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Post by Deleted on Dec 24, 2012 2:28:03 GMT -5
birds flying high you know how I feel sun in the sky you know how I feel it's a new dawn it's a new day it's a new life for me -- and I'm feeling good --
ROOTSTRIDE~ Dark green eyes flickered and the tan tabby tom quivered as he padded from the exit of the LightningClan camp and directly towards the Flooded Grasses. Just thinking of the concept gave Rootstride shivers bounding up and how his thick pelt but still, he padded. Though the tom figured he would not find any prey in that barren land in the heart (or cold, in this case) of Leafbare, the senior warrior felt just desperate enough to give it a try.
Padding forward, the older warrior halted just as he arrived as the destination. The tom's hackles instantly raised as he looked out at what was before him -- a once beautiful, few inch deep field was gone. In it's place was a gray and white world, covered in lifeless plants and entirely too much frost. The tan tabby wondered if anything could even survive in such an environment and hesitantly padded forward.
He was unsure of what he might find but was actually willing to find out.
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We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Dec 24, 2012 13:32:19 GMT -5
[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;]In his humble opinion, there were few cats in LightningClan truly deserving of conversing with him. While he enjoyed - or rather, picked the lesser of the two evils - the presense of these cats, he was also keenly aware of the danger they posed to him and his secret. He walked on thin ice every time he engaged one of these cats in conversation, and if took one wrong step, then he might very well find himself plunging into the raging, frigid rive below. Intellectually, it posed a decent challenge, so he loved it. While the idiots were easier to wrap in his web, the amusement factor had lessened over the years; it was far too stimple, far too unrewarding. So it was with some interest that he noticed Rootstride venturing from camp, all by his lonesome. He would be hunting, of course, like any dutiful warrior would at this time. Surely there would be no issue if he decided to join the patrol of one. And perhaps we can catch prey of a different sort.
So Whiteshade set out behind the tabby warrior, following him with ease. His white fur blended well with the surrounding drifts of snow, and if his prey realized that he had an albino shadow, he gave no sign of it. When he halted at the sight of the frost-claimed land, the white tom continued moving forward until he stood at Rootstride's right shoulder. Red eyes locked on the various plants, contorted in frozen in various twisted shapes. Beautiful. But by the rather grim look on Rootstride's countenance, Whiteshade found it safe to guess that he was the only one of this mindset. Such a shame. No one appreciates beauty when it's right under their nose. Take blood for example. That liquid crimson was fascinating to watch as it seeped from a cut...
But no matter, he had a different game to play today. It would not do to get caught up in age-old fantasies. He refocused on the twisting, ice-covered plants. Suddenly, in a voice nearly as grim as Rootstride's expression, Whiteshade commented, "Horrible, isn't it? The way the ice claims everything: the water, the prey, and now, even the plants." |
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Post by Deleted on Dec 24, 2012 22:58:03 GMT -5
birds flying high you know how I feel sun in the sky you know how I feel it's a new dawn it's a new day it's a new life for me -- and I'm feeling good --
ROOTSTRIDE~ The fluffy tan tabby's hackles raised as he was suddenly approached by the albino cat, Whiteshade. While he seemed harmless enough, Rootstride had always found this particular white tom, who was only a few years his elder, to be mysterious at best. The senior warrior regarded him with careful, unspoken interest, his tail swishing and his eyes now somewhat removed from the frozen, lifeless world before him and glancing over at the alabaster tom.
Whiteshade seemed to comment on the landscape before them and Rootshade gave a curt nod. "Anything living here would have died with the plants. Once the Leafbare temperatures dropped, anything living in the water must've died of hypothermia. The cold seized everything else much more gradually," Rootstride hypothesized before stretching forward, his tan paw coming forward upon some frozen grass and pressing down, finding the grass to break into bits under his weight and be rather noisy about it.
Rootstride had little to say.
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We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Dec 25, 2012 13:34:08 GMT -5
[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;]Death had always fascinated him, even when he had participated in the playfights as a kit - he was too dignified to stoop so low as to call it tumbling around; he did not tumble - the subject of death had captured and held his attention. All forms of death, ranging from illness to hypothermia to blood loss. What triggered the switch that caused every bit of life leave once bright eyes? Take freezing for example. What was it about the cold that ended an animals life? How much cold could a creature handle before it died? But freezing to death was a very unappealing way to go, in the sense that it was incredibly boring to watch. How could it not be? There was intense cold and then death. No blood. No panic. No sense of power. It was a complete waste of a potentially enjoyable show.
Crimson eyes landed on the shattered, icy remains beneath the tabby's paws. Plants existed in a completely different, infinitely more confusing category. They were alive in a different way from predators and prey; what was the difference between life and death for them? They had no blood, no consciousness. He doubted that they were even aware of the inevitable fate that would come to claim them as well. It was a very boring, very unrewarding existence. Whiteshade was infinitely glad that he had not been a plant - or worse, a rock.
Much to his distaste, the tabby warrior stated the obvious, and red eyes drilled holes in the back of his head. If the other tom was not going to supply him with an intellectually stimulating conversation, then what use was he alive? He could almost smell the blood, and for a moment, he let himself consider the possibilities. Claws uncurled themselves, digging into the frozen ground. And then - it was over, and the mask was back on. Rootstride was completely oblivious to his companion's dark thoughts.
"How unfortunate," He commented idly, voice betraying none of the workings of his mind. "With this, we have lost not only prey but also a valuable source of herbs - I believe Rookfrost travels here often to add to his collection?" After casting a somewhat indifferent look around the icy wasteland, his eyes returned to the brown tabby. "We have that system of tunnels beneath our paws. They have been abandoned, as of late, have they not? Prey might have fled there in hopes of taking shelter from this bitter cold."
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Post by Deleted on Dec 28, 2012 2:54:11 GMT -5
birds flying high you know how I feel sun in the sky you know how I feel it's a new dawn it's a new day it's a new life for me -- and I'm feeling good --
ROOTSTRIDE~ The tan senior warrior could hardly help the hackles on his fur from rising as he peered out at the frozen landscape bounding for miles. The tom was surrounded by a span of white infinitely throughout the land -- from the ground miles away to the billowy gray clouds overhead. But the chill of the weather was not what brought Rootstride's fur to a point, though the tan tom could always claim it to be so if his companion asked about the tom's reflexes.
Whiteshade. Rootstride's company was what kept Rootstride on edge, though the tom did not show it in any way, besides the slight rising of his fluffy coat that the senior warrior attempted to keep down. Rootstride could not place his feelings about Whiteshade quite but the LightningClanner had always felt there had been something dangerous or mysterious about the albino -- and such things were not because of his albinism. As a tom whose sister suffered from an very unusual disposition, Whteshade's physical appearance was nothing that Rootstride could cast judgment upon.
The sound of Whiteshade's scraping of his claws against the ground caused Rootstride to flick his ears a little -- but nothing much in the outward sense. The tom listened to Whiteshade's chatter about Rookfrost and his herbs and the tom nodded a little. "Hopefully we don't have a breakout of Greencough here," Rootstride muttered idly and padded forward again, scenting the air for anything to catch.
The world was frozen. [/color][/size][/blockquote]
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We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Dec 29, 2012 22:35:54 GMT -5
[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;]"That would be rather unfortunate," He muttered in response, barely refraining from rolling his eyes and letting that disappointed sigh escape him. Perhaps he had overestimated Rootstride's intelligence; the tom had evidently missed the subtle suggestion that had laced his words, as shown by his persistence to continue forward when the entrance to the tunnels rested in the opposite direction. This made him question his decision to remain in the tabby's presense - and just how much longer he wanted to stay.
If a cat questioned him about his reasons for wanting to find prey, he would, of course, have to lie. The welfare and continued survival of the clan was no doubt important, but he had developed a certain indifference to those kinds of matters. He had only his own thirst to sate, and the existence of his clan was irrelevant. Rootstride was an example of the typical breed of warrior he had come to expect from the clan. Almost every warrior was. It was so boring. In any case, Whiteshade strongly doubted that the other tom would not have any success in this frozen wasteland their ancestors had claimed as their own. The tunnels, in his opinion, were the mostlikely place to find prey.
Abruptly, the albino warrior turned on his heel, tail curling through the air in his usual fashion. Even as he paused, his mind continued on, traveling down the route he would take and already imagining the delicious scent of rabbit. There was so much potential, so much promise. The corners of his mouth moved upward in the ghost of a Cheshire grin. He did, however, give parting words to his tabby companion. Curt but polite as always, he meowed, "I believe that we would have more success if we were to split up. Therefore, I will proceed to the tunnels while you continue on here. As always, I wish you the best of luck." Without glancing back, he allowed his paws to carry him forward. And then he vanished into the white.
OOC: Alright that I finished it? I can't picture Whiteshade as the type to linger long. We can always start a new rp.
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