[Fawn]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width: 400px; text-align: justify;][STYLE=color: #003c6f; width: 100px; height: 100px; border: 7px solid #000000; background: url(http://i90.photobucket.com/albums/k258/nuttybuddy5/Warriors/Cherrypool-icon.jpg)] [/style][STYLE=background: #000000; height: 7px; margin-left: 114px; margin-top: -30px;] [/style][STYLE=background: 0000000; margin-left: 114px; height: 23px;] [/style][STYLE=text-transform: uppercase; font: 20pt Verdana; color: #f0f0f0; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.2em black; margin-left: 116px; margin-top: -60px;]Cherrypool[/style] [STYLE=text-transform: uppercase; margin-top: -9px; text-align: right; letter-spacing: 1px;]LightningClan - 41 Moons Warrior She-Cat[/style][STYLE=border-left:7px solid #000000; padding-left: 5px; padding-top: 10px; font-family: verdana;] The barren, snow-laden moorlands of LightningClan looked less droll from these heights; the monotony of the landscape was not so much apparent when you could see perhaps half the territory and notice the way the land did anything but lie flat. There were dips and small hills and rock clusters and sparse trees, woodlands and dense snow-buried gorse bushes. The world was, in her humble opinion, much more interesting when one had the option to stand back and take it all in. Considering how white her fur was, it was only the eyes that gave away her presence at all; the black pupils swam in blood red oceans, the petite she-cat unsettling by both nature and appearance combined. It was unfortunate, really, that Cherrypool had not been given the chance to grow up like a proper kitten, to have friends and make jokes and participate in social graces, not be reduced to a she-cat with a scalding tongue and a desperate desire to sprout wings so she could fly away from her problems. She usually climbed up here when something was bothering her. It could be a number of things, really, considering how many things seemed to enjoy wrecking havoc upon her already generally unpleasant life. Today, it had been a young almost-apprentice that had bumped into her while playing; the little scrap had turned around, taken one look at her, squealed and ran back to it's mother yelling 'Mommy! Who's that strange cat! She's awful!' It sounded like a little thing, considering it was something she'd heard ever since her hearing had developed, but it wasn't little. Cherrypool never got used to it. Somehow in the back of her mind, she was unable to directly label herself 'the freak' of LightningClan, in fact, she frequently forgot when she was by herself, just an ordinary cat who happened to have an unusual appearance. Being different. That wasn't a crime. Funny how some cats seemed to forget that. [/style][STYLE=text-align: center; font: 6pt Verdana;padding-top: 3px;]made by rabble of back to neverland[/style]

[Deleted]

This is the first day of my life...

The world was assorted hues of gray today, and Thunderclaw fit right in, his long gray fur only shades darker than the overhead clouds. Snow underfoot, the tom entered the thin forest that sprawled out into the moorland. The tom's coat was a light silver, jagged stripes of charcoal winding around and across his body; long white whiskers grew from his cloud-colored muzzle. Thunderclaw's light brown eyes wandered today, exploring the wintry landscape. He made no attempt to move with stealth, but was not a loud or heavy mover, despite his huge paws, and his presence could easily go unnoticed.

His mind was placid, this day. TreeClan was alright. His clanmates were okay. And he was, decidedly, just fine. It was a nice state, without panic, little reason for anxiety, and a beautifully monotonous undertone. The cat paused, scenting the air. He was not alarmed, nor put off, by the redolent LightningClan aroma that he detected, instead deciding to move a bit slower. His tail twitched as he moved to the base of a tree. In its neighbor, he knew, lay a lone she-cat. He paused, calculating the distances, before launching up the trunk. His claws clung to the icy bark, and he hesitated for a moment, becoming accustomed to the tree, before scaling the rest of it. He alighted on a limb, the white she-cat now fully within view. Pleased with himself, he sat back and wrapped his feathered tail around his paws.

"Hello, miss," he purred. "Lovely day today, isn't it?" He had no intent of spitting wildly at her, nor hissing insults; now was not the time to seek out problems. This was an area that both LightningClan and TreeClan claimed, with little clarity on the issue, but quite frankly, he did not give one mouse tail about the problem. He found the she-cat rather pretty, her white fur fitting in well with the sky-frosted tree in which she sat. The branches between them were too slick with ice for there to be any immediate danger of an attack from; he felt no animosity towards her at all, despite their difference in origin.

They were all just cats.

... Swear I was born right in the doorway.

Character; Thunderclaw
Word count; 369
Notes; Sorry. xD

[Fawn]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width: 400px; text-align: justify;][STYLE=color: #003c6f; width: 100px; height: 100px; border: 7px solid #000000; background: url(http://i90.photobucket.com/albums/k258/nuttybuddy5/Warriors/Cherrypool-icon.jpg)] [/style][STYLE=background: #000000; height: 7px; margin-left: 114px; margin-top: -30px;] [/style][STYLE=background: 0000000; margin-left: 114px; height: 23px;] [/style][STYLE=text-transform: uppercase; font: 20pt Verdana; color: #f0f0f0; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.2em black; margin-left: 116px; margin-top: -60px;]Cherrypool[/style] [STYLE=text-transform: uppercase; margin-top: -9px; text-align: right; letter-spacing: 1px;]LightningClan - 41 Moons Warrior She-Cat[/style][STYLE=border-left:7px solid #000000; padding-left: 5px; padding-top: 10px; font-family: verdana;] The presence of the TreeClan tom had forced the ruby red eyes of Cherrypool to narrow into dangerous, observant slits, her expression arranged in a look that wasn't necessarily friendly, more statuesque in it's blankness. This quickly changed, the she-cat's fur spiking upward at the scratch of claws on bark and the creaky swaying of branches, hinting at Thunderclaw's ascent. Feeling under attack, especially to have her safe-place suddenly invaded by the tom with the repugnant TreeClan stench forced a hiss past pearly white fangs, lips curling back into a snarl. "Hello, miss,"[...]"Lovely day today, isn't it?" Cherrypool, from where she had been laying down on a white, spacious bough, gawked at him as though this strange tom were not a tom at all, but a giant singing badger in a tutu. "Excuse me? Were you dropped on your head as a kit?" It was a rhetorical question, but at the tom's sudden politeness and apparent lack of fright at her appearance had her honestly wondering. Cats of all Clans avoided her; the ones that didn't try to avoid her usually wanted to make fun of the alabaster she-cat with the ruby red eyes, or they were she-cats who just wanted to impress her charismatic, well-liked brother. Is he blind? Can't be... blind cats don't climb trees. That and his eyes were not cloudy with age, though that didn't necessarily have to be the case to be blind. Unsettled by him more than she would ever admit, Cherrypool rose to a sitting position, thin-furred, delicate white tail wrapped around her paws. Fully on guard, the she-cat slipped into a staring match with this polite TreeClan tom, all the while trying to figure out his game, analyze him before he said something else that figuratively knocked her off balance for a second time. What's his deal? [/style][STYLE=text-align: center; font: 6pt Verdana;padding-top: 3px;]made by rabble of back to neverland[/style]

[Phoenix]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=background,http://i47.tinypic.com/el6yhx.jpg] [/style]

[atrb=width,500,true][atrb=background,http://i45.tinypic.com/miic29.jpg][style=padding-left: 5px; height: 259px;][style=height: 257px; width: 225px; overflow: auto; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 13px; font-family: perpetua;]The unfortunate thing about leaf-bare was that it caused a massive shortage of prey. That in itself made it incredibly hard for him to maintain control of his thirst, which seemed to be growing stronger by the passing day. Prey was scarce enough, and he could not even properly hunt what little he did find. It was infuriating. How long had it been since he saw liquid crimson seep out of a newly opened wound and blend with the white of his fur? That was a combination that he loved, the red and the white; the stark difference between the two attracted his gaze every time. He always hated when his games were over, and he had to rid his alabaster fur of that delicious red. Unsheathed claws forced their way into the frozen ground, excited at the mere thought of that beautiful sight. Unfortunately, the prey had chosen to remain in their dens, burrowed deep, and for all his efforts, he had nothing to show but a scrawny rabbit with so little meat on its bones that it would barely feed an apprentice. The creature had been dead when he found it, practically frozen solid, and therefore unable to quench his thirst. A hiss escaped him as he made his way back to camp, carrying his frozen catch by the leg. Whiteshade would not have stopped had he not heard his sister's familiar voice. Even then, it was the tone of sheer disbelief, an emotion he rarely heard from her, that captured his curiousity and forced him away from his route back to camp. The last thing he would have expected of his sister was to see her conversing with a TreeClan cat, let alone a TreeClan tom. Instantly, the fate of the other tom crossed his mind, and he could not help but hope that the same fate would befall this TreeClan warrior. This time, he wanted to be the one to do slit his throat, preferably while his victim was still perched in that tree of. It would be fascinating to watch. Anything to watch the red spread spill to the ground. Red eyes shifted from studying the tom - and imagining all of the pleasant ways this encounter could go - to latching onto the familiar white fur of his sister high in a neighboring tree. Setting down the pathetic excuse for a rabbit, Whiteshade sauntered toward the two. A wide, Cheshire grin spread across his lips, which revealed sharp, pointed teeth. It was all pleasant, all welcoming - all part of the game - though he was fully aware of its ability to unnerve some cats. I have no idea why. "Fancy meeting you here," He addressed his sister first, calling up to her. Then he faced the tom, equally polite. "And you, TreeClan. How are you on this fine, fine day?"

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[Deleted]

I went out in the rain, suddenly everything changed...

Thunderclaw's eyes rose to the sky for a moment, before returning to the she-cat that sat in the tree across from him. "As a matter of fact," he answered, amusement in his voice, "no, I was not." His tail twitched with amusement. What on earth was she so baffled by? It wasn't that he was from another clan – at least not entirely. That would generally constitute a distinctly different type of reaction, one with more ire, and less mild pique.

The long-furred silver tabby took no interest in a staring match with the she-cat, instead letting his light brown eyes wander easily into the bare, reaching branches above her, that bore a light frosting of snow in some places. Returning his eyes to hers, he squinted playfully, stretching forward a bit, as if studying her, and mewed in a faux-suspicious tone, "Were you?"

He glanced down as he heard another cat approaching, seeing a white tom dragging a pathetic piece of frozen prey which he identified as a rabbit. Flicking his ears, he nodded a greeting. The cat made an odd face, but Thunderclaw ignored it, and answered, friendly, "Quite well, actually!" From his perspective, he could see that these cats must be related, probably littermates. Their features were very alike, but there was a significant variant in the way that they subjectively spoke – well, from what little verbalization he'd heard, anyways.

"How about yourself, my good sir?" It was typical of Thunderclaw to be polite and chivalrous in his dealings, and his conversing would nearly always remain urbane and courteous. He was not, however, above lighthearted banter, a manner in which he'd just addressed the petite she-cat. He wondered, once more, why she was so incredulous as to his manner of speech, if that was it. He found her to be quite pretty, and though she was a bit sardonic, he appreciated her aptness for sarcasm. Studying her for a moment before returning his umber eyes to the tom below, he shrugged the thought away internally.

Cats. They were all just cats.

... they're spreading blankets on the beach.

Character; Thunderclaw
Word count; 363
Notes; Chickens are evil dinosaur creatures.

[Fawn]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width: 400px; text-align: justify;][STYLE=color: #003c6f; width: 100px; height: 100px; border: 7px solid #000000; background: url(http://i90.photobucket.com/albums/k258/nuttybuddy5/Warriors/Cherrypool-icon.jpg)] [/style][STYLE=background: #000000; height: 7px; margin-left: 114px; margin-top: -30px;] [/style][STYLE=background: 0000000; margin-left: 114px; height: 23px;] [/style][STYLE=text-transform: uppercase; font: 20pt Verdana; color: #f0f0f0; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.2em black; margin-left: 116px; margin-top: -60px;]Cherrypool[/style] [STYLE=text-transform: uppercase; margin-top: -9px; text-align: right; letter-spacing: 1px;]LightningClan - 41 Moons Warrior She-Cat[/style][STYLE=border-left:7px solid #000000; padding-left: 5px; padding-top: 10px; font-family: verdana;] Cherrypool scoffed. "Right. Okay, so you aren't touched in the head - what do you want?" This statement would have been in accompaniment with a hostile, twitching tail-tip had she not been caught by surprise for the second time in less than five minutes. Whiteshade? Glancing through the thick, frosted branches for the white cat standing on a white landscape, it took the blood red pin-pricks of his eyes for her to locate him, the she-cat's claws unsheathing to brace herself against the already scratched bark of the bough she was occupying. "I could say the same thing to you." Not wanting to linger on her brother - he knew how to find his way up to join their...lofty conversation - Cherrypool turned startlingly red-pigmented eyes upon the TreeClan tom, not bothering to hide her distaste over his distinctive, woody scent. For someone who liked tree-climbing, the albino she-cat had a cautious distaste for TreeClan and everything they stood for. For all their nobility, Cherrypool was dead certain they would have ostracized her and viewed her as a monster just as LightningClan had. And for that reason alone, she would be on her toes around them, for they had no such hang-ups like 'she's a Clanmate, we can't chase her off', or 'she has a right to be here - sh-she's LightningClan, right?' After all, she was no kinbeast of theirs, if they felt her a monster, then they could do as whatever their moral compasses saw fit. "Look I'm not sure what it is you want, but let's get something straight," growled the she-cat, fixing a critical eye on the amicable Thunderclaw; "I am no one's idea of normal, or safe, or worth-conversing with. So if you're thinking we can be friends, stop. It won't happen." Cherrypool could tell for a FACT that he was not up here to flirt - wait... Unless he was doing it on a stupid dare from his stupid friends back in his stupid clan. Ever the suspicious creature, Cherrypool glanced beyond Thunderclaw to the forest below him, searching maliciously for the idiot group of friends he had lying in wait, snickering and laughing at their poor dumb friend who'd been convinced to talk to the weird albino from LightningClan... Cherrypool's claws sank deeper into the bark, scouring it as though it were an enemy, not a means by which to support her. [/style][STYLE=text-align: center; font: 6pt Verdana;padding-top: 3px;]made by rabble of back to neverland[/style]

[Phoenix]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=background,http://i47.tinypic.com/el6yhx.jpg] [/style]

[atrb=width,500,true][atrb=background,http://i45.tinypic.com/miic29.jpg][style=padding-left: 5px; height: 259px;][style=height: 257px; width: 225px; overflow: auto; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 13px; font-family: perpetua;]Despite his perfectly cordial attitude, Whiteshade could not say that the tom made a particularly good impression on him. Had he been any other cat, then the TreeClan warrior's pleasant greeting would have made him very inclined to befriend the other tom. But he was not in the mood for likable and friendly and warm. He did not care about forming any personal attatchments with non-LightningClan cats; in fact he could even do without some of the cats in his clan. Whiteshade wanted one thing, and that was to have a victim, a body writing beneath him as his claws tore at warm flesh, leaving trails of beautiful red in their wake. As always, the chances of his fantasy becoming reality were slim - far too slim - and he was only torturing himself by lingering on them. "Very well, thank you for asking," He answered smoothly, easily masking his thoughts from the TreeClan tom, who appeared as though he was lacking in the intelligence department anyway. The conversation could have easily ended there, had Cherrypool not chosen that moment to respond to the warrior in a voice of barely controlled hostility. Though he knew how touchy his sister was about her differences, he did not doubt it was in response to some earlier comment that the TreeClan tom had made. His white tail flicked through the air behind him, curling in a decidedly odd fashion as red eyes flicked over to latch onto his sister, who appeared rather tense. "Be polite, Cherrypool," He chided under his breath, "That is not how you make friends." His gaze lingered on Cherrypool a moment longer as his body stilled, except for his tail, which persistently continued to form odd shapes behind him. Then, without warning, red eyes suddenly snapped over to pierce the TreeClan tom. Tilting his head slightly to the side, Whiteshade seemed to study the tom for a moment, though his thoughts were focused completely on the words he was about to say. "I do believe that it would be in your best interest to take my sister's words into account," He added his own warning to back up Cherrypool's, voice infinitely more cultured and polite than her growl, "lest you do something foolish and make a mistake you might regret later." Whiteshade paused for a moment, nodding slightly to the TreeClan tom. "I am sure that you have noticed that she is feeling rather hostile toward you. While I do not doubt your good intentions, I encourage you to heed her words." Out of interest for your own personal safety, of course. The tom seemed rather thick-headed, and if he had not stopped antagonizing Cherrypool by now, he was probably dead-set on befriending her. Chances were that the TreeClan warrior would disregard his words and continue down that hopeless path, which, if he was lucky, might end in bloodshed. And if he was intelligent enough to listen to the warnings... There is always next time.

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[Deleted]

Yours was the first face that I saw...

The she-cat was practically bristling, angry in what seemed to be a defensive way. Thunderclaw studied her, noting the way that her claws pressed into the icy bark.

A laugh escaping, he mewed, "Want? I don't want anything at all, my dear." His thick silver tabby coat rippled, and he glanced down at the tom, who spoke in what might have been a condescending tone, and then back to his sister. No one's idea of normal? Safe? He guffawed, meeting the she-cat's scarlet gaze.


"Define normal," he said, waving his feathered tail dismissively. "And there is not one cat in the empyrean above nor the earth below that is 'safe,' as you so eloquently put it." He purred. "We're all just creatures with all sorts of incredible potential roaming around here on and beneath the great expanses. Ah, the opportunities we have to be great, or to be terrible, and to wound and to heal. Such power in our paws, do you not agree?" The question was rhetorical, and he continued. He spoke many words, but they filled the air in a delicate manner that did not really seem to be ranting. Perhaps on the very brink of long-windedness, but not so much as to perturb his listeners. He continued.

"See, we're all battling our own demons, my lovely miss, and we are all irrevocably afraid of those demons, and what they might do to us, or to others." He chose his next words carefully, but paused only a moment. "The cats that are not afraid of their demons are the ones you really have to watch out for." He winked, then, returning his bright, light brown gaze to the cat below for an instant, said, "You both assume that I have any intention at all, but I, consequentially, do not."

He chuckled inwardly, good-naturedly... Satisfied. Concluding words sat on the end of his tongue, but he did not speak them, for he felt that they had implied themselves. My dear, you are quite worthy of conversing with, in my eyes.

... I think I was blind before I met you.

Character; Thunderclaw
Word count; 373
Notes; :P Mehblargh.

[Fawn]

=

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width: 400px; text-align: justify;][STYLE=color: #003c6f; width: 100px; height: 100px; border: 7px solid #000000; background: url(http://i90.photobucket.com/albums/k258/nuttybuddy5/Warriors/Cherrypool-icon.jpg)] [/style][STYLE=background: #000000; height: 7px; margin-left: 114px; margin-top: -30px;] [/style][STYLE=background: 0000000; margin-left: 114px; height: 23px;] [/style][STYLE=text-transform: uppercase; font: 20pt Verdana; color: #f0f0f0; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.2em black; margin-left: 116px; margin-top: -60px;]Cherrypool[/style] [STYLE=text-transform: uppercase; margin-top: -9px; text-align: right; letter-spacing: 1px;]LightningClan - 41 Moons Warrior She-Cat[/style][STYLE=border-left:7px solid #000000; padding-left: 5px; padding-top: 10px; font-family: verdana;] "Be polite, Cherrypool, that is NOT how you make friends." "Easy for you to say," The albino she-cat's ears flattened as though yanked down by the weight of her own inner indignation. What right did he have to tell her how to make friends? In case he hadn't noticed, for as long as they'd been alive, friendship was never something she'd had or been able to get, contrary to Mr. Popular-Tom over there... and this exceptionally wordy TreeClanner Cherrypool knew instantly she could not trust. Though his words were meant to soothe rather than agitate, Cherrypool could not ignore her base instinct to distrust anyone who was civil or kind to her; she lived in a world that was painted black, white and then gray, her area, the tiny section of the world that was composed of misfits like the red-eyed feline of LightningClan. This TreeClan tom, all though 'strange' by her definition for no other reason than her inability to figure him out, did not belong in her little grayscale corner of the world, nor did she have any plans to invite him in. There was something undeniably alarming about a feline who can be speak so eloquently and yet desire nothing at all, with seemingly no intention for anything negative or in askance or for a favor. That made her spine tingle. He was perfectly civil. He was a gentleman, he was a gentleman the way her brother was a gentleman - oh but she could take a guess at what demons lurked behind her brother's eyes. With this tom...she would never know. He had a disarming personality, and she did not like it. Cherrypool had been disarmed once before, by Wildclaw, disarmed enough to become his mate and start to view the world in color rather than in monochromatic, abysmal shades of cynicism, but when the time came, he too had disappointed her. He too had taken a shot at her, lined up the crosshairs and hurt her in a way she hadn't been expecting. The she-cat's eyes narrowed, her thin-furred tail slicing through the air below like a pendulum swung before a pit, ready to sever anything soft and tangible beneath it. "In my experience, TreeClan cat, there is no such thing as 'no intention at all'." She countered with guarded words and an aggressive but outright attacking posture. "Even the sun has the intention of shining; though your words are pretty and arranged in such a fluent, fluid way, I don't believe a single hair of it. Your intention is to have a conversation, or your intention is to sit here and share this tree with me, or perhaps your intentions are to see into LightningClan territory, searching for our camp?"

[/color] Blood-red eyes swiveled up the length of Thunderclaw's body to meet his face, her brusque manner of speaking her usual one, though with a veiled lack of emotion, the she-cat trying to stay as remotely detached as she could without being flat-out cold.
"The better answer then, would be whether or not your intentions are good, bad, or neither."

Cherrypool had not forgotten her brother, and the white she-cat's head dipped down to espy the snow-furred tom looking up at them intently, the she-cat able to sense his intentions for what they were. She had no desire to dig any deeper into her brother's behavior, she would take what he projected onto the surface for what it was. His intentions were to satisfy his own curiosity, nothing more.

Not to finally give in to the blood singing in his ears and pulling his claws from their sheathes...

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---

Notes: NOPE!
Words:661. :( Shoulda went for 666. Darn~

[Deleted]

I don't know where I am, I don't know where I've been...

The she-cat's words sounded to Thunderclaw like those of an injured creature, lashing out because she felt threatened; angry at the world because it had treated her unkindly. That's hard to believe, he mused, when she's such a pretty cat. Certainly she had the toms of LightningClan flocking after her. Those eyes... Her stunning red eyes, alluring and beautiful and enchanting all at once. He suddenly became aware that he'd been gazing into them, and glanced away, instead focusing on the tip of her tail.

He listened, and then in his relaxed, pleasant voice, replied, "You present a very valid point." He paused as he lowered himself down onto the branch, assuming a lazy lying-down position, one of his paws dangling off of the limb. His tail was lifting and falling absent-mindedly. "As to my intentions..."

He looked around, "For starters, we can assume that I'm not at all interested in LightningClan camp, seeing as my back is to the moorland." His whiskers twitched with amusement. "And you," he shrugged a bit, "I don't want anything from you."

"No premeditated intentions, good or bad... and my present intentions, which would, I suppose, be to speak with the delightful she-cat in the tree across from me, have no innate driving force behind them, and I daresay that we can neither pin them as good or bad, and therefore they fall under the category of neither."

He laughed quietly, and then, his light brown eyes sparkling, he said, "My name is Thunderclaw."

... but I know where I want to go.

Character; Thunderclaw
Word count; 283
Notes; Pheonix said to skip Whiteshade's reply.

[Fawn]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width: 400px; text-align: justify;][STYLE=color: #003c6f; width: 100px; height: 100px; border: 7px solid #000000; background: url(http://i90.photobucket.com/albums/k258/nuttybuddy5/Warriors/Cherrypool-icon.jpg)] [/style][STYLE=background: #000000; height: 7px; margin-left: 114px; margin-top: -30px;] [/style][STYLE=background: 0000000; margin-left: 114px; height: 23px;] [/style][STYLE=text-transform: uppercase; font: 20pt Verdana; color: #f0f0f0; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.2em black; margin-left: 116px; margin-top: -60px;]Cherrypool[/style] [STYLE=text-transform: uppercase; margin-top: -9px; text-align: right; letter-spacing: 1px;]LightningClan - 41 Moons Warrior She-Cat[/style][STYLE=border-left:7px solid #000000; padding-left: 5px; padding-top: 10px; font-family: verdana;] "No premeditated intentions, good or bad... and my present intentions, which would, I suppose, be to speak with the delightful she-cat in the tree across from me, have no innate driving force behind them, and I daresay that we can neither pin them as good or bad, and therefore they fall under the category of neither." Right. She wasn't buying what he was selling, but this was, perhaps, the first earnestly civil conversation she'd had with anyone who wasn't her mentor, her Clan leader or her brother. A very small circle, Cherrypool had, of cats who would tolerate her presence longer than others because they had grown used to or did not care for her frightful appearance. Never taking her eyes off of him, the albino feline kept up this front of mistrust, though it was difficult to fight back the urge to tell him her name - he had given up his so readily, and oh it had been so long since anyone had ever been friendly to her... "Cherrypool. I'm Cherrypool." The words came out like a hairball stuck in her throat, minus the whole shivering of her frame as though it were incredibly uncomfortable and had to be dislodged for the sake of her health. Though her initial response would be to look away from Thunderclaw, to collect her thoughts without staring into attentive eyes and hearing eloquent words poured into her ears at every question she proposed, her suspicions of this tom kept her riveted, rooted to the tree as though she were a nest that had been built upon it, each reason he supplied a sturdy twig to keep her there. Fine. So you don't WANT anything. What in the name of Tigerclaw do you want us to talk about? The weather. They could talk about the weather. Oh but that was nothing really that interesting, now was it? Besides, Whiteshade - oh yes, she hadn't forgotten about her brother skulking below - would just laugh at her attempt at small talk. Eyes narrowed, the she-cat's already meager social skills failed her further, leaving behind a warrior who knew not what to say or even where to begin, this silence lasting for a few more awkward moments. Say something, you stupid furball! "I've never seen you here before, what brought you to this part of the territory?" It was a simple enough question; when one spent as much time in the trees as Cherrypool did, they were bound to notice the comings and goings of other cats - and Thunderclaw was not a cat she had had the...pleasure or displeasure to witness strolling through these woods before. He was definitely no loner, Cherrypool's sense of smell was infallible, he had the stench of TreeClan embedded in his whole being. [/style][STYLE=text-align: center; font: 6pt Verdana;padding-top: 3px;]made by rabble of back to neverland[/style]

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Notes: NOPE!
Words:496

[Phoenix]

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[atrb=width,500,true][atrb=background,http://i45.tinypic.com/miic29.jpg][style=padding-left: 5px; height: 259px;][style=height: 257px; width: 225px; overflow: auto; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 13px; font-family: perpetua;] He was faintly, distantly amused. By what, he could not pinpoint exactly, but he acknowledged the small amount of entertainment he gained from this conversation. Perhaps it was due to the way that his sister was so obviously flustered but also managed to appear as though she had complete control of the conversation. Only keen eyes and ears such as his own, experienced in reading and analyzing the subtle signs in her posture and words, might have picked up on the behavior that seemed more antagonistic than usual, more defensive. She seemed too determined to find a fault with the TreeClan cat, who was not at all worth the amount of anxiety that he appeared to be causing in his sister. It was a fact that she did not realize and one that the aforementioned cat would not notice due to the lack of time he had spent around the other albino. That amused him. Even if he was worth little in the crimson eyes of the LightningClan tom, the TreeClan warrior was slightly more than intriguing. Not every cat had the ability nor skill to counter Cherrypool's arguments with such a pleasant, relaxed air. Usually her red eyes, deeper than his own, and rather argumentative attitude rattled others. There were few signs of this occurance in the TreeClan tom, who he sensed that, despite his pointless words, had complete control of the conversation. His sister usually dominated the conversation, and the role reversal, one that only he might have noticed, amused him. Absently, he noted that they had continued conversing far above his head and dismissed the observation as unimportant. At the moment, he was not truly part of the exchange but rather an observer, a shadow who took mental notes on the dialogue in order to analyze the speakers later. He was just as content sitting there, watching his sister struggle to find words and watching the pathetic tom attempt to befriend her, as he would have been to actively participate. Had he decided to join in and remain a contributer, he would not have had the opportunity to witness such an amusing scene. It was, however, notable that both his sister and the tom introduced themselves. It would only be polite to follow suit. "Whiteshade of LightningClan," He spoke up, inclining his head slightly toward the other tom. As always, his tone was perfectly polite and neutral. "Pleasure to meet you." Even though he now had a name to add to the face of the TreeClan tom, he found that he was far more content calling the other warrior by his title rather than his name. Names implied that they knew each other, that there was some mutual bond of affection, no matter how small, and he knew that he did not feel anything but slight interest toward the TreeClan cat. Nor did he want to. Silence fell for a few moments, and scarlet eyes flicked from the subject of his musings to the familiar white pelt of the LightningClan she-cat. As the absense of conversation lengthened, he identified the small signs of her growing irritation. The narrowed eyes. The way he could almost sense her desire to sink her claws into the bark of the tree. Or was it himself? Or perhaps the TreeClan tom? In any case, the silence would have been awkward if he cared enough to let it bother him. She spoke again, and her attempt at small talk only served to amuse him further. Yes, perhaps he would just remain silent and watch. With this course of action, he had the advantage of catching the minute details he might miss if he was otherwise caught up in entertaining the others. And Cherrypool could certainly use the chance to practice her social grace. What kind of brother was he if he did not allow her to use it? He opted to keep his mouth shut unless addressed. Tail curling, he rolled his shoulders slightly, settling back and preparing to watch the proceedings with slight interest. They did not appear as though they missed his imput - or lack thereof.

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