Post by Fawn on Jan 4, 2013 2:29:23 GMT -5
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[/style][STYLE= background-color:#000000; width:450px; line-height: 10px; font-family:Arial; letter-spacing:3px; font-size:9px; color:#2F4F4F; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:center;]41 Moons - Medicine Cat - Tom - LightningClan
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[/style][STYLE= background-color:#000000; width:450px; line-height: 10px; font-family:Arial; letter-spacing:3px; font-size:9px; color:#595959; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:center;]What's wrong with you cats, why aren't any of you dying?[/style][STYLE= background-color:#000000; width:450px; line-height: 10px; font-family:Arial; letter-spacing:3px; font-size:9px; color:#595959; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:center;]© LISE of BACK TO NEVERLAND[/style]
[/style][STYLE= background-color:#000000; width:450px; line-height: 10px; font-family:Arial; letter-spacing:3px; font-size:9px; color:#2F4F4F; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:center;]41 Moons - Medicine Cat - Tom - LightningClan
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It was only when the many shadow-darkened faces of the congregated healers all showed signs of liveliness did Rookfrost finally stir. He did not ask what they had seen in the realm of stars and dreams; he did not care. Patience having vacated the premises at last, the ebony tom cleared his throat, pale eyes meeting the gaze of any who looked at him.
"This meeting is now over, and we are to return to our Clans. There is much to discuss." As always, there was a machine's efficiency to his habits of speech, something you just couldn't put your paw on about the cold, crisp clarity with-which he addressed the cats before him. It wasn't as though his words sounded rehearsed, no, it was more along the lines of him drawing them from some soulless, empty portion of himself that held no emotion and no sincerity. That also meant that there was no falseness to his words, they simply existed in their coldness, the falseness only ringing faintly under the words he spoke next, the once-warrior gesturing for Snowpaw to follow after him with the flick of his tail.
"Goodbye, travel quickly, and may StarClan light your path."
Now those were words that had been rehearsed, given a blood transfusion of false, faint concern as was necessary at this sort of setting, the tom allowing a curt nod to Swanfeather - a she-cat whose sarcasm he could, at the very least, understand and relate to - before putting the Moon Tree to his back. He did not check to see if Snowpaw was busy saying goodbye or trouncing along after him like his photo-negative shadow; if they were separated, then snowball back there would just have to find his way home or try to catch up.
There were plans that needed to be made, and Rookfrost intended to speak with Redwind as soon as he could get his claws on her.
It had begun to snow in the brief lapse of time they had spent down below the surface, Rookfrost's pale eyes forced to narrow, pupils like the broken slivers of some black sword as light flooded his ocular senses, the brightness swallowed up in the rest of his dark face. Not even the flakes could soften his spectral visage, like a black shadow without an owner, he trekked out over ice and snow, only pausing once to glance back for that familiar white shape, able to see the fluff that rippled with the wind, distinguishing Snowpaw from the cold whiteness that surrounded them.
It was time to go home. There was a war coming, and LightningClan must be prepared.
[/style][STYLE= background-color:#000000; width:450px; line-height: 10px; font-family:Arial; letter-spacing:3px; font-size:9px; color:#595959; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:center;]What's wrong with you cats, why aren't any of you dying?[/style][STYLE= background-color:#000000; width:450px; line-height: 10px; font-family:Arial; letter-spacing:3px; font-size:9px; color:#595959; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:center;]© LISE of BACK TO NEVERLAND[/style]