Post by Phoenix on Feb 24, 2015 22:08:20 GMT -5
IF I TOLD YOU WHAT I WAS
That he spent the midnight hours wandering rather than resting, an unearthly phantom on the moors, was in itself not odd. Having discovered soon enough that a lack of sleep did not faze him nearly as much as it did others, he had developed the habit as a young tom and continued it far into warriorhood. He enjoyed the solitude and the stillness of the night. When the wind died, there was a quiet that the day lacked and, occasionally, a tension, as though the world were holding its breath as it waited to see what breed of monster the darkness spawned that night. More often than not, it seemed, the shadows cloaked his alabaster pelt, though he had sometimes seen it cast a shroud over the resident scientist and his particular brand of savagery. However, the night need not have worried about the beast it sheltered, for the prospect of a hunt did not rest on the forefront of his mind. And wasn’t that peculiar.
Whiteshade was not accustomed to being a father, and with his kits residing in a different clan, he had little opportunity to both play the part and fully acquaint himself with the idea. He had yet to feel any particular tug on his heart strings about his kits, most of whom he had yet to meet. Coldkit had not inspired any instinctive protectiveness within him, though perhaps that was because the eerie pale tom had the air of one who did not need protecting – at least not from any felines. He had made insights beyond his moons, had asked if he was one of the monsters who lurked in the shadows, and his father had seen the same potential in him that he had found in Nightstep. The possibilities intrigued him. If Coldkit was not a monster, the senior warrior could easily see to it that he become one.
Perhaps his fascination caused his body to mirror his thoughts, drawing him close to StarClan’s Claws where he had previously met his son as though he sought another encounter. Stepping up beside one of the stone spires, he paused in the shadows, crimson eyes assessing the scene. Traces of expectation, anticipation seemed to linger in the air, but for what, he did not know. He hardly expected to meet anyone so late at night, let alone the pale colored tom who had occupied his thoughts, and yet, as he turned his head toward RainClan territory, he noticed a small shape, white fur shining in the moonlight. He narrowed his eyes slightly, finding himself wondering if perhaps his son had been drawn to this place by musings of a nature similar to his own.
But he was a new father. Perhaps, then, it was understandable that he initially mistook his daughter for his son.
Whiteshade was not accustomed to being a father, and with his kits residing in a different clan, he had little opportunity to both play the part and fully acquaint himself with the idea. He had yet to feel any particular tug on his heart strings about his kits, most of whom he had yet to meet. Coldkit had not inspired any instinctive protectiveness within him, though perhaps that was because the eerie pale tom had the air of one who did not need protecting – at least not from any felines. He had made insights beyond his moons, had asked if he was one of the monsters who lurked in the shadows, and his father had seen the same potential in him that he had found in Nightstep. The possibilities intrigued him. If Coldkit was not a monster, the senior warrior could easily see to it that he become one.
Perhaps his fascination caused his body to mirror his thoughts, drawing him close to StarClan’s Claws where he had previously met his son as though he sought another encounter. Stepping up beside one of the stone spires, he paused in the shadows, crimson eyes assessing the scene. Traces of expectation, anticipation seemed to linger in the air, but for what, he did not know. He hardly expected to meet anyone so late at night, let alone the pale colored tom who had occupied his thoughts, and yet, as he turned his head toward RainClan territory, he noticed a small shape, white fur shining in the moonlight. He narrowed his eyes slightly, finding himself wondering if perhaps his son had been drawn to this place by musings of a nature similar to his own.
But he was a new father. Perhaps, then, it was understandable that he initially mistook his daughter for his son.
Whiteshade | LightningClan | Senior Warrior | Monster - Imagine Dragons
WOULD YOU TURN YOUR BACK ON ME?
@lacihparg
