[Phoenix]

Sootkit

- - -

Half shrouded in the darkness that blanketed the rest of the forest with the setting of the sun, the kit continued undisturbed by the drastic loss in vision that would soon follow. He did not understand the trepidation that seemed to fill others at the thought of wandering the forest at night. It was completely unfounded, and they seemed to not realize how much an unnecessary fear limited them. Some would not doubt claim nocturnal creatures, but the clan had survived thus far, had they not, against these ferocious beasts of the night. Not that he supported actively seeking out a fight – in all actuality, it mattered not to him whether a hard-headed cat rushed to their death – but they had claws and teeth for a reason. Along the same vein was the undeniable truth that they had more senses than merely their sight as well; with a simple application of the ears and nose, one could make their way around the forest with minimal difficulty and manage to avoid most predators. If it was not so pathetic, than the whole situation would have been laughable had he the sense of humor required to find it funny. Here he was, a mere kit in their eyes, as comfortable in the forest he called home at night as he was during the day, armed with an irrefutable conclusion based on a clarity resulting from simple observation: felines had the capability of defending themselves and making their way through the forest at night, most were simply too scared to do so.

His sister, he noted, however, seemed just as unbothered as him by the dark. Eager to show him something – she had not told him what, but had seemed very proud of it all the same, which made him believe that it was a skill of some sort – she had led him away from camp as the sun set, perhaps strategically taking advantage of their gray pelts, which aided them in merging with the growing shadows. Making their duo a trio, Grayowl had decided to accompany his two kits into the forest, and in a corner of his consciousness, Sootkit was acutely aware his presence. The silent threat that seemed to ooze from his father was hard to ignore, and having spent minimal time the amber-eyed tom’s company before, he was relatively unaccustomed to it. At the same time, this promise of danger was partially the reason why he strode as confidently as he did; not creature, feline or otherwise, in their right mind would challenge his father. One would have to be dead to not sense the strength in Grayowl.

Pale blue eyes seemed to glow in the darkness as they turned on his sister, somewhat expectantly. She was almost as much of an enigma to him as his father, for the two of them were almost inseparable. This obvious favoritism bothered him as much as an ant bothered a stone, but Grayowl had extended an invitation toward him to accompany them on one of their many outings. It was an invitation he had yet to collect, for he did not feel any further inclined toward their company than he had in the past; he had come on this particular outing simply because Mockingkit looked as though she would have been crushed had he declined. While he was indifferent toward others – almost scientifically so – his family were the few cats who had earned a space in his high regards and what little care he had. ”You have something to show me?” He prompted the carbon copy of their father, voice even.

- - -

OOC: Insidious Fawn

[Fawn]

MOCKINGKIT
6 Moons - She-Cat - TreeClan

Come See What I See,

Was it not expected of a sister to want to show off her newfound talents to a sibling that was apparently lacking in any? Apathetic to the extreme, Sootkit proposed a new set of challenges to the charcoal gray copy of the TreeClan warrior accompanying him; a new standard of difficulty presented itself when Sootkit chose not to behave as any normal kitten did.

Solitary, silent and with his own brand of enigmata, her littermate did not appear willing to participate in the game she was presently playing with the rest of the Clan. If they pretended to have inherited no more than their mother's droll, ridiculously compassionate personality and lack of ambition, then any suspicion placed on their father would be dwindled, even if only by a seemingly insignificant margin.

Sootkit did not want to feign normalcy, and Mockingkit felt a certain kind of frustration, able to emotionally distance herself from her sibling to the point where physically maiming him for his unwillingness had crossed her young, feverish mind on several separate occasions.

Maybe I can persuade him by sharing some of Father's lessons?

That was the real reason for the hollow-hearted kitten's voyage into the darkness, as blended into her surroundings as a stick of charcoal smudged into paper. The plan was to bring Sootkit into the family business or count him as a lost cause, trusting in his reticent nature to keep his jaws shut tight – though Mockingkit had already made peace with the possibility that his presence may no longer be required.

Grayowl didn't need two kittens, after all.

Not when he had her.

”We are here.” Mockingkit announced, her voice the polar opposite of her father's – high, lacking in resonance, and still very much youthful – but the cool conviction was the same.

The dark kitten led the party to a small copse, poisonous golden eyes – like an adder's – locking onto the creature squirming and twisting in some kind of cage made out of brambles. Mockingkit's eyes flashed with triumph, gloating over her own ingenuity. After watching many of the Clan's elder warriors patch and repair the parts of camp that had suffered the worst from the fire, the brilliant gears of the highly impressionable she-cat's mind began to turn, whirring so fast that she had hunkered down behind the nursery with a few brambles of her own, and began tucking and pulling and weaving with the purpose of keeping something in rather than out.

She had also caught the mouse in the bramble cage, and for extra insurance that it wouldn't get away, had rendered it unable to use it's back left leg, the limb having snapped with all the ease of a twig under a kitten's paw. Approaching the cage, Mockingkit could hear the bloodbeat of the mouse's heart, frantic and alarmed as three predators came forward – a sense of doom having finally set in. If it had any sense at all, it would stop moving.

If it had recognized it's own death approaching, it should've just accepted it – not struggled, even now, to chew through the brambles. Though the mouse was too big to get through the very tightly woven brambles (the dexterity of tiny paws works wonders), Mockingkit could reach in, breaking the cage as she pulled the mouse out into the open, quickly pressing a paw down on it's body to prevent it from escaping, another paw on it's tail to further immobilize it.

Eyes narrowed, she stole a glance at Sootkit, attempting to read his expression – and then to Grayowl, searching for praise. She hadn't even told her father about her cage-making ability, thinking it would be a nice surprise, and one they could certainly find a use for later. Of that she had no doubt.

Now then... What did Sootkit think?

”Pay attention, Sootkit. I'll show you what Father showed me.”

OOC: Insidious, Phoenix

[Insidious]

For once it was not the dark gray warrior leading a pair of kits out of camp, but instead a pair of kits leading him out of camp. It was none other than Grayowl's most prized daughter (and his son), therefore regardless of whoever was in the lead, he was still to blame. He followed in the wake of Sootkit, nearly walking on the young tom's heels, dark gold eyes fixated ahead to remain firmly upon the tiny frame of his daughter mouselengths ahead. Given the late hour, the forest presented plenty of danger for two helpless kits. It was because of this that Grayowl's muscles were already constricted, prepared to lunge forward and defend his offspring should any potential hazards threaten the lives of either Mockingkit or Sootkit. It wasn't so much fatherly love for his children as it was a basic means of survival; his reputation would surely take a beating if required to explain the death of his own kits. Not to mention the troubles that would follow having to produce a new litter – he couldn't guarantee to receive another Mockingkit from the bunch.

The trio traveled through the dimly lit forest due to a desire of his daughter – she had something to show them, something not even Grayowl was aware of. Although he wasn't fond of the element of surprise, he didn't dare voice aloud this minor distaste. Whatever it was that she had done, it seemed to have put a skip in her step. Grayowl simply hoped it was worth waiting for. Allowing his dark gold eyes to avert toward Sootkit for a few moments, he considered the young tom. He lacked the potential of his sister, but Grayowl didn't doubt that he could be of great use if he'd simply put aside his personality and exchange it for one that mirrored Mockingkit's own. Was it too much to ask that both of his children could be absorbed by the immense urge to impress their father? Apparently so. His charcoal jaw morphed into an unpleasant scowl, dismissing his irritation in favour of scenting the air to ensure their solitude was prolonged.

At long last, they arrived. Grayowl steadily arrived at a halt, his expression revealing true intrigue for the mystery before him, something rarely seen upon his features. The scent of mouse filled his nasal cavities; he was admittedly surprised with the work of his daughter. He took a gracious step forward in hopes of examining the she-kit's contraption in more detail, matching her golden stare – she was searching for approval, and for such an impressive achievement he gladly met this longing with a short, curt dip of his head – with his own darker gaze before returning his utmost attention to the trap she had created.

Grayowl's ears pricked at Mockingkit's words, stepping away from the tangled arrangement of brambles to accustom at Sootkit's side and observe. His words were not required as of now; Mockingkit would only need to glance at him once to understand he was perfectly content with her doings. Factually, Grayowl had been hoping to test the young kitten's abilities sooner than later – this saved him some time. Tilting his chin down, the warrior fixated his intense stare upon Sootkit, ensuring that his son was paying attention as Mockingkit had asked. His eyes did not linger upon him for long, however – the show taking place mere mouselengths ahead was meant mostly to impress Sootkit and, hopefully, get him to realize that the eerie happenings of this family was a path that he would too like to pursue. Grayowl, however, was equally as captivated (much to what he could only assume as being Mockingkit's joy).

Now all she had to do was not ruin it.

[Phoenix]

Sootkit

- - -

Upon reaching their destination, the mottled gray kit drew himself to a halt, eyes briefly scanning the area for any significance as to why this place in particular, for it was clear to him that his sister had deliberately led her father and brother to this specific place. Only after a moment’s searching did he realize why. Pale blue eyes, glowing in the light of the rising moon, watched as his sister approached an apparatus consisting of brambles and the occasional twig, narrowed slightly as he tried to discern the reason for such a creation. The struggling mouse within cleared the slight confusion that had filtered into his consciousness, setting his mind at ease once more. Even as the gray warrior, who was his father only by blood for the lack of bond between them, stepped forward to peer more closely at the contraption, the younger tom contented himself with observing from a distance. He watched impassively as Mockingkit ruined the cage that appeared so meticulously put together, pinning the mouse as to prevent its escape. The creature’s awkward motions indicated a wound of some sort to its hind legs, and it would not take an expert to realize that a leg was not supposed to bend in that direction; it was clearly broken, and for all the pain and terror that must have been coursing through the rodent’s small mind, he could not bring himself to feel any pity for the mouse.

As still as if he had turned to stone, the tom stood there, face expressionless and ears turned slightly toward his sister to indicate that she had his attention. The prickling along his pelt indicated the places where both his father’s and his sister’s gazes rested on him for mere moments before both flicked away to study the mouse that had proved itself to be a much more interesting focus, and still he did not react. He made no move to save the mouse, instead using his mental capabilities elsewhere, considering a subject infinitely more worthwhile than the shortened lifespan of some insignificant mouse obviously too unintelligent to avoid a trap set by a mere kit, daughter of Grayowl though she was.

Here, in front of him, was an example of the ultimate strength. Without emotions to cloud his perception of the world, he had quickly evolved to a mindset based off of the strong and weak. The forest and surrounding landscape were harsh environments at times, that much he knew, and only the strongest would survive, living to scavenge or hunt another day while the weak perished in their place. It was almost tragic, the way that others fell to further the existence of those more competent than themselves. Though it would lose its life due to the whims of his sister rather than becoming a necessary meal for the clan – and of its death, he was sure, for if it survived this encounter, the broken leg would make it easy prey for another predator – the mouse in front of him fighting for its life was merely a part of this continuous circle. Its life meant little. But the power of taking a life, of snapping the connection between mind and body, even one as insignificant as this, was far more alluring.

It embodied power, for who but the strongest and most competent predators would be able to claim the lives of others? As young as she was, Mockingkit was in this position, fully capable of unsheathing her claws and ending everything as she pleased. For perhaps the first time in his entire life – as short as it was – something flickered in those pale blue eyes as he acquainted himself with his first taste of true strength. If he so chose, he could unsheathe his claws and perform the action himself. In doing so, for the briefest of moments, he would no longer be weak, defenseless kit others enjoyed coddling and protecting. But as soon as it came, the spark was gone, the screen of indifference returning to mute the way the promise of strength drew him in like a moth to a flame.

Simply put, the mouse was weak and it would pay for its weakness in an unforgiving way, be it at the claws of a feline or some other predator. Piercing blue flicked up to meet a dangerous amber, and he inclined his head in the slightest of nods. You have my attention.

- - -

[Fawn]

6 Moons - TreeClan - She-Cat

Still riding the euphoric high that came with her father's approval, Mockingkit's tiny charcoal mouth was immediately wrent into a grin, seemingly harmless kitten teeth cast in an unnerving light with a little help from the moon. Now that she had the attention of her blue-eyed brother, she cast a lethal gaze upon the mouse still struggling underpaw, her lips pulling back from her teeth in a look that was both resentment of it's obvious, shameful display of weakness, and the excitement felt at earning more points with Grayowl.

Having committed Grayowl's original kill to memory and tried many a time to practice, both with and without him, the kitten's jaws closed around the back of the mouse's neck with a complete lack of hesitation, severing it's life in a quick hard bite, her teeth ripping through fur despite their fragility, and she felt it loosen several baby teeth in that single instant, but she ignored it. Mockingkit could do nothing about her age or the disadvantages that came with it - her adult teeth would grow in quickly enough.

Dropping the now limp, ragged form, a bright pink tongue swept around the corners of her mouth, her dainty gray paws kneading the earth once, a sharp glimpse in Sootkit's gaze to make sure he was paying attention. Placing two paws on the top of the mouse's skull, the demon's daughter abruptly brought her weight down into one single aggressive push, the effort rippling through thin limbs to produce a rough crack that bounded into the surrounding forest, the sound swallowed up by the dense population of trees. It's effect was not dampened, however, and Mockingkit felt her heart-rate jump up, golden orbs taking on a precarious glare, as though lit by some kind of internal furnace fed by rotten wood.
"Something I learned from Father," Mockingkit informed, imperious, "Amongst other things. You could learn them too, Sootkit, if you want." Dangling the bait right before her brother's nose, Mockingkit stayed where she was, her paws placed on the concave skull of what had been a mouse, reveling in the feeling of might that little display had brought her.

I understand now, Father. Why you showed it to me. Why you did it.

It was the true nature of power, was it not? The ability to crush the skulls of the insignificant beneath your paws like overripe fruit.

Mockingkit studied her reticent sibling intensely, trying to read in every blink, every subtle movement he made just what his internal state was like - was he as intrigued as he should be? Or was he nothing more than a typical kit like all the rest?

Don't disappoint us, Sootkit, or else I'm going to get mad.

The charcoal gray kitten stole a meaningful glance at her father, hoping he could read his son better than she could ever hope to; he was an adult, after all. He was Grayowl, a king in the midst of commoners. Surely he could provide her with the insight she desired.

I did well, didn't I Father?

[Insidious]

There was such potential in the tiny teeth of his daughter, the way she so effortlessly claimed the life of the helpless mouse being the closest TreeClan's lethal warrior could get to a sensation of pride in what significant heart-beat he had dawned upon their clan. She was not yet finished, so it seemed. A careful eye observed the placement of her similarly hued paw atop the newly deceased mammal's skull, pleasure ripping along his spinal chord and finding blissful rest in his eardrums as the wondrous crack of its frail head consumed the former quiet of the dimly lit forest. A fleeting moment's analysis was offered to the one that felt an immense urgency toward receiving his approval, a sinister tug at the corner of his lip quickly spreading into a full gin, dipping his head to ensure that Mockingkit understood he was proud of her, that she had pleased him – though such a significant gesture evaporated within the next instant, his expression morphing into one of eerie blankness, his level of interest having subsided with there being nothing left for his daughter to present.

Grayowl was increasingly aware of Mockingkit's eyes being fixed upon him, her impressionable mind seeking out his guidance to further aid in determining how her indifferent sibling was taking this swell of information. He, too, was curious; portraying such genuine intrigue as to whether or not Sootkit had found himself fascinated by the capability of possessing such remarkable power. He would not stand by and dwindle away the hours of dusk in patience, the warrior having risen to his full height and approached his daughter's side within two fluid strides, a weary pivot performed in order to settle his dark gold gaze into Sootkit's own pale blue. “That is if you want.” Grayowl repeated Mockingkit's baited words, emphasizing to ensure Sootkit understood this was a decision Grayowl would not take lightly: to abide by the desires of his family, or to betray – what they may not realize – had been the sole reason for their existence having come about.

“There is but a price to pay for the life you choose to lead,” a fond glance was averted to his daughter, inwardly smirking at the indirect implication, Mockingkit having chosen by her own free will to follow in the wake of Grayowl and lead a life of what was power through their own eyes, but monstrous if to be seen through the perception of another. “though not to say it will be one walked alone, should you find yourself taken with this an utmost delicacy – you will have the dedication and preserved aid of your family.”

It was a lot to place upon the shoulders of a kit, but he was not some mere kit – he had been placed in the role of Grayowl's son, therefore having entered this world with his life already planned for him. By some happenstance, Sootkit hadn't fitted the role as efficiently as Mockingkit, left struck by a personality that clashed with Grayowl's original intents. But this – he could fix it all now. Sootkit stood beneath the harsh glare of his father and sister: he the admirable deception and she the mime glued to precise strings. It was but a choice of following the path elected for him, or going against it to fulfill his own desires.

One choice would earn him a deserved spot in this family, though the other would have such a title stripped in mere seconds. Grayowl would always be his father, but as he so eloquently phrased, the role of his son came with but a price to pay.

[Phoenix]

Sootkit

- - -

With a cold detachment and lack of emotion chilling in the manner of one so young, he watched heartlessly as his sister killed the mouse with a single, well placed bite. She did it with the ease of an experienced warrior, as though she had practiced the blow many times before performing it for the two of them, and after a quick glance in his direction that did not evade his notice, she crushed the mouse's skull. His only reaction to the unnecessary violence was a flick of the ear at the resounding crack that echoed through the forest. If the mouse had not been dead before, it most certainly was now, he mused dispassionately as he stared at the now concave skull. Had he been in the presence of any other cats, he would have been expected to feel immense, overwhelming horror, perhaps to even flee with his ears pressed to his head and tail between his legs. Instead, he simply thought that the mouse must have had weak bones if its skull was broken by the force of a kit; then again, his sister had undoubtedly been practicing and perfected the technique for this performance.

It was then, even before her words confirmed it, that he suddenly felt with a calm certainty that this was how she spent her days, carrying out deeds of a morbid nature under the watchful gaze of the gray tom beside him. The revelation did not startle him as much as it should have, and with the same air of indifference he did everything else, Sootkit accepted it for what it was.

"I could," He agreed evenly, gaze shifting from Mockingkit's dark gold eyes to stare up at the nearly identical pair belonging to his father, "if I want." The significance of this moment and the impact it would have on the rest of his life was not lost on him, and coldly, as if this decision would not affect him at all, he calculated and considered his options, which, when it came down to it, were misleadingly simple.

With a short phrase, he could estrange himself completely from his family and make two formidable enemies in his sister and father, both of whom would be equally unforgiving of his betrayal, all for the freedom - or perhaps the illusion of freedom? - to live his own life. Had he not already shown his independence from the pair, his lack of desire to compete with his sister for their father's attention? He had managed his solitude on his own thus far; it could hardly be unexpected that he would consider this option.

On the other hand, he could simply nod and ensure that he had a place among those of his blood. Where there was no promise of receiving a decent training under the mentor Lionstar assigned him, tutelage under his father guaranteed strength and prowess by the time be became a warrior. He could eliminate every chance of him not surviving, and, even if he did not reach the top, he could become a force to be reckoned with. He could have it all. All for the price of his soul. Though he had little intention of becoming the same mindless minion as his sister, hardly able to think for herself and constantly looking to Grayowl for praise, there was no harm in learning this dark and dangerous art. Those of the faint of heart, who could not kill, were bound to vanish into nothingness, unable to survive in the world with its harsh realities. Since he had no intention of following in their footsteps, it was only logical that he took the assistance offered to him on a silver platter.

"I believe it would be beneficial to both parties if I accepted this offer," He meowed finally, his voice as steady and unwavering as his gaze. Pale blue eyes flicked to the mouse resting beneath his sister's paws, bone and matter mingled together. Even if he could have resisted the lure of greatly increasing his survivability, a faint sense of duty to his family dictated that he could not have chosen the path that would have led to him taking the place of that mouse under Mockingkit's paws.

- - -