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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2017 19:53:47 GMT -5
You could be the corpse and I could be the killer.
If I could be the devil, you could be the sinner.
It had been several days since Magpiewing's return to TreeClan with the little orphan tom kits he had been charged with looking after in RainClan. He had been rather surprised at how relieved he had been to see Mockingbird, his mate traveling with Gorsetail to fetch the three of them home. Despite how the greencough outbreak had made him realize how important his mate actually was to him, he still found it strange how seeing her for the first time in nearly a season sent a wave of relief through him, brought a genuine purr to his throat, unbidden.
Magpiewing was always in control, he did not just purr when he did not specifically mean to. Except when it came to Mockingbird, apparently. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. It was slightly unnerving to have his body reacting to things without his permission. But it did not change the fact that he was happy to see his mate, and to be with her once more. She was his partner, she had been for many moons now, but he had never imagined she would come to mean quite so much to him. Ultimately, it was highly intriguing. He was good at reading others, at predicting them, yet somehow he had managed to surprise himself with his own behavior.
With an amused twitch of his whiskers, Magpiewing brushed against his mate's gray fur, a soft purr rumbling in the back of his throat, “Hunt with me.” He brushed past her, his plumed tail flicking against her shoulder as he took the lead out of camp and into the forest. The light rain from the morning had since passed, the sun shining brightly overhead. He inhaled deeply as he set an easy pace, taking in the many scents the forest had to offer, thankful to be rid of the constant stench of fish and soggy fur. He glanced at Mockingbird, his whiskers twitching with some amusement once more, “Lionstar still being leader aside, I'm glad to be home. As suspected, RainClan is nothing but more of the same, with a different, far less pleasant scent.”
He thought briefly of the cats he had met, the ones he had spent the most time with. Brookfall... there was perhaps something there. He was sure they had both recognized something in each other, something none of their Clanmates knew was there, but it was hard to be sure, for if there was, Brookfall wore his own mask just as well as Magpiewing did. He was still vaguely curious about the former deputy, Rushwhisker, and his reasons for stepping down. He knew it was some TreeClan cat that was the reason, but the tom had been entirely closed off whenever he'd approached him, sulking, mostly. Something had happened, something serious, but he wasn't sure what it was. Perhaps his love had died in the greencough outbreak. It was the most logical conclusion he had come to, as he watched the tom deteriorate into a mess of a cat.
He pressed his nose lightly against Mockingbird's cheek, breathing in her scent as the thought of losing her crossed his mind. Would it devastate him? He didn't think so, but he kept surprising himself, so it was hard to say. Certainly he would be... upset. She meant more to him than any cat ever had, more than his own kin, his parents, his siblings. If any of them died, he would have to feign the sorrow that would be expected of him. Even when they had thought Berrypaw dead, he had been more disappointed than sad. But if he lost Mockingbird?
“I missed you,” he murmured, not sure why. He supposed he did not have anything to lose by letting her know she had influence over his emotions. It gave her power over him, but she had always had that, from the very beginning of their relationship. He had no delusions that Mockingbird could kill him quite easily if she wished. She was a better fighter than he was. He wasn't a bad fighter, per se, but he wasn't a strong fighter. He was good at strategy, good at predicting and reacting to his opponents' moves, he was good at avoiding being hurt, but he lacked the strength of many of his Clanmates. He could focus his blows on vital areas, but any half decent warrior protected those areas well, and his blows were otherwise... glancing at best.
But battle was his mate's specialty; her cold, ruthlessness making her all the more attractive in his eyes, exciting and dangerous. He had always walked a fine line, pushed limits, it made life so much more interesting, and with her it had become even more so. He pushed past the lingering sentimentality, continuing on through the undergrowth, “How are our kits coming along in their training? They should be warriors soon, yes? Well, not Berrypaw.” Their second son's injuries had required time to recover, and before that, his training had been set back by his disappearance. There was no chance he would become a warrior on time like his siblings. Perhaps next season. "I have quite a lot to catch up on."
You could be the drugs and I could be the dealer.
Everything you say is like music to my ears. Fawn
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Post by Fawn on Sept 5, 2017 14:35:59 GMT -5
Mockingbird 39 Moons. Warrior-Queen of TreeClan The brush of her mate's pelt was welcomed, after so many days curled up in the warriors' den besides their mouthbreathing Clanmates. Mockingbird's eyes, normally made to compliment her 'benign, motherly' demeanor, lost the facade. With an answering purr, Grayowl's daughter brushed her cheek against Magpiewing's. There was a relief in his presence, as if she could throw off her sheep's skin and be the wolf she truly was.
There were no secrets - well, nothing major - between them. Magpiewing role as mate, confidante and partner in crime often kept her caught up in this game she played with the entire Clan. When her interests in it wavered, when her resolve showed a few hairline cracks, Magpiewing was there - with a smile as convincing as his lies, but a knowing glint in his eyes.
We are playing this game together, you and I.
Pity only one of their kits showed any adeptness towards carrying on their parents' charade, but Mockingbird did not dwell on pointless things.
The scent of fish permeated her mate's pelt, and the wrinkle of a charcoal nose conveyed her displeasure. A diet of fish had changed the texture of his coat as well; he looked sleeker, an interesting if unwanted change. Mockingbird's thin smile appeared as she followed Magpiewing into the undergrowth. The light through the trees left scatterings of sun on the forest floor, and Mockingbird caught herself avoiding them, favoring the cool, welcoming dark of shadow.
How fitting that they should walk the shadows together.
"Owlpaw is still playing dotting pupil to Lionstar's brainless half-sister." Magpiewing knew the one. "He should be commended, he's becoming a fine warrior in spite of the circumstances." Berrypaw would not become a warrior for at least another moon; this troubled her not. Better a delayed ceremony than a grave.
Berrypaw's 'death' had shattered what little warmth the feline possessed. Berrypaw's return had been a return of her own sanity - and the likelihood that no one in the Clan would succumb to her claws, lest she decide to take out her grief on one of the two little fools involved.
Mockingbird watched a grackle peck at the ground nearby, and her tone softened to a conspiratorial whisper, aware that Magpiewing may take the opportunity presented to him.
He usually did.
"As for Ravenpaw... She has the misfortune of being mentored by our esteemed leader's new mate." Yes, in Magpiewing's absence, Lionstar had finally settled down. Mockingbird had been forced to repress the dislike rising in her throat like bile; her confidence that the Clan leader would die without any kin was bifurcated.
Oh how blessed TreeClan would be to have Lionstar's offspring running around. Lionstar's offspring, which would never face the discrimination and suspicion that her own had. Who would never have their true talents, true personalities, recognized for the boons that they were.
"I think I'll have a little... talk with Lionstar. Ravenpaw deserves a better mentor." Mockingbird spoke coolly, her mind already made up. It was always worth reminding their Most Holy Leader that he was capable of bad judgment, bias, and blindness from emotion.
Of course, she tended to contribute (wholeheartedly) to his paranoia. But that was part of the fun.
Calling him out on it.
And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.@zen - Notes - 539 Words |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 15, 2017 1:46:33 GMT -5
You could be the corpse and I could be the killer.
If I could be the devil, you could be the sinner.
Matching his step with hers, Magpiewing allowed their pelts to brush as they leisurely made their way through the forest, his paws falling onto familiar shadowy pathways. Yes, it felt good to be home. New experiences were fun and interesting, and he would never shy away from change, enjoyed learning new things, but he was still glad to have returned to the place he knew best. Constantly tiptoeing around potential enemies was even more tiring than tiptoeing around Clanmates. Though, now that he thought about it, he wondered if the game would become boring soon, now that he was back in 'easy mode'. If it did, he would just have to find a way to make it interesting again, he supposed. It wouldn't be too hard, there were plenty of options.
He listened as Mockingbird spoke first of Owlpaw, a soft snort of derision escaping him at the mention of Appleshade. That a cat of 6 moons could have her wrapped around his paw so quickly spoke more to her lack of intellect than it did to his son's skills, not that he doubted them. Magpiewing had created this game for himself after several moons, but Owlpaw had been born into it, and he acted like it. He had no doubt their son could one day surpass them both, and indeed eagerly awaited that day. Just what would Owlpaw make of his own game, he wondered. Where would it take him?
His bright yellow gaze came to land on the grackle at perhaps the same moment that Mockingbird had noticed it, as they came to a stop together in the shadows. She seemed content to let him have it, though not before giving him a brief update on their daughter. His ears flicked to show he had heard before he gave his attention over to his prey and made short work of it, returning to his mate with the bird dangling from his jaws. Scooping out a small hole in the earth beneath a low hanging fern, he deposited his catch before turning back to Mockingbird.
His whiskers twitched thoughtfully, “He finally made it official with her then.” Not that he had been particularly interested in Lionstar's love life, but it didn't take a terribly observant cat to see how close Lionstar and Honeysong were becoming before he had been sent away. One of his offspring was being mentored by Lionstar's sister, and the other by his mate. Curious, how that worked out. Did Lionstar think they could be turned against him and Mockingbird by his own family?
Ravenpaw would not be manipulated, that much Magpiewing knew. That wasn't to say she wouldn't turn against him, that was a very real possibility, but it would not be because of anything Lionstar did. No, if that happened, the blame would fall solely upon himself. Owlpaw, on the other paw, was loyal to his family and there was nothing that was ever going to change that. But he was sure Lionstar's intentions were not quite so... malicious. The part that Owlpaw played made Appleshade appear to be a decent match for him. Ravenpaw, however.... Magpiewing wasn't entirely sure just who he might have chosen to be his daughter's mentor, but it certainly wouldn't have been Honeysong.
He purred softly in amusement at his mate's suggestion that Ravenpaw deserved better, “They both deserve better, but short of mentoring them ourselves, you'll surely find fault with any mentor paired with them.” He knew he felt the same, though he was less concerned about it. Part of the fun of watching his kits grow was witnessing how their interactions with other cats shaped them, for better or worse. Appleshade would at least serve to keep up the image Owlpaw was building for himself. From what little he had seen before he'd been sent to RainClan, Ravenpaw had not at all been happy with her mentor, but he didn't know how that had played out since.
However, Mockingbird would do what she thought best for their kits. Becoming a mother had only served to make her all the more ruthless when it came to the three precious lives she had brought into the world. He had no such protective fatherly feelings, but he wasn't about to interfere with anything his mate had decided to do about their kits either. He was still learning just how far he could push things on that note, just what games he could play with his own kits without earning his mate's wrath. She had come to mean too much to him for him to risk their relationship for a game, after all, and so he would never go farther than she would allow. Not on purpose, anyway.
He set them back in motion, keeping to the shade cast by the undergrowth as they continued on, seeking out new prey, “And you? You received an apprentice before I left... one of the loner kits? Just how is that going?” He turned an interested yellow gaze her way, eager to hear how she was shaping this young she-cat, if there was anything of worth there. He remembered thanking Lionstar for giving Mockingbird this chance, for trusting her. With any luck, TreeClan might gain a warrior with half a brain once Mockingbird was finished with her.
You could be the drugs and I could be the dealer.
Everything you say is like music to my ears. Fawn
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Post by Fawn on Sept 19, 2017 21:21:23 GMT -5
Mockingbird 39 Moons. Warrior-Queen of TreeClan "Amberpaw has surprised me." Those words alone carried a resonance that should interest him. Few cats ever surprised her, Mockingbird had grown accustomed to the doldrums of her Clanmates' petty little lives, and as such, rare was the case when one amongst dozens actually proved to be something more than they appeared.
Amberpaw was not pure TreeClan. Not even half. Her blood was fresh, not watered down over the years by the consistency of anti-CrossClan rules. The harshness of losing her home and her family at such a young age had shaped her as well. No, Amberpaw was no mindless worker bee in the colony. "She is sharp, clever. We had an interesting conversation concerning poisoning Finchpaw." The rare traces of amusement in her tone were detectable only to a few, Magpiewing being one of them.
"She has much admiration for Owlpaw. When the time comes, I believe she will be a suitable mate for him - provided she doesn't waste her potential." Mockingbird was well aware of the direct hand she would play in Amberpaw's future. These small, subtle moments of manipulation that often led to large results - this was her area of expertise. Her objectives were clear; encourage Amberpaw to embrace those traits the other warriors may find fault with, and allow the apprentice's own intelligence to evolve as they went. Mockingbird had no intention of undermining Amberpaw's sharpness.
However, that did not mean she wouldn't pull a few strings here and there as needed.
The ashen feline wound her way through the undergrowth, briefly putting distance between herself and her mate as a squirrel darted for the safety of a nearby oak. Mockingbird fell upon it, mercilessly putting a halt to its life force, her own blood still pumping hard from the sudden burst of speed. With the squirrel dangling from her jaws, Mockingbird backtracked briefly to add it to Magpiewing's kill. When her jaws were no longer full, Mockingbird laid eyes on him again. "Tell me of RainClan. Anything worthy of discussion? Any new... friends?"
And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.@zen - Notes - 338 Words |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 7, 2017 14:29:28 GMT -5
You could be the corpse and I could be the killer.
If I could be the devil, you could be the sinner.
Mockingbird's opening statement about her apprentice piqued his interest indeed. That could mean any number of things, and he was eager to hear an elaboration. He paused, only briefly, in surprise when his mate mentioned that this Amberpaw had apparently come to her about poisoning a Clanmate. His whiskers twitched in amusement; it seemed there was the potential for something there. He was also a bit surprised to hear her suggesting that her apprentice would be a good mate for their son.
“You must think rather highly of her if you think her worthy of Owlpaw,” he mused, “You'll have to introduce me to her properly.” He was interested to meet this young she-cat. He would keep her out of his games, for the most part, if Mockingbird had a use for her. If she had designs for her to end up with Owlpaw, then he would be her partner in leading the two toward that end. After all, a partner was invaluable. Mockingbird had high hopes for their son, and a partner could help him reach those goals.
He watched his mate take down a squirrel and waited until she had returned to his side, asking him about his time in RainClan. His tail flicked behind him, dismissive, “There were few cats of any real interest, much as it is in TreeClan. Their deputy stepped down of his own volition for no real apparent reason, but after a few observations it became clear he was in love with a TreeClan cat. I never found out who, but judging by his mental and emotional deterioration in my time there, he was either rejected or they died in the greencough epidemic. By the severity of his deterioration I assume death the more likely outcome.”
It had something interesting to watch while he had been in RainClan, but now that he was back in TreeClan he found he cared very little about it anymore. He thought briefly of the other cats he had interacted with, “Perhaps there were... a couple that showed promise for something more. But if so, they played their parts well... I would need more time to discern for certain if there was something of interest beneath the surface, but I have my suspicions.” Brookfall. Coldrush. Perhaps he would ferret out their truths one day, perhaps not.
Casually, he turned them back toward camp, his bright amber gaze hinting at playfulness, “Shall we see who can catch the most prey before we get back?” They were even at the moment, one piece each. All the better if they arrived back with a decent haul. Look at Mockingbird and Magpiewing, returning to camp laden with prey for the Clan, providing like good Clanmates, surely they couldn't be as bad as everyone whispered about, could they? Brushing against his mate's gray fur once more, he separated from her to seek out more prey.
You could be the drugs and I could be the dealer.
Everything you say is like music to my ears. Fawn (fin?)
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