Post by ` r i v e r on Jun 5, 2016 6:29:38 GMT
Cool green eyes peered through the dense greenery, the murky shadows of the coming night. The evening held a sort of haziness in the air, a silence that felt foreboding and unusual. The regular sounds of the forest seemed muffled- far off, like all the life in the area had simultaneously decided to hold its’ breath. A cloying humidity hung over the floor, thick and rich. The rain storms of recent weeks had brought the undergrowth to life, carrying with them blossoming roses and sprouting heather, flowering aster and budding wild grasses. The melting snow had also done its part, depositing frigid water in the hungry topsoil. So although their was a reprieve in the showers on this twilight, the moisture remained in the air.
The evening was without question Siren’s favourite time of the day. When she was younger, in what felt like lifetimes ago, she had preferred the warmth, had lived for the sun’s radiating rays. Midday she would bathe in pools of light, onyx pelt attracting the brunt of the heat like a magnet. Her brothers had shaken their heads, avoiding said spots in favour of the more comfortable shade provided by the overhead leaves. The warmth filled her insides with light, absorbing the life force greedily and completely. She had once been a sun worshipper. Now, she found herself to be a child of the moon.
After the sun had slipped below the horizon, when the sky began taking on progressively darker shades of blue, was when she felt the most comfortable. Many rogues likely felt a similar disposition to the darkness. Clan cats, for one thing, were often tucked safely in their downy beds at this point, thus unable to be the yellow-bellied annoyances they usually were. Second, being found was exponentially more difficult. She could flit in and out of clan territories like a phantom, up and down the Twolegplace with ease. She was unnoticeable save for her mossy gaze, two floating orbs in the blank expanse, dark-toned colouring making the devoid of the night that much more useful. It was not uncommon to see the rogue curled beneath the gnarled roots of a tree in the broad daylight, when the sun peaked high in the sky. She was a creature of the night and existed at such times accordingly.
The black huntress slipped through the tree trunks like water through outstretched fingers- fluid. Her ears remained perked, the silence instilling a vague sense of unease in her stomach. It felt unnaturally muted. Even the croaking frogs, a near constant in this area of the forest, had shifted from a dull roar to a clear and tangible emptiness. The she-cat shivered, fingers tickling her spine, and she gently shook her fur to shake away the unrest. Their couldn’t possibly be any monsters lurking in the depths worthy of her fear. Fear itself was a long-departed emotion- useless and weak. It was a mental construct, one not conducive to the life she lived. Siren had a very distinct need to be in constant discipline of her emotions, felt alarmingly panicked at the thought of losing control. Emotions, at their core, were what led to betrayal, heartbreak, grief, demise. There could never again be an opportunity to undermine her mentally- to out match her emotionally. Her feelings were under tight lock and key and an unusual null in background chatter was hardly the event to unlock them.
Her focus for the night hinged upon finding shelter. Her current home, where she had resided for the last couple of weeks, lay just beyond clan territory, tucked below the roots of a monstrous tree. Although comfortable enough it wasn't exactly…waterproof. And with the rains of newleaf still in full swing, Siren was getting pointedly tired of having wet ears. Plus, the she-cat had a tendency to relocate about every moon as to avoid other rogues, enemy or not, from finding her when she did not want to be found. So, her thoughts were to venture a bit closer to clan territory, slink through ShadowClan in the midst of the night, and peruse the more sheltered, tree-dotted lengths of the ThunderClan fringes.
Her inky shape darted in and out of the evergreens comprising ShadowClan territory, rosebud paws leaving scarcely an imprint in the needle-strewn flooring. A distant roar alerted Siren that she was headed in the right direction, shattering the silence of the night. The closer she got, the louder the sounds became, a deep, throaty growl louder than any cat could ever come close to managing. The ground beneath her feet rumbled at every roar, sending subtle vibrations up her legs and through her flank.
The Thunderpath- a phrase she had picked up after spending time in the ThunderClan medicine cat den. Monsters, great hulking beasts, would thump past at shocking speeds, moving so quickly they almost seemed to blur. Clan cats, Siren knew, were profoundly terrified of the hard surface. She, on the other hand, had crossed the rumbling path with little reservations, learning to judge the monster’s distance with proficiency early in her exile. The fact that her mother had died at that very spot never managed to conjure up feelings of sadness, loss, or grief, as they probably should have, but rather of disgust, of a dark, cold anger. Jade’s idiocy, her inability to be self-sufficient, had sent Siren and her two brothers down the path they all now tread upon.
Coming to the cusp of the Thunderpath, Siren rasped a tongue over her paw, dragged it over the fur on her head to smooth it, and then gently loped across the road’s expanse, a light nonchalantness in her small frame, and emerged unscathed on the other side, now officially trespassing in ThunderClan’s domain.
NOTES: open to any rogues, loners, shadowclan, or thunderclan!
The evening was without question Siren’s favourite time of the day. When she was younger, in what felt like lifetimes ago, she had preferred the warmth, had lived for the sun’s radiating rays. Midday she would bathe in pools of light, onyx pelt attracting the brunt of the heat like a magnet. Her brothers had shaken their heads, avoiding said spots in favour of the more comfortable shade provided by the overhead leaves. The warmth filled her insides with light, absorbing the life force greedily and completely. She had once been a sun worshipper. Now, she found herself to be a child of the moon.
After the sun had slipped below the horizon, when the sky began taking on progressively darker shades of blue, was when she felt the most comfortable. Many rogues likely felt a similar disposition to the darkness. Clan cats, for one thing, were often tucked safely in their downy beds at this point, thus unable to be the yellow-bellied annoyances they usually were. Second, being found was exponentially more difficult. She could flit in and out of clan territories like a phantom, up and down the Twolegplace with ease. She was unnoticeable save for her mossy gaze, two floating orbs in the blank expanse, dark-toned colouring making the devoid of the night that much more useful. It was not uncommon to see the rogue curled beneath the gnarled roots of a tree in the broad daylight, when the sun peaked high in the sky. She was a creature of the night and existed at such times accordingly.
The black huntress slipped through the tree trunks like water through outstretched fingers- fluid. Her ears remained perked, the silence instilling a vague sense of unease in her stomach. It felt unnaturally muted. Even the croaking frogs, a near constant in this area of the forest, had shifted from a dull roar to a clear and tangible emptiness. The she-cat shivered, fingers tickling her spine, and she gently shook her fur to shake away the unrest. Their couldn’t possibly be any monsters lurking in the depths worthy of her fear. Fear itself was a long-departed emotion- useless and weak. It was a mental construct, one not conducive to the life she lived. Siren had a very distinct need to be in constant discipline of her emotions, felt alarmingly panicked at the thought of losing control. Emotions, at their core, were what led to betrayal, heartbreak, grief, demise. There could never again be an opportunity to undermine her mentally- to out match her emotionally. Her feelings were under tight lock and key and an unusual null in background chatter was hardly the event to unlock them.
Her focus for the night hinged upon finding shelter. Her current home, where she had resided for the last couple of weeks, lay just beyond clan territory, tucked below the roots of a monstrous tree. Although comfortable enough it wasn't exactly…waterproof. And with the rains of newleaf still in full swing, Siren was getting pointedly tired of having wet ears. Plus, the she-cat had a tendency to relocate about every moon as to avoid other rogues, enemy or not, from finding her when she did not want to be found. So, her thoughts were to venture a bit closer to clan territory, slink through ShadowClan in the midst of the night, and peruse the more sheltered, tree-dotted lengths of the ThunderClan fringes.
Her inky shape darted in and out of the evergreens comprising ShadowClan territory, rosebud paws leaving scarcely an imprint in the needle-strewn flooring. A distant roar alerted Siren that she was headed in the right direction, shattering the silence of the night. The closer she got, the louder the sounds became, a deep, throaty growl louder than any cat could ever come close to managing. The ground beneath her feet rumbled at every roar, sending subtle vibrations up her legs and through her flank.
The Thunderpath- a phrase she had picked up after spending time in the ThunderClan medicine cat den. Monsters, great hulking beasts, would thump past at shocking speeds, moving so quickly they almost seemed to blur. Clan cats, Siren knew, were profoundly terrified of the hard surface. She, on the other hand, had crossed the rumbling path with little reservations, learning to judge the monster’s distance with proficiency early in her exile. The fact that her mother had died at that very spot never managed to conjure up feelings of sadness, loss, or grief, as they probably should have, but rather of disgust, of a dark, cold anger. Jade’s idiocy, her inability to be self-sufficient, had sent Siren and her two brothers down the path they all now tread upon.
Coming to the cusp of the Thunderpath, Siren rasped a tongue over her paw, dragged it over the fur on her head to smooth it, and then gently loped across the road’s expanse, a light nonchalantness in her small frame, and emerged unscathed on the other side, now officially trespassing in ThunderClan’s domain.
NOTES: open to any rogues, loners, shadowclan, or thunderclan!
