Morning Pains {Open}

[Elmstar]

[attr="class","blowmebaby"]elmstar . 87 moons . leader . thunderclan

[attr="class","kissyoukissingthem"]

[attr="class","monica"]he felt the blood on his paws justified
524 wordsopen tag

[attr="class","texterz-revolt"]A low, internal growl built in the depths of his chest, restrained only by the stiff clenching of a strong jaw. The tom's dark, umber-banded tail swished across the ground in a mysterious, graceful arc; the tell-tale sign of a predator, completely and entirely intent on its prey. Body held close to the ground, belly fur brushing silently through the springy, new sprouts of new-leaf foliage, Elmstar pulled his skinny frame across the ground with perfect stealth, each pawstep skillfully undetected.

With each step, however, there was also the smallest whisper of pain; the subtle hint of ache in every muscle, pulled and strained with every swift, precise movement. His body mumbled pleading, hushed moans of protest, but the ThunderClan leader paid them no heed; didn't even acknowledge them. His eyes, narrowed into slits of fierce, unbridled determination, remained fixed upon the small finch in his path, hopping around the roots of a tree, searching for small seeds and oblivious to its impending demise. Shot throughout the dull olive depths of Elmstar's darkened gaze, however, was a swirling shadow of overbearing weariness. There was no doubt about it — the tom was exhausted. And although it was painfully obvious to anyone with eyes, and Elmstar himself did not deny it, he fanatically continued to try his muscles and push his body beyond its finally-reached limit.

Death followed him closely, in the form of Redstar's coaxing whisper, frequently tickling at the back of his mind; sometimes accusing, other times only beckoning. And in the glimpses of bright amber gazing at him from the shadows; the still orbs of his murdered predecessor, patient and waiting. Threatening and ominous. It seemed lately, that the ThunderClan leader had to dismiss the ghostly delusions more and more with each passing day, and it was beginning to drive him mad. So much so, that he had come into the habit of overworking himself as a distraction. Refusing rest and keeping on his paws... as if avoiding idleness would keep the growing paranoia at bay. 

His muscles protested fiercely as he gathered their strength and leaped at the small bird, killing it swiftly and with the acquired skill of a seasoned hunter. Straightening slowly from his crouch with a long, sharp intake of breath, Elmstar screwed up his tired eyes at the dull pain of his body trying to soothe the ache that radiated from what felt like every sinew. But though old, his senses had not yet abandoned him, and when the smallest of rustles pervaded his hearing, the ThunderClan leader instinctively straightened even taller, his attention, gaze, and ears all flickering toward the noise. The forest floor was a dangerous place, he knew that perhaps better than any of his clanmates. Tense and immediately alert, the wiry tabby parted his jaws to taste better his surroundings.

Then... a touch of delusion. A small flickering of paranoia across his face. Eyes screwing up with hesitation, his maw parting to mew, Elmstar's voice left his lips in an uncertain, almost fearful whisper — "Redstar?" An undeniable sign of his gradually-slipping sanity, scripted plainly across his features as he searched the darkness.

[attr="class","blowmebaby"]image sources: iarama & gasuaska of dA

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE

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[Flowerfur]

Flowerfur honestly loved the ground levels. They were dangerous and fearsome, which meant that she could never go near them. But somehow, she felt more... connected... to her ancestors on the ground. As if, years ago, they had looked up at the trees rather than walked across them. But it would be wrong for her to simply go out for a walk, even leaving Elmstar back at the Hometree to take care of things. So she had gone hunting for a bit. Even so, not much wandered the ground, and the birds seemed to sense her coming, her paws used to bark rather than soil. How did ShadowClan cats deal with having dirt on their paws all the time? But it was a silhouette that finally distracted her from her "hunting". Even as deputy, she had a bit of trouble recognizing it; it wasn't often that cats came out to hunt with Elmstar, especially considering his age. Curious, she stepped calmly and carefully into a bush, able to see Elmstar creeping ever-so-slowly towards a bird. She was certain that it was not just caution that slowed him, but age and pain. It was quite telling that she felt the urge to go out and praise Elmstar when he did kill the bird successfully. Wait... hadn't he said he was going to stay behind that day while she hunted? Why was he out? Had he forgotten? Flowerfur began to step out of the bush behind her leader to turn around when her right foot caught, shaking the leaves slightly. She was still cast in shadow, so it was no surprise to her that Elmstar would look around, slightly frightened. She was about to call out to him when her ears caught a whisper that chilled her to the bone. "Elmstar, no. It's... it's me, Flowerfur." Her voice was calm and motherly, like she was talking to a kit. "Redstar is dead, remember?" The ThunderClan deputy stopped and shook her head, refusing suddenly to patronize her leader, taking the effort to switch her voice back to normal. "Are you sleepwalking or something? You told me you'd be in camp today." Tagged: Elmstar / Oakey Status: Open? Muse: Good Notes: Flowerfur had a more concerned response than I thought she would. Ah well.

[Elmstar]

[attr="class","blowmebaby"]elmstar . 87 moons . leader . thunderclan

[attr="class","kissyoukissingthem"]

[attr="class","monica"]he felt the blood on his paws justified
638 wordsopen tag

[attr="class","texterz-revolt"]The distinctly-maternal and recognizable voice that came back to Elmstar from the shadows was meant to be soothing. But the calm assurances offered only clattered loosely in the ThunderClan leader's skull, attempting in vain to find some level of purchase over his low, flustering fever of gradually-worsening paranoia. His yellow-green eyes searched those of his deputy as she stepped from concealment, himself still uncertain and wary as his mind whirled to compensate for its blatant misplacement of all sense. Redstar was dead. "Right." He mewed in simple response, detachedly, more to himself than Flowerfur, and without any real effort to cover the slow, sluggish turning of his comprehension. The single word sounded with a clear lack of absolvement, and been quietly drawn out as the ThunderClan tom blinked his cautious gaze and furrowed his brow.

Her words became less soothing now, and what she spoke brought Elmstar's ears swiveling back to press, only fleetingly, to his skull as he bent his chin and shook his head. "No... no, surely I would remember." The mew had begun as a soft, still slightly-bewildered utterance, but by the end Elmstar had somewhat relocated himself and the shake of his head transformed from subtle confusion to assured confidence. "I don't recall promising myself anywhere." Then a flicker of doubt, better concealed now, but still dusting visibly across his composure. "I would remember."

This all seemed vaguely familiar. And as Elmstar lifted his face — which he realized, with a cold prickling of absurdity, had been turned down in a ridiculous semblance of apology — to peer at his deputy with returned clarity, his jaw slackened as he found her waiting, yellow eyes. It had been like this before, Elmstar realized darkly. "Redstar, there you are! We've had warriors searching for you all sun-high." A young deputy, not long-appointed, gazing up at his absent-minded leader with a suppressed frustration and the very beginnings of treacherous wondering. It had been him there, looking inquisitively at his elder, irritated at having to spare a hunting party after the tom's frequent disappearances. Now his own deputy was holding his gaze and, like Redstar before, he was at a certain loss for understanding his not being in the right place at the right time.

Clicking his slightly-parted teeth back together, Elmstar — suddenly completely sobered and composed, though his mind continued to grapple with troubling thoughts — closed his eyes. With a sharp, audible exhale, he conceded quietly. "I must have forgotten. I swear by StarClan, it'd almost be better if I were sleepwalking. Just the sun-high before Kestrelflight barely stopped me from walking straight off a branch during a hunting patrol, did he tell you that?" Elmstar laughed once, though the single peal was a tone of poorly-restrained bitterness rather than amusement. His eyes blinked open and he turned them upon his deputy with an empty sort of self-accusation. "He said I looked as if I were hundreds of territories away. And you know what I said?" Elmstar waited only a second, as if expecting Flowerfur to answer, and in that short moment, a petulant smile twisted across his muzzle. "'Thanks, Cerisepaw.'"

Another snort of sour laughter and Elmstar lashed his tail. Given a moment to let his riled-up negativity burn through him, he shook his head with a frown and sighed. "I'm sorry, I know I couldn't make things any harder on you, really. Especially now, with RiverClan... I hope my disappearance didn't inconvenience anyone." As he quietly uttered this apology, Elmstar realized he had turned his face away again. Sounding more like a chastised apprentice, too ashamed to meet his mentor's eyes. Swallowing, he looked at his deputy and flicked an ear, his yellow-green orbs not entirely clear. Cloudy with age and a lingering haze of sickly confusion. "It's only the strangest things lately..."

[attr="class","blowmebaby"]image sources: iarama & gasuaska of dA

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE

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[Flowerfur]

Elmstar's promise to stay inside would have been forgiven and forgotten much easier if not for his tone of voice when he denied it. He was confused and unsure, as if he had been sleepwalking. A guise of confidence appeared at the last sentence, but the last flicker gave him away. The ThunderClan leader had chosen the wrong deputy if he thought she could be fooled that easily. Many responses came to Flowerfur's mind as her eyes attempted to catch his averted ones, trying to find Elmstar as she knew him. But none of them were right. She could have gone on about how he had, indeed, promised, continuing with the stern tone of an equal, or she could ask after his health and escort him back to camp. But wouldn't the latter be... patronizing? What was Elmstar, a sickly kit? Well, he was ill, but he wasn't a kit. He had proved time and time again that he had earned his grey hairs. So why did he look as helpless as one? Finally catching Elmstar's eye, Flowerfur straightened up, about to tell him that it would probably be best for him to return before he wound up walking into a tree, when he faded away again. The deputy exhaled and slouched, choosing to sit until either her leader came up with something to say or he'd be lucid long enough for her to get her two cents in. Still, she couldn't help continuing to feel concerned; this wasn't like him, not at all. Elmstar was a capable and confident tom, not... not whatever he was now. A mix of irritation and pity washed at her mind as she waited, the trees rustling above them. The irritation caused her tail-tip to flick and her eyes to spark, but the pity made her wish to go over and comfort a tom moons upon moons older than she, to convince him that he wasn't going mad, even though that would likely be a lie. But at the same time, she felt as if this had happened before, even though she knew it never had. It was a much more composed Elmstar that spoke next. The ThunderClan deputy used the time it took him to… explain? No, that wasn’t the right word. If Flowerfur didn’t know Elmstar, she would have thought he was apologizing. She did listen to his little story, not bothering to respond to the rhetorical question. Since when were rhetorical questions supposed to be answered? Sad. That was the word that kept running through her mind. This whole thing was sad. Her leader was – or at least seemed to be – mentally berating himself for being... for declining. That was another good word, declining. The apology, the actual words “I’m sorry” caused Flowerfur to perk up with a little mewl of surprise. He… was sorry? Even if he didn’t mean it, he’d apologized. He had changed. But even though empathy, even faked, was a welcome change, it was only a bit of a breather from all of the other, nastier changes. “… It’s RiverClan that needs to apologize; we wouldn't be going through this if Lionstar hadn't decided to drop his sanity down a waterfall.” Flowerfur laughed nervously, attempting to give off some hint of humour, to not appear as a judge or witness to his sins. Sins? He’d already confessed to murder. He wasn’t doing anything else wrong, not really. So why had that word come to mind? “… But I’m not sure if no cat was inconvenienced. I can’t be until we return to camp.” Her voice deepened slightly as she glanced away. While she wanted to let it go, she couldn’t, not on good conscience. As Flowerfur looked Elmstar in the eyes once again, and saw the clouds drifting within, something clicked, and a little bit of horror washed over her face as her heart began to sink. This couldn't be happening. Not now, with so much on the line. “This is how it started, isn’t it? With Redstar. This has happened before.” Tagged: Elmstar / Oakey Status: Open Muse: No no no don't leave me now not when things are finally getting started nooooo Notes: Sorry this isn't very good. It seems my muse is sinking to the bottom of a cavern. Ha ha ha ha ha *cries*