Post by Abyss on Nov 12, 2020 19:14:06 GMT -5
The simmering embers that clustered together within the hollow heart in her chest. They took this state more often than usual lately, the typical burning flame which earned her namesake calming itself during those times in which she found herself lost. Lost in what and who she was as a cat. Lost in what her home, or rather the shelter she lived within, truly meant to her.
For so many moons thoughts such as these never occurred to her. She couldn’t have cared less about what she thought of Treeclan or what they thought of her. Back when, all she cared about was making herself appear superior so that she could earn her rightful place within the hierarchy of the clan. After that right was ripped from her, she no longer truly cared for any of those fools or what they thought of her. If she had no reason to seek their approval, she had no reason to hide who she was. This was how it had been for quite some time. She did as she pleased with no fear of the consequences, for there was nothing that they could do to her that she couldn’t handle.
This applied during the little incident that happened in Leafbare, as well. That old hag from Nightclan, whatever her name was, had dared to step near the border of the enemy in which her precious group of rogues was at war with. And, in the same moment, tested her fate by insulting the red-furred ball of flame and rage that resided within Treeclan to her face. Her bravery and willingness to look her own death in the face and drag their name and title through the dirt was commendable, admittedly. But playing with fate in this way was what brought forth her downfall. Had she not taken such a risk, perhaps she wouldn’t be a mere pile of bones like she probably was now. Maybe she could have died a peaceful death in her sleep within the comfort of her disgusting camp, surrounded by the rest of the swamp-dwelling trash that she once called her clan. But no, she took a chance, and it was this chance that ultimately led her to her very unfortunate disappearance from the valley.
That encounter had introduced new changes in the fiery she-cat’s life, both physically and mentally, and good and bad. In terms of the good changes, she had earned herself a very satisfactory amount of scars and marks. While others may not consider getting things such as these as good changes, in her mind these were great additions that she was glad to put on display. Scars showed strength, scars showed durability, and, most importantly, with lots of scars and gashes came a natural ability for intimidation. Granted, she already had that before the scars. But they only added on.
Meanwhile...on the other side of the spectrum...there was one change in particular that she was far from pleased about, but was unable to change. Pumafang. He had forced his way into her life and her head without warning, and didn’t seem to have any intentions of leaving. Had she said this out of context to any cat who knew no better, they may have assumed this meant she had feelings for him. But no, that was nowhere near what she felt for him. She wished for him to die like the worthless and soulless shell of a being that he was. She wanted to watch him get torn limb from limb. She wanted to watch as his cocky attitude and that lack of fear disappeared from those dead eyes. She had the opportunity to do all of these things that day. If she would have left him in the clutches of the badger den, his body crushed and crumbled like a dead leaf, the most happiness she had ever felt would have filled her chest. And yet she didn’t...she still never could figure out why. And it was for that reason that her hatred for him only grew every second that he breathed.
And now, to make all of this agony worse, that black cat, that monster in cat form, that infuriating beast that so many looked up to for pitiful reasons...was the new Leader of Treeclan.
During the rule of Lionstar, Foxfire couldn’t bear to count how many times she wished to leave, to abandon this foolish clan for all that they stood for. How could they follow such a coward for so long and claim that it was he who made the clan what it was? It was laughable, this thought. But, despite those desires back when, she still never left. And now, with the shift in authority within the ranks of the clan, her wish to leave only grew stronger with every second. Her brother hardly ever spoke to her, her mother hadn’t attempted to even talk to her after the last time, she had no Apprentice, and her father was dead. There was nothing keeping her here.
Except...for one thing. One thing that needed explained. One thing that, despite her gut telling her to forget it and go, she couldn’t leave without discovering the answer.
Her claws sheathed and unsheathed, digging deep into the surprisingly soft dirt beneath her paws. Her feathery tail lashed behind her, snapping to the side with each breath she took. Narrowed orange eyes, black pupils thin in irritation, glared down at the soft-flowing water in front of her.
Throughout the day, those intense eyes had stared daggers into the pelt of the clan’s precious new Leader. A few times she found those dark and void-like eyes glancing back, but they never remained long. She didn’t wish for them too anyway; those eyes only caused her inner embers to crack and lash out at her chest, sending pangs of anger through her. The she-cat never spoke to him, but she knew her message had gotten across.
And so she ended up at the Sparkling Brook, watching as the last of the sun’s remaining rays glinted off of the water’s surface. She had not been here for very long, for she knew that she wouldn’t be alone for much time. Though he had much to do now that the weight of the whole clan sat on his shoulders, the walking corpse she begrudgingly waited for was not one to pass up an opportunity.
Just as she expected, the sound of large pawsteps sounded from behind her. She didn’t need to turn to see, nor did she have to listen or scent who approached. After this much time, she could practically sense that it was him...and this made a raging, angry fire burn within her.
“What an honor it is to speak privately with Treeclan’s new king.” The words she spoke held no respect or recognition of authority, and the irritation and sarcasm that laced her voice were unhidden in the slightest. He knew that she hated him, he knew that she held no care for him or his well-being. By now, she was sure that both he and the rest of his new followers knew this voice quite well.
For so many moons thoughts such as these never occurred to her. She couldn’t have cared less about what she thought of Treeclan or what they thought of her. Back when, all she cared about was making herself appear superior so that she could earn her rightful place within the hierarchy of the clan. After that right was ripped from her, she no longer truly cared for any of those fools or what they thought of her. If she had no reason to seek their approval, she had no reason to hide who she was. This was how it had been for quite some time. She did as she pleased with no fear of the consequences, for there was nothing that they could do to her that she couldn’t handle.
This applied during the little incident that happened in Leafbare, as well. That old hag from Nightclan, whatever her name was, had dared to step near the border of the enemy in which her precious group of rogues was at war with. And, in the same moment, tested her fate by insulting the red-furred ball of flame and rage that resided within Treeclan to her face. Her bravery and willingness to look her own death in the face and drag their name and title through the dirt was commendable, admittedly. But playing with fate in this way was what brought forth her downfall. Had she not taken such a risk, perhaps she wouldn’t be a mere pile of bones like she probably was now. Maybe she could have died a peaceful death in her sleep within the comfort of her disgusting camp, surrounded by the rest of the swamp-dwelling trash that she once called her clan. But no, she took a chance, and it was this chance that ultimately led her to her very unfortunate disappearance from the valley.
That encounter had introduced new changes in the fiery she-cat’s life, both physically and mentally, and good and bad. In terms of the good changes, she had earned herself a very satisfactory amount of scars and marks. While others may not consider getting things such as these as good changes, in her mind these were great additions that she was glad to put on display. Scars showed strength, scars showed durability, and, most importantly, with lots of scars and gashes came a natural ability for intimidation. Granted, she already had that before the scars. But they only added on.
Meanwhile...on the other side of the spectrum...there was one change in particular that she was far from pleased about, but was unable to change. Pumafang. He had forced his way into her life and her head without warning, and didn’t seem to have any intentions of leaving. Had she said this out of context to any cat who knew no better, they may have assumed this meant she had feelings for him. But no, that was nowhere near what she felt for him. She wished for him to die like the worthless and soulless shell of a being that he was. She wanted to watch him get torn limb from limb. She wanted to watch as his cocky attitude and that lack of fear disappeared from those dead eyes. She had the opportunity to do all of these things that day. If she would have left him in the clutches of the badger den, his body crushed and crumbled like a dead leaf, the most happiness she had ever felt would have filled her chest. And yet she didn’t...she still never could figure out why. And it was for that reason that her hatred for him only grew every second that he breathed.
And now, to make all of this agony worse, that black cat, that monster in cat form, that infuriating beast that so many looked up to for pitiful reasons...was the new Leader of Treeclan.
During the rule of Lionstar, Foxfire couldn’t bear to count how many times she wished to leave, to abandon this foolish clan for all that they stood for. How could they follow such a coward for so long and claim that it was he who made the clan what it was? It was laughable, this thought. But, despite those desires back when, she still never left. And now, with the shift in authority within the ranks of the clan, her wish to leave only grew stronger with every second. Her brother hardly ever spoke to her, her mother hadn’t attempted to even talk to her after the last time, she had no Apprentice, and her father was dead. There was nothing keeping her here.
Except...for one thing. One thing that needed explained. One thing that, despite her gut telling her to forget it and go, she couldn’t leave without discovering the answer.
Her claws sheathed and unsheathed, digging deep into the surprisingly soft dirt beneath her paws. Her feathery tail lashed behind her, snapping to the side with each breath she took. Narrowed orange eyes, black pupils thin in irritation, glared down at the soft-flowing water in front of her.
Throughout the day, those intense eyes had stared daggers into the pelt of the clan’s precious new Leader. A few times she found those dark and void-like eyes glancing back, but they never remained long. She didn’t wish for them too anyway; those eyes only caused her inner embers to crack and lash out at her chest, sending pangs of anger through her. The she-cat never spoke to him, but she knew her message had gotten across.
And so she ended up at the Sparkling Brook, watching as the last of the sun’s remaining rays glinted off of the water’s surface. She had not been here for very long, for she knew that she wouldn’t be alone for much time. Though he had much to do now that the weight of the whole clan sat on his shoulders, the walking corpse she begrudgingly waited for was not one to pass up an opportunity.
Just as she expected, the sound of large pawsteps sounded from behind her. She didn’t need to turn to see, nor did she have to listen or scent who approached. After this much time, she could practically sense that it was him...and this made a raging, angry fire burn within her.
“What an honor it is to speak privately with Treeclan’s new king.” The words she spoke held no respect or recognition of authority, and the irritation and sarcasm that laced her voice were unhidden in the slightest. He knew that she hated him, he knew that she held no care for him or his well-being. By now, she was sure that both he and the rest of his new followers knew this voice quite well.
TAGS @jet
WORDS 1197
OOC Notes
WORDS 1197
OOC Notes
