[Katara]

[googlefont=Playfair Display] [googlefont=Roboto] [googlefont=Kumar One]

i find it very, very easy to be true
i find myself alone when each day is through
yes, i'll admit that i'm a fool for you
because you're mine...

I WALK THE
line

clover

cloverstar.

NIGHTCLAN LEADER // 60 MOONS

I

t was not yet sunhigh, and still the tension in the air was palpable. Cloverstar could sense with every hair on her pelt the unease, worry, and snappish irritation that seemed to emanate from every Clan cat stuck in that cave. The Tribe had been more than accommodating, all things considered, but it was obvious no cat was happy with this situation. As soon as they could feasibly discuss sending a patrol to investigate the remains of the valley below, Cloverstar wanted to send one. Today, it was a patrol to the Moon Tree. Tomorrow, she hoped it would be a patrol to the valley.

Every minute had been like this since she'd arrived, too busy trying to keep her Clan in order, and from trying to rip out the throats of TreeClan cats. They might all be unified in this disaster together, but that didn't mean old hostilities just disappeared. A few moons ago, being in close contact with all of TreeClan on a constant basis would have been thrilling for her - so much time to be around Shrikesong! But she could barely spare fleeting looks at the sleek TreeClan warrior throughout the day; she was nearly always discussing something or other with the other leaders, and when it wasn't them it was Dapplefire and Shadowchaser, and then the immersive attention of her three daughters. Her usually sharp mind was beginning to numb with exhaustion; even her insomniac ways hadn't prepared her for the challenge of this.

That's what it feels like to give every bit of your energy to your Clan. Well done, Cloverstar. It was Foxstar's voice that rang in her head, prompting her to push herself to her paws again and leave her Clan behind for the first time in days. Who asked you, coward? she inwardly shot back at the former NightClan leader, whose voice abruptly vanished. She just didn't feel like herself, putting her Clan before her own needs and interests. She felt she was big enough to admit she wasn't exactly the most selfless cat in the valley, and the foreign desire to do everything she could for them was quite new. Almost as new as the voices in her head. Or exactly as new.

Fortunately, she had exhaustion and the deliriousness it brought to blame for such uncharacteristic actions. She felt a little more like herself as she sank down beside the slender black form of Flicker. She no longer cared what others thought if they saw the two of them sharing tongues like old friends. She'd have spoken to Flicker much sooner if she'd had any choice in the matter - it had been moons since she'd last seen her. Still, she cut a sly look at the other she-cat as if no time had passed at all, and pressed her shoulder against hers. "Miss me?"

[attr="class","cstag"]tagged Abyss

[attr="class","csnotes"]notes <3

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[Abyss]

[googlefont=Amatic SC]

Flicker of Dying Flame

Her dream had come true. It had actually come true. In the most basic of senses, that was. She had watched it, too. The rumbling, the shaking, the distant sounds of screams she thought were outside of her own mind. The screams of cats, rodents, lynx, and everything in between. That day, a curvy black silhouette stood upon the Misty Ledge, watching, listening, and feeling as the valley and earth below trembled and quaked, all of its inhabitants at the mercy of an uncontrollable force. Eyes full of intense satisfaction and excitement looked on as a large crack split within the land, beginning at one side of the mountain and expanding rapidly to the other side. She was not close enough to see, nor hear, but the sights and sounds she so desired played like birdsong in her head. They are dying. They are dying. The words, though menacing, were thought with a relieved tone and a growing suspense.

She had a prediction, a partial hope, if you would. Skyteller would send a few cats, herself included, to see the aftermath. They would get to see what remained of those insignificant felines and their pitiful homes. With any luck, the refined Cave-Guard would get to set her beautiful sights on what was once the clans, now destroyed. My would that be a treat…

Unfortunately, much to her displeasure, this desire did not come to fruition. In fact, what occurred was quite the opposite. An unfamiliar face came tearing into the Tribe cave, face panicked and voice desperate. If their voice spoke truth, one of the clans was on their way. To the mountain. To the Tribe. Black pupils narrowed to mere slits, ears rotating forward to catch the ongoing events. Before long, there was another with the same message

There wasn't much time between then and the morning when the Tribe's quiet lifestyle came to a roaring halt. They poured through the trees and boulders like fleeing rats, their eyes full of horror and their bodies weak with exhaustion. Had she believed clan cats pathetic before, their previous image was palatable compared to how they appeared now. It was hysterical, to say the least. Oh how the self-proclaimed mighty fall so hard. Here they came, broken, lost, and begging for help from their superiors. It was rather refreshing to have the knowledge that she herself would not be required to show the rest of "her kind" how sad the cats of the valley were. They had shown it themselves. This made her job easier.

As...thrilled...as she was at this reveal, the fact that these fools had chosen to unveil themselves here was far from agreeable. It was hard enough to bear the burden of carrying the greatness of her own on her shoulders, but now to hold the hardships and traumas of all of the clans in her paws? As much of a powerhouse as she was, even she found herself growing restless and uneasy. There were too many beings, too many eyes, too many ears. In daily life, the luxurious she-cat could put on her mask for the day, entice her peers and gain favor, and then remove it whenever she wished, so long as there were no witnesses. But now...it felt as though she couldn't go one second without wearing it. She had lived nearly her whole life mastering the craft of wearing her false persona on the outside, but even for she there was only so much one could take.

As difficult, and unbearably crowded, as it all had become, there was...one thing. One particular sight that had brightened the midnight femme's spirits, both outside and in. The source of her mildly dulled felicity had come walking into her home at the back of one of the clans, and proceeded to stand at the head of the pack when Skyteller summoned those of most importance. Initially, she believed that this was due to the other's title of Deputy, that position that she both desired and despised. But, for once in her many moons of breathing, she found she was incorrect about her assumption. No, the title brandished across that name was no longer one of a Deputy. If anything, this one was far more enticing.


As the coal black molly stretched out across one of the larger boulders that lined the Tribe cave's entrance, she couldn't help but stare at the mouth of the cavern. She waited, and she waited. Internally her patience grew thin, and would soon shatter. But, as she was known to do, she could hope and wish. And, much to her unrivalled ecstacy, the pelt that she so longed to see came padding through that opening, almost as if by call. And when those eyes met her own, a deep and almost painful burning sparked in her chest.

The other molly, head of Nightclan, rather casually made her way to the top of the boulder as well. As she approached, Flicker's fiery orange eyes couldn't even disguise the way they ran across the other she-cat's physique. She had once been of the opinion that Bengal coats, brown ones especially, were so boring, so typical, so bland. Even now, peering at those of both her own peers and of the clans, those who wore a Bengal pelt over their skin were still so plain. They looked nearly the same, all of them. Far from unique. But after spending quite a lot of secretive time at the side of her companion, the black molly learned that there could be exceptions to such thoughts. Though, she was the only exception. She was unique. And she was quite a sight for those orange eyes.

As Clover folded beneath herself and settled at Flicker's side, that initial warmth that built in her chest quickly spread at the contact of their shoulders. The fur along her tail slightly spiked, though the expression on her face remained: focused and clearly pleased.

When she spoke, the faintest of chuckles fell from the dark molly's jaws.

"Words could not express the accuracy of your statement, my dear. Though..." her gaze shifted back to the cave entrance, watching as cats of all kinds paced, left, entered, and sought out. "I had hoped our next encounter would have been held in privacy. But alas, you have brought your whole valley along with you in this endeavor."

Her voice could not hide the tone of disappointment it held. All of their previous meetings had been between only themselves, and this was how she had wished all of them to be. It seemed not all of her dreams and desires could be fulfilled in such short time, unfortunately.

Pushing this aside temporarily, her gaze flicked back to the Bengal at her side, her coarse black tail lightly brushing along the other's back leg. "I was also under the assumption that my dreams were filled with that of a Deputy. But you, madame Cloverstar, have discovered a way to prove my knowledge wrong. What is the explanation behind this?" Her tone was teasing, but also surprised and intrigued. "Have those...followers...of yours finally graced you with recognition?" Her eyes narrowed, a smirk crossing her features. "Come forth with it. What sort of tireless efforts have you endured to reach such high regard?" [/font

And when my fantasies become my legacy
Promise me a place in your house of memories.

Words: 1220| Katara

[Katara]

[googlefont=Playfair Display] [googlefont=Roboto] [googlefont=Kumar One]

i find it very, very easy to be true
i find myself alone when each day is through
yes, i'll admit that i'm a fool for you
because you're mine...

I WALK THE
line

clover

cloverstar.

NIGHTCLAN LEADER // 60 MOONS

A

chuckle escaped Cloverstar's maw at her companion's words. You and me both, she thought, her gaze sweeping across the cave practically crammed with cats. Her only meetings with Flicker had been when she was alone with her, and she had preferred to keep it that way. But she didn't want to avoid Flicker, or try to seek out her company privately - that would be suspicious, wouldn't it? At least as suspicious as her old meetings with Shrikesong... "Oh, did I misunderstand?" she asked innocently. "I could've sworn you said fetch my entire Clan next time we saw each other. I know how much you love Clan cats." Her eyes danced with a playful glint. "Or maybe you meant ditch? Oh, what a mix-up. I'll get it right next time."

Banter between herself and another cat was something she had missed. Ever since she'd set a goal in her mind of becoming NightClan's next leader, she'd felt forced to maintain a formal relationship with others. Gone were the days where she could enjoy getting on the nerves of others just for the sake of an interesting reaction. She could let down her guard a little around cats like Bluecloud, Stormwind, and Crowstalker - but around Flicker, she almost felt like herself. There was something about her that made Cloverstar feel as if a part of herself were looking right back at her.

She lifted her chin slightly with a trace of pride as Flicker called her by her new name, as if her accented voice and eloquent words brought new meaning to it. "Well, as you can see, Darkstar is no longer with us." She was careful to keep any smugness out of her tone, though it was exactly how she felt about the passing of the former NightClan leader - she couldn't risk any Clan cat overhearing them and thinking something very different about her ascension to leadership. Cloverstar had gotten her paws dirty before, but not with Darkstar - she was every bit of a StarClan-blessed leader as Owlstar and Silverstar. "Nature took its course. NightClan's camp flooded, and she sacrificed herself to save her Clan. As deputy, I simply rose to the occasion after that. After the death of the former leader, the deputy is expected to accept their new position quickly to prevent the Clan from being without a leader for too long, so really I hardly had to lift a paw," she explained, knowing Flicker didn't know (or probably care) about the intricacies of Clan tradition. Hardly lifting a paw was a bit of an exaggeration, but the position really had fallen into her paws seasons before she had expected it.

"But that was a moon ago. I've been busy longer than that - I have daughters now. Do you see them?" A part of her was always a little eager to show off her kits, especially to some cat like Flicker, whose opinion mattered to her. "Across the cave, near the entrance. The golden-brown bengal is Dogpaw, and the snow bengal next to her is Azaleapaw. And the silver-black tabby is Berrypaw."

[attr="class","cstag"]tagged Abyss

[attr="class","csnotes"]notes <3

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[Abyss]

[googlefont=Amatic SC]

Flicker of Dying Flame

There was a certain tone that the other femme’s voice took on that brought a mixture of a smirk and a frown to the black feline’s features, if that were even possible physically. Regardless of how it appeared, the sarcasm was strong within those fiery orange orbs, an almost glare shifting into her gaze.

“Ah, indeed. Perhaps I allowed my absolute fondness for your kind to display far too openly. I, too, shall correct this during our next conversation.”

During the first encounter that Flicker had ever had with Cloverstar, Clovermask at the time, the ink-furred molly had made it a point to at least attempt to make herself appear rather neutral towards that of the clan cats. Though, as much control as she had over her own mask, the clan cats held no praise of any sort within her superior mind. To anyone else, perhaps she would have allowed this fact to be more apparent. But, given her intentions at that time, informing the exact cat she needed to gain favor from that she hated their kind would not be ideal. Admittedly, though, she wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t shoot at least one or two small daggers subtly towards that of those fools who lived in the valley. And, much to her surprise, Clovermask had proven her own superiority by spotting said daggers. Only to further Flicker’s slight startlement, the other didn’t seem to mind. The typical flurry of annoyance and ego she had come to expect from clan cats when insulted did not come that day. This was when the tribal femme had first established the slightest regard for a clan cat. Luckily for Clover, and for herself, that regard only grew. And what it was now? Only the black she-cat’s own chest and pride knew.

As her companion spoke again, there was a shift in the overall feeling of the air around her. As she should be, the other appeared to display a bit of warmth when her new name was spoken. Granted, the fancy names that clan cats gave their most influential meant absolutely nothing to Flicker. Star, paw, kit, none of it mattered. It was all the same in her eyes. But it appeared that Clover seemed to gain a sense of homage in the voicing of her new suffix, so the black molly allowed it. Though it was not just this that the curvy feline caught a glimpse of. There was something else there, and it was only there for a moment. She could be wrong (did she think she was? Absolutely not, never), but for just a split second Flicker thought that she saw a small spark in those forested eyes. Perhaps continued pride in her title? No, she was speaking of their previous Leader. Was this the other’s own way of shooting daggers? If so, it brought a little bit of light into what sort of thoughts were held between the two. And she approved of this display quite a lot, a tiny spark of her own swirling in her eyes at the other along with a smirk.

She did not speak, though Clover continued, informing her of how the former leader had passed. She almost couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. ‘A brave and fearless leader losing their life in order to save the lives of their followers’.....how boring. It was like a story told to young ones to make them show more praise for their superiors, more than they often deserved quite honestly. It was made more dramatic, it was told as some grand event, and half the time it was probably fake. A cat died. Wow. How amazing.

The brown Bengal kept talking, something about the ascension of Deputies or something like that. While her pointed ears rotated towards the other to make it appear that she was listening, quite honestly she wasn’t. She was intently listening to Clover’s voice, yes, but not what she was saying. Instead, her gaze had slowly shifted downwards, moving gradually along the other’s features. The curve of her neck, the small tufts of fur along her chest, the muscle that just pushed against her fur, the intricate swirls and stripes that covered her coat and how dark they were. They were nearly as black as Flicker’s own coat, which was definitely something to earn praise for.

She blinked once as she felt Clover’s gaze fall on her again, orange eyes lifting to meet the other’s once more. She did somewhat attempt to make herself appear attentive to...whatever Clover had just said. But she did let it show through a bit. She couldn’t hide such a thing from this she-cat unintentionally.

When the head of Nightclan spoke again, this time she did pay attention. Though, she quickly regretted doing so. Her eyes narrowed a tad as a tiny flash of excitement went through those green orbs, her eyes looking away from Flicker now, which in itself left the cave-guard feeling cold. She instead let a now slightly irritated gaze follow the other’s own line of sight, catching a glimpse of the descriptions told to her. There was a moment, a minute or so, where Flicker was actually a tiny bit surprised as she gazed at the young ones. Two of them were Bengals, and the other a tabby. One of them was far more similar to Clover than the others, but even so, from a distance, they definitely collectively looked like a group that would be produced by their mother.

Oddly enough, that fact only irritated Flicker further. She had never pictured herself as a mother. Quite honestly she couldn’t stand kids; they were so curious, so talkative, so demanding and weak. So much trouble and expectation for them to end up “good cats”. Such a pain. Even so, if there had ever been even the slightest desire in her mind to have young ones of her own, which there probably wasn’t, this would be her chance. Raising a litter, specifically of daughters, with Clover? In a kind of twisted way, that in itself almost sounded like bliss. Females were superior anyway, so the fact that Clover had managed to create three she-cats was quite a feat. She could almost picture it in her mind: her and Clover standing atop this exact boulder, three little girls addressing them both as momma or mother at their paws, all looking out over the tribe cats knowing that they were by far the most elite of the tribe families. It was almost dreamy. Almost.

As special and desirable as this scenario sounded in her head, she was only brought back to the primary source of the black femme’s anger and irritation. It took two to do such a thing, two to dance, two to do the do. And the key part of this...was who was the other that such an act had been performed with? Because it sure as hell wasn’t herself, which already made such a thing a foul betrayal.

“Yes…..they do seem to resemble you.” There was no praise in her voice. Perhaps there would have been, but she didn’t yet have the information for that to be the case. Fiery eyes side-glanced at the Bengal at her side, an open glare flaring in those orbs. “So...which lucky tom had the pleasure of gracing your private company?” There was a very obvious lash of sarcasm and jealousy that wound its way through her voice and tone as she spoke. Whoever he was, he was lower than any other clan cat. He was the pee-soaked ground that the clan cats walked upon. Had she not been of the opinion that females were superb, she would have almost wished to be born a tom. Those could have been her children, her and Clover’s children. Instead, she could only wish that two females were capable of such a thing. One dream that she would never be able to accomplish or discover. Lucky bastard.

And when my fantasies become my legacy
Promise me a place in your house of memories.

Words: 1332| Katara