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Post by indiandance on Jan 12, 2008 13:18:38 GMT -5
|Indiandance|
Ice blue eyes dfited to the stream their owner walked along. It sizzled and every so often would spurt hot acid toward them. The ower of these glorious opticals was fitted weel to wear them. Indiandance was her name, and she was one of the most vicious cats these clans had ever expirienced. She walked through the blood of apprentices with her head held high, stared down at the warriors, throats opened wide, and yet something was missing that pieced this blackened world of her together. The final stitch in her fabrication, companionship, the one thing she had made impossible for herself.
"These claws of mine are stained with the blood of my fellow felines. I have blamed them for being lonely for too long, but how can I stop now? I will be hunted and killed at first sign of weaknes, for I have been hated far to long by the Clans for them to show any commpassion towards a cat whose surname is Ice-Blood. I need someone who finally equals me in pride and blood, someone who is worthy to call themselves safe around these reddened claws."
She let her tail droop for the first waking moment she could remember in a long time as these thought ran through her pretty, triangular head. She sat down heavily on the ground and her face neared the ground as her shoulders fell. Her eyes lost their usual sheen and her claws kneaded the ground. Sightless eyes lifted from the ground and she stared into the forest lining the Acid Stream. She felt frefreshed slightly as she let her feeling loose. She decided she would rest for a bit and moved away from the bubbling acid and lay her body on the cool grass. Indiandance had admitted she was lonely. |
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Post by cursico on Jan 13, 2008 8:19:09 GMT -5
Cursico walked along the path. The rabbit had long since gone to its burrow in hiding, but that no longer mattered. He wasn't hunting, and nor did he have the inclination to feed. His heavy body had already had its fill and asked for no more. A thick ginger pelt rippled with every move, a straight scar resided on his back, a jagged one on his stomach. But other than that, he had no long-lasting wounds.
Cursico smiled, looking around him, and hearing the sound of a voice. The tom-cat was a loner by nature rather than clans hating him. Only one other cat had he met for his whole time in being. The trees blocked his view from who uttered these vocals, their swaying branches waved at him. Should he go meet this cat? The cat who said such strange words.
It was dangerous, but that hadn't stopped the large tom before. And for the most, his stupid schemes had left him unscathed. Cursico moved through the sweetly scented forest. His nose and whiskers twitching in unison. His interest rising with every step. His movements betraying he was not a swift cat, but far heavier. So large he was, he struggled to run fast, though his strikes weren't hindered by his size.
Cursico pushed a leaf out his face and left the final trees of the forest behind. A disgusting stream lay on the land, like a skid-mark. At least that wasn't where his interest lay. Cursico looked at the other cat that now lay in the grass. He meowed to her, then waited.
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