[Fawn]

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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;]38 Moons - Medicine Cat - Tom - LightningClan
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A limited supply of Alder Bark? Hmmm...
It was truly a slow day for a Medicine Cat when the best thing he got to do today was scrape bark off a tree. The cooler temperatures of Leaf-fall had brought with it the occasional allergy-afflicted warrior or the wet, sniffly promises of a cold, but those were hardly anything worth discussing. They were at the bottom of the barrel as far as interesting cases went. Rookfrost's fulgurant gray eyes flicked to the shadowy opening of his den, able to study the cats going about their chores, his understanding and viewing of them like a science-teacher observing an ant colony.Why can't one of you fall deathly ill with something rare and contagious, damn you.

It was probably the exact opposite of the Medicine Cat code, but if Rookfrost had cared about the code, then he wouldn't have been a Medicine Cat to begin with. Any sort of healer who wished a plague upon his Clan simply for curing his boredom was a hazard to everyone in the forest - but he held it in, no thoughts of StarClan and their wrath, no thoughts of concern for his Clanmates in spite of his insidious wishlist. There was no mistake, he hadn't wished for such things because he held some kind of ill-begotten grudge against LightningClan - he was entirely neutral when it came to any Clan, perhaps one of the only parts of the Medicine Cat code he actually could adhere to without effort - on the contrary, he simply needed something interesting to do before he slipped off to his hollow.

Staring out at the passersby as though he would will them into affliction, the jet black tom curled his tail around his front paws, ears flicking as a slight low-level draft rustled a few leaves of his stores.

[/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]

[Phoenix]

Sitting in the entrance of the nursery watching the older felines march by only interested him for a little while. While he may have not known them all by name, he certainly recognized them from their appearances and the storiies they did not know they featured in. There was the gray and black tom, small with bright yellow eyes. Rapidwind, his mother had called him, and one of the few cats whom he now recognized on sight. The warrior's fur was littered with scars, and Icekit had created the older cat's story. He had thought up every single battle that the warrior had participated in. One against an angry badger, protecting the camp from its ire. In another he fought off enemy warriors. He tried to sneak into another clan's territory, too, using his small size to his advantage; however, the warrior was caught and attacked, which resulted in the majority of his scars. Yes, the white kit had given the silver and black warrior one of the more interesting stories. And what would happen to him? Icekit had yet to create Rapidwind's future, but he often imagined himself in the place of the warrior in the tom's exciting past.

Blue eyes followed the figure for a while before flicking back to watch the camp as a whole. It did not take long before he saw another feline of interest. The other tom was just as distinctive as Rapidwind, what with his long fur and large frame. He was the medicine cat, and he was lurking in the entrance of his den. Icekit had nothing better to do, and the older feline didn't look particularly unwelcoming. More bored than anything. Getting to his paws, Icekit meandered over toward the den. Perhaps he could entertain the older cat? Upon reaching him, the white little kitten looked up into the gray eyes of the medicine cat. "Hi," He started pleasantly, forming his features into a lopsided grin. "Do you like having black fur?"

[Fawn]

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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;]38 Moons - Medicine Cat - Tom - LightningClan
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A hard look greeted the kitten the instant the question spilled from his mouth, Rookfrost silently, broodingly contemplating whether it was a serious inquiry or if the kitten was just a little slow.

Do I like having black fur? He hadn't really thought about it. It appeared to be a dominant fur color, and a slight comparison in his younger days to the other apprentices confirmed that his coat was of a sleeker, more lustrous sheen and finer of hair than his darker, more mottled Clanmates. This little white offspring of some nondescript cats whose names he didn't remember was considered a recessive gene, surely. With any luck, whatever trait he'd inherited that allowed him to ask stupid questions was a recessive.

Still, he couldn't be completely judgmental of the kit. He was still in his early developmental stages, while nearing his apprenticeship, Rookfrost could hardly blame the white kit for his desire to ask questions, the world having become and interesting and exciting place. Eying the small creature with slightly less reproach, Rookfrost actually entertained an answer; "Yes I do. How is your hearing?" Voice a low, clipped response, it contained his usual cold tones and vocalizations.

The other Clanmates were not aware of it, but there was apparently a higher risk of deafness in cats with white fur than in others, something he found incredibly interesting. The lopsided grin on the kit had him considering the possibility that the side with the least pull against his jaws could be due to an ear condition, but that was just bored speculation.

[/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]

[Phoenix]

Icekit shrugged. He wasn't sure if he would like black fur; he enjoyed his own pure white fur too much. When it was really sunny out, he could imagine almost see it glowing. Especially after Dovesong had just finished grooming him. It was so luminescent, and he loved it. But perhaps the black tom had gotten used to his black fur. He hadn't seemed to hate it, even if his answer was short. Black fur was just so dark.

The second question jolted his thoughts away from fur colors, and the tom tilted his head slightly to the side, looking up at the medicine cat. "What?" That was an odd question to ask, even he knew that. This was the first time he'd been asked if he could hear well, and Icekit could not figure out what it had to do with fur color. Or was his white fur so blinding that it might destroy another sense as well? That didn't really make sense. Icekit looked up at the medicine cat, worry written all over his face. "Are you ok?" He didn't want a medicine cat who could not understand basic concepts, and the little kit was worried that this tom was one of those cats. Should he tell someone?

[Fawn]

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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;]38 Moons - Medicine Cat - Tom - LightningClan
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Having never been one to flub the truth for the sake of holding on to one's innocence, Rookfrost eyed the small white tom-kit with an expression full of nothingness. Am I okay? By the plain-bark standards of you and the rest of your Clanmates, yes. By mine, no, not even a little. If I don't cut something open soon, I'm going to choke up a hairball.
"I'm fine." Replied the Medicine Cat frostily, as if he found the sudden concern to be more insulting than the question; if he was in such a truly sorry state that even the sympathy of kits was warrented, well.... It wouldn't be a happy ending. "In white cats born with blue eyes, more often than not kits are born with deafness in either one or both ears. I will not ask a third time, how, is, your, hearing." Making sure to clearly ennunciate this time, Rookfrost waited not with baited breath, but with a sigh of frustration welling up like a tide inside his chest towards the little white-furred flea.

Fixing Icekit with a perpetual stare of frozen rigidity, the Medicine Cat curled his tail around his paws, ears flicking to catch the discombobulated noise of the other LightningClan - and now RainClan, since their evacuation - cats going about their humdrum, pointlessly ordinary lives. The presence of so many cats in one place did not bring comfort or joy to the jet black tom with the fathomless love of the complex, the Medicine Cat finding their presence to be bothersome in the extreme. More cats to possibly discover the little hollow on the very edge of LightningClan's territory, more cats to take up his time and keep him away from his true passions while he was busy curing sniffling noses, chills, aches & pains and trying not to choke on the overwhelming helplessness coming off of the RainClanners.

[/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]

[Phoenix]

Even Icekit could not completely ignore the harsh tone of the other feline, and he took a small step back, cowering slightly. All he had done was ask if the older tom was ok. He didn't see what was wrong with that; Dovesong and his sibligns did it to him all the time. "Icekit, are you alright?" "Careful, Icekit, you don't want to hurt yourself." "Are you ok, Icekit?" There was nothing wrong with it. Why did the older cat get angry at him for asking? The fear that had filled him, which he decided was due to the sudden harshness, gave way to indignation.

"No need to be so mean about it," He grumbled, casting an annoyed look at the wall of ebony fur in front of him. "And obviously I hear fine. I can hear what you're saying to me, and we're having a conversation. That's a mousebrained question." However, he reconsidered as he actually thought about the information the medicine cat had given him. White cats with blue eyes were usually born deaf? That was strange. Was their fur so blinding that it ruined another sense as well? Icekit decided that he should like to meet this blue-eyed, white-furred feline who could not hear. The kit wanted to see how white his fur was in comparison.

As his indignation wore off, as it was bound to do sooner rather than later, Icekit looked up at the older cat again. He didn't have bright white fur, so he couldn't blind anyone. But what if black fur did something else? Maybe the black cat couldn't smell and so he was annoyed by that? Yes, that would be it. Icekit always became annoyed when he couldn't do anything. "It's ok, you know," He meowed randomly, comfortingly. "If you can't smell. Everyone's different."

[Fawn]

[STYLE= font-family:Georgia; font-size:45px; letter-spacing:30px; width:450px; text-transform:lowercase; font-style:italic; color:#1E1E1E; line-height: 25px; background-color:#000000; text-align:center;]Rookfrost
[/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;]38 Moons - Medicine Cat - Tom - LightningClan
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"No need to be so mean about it,"[...]"And obviously I hear fine. I can hear what you're saying to me, and we're having a conversation. That's a mousebrained question."

Rookfrost pointedly ignored this. He was fully aware that if he bullied the kit too much, then the kit's mother would show up eventually and start drama that he didn't want or need. Though every fiber of his being longed to retort with a cold rebuttal about Icekit's own mousbrained questions, but the realization that he was bored enough to argue with a kit made him freeze. For all your intelligence, you're going to humor him with a response to that? The answer was most definitely no. In response to Icekit's misplaced, misinformed sympathy, however, the large ebony warrior's tufted ears flicked sideways for a few seconds.
"My sense of taste is unchanged, hare still tastes of hare, mouse still tastes of mouse, and anything else that winds up on the freshkill pile tastes exactly as it should." This response came with cold neutrality, Rookfrost allowing his emotions to drop back down into subzero temperatures, his patience renewed by the white kitten's apparent attempt to make a link between health issues and fur colors.

It wasn't a bad assumption, Rookfrost noted with reserved eyes. "There are no significant health issues that arise from having solid black fur. Tell me, your brother's hearing - is it fine as well?" This was Rookfrost's method of making 'light chatter', his light chatter was usually of an analytical, scientific nature, as though mild contemplation of feline nature was his way of passing the time when he wasn't off in his own dark, grayscale world.

[/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]

[Phoenix]

Unchanged. The word caught Icekit's attention, as he had not heard it before. What did it mean? He tried testing it out, muttering, "Un-change-d. Unchan-ged. Unchanged." but that brought no clues as to its definition either. Slowly, he ran the rest of the tom's words though his head, taking his time as he comprehended them. Hare tasted like hare. Mouse tasted like mouse. Everything tasted like it should. It tasted normal. Then did unchanged mean normal? Icekit tucked that thought away when the neutral voice spoke again, chipped and even.

Icekit gave the older tom a disparaging look and let out a soft sigh. What was with this cat and his questions on hearing? Was he obsessed with sounds? And why was he under the impression that he and Snowkit had hearing problems? Was it more of that blinding white fur idea? Though he recognized it as a possible explanation, Icekit was still doubtful of the truthfulness of the idea. Even if fur that blinding was true, it was a very abstract idea. Why would he keep pursuing it then? "Snowkit's hearing is..." Icekit answered on cue, pausing as he searched for a word to describe it. He wanted an important one.

And then he found it. Deepening his voice, he started again, "Snowkit's hearing is unchanged." Satisfied, Icekit nodded briefly to himself. Yes, that was a good use of his new word. Unchanged. He would have to tell Dovesong later; she would be so proud. "His white fur isn't white enough," the kit added as an afterthought, giving a shot at explaining to the medicine cat why his brother could hear just as well as Icekit could.

[Fawn]

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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;]38 Moons - Medicine Cat - Tom - LightningClan
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Had Rookfrost been a beast of integrity or normal social graces, Icekit's clever little recycling of his own word usage would've brought a smile to his great dark face. But he was of no more integrity than a vulture, and his social graces had all the substance of a spider's gossamer web. Rather than smile, Rookfrost allowed himself a curt nod to show he had heard and understood Icekit's words - though the cleverness was slightly soured by the incorrect assumption that the whiteness of the fur was what denoted the presence of a hearing impairment or not.

What should he say next, to this progeny of whom he did not know or intend to know? Should he strike up another dry conversation about Icekit's health? Or should he ask a question which would bore him to the core, but perhaps excite the kitten immediately: You're going to become an apprentice soon, yes? In which the kit would likely respond with something about who he would like for his mentor or any boastful words about how he would definitely become the next Clan leader. Spared from discussing the kit's highly predictable future by the arrival of Nettleflower, a LightningClan she-cat as well as a mother of 2 LightningClan apprentices.

"I think Thornpaw's come down with something, would you take a look at him?" Asked the unmistakably worried queen. Rookfrost straightened, his tufted ears like decorative tassels upon rigid black ears. "Bring him here, I'll examine him in my den." Responded Rookfrost - his eyes lit by some sort of backlight, watching more for her physical reaction than her words. Nettleflower hesitated.
"Well..."

"Well?" Reiterated the doctor.

"He's being stubborn and insisting that nothing's wrong with him." Confessed Nettleflower, her tail drooping, ears flattening off to the side as though she found fault with Thornpaw's pigheaded behavior.

Rookfrost said nothing at first, as though he hadn't quite heard her, though the irrefutably intelligent gleam in his eyes informed all that his hearing was perfectly fine. "If he has no intention of seeing a Medicine Cat, then fine. I will not dog after his heels until he finally caves, Nettleflower. I will not insist my skills upon anyone. If he wishes to wait out his illness or simply pass it off as a common cold - which it very well may be - then fine." Those words came out calm, delivered with the usual chilly sting, however his immovability on the subject was like a slap to the face, and that's how Nettleflower took it.

Hackles raising, she hissed at Rookfrost in frustration. "What kind of Medicine Cat are you? My son is sick and you won't treat him? What was StarClan thinking when they appointed you as our Medicine Cat?"

Oh but they weren't thinking at all. They hardly had a say in the matter.
"If you want to blame me for your son's idiocy, be my guest." Retorted the doctor. There was something infuriating about the way his tone never changed - anger, sadness, frustration, joy, they were all delivered in that icy resonance of clipped eloquence.

Words: 517

[/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]

[salt]

Little ivykit had grown a little bit fond of Icekit. She loved hanging out with the toms in her den. Yes she did enjoy being around she cats too she just felt like she bonded better with toms then she did more with the she cats. Padding out of the nursery she scanned the clearing with her green eyes and saw Icekit talking with.. the medicine cat. Her eyes grew bigger and she wobbled over to the two other cats but slowed down a bit when she saw a queen approach the medicine cat and argue with him about her son being looked at. She quietly scooted up next to Icekit and sat down watching the two cats argue and bicker about her son. She casted a glace to her den mate then back up to the medicine cat.

[Phoenix]

The tom nodded at him, but he did not say anything. Confusion burst through him. Had he done something wrong? Perhaps used 'unchanged' incorrectly? Icekit nodded back, the force behind it sending his head whamming into his chest. Ow! How had the medicine cat done it like that without having his chin collide with his chest? Icekit tried again and had the same result as before. Annoyed at himself and the pain that had begun to blossom from his complaining chest, he decided that it would be in his best interest to stop before he damaged something important. In any case, the timely arrival of Ivykit provided a nice distraction.

"Hi Ivykit," The tom mewed quietly, briefly glancing over at the calico she-cat. An ear flicked as his attention turned back to the grown cats bickering above his head. Having not followed the entire thing, he did not comprehend everything that the she-cat shouted at the tom and vise versa, but the sight of two grown cats acting like kits amused him. Dovesong and Frostkit always told him to grow up. He didn't go around picking fights with other kits. He thought now that he had already grown up, and had grown up more than this she-cat and the medicine cat had combined.

[Fawn]

[STYLE= font-family:Georgia; font-size:45px; letter-spacing:30px; width:450px; text-transform:lowercase; font-style:italic; color:#1E1E1E; line-height: 25px; background-color:#000000; text-align:center;]Rookfrost
[/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;]38 Moons - Medicine Cat - Tom - LightningClan
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Some unconscious predatory gene informed him that another white kitten had joined the first, though this one was covered in ginger patches, which made her Frostkit - no, Ivykit. Frostkit had an inability to be quiet around interesting things, but this one was different. Though the presence of two young minds did little to deter or dissolve the domestic dispute between himself and the queen Nettleflower, he was faintly aware of the possibility that their argument might be gathering a crowd.

"If you can coax your belligerent son to my den, I will treat him." At last the Medicine Cat spoke, the small pause between the two arguers hadn't dimmed the fire in her eyes at all. Maternal instincts can be some of the deadliest, if you haven't any sense at all. He'd discovered that one a long time ago, and now was the perfect moment to exhibit some sense. Nettleflower's fur started to settle, but she was still eying him as though she thought the large jet black tom was unfit for his duties. A poor match, on the social skills front, and he would've agreed with her - had he been a Clan counselor rather than a Medicine Cat. There was no such requirement that they cultivate some kind of social grace or bottomless well of kindness and patience. He was no perfect specimen.

"What, are you scared of him? Why can't you go get him yourself? A frightful face like yours ought to be enough to get him to your den." Replied the queen with stinging haughtiness, her pride still burned by his initial refusal.

The tufted-eared Medicine Cat resisted the urge to sigh out loud. Insufferable. Pointedly ignoring the comment about his face, Rookfrost turned and looked to Ivykit and Frostkit. "Go fetch Thornpaw, tell him his mother's ill." Dark eyes shifted to their corners. Nettleflower approving of his plan with a subtle dip of her head. If his love for his mother didn't draw him out of the apprentices' den, then both would have to give up on their determination to get the hot-headed tom treated. As for sending the two kits - it was a decent assignment. It would be the gravest of sins to lash out verbally or strike a kit, so Thornpaw, mindful of his manners around the puffballs, would have no choice but to listen to them as they bounded in, disturbing his sleep.

"Wake him up, if you have to." Added the Doctor. A faint glimmer of humor, like a will-o-wisp upon the moorland, seemed to sparkle in his normally glassy, fathomless eyes. As though some sort of spectral hound or dark fairy that was his usual stoicness had swooped in out of nowhere to devour it, the humor was gone in the single blinking of an eye.

Words: 486

[/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]

[salt]

Still watching the two cats bicker at one another Ivykit raised an eyebrow and then looked over at Icekit and then back at the two adult cats. Caught off guard she was not expecting the medicine cat to tell them to go fetch an apprentice for him. Blinking but still sitting she looked to the apprentices den and then back to her medicine cat. "Why do you need Thornpaw?'' she asked tilting her head to the side. And now the questions began. She was never really one to know how her medicine cat acted. This was her third time meeting him but all the other times she was called back into the den by her mother. "Why do we have to go get him? Why can't you?''

[Phoenix]

Now the fighting was starting to get old. What had once been a source of amusement was now tiring to watch, though the she-cat's quip about the ebony tom's face was fairly accurate. Blue eyes focused on said feline's face, and he tilted his head slightly. She did have a point; the sharp features, which were currently formed into a less than pleasant expression, and large size could very easily be intimidating. Instead of answering the warrior, the medicine cat turned to him and Ivykit, barking out a set of orders. Tell Thornpaw his mother was ill? Icekit turned to look at the she-cat skeptically. "She doesn't look ill," He countered, gaze over her body as he looked for signs of sickness. "She didn't sound ill either, when she was shouting at you." Honestly, Icekit felt that he would be a better medicine cat than this one here. Perhaps he really should go tell someone.

Beside him, Ivykit seemed to be having similar thoughts, if her questions were anything to judge by. Rising to his paws - he fully intended to follow the older tom's orders, even if he was rather crazy - Icekit turned to the other kit. "Come on, let's just go," He began to turn toward the entrance. "I know why he doesn't want to get Thornpaw. He doesn't want to scare him with 'that frightful face of his'." With that he led the way out of the den, calling over his shoulder to the two older cats, "We'll be back soon!"

[Fawn]

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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;]38 Moons - Medicine Cat - Tom - LightningClan
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Perhaps in his haste to get this argument over with, he hadn't considered the two similarly hued kittens to understand the concept of a white lie. Having neither the patience nor the desire to explain it to them, he instead fixed the pair with an icy gaze full of intensity, spurning them forward with a subtle flick of his ears and the high lift of his chin.
"Don't stop to talk to anyone but Thornpaw!" Shouted the Medicine Cat to their retreating forms. The last thing he wanted to do was stand here waiting with this agitated she-cat while the two highly distractable kits talked to the whole Clan before finally getting to the right cat.

The remarks about his 'frightful face' did not linger at either the forefront or the back of his mind. It had been a comment that he'd discarded like used cobwebs, his stony countenance not at all different from what Nettleflower or Icekit had said it was. While he generally made a decent attempt to not let too much of his personality show upon his facial features, there was little to nothing he could do about genetic inheritance. He had been given the stern, aggressive but cold features of his father - the wide black nose, the hard jawline, the glassy eyes, the broad muzzle and masculine shape of his head. The whiskers were long and thick, but not so flyaway that he looked silly, and neither short enough that he looked like a prissy little feline who chewed off the edges of their whiskers for maintenance purposes.
Though he was remarkably well groomed in appearance, the habits of his mother and father combined, no doubt, it wouldn't be a stretch at all to say he was 'frightful'. Ice gray eyes. Midnight-black fur. Fully erect, tufted ears. He was a bit statuesque, like a much more handsome gargoyle than was normal or a stony figure that marked a gravestone, had his fur been turned to marble along with the wiry muscle beneath it.

Rookfrost could note that he gave off somewhat of an 'elitist' vibe, though it was not born out of being the son of two high-standing LightningClan cats, it was more or less out of his own intellectual reasonings that put him on a barbed-wire pedestal far above the others. Rookfrost was too much of a realist to think that who you were related to had any real effect upon your future - at least not in the sense that you were somehow better or lesser than your kinsmen. He was not so caught up in the past that he could blame the son for the father's errors, and he had never been so wronged as to hold a grudge that covered lifespans rather than a few moons.

He was what he was. Just as Nettleflower was Nettleflower and no one else. Though he found her personality the opposite of stimulating, and particularly cookie-cutter at that, Rookfrost could at least acknowledge that there were subtle and not-so-subtle differences that made his Clanmates unique.
Nettleflower and Thornpaw seemed to share a common one: their stubbornness.

Thornpaw:

The sickly apprentice could be found curled up in his nest, tail over nose, though it was obviously stuffed up as he was snoring rather loudly through an open mouth. Fortunately no one else was in the apprentices' den early today, and as such, the stubborn Thornpaw could enjoy the piece and quiet.
For now.

[/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]

(OOC: You can just have Ivykit and Icekit bring Thornpaw back with them)