had been channeled toward his numberless she-cat conquests. He only spared his daughter a thought when he felt the guilt of Dusksong’s placid gaze. However, even twelve moons later, with his daughter grown and her mother gone, Frosttalon couldn’t believe for a second that he’d missed his chance with Minnowpelt. Not only had she retained the kit-like energy and joy that he so cherished, but she had never displayed any signs of holding him accountable for his absence. Of... hating him, for not being there. She had reason to, and if she did, Frosttalon would think her very justified in the regard.

But she didn’t. Her eyes still shined, and her words remained bright and happy. Frosttalon was grateful for that.

Before he could reply to her immediate ramble of conversation, Minnowpelt’s lily-pad boat capsized and dumped its cargo... right on top of him. Both cats went under, and Frosttalon kicked back to the surface after taking a moment to clear his head of the impact. Shaking the water from his ears, he paddled around to face his daughter, and grinned. ”Quite alright, quite alright,” he reassured her with a small chuckle. ”What’s a RiverClan cat who can’t take a little dunk, huh?” At that, he splashed playfully at his daughter.

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Words: 549
Tagged: Trixie/Minnowpelt
Post Scriptum: Woops, random side ramble on why kittens rock. xD And I hit a dud with the end dialogue, hopefully that's enough to work with~

[Petrichor]

Minnowpelt was happy when her father smiled back, splashing some water playfully back with a mewl of enjoyment. "Aw, Daddy, you're just trying to make me feel better," she laughed, treading water right along with him until she remembered something. "Oh, Daddy! I've been practicing, and I can hold my breath a lot longer now! Watch!" Without waiting for an answer, Minnowpelt dove below the surface, her pelt repelling the water as the cat dove below. Further, further, and further down. Minnowpelt swam around slightly, admiring the cauldron that the waterfall dropped into. She liked the water a lot. She knew that if she were to go near the waterfall, the pressure would crush her, so she stayed away from it. Still, the frothy water that was caused by the drop frothed and churned slightly, which is what caused the lily-pads to move. While the caverns and garden were calm, Minnowpelt had to work a little harder to stay still here. The water pulsed in her ears, like a heartbeat. The she-cat stayed and enjoyed the sound until something twitched in her brain. Her mom's breath on her fur, the rasp of her tongue. Her heartbeat as they lay down to rest, like the night before she became an apprentice. How she had never come ba-- Minnowpelt opened her eyes and thrashed around slightly, pawing at her head as if trying to rip the memory from it. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic and afraid, the copper cat rocketed back up to the top of the water, slowing as her mind forgot what she had panicked about. It was probably quite disturbing for a cat watching, to see her dive down, stay down for a bit, thrash like a cat being ripped apart by a dog, rocket up in fear, and then have that same cat tread up calmly as if nothing had happened, and smile. "See how far down I went? Wasn't it cool?!" Minnowpelt asked her father, unaware that anything had happened... and that her father had probably seen what she hadn't.

(Y'know what would be fun? Having Frosttalon watch his daughter remember something her brain would shut down if she didn't run away from, seize, and then have her come up perfectly calm. Talk about black comedy!)