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Post by faithclaw on Aug 1, 2012 16:59:38 GMT -5
"AS IT BURNS YOUR HEART."
[style=margin-top: -10px; margin-left: 0px; color: #999999; width: 388px; padding: 2px; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; height: 105px; font-size: 9px]She was getting close now - - the soft grass had turned a bit more bristle-like and hard, and then it just became dirt. The dark, forbidding stench was growing ever stronger, and Faithclaw swore to herself that if she looked up, she would probably see smoke steaming up off of the thunderpath. But what kind of smoke would she find wafting up into the air? Probably black, with snake-like fumes penetrating from it's sides - - like the poison of snakes she might see seeping out of fangs;; In her dreams.
As much as the smells of the thunderpath stung in her eyes and nostrils, and the roof of her mouth, Faithclaw felt more free on this open road. It was a nice place, especially at sunset, when most of the monsters had already made it to their cage-dens, when the birds had come to a soft hush and the only sound was the breeze, caressing it's way through the trees. When the light of the setting sun made the dark black soul of the hard rancid-mud-thunderpath turn lighter in color. Yes dearest, everything has a lighter side, don't they now?
Oh my, that smell was familiar. Dark, darker than even the smell of the thunderpath's fumes. A flash of pain hit her skull in the temples as she remembered the smell she had grown to know;; grown to know on battlefields and in the winter when sickness took over the Clans.
And through the setting sun, she saw a figure in the shadows of the trees on the surface of the rank thunderpath - - was that a cat? No.. Oh sweet dearie, you know that smell so well...
"Yes," she whispered. "I do know that smell very well." Pain in her temples. Remembering the smell. Faithclaw felt a shiver suppress her whole body. Another flash of her younger days before her eyes. "O-Oh my..." She whispered softly, staring at the figure as if it were a delicate, fragile, glass rose. Yessss, dear, Her mind hissed. This was not the light side of her consciousness. You remember it as it burns your heart. You remember the death.
And she did remember - - At the edge of the thunderpath. She remembered his light ways and his charming smile. "It burns!" She cried. Fur a hint lighter in the sunlight. Pelt as soft as feathers, but tinted with blood. It was Antebellum.
It was her brother.
fate is what you make it
are you lost, too? a frozen soul, a broken quill? [style=width: 424px; background-color: #000000] you have a story to tell, - faithclaw [/style] |
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Post by russetstorm on Aug 8, 2012 17:37:04 GMT -5
[style=width: 444px; background-color: #1B1F1D; margin: 10px; padding: 4px; color: #BDB4AC; text-align:justify; opacity: 0.6; -webkit-opacity: 0.6; border: 2px solid #808080]russetstorm usually wasn't one to travel to the thunderpath often. he hated it, to be frank... all the twolegs running around in those fancy boxes and hitting any cat that got in their way, it disgusted him. everything about twolegs did, though... they were the most selfish and dangerous creatures he had ever seen... and even with their danger, they were nothing more than strange, hairless monkeys that were incapable of defending themselves with their own hand. no, they had to be cowards and hide behind weapons and machines.
russetstorm spat a little in his irritation. he was looking for his sister. amberjaw was known to wander around, especially during this time of day. he was planning on finding her right away, though... but the sudden smell of another cat made him freeze in his tracks, his tail lashing behind him. was it a clan cat? yes, yes it was, the smell was familiar... but it was also peculiar and provocative in its type. he could hear the voices by now, and so he decided to creep forward and investigate.
an ear flickered as he watched the cat known as faithclaw shrieking by the side of the roda. by now, he rushed forward, thinking something was horridly wrong. did she get hit? "calm down, calm down! you have help... what troubles you?" [/color] he began to relax. no signs of blood or broken bones... but she was certainly in anguish.[/div] russetstorm of shadowclan credit to moo for the code & jeo for the image [/style][/center] |
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Post by faithclaw on Aug 8, 2012 18:56:25 GMT -5
"REMEMBER HOW TO BREATHE?."
[style=margin-top: -10px; margin-left: 0px; color: #999999; width: 388px; padding: 2px; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; height: 105px; font-size: 9px]All the joy of one of her favorite places had washed away. Burned down;; crashed and tumbled like the cycle of which it took a leaf to disintegrate into nothingness, only much, much faster. For moments she seemed to fade in and out, as if he body wanted to cease to exist as her brother's had, as if her body, itself, wasn't sure if to pass into the void of stars or to fall into oblivion;; or maybe to just answer to the concerned murmur of faded word seeping into her ears. So many choices... Sweet dear, you must hurt so. Do you remember how to breathe? Her mind mocked. That voice, that voice! She wanted it out, but it would not leave her alone.
Let me grieve! A smaller voice said, one more her own.
Answer him, dear, he calls to aid you.
Tentatively, her eyes flitted up to look at Russetstorm. She had seen him before. A familiar face... The evil would go away. She waited several moments for the darkness to pass, to fade into the depths of her mind to come out and torment her some other day. And it was true;; it left and fled in the shadows, playing with her memories, to use them against her.
His voice soon became more clear, as if a surface was slowly removed, layer by layer, that had been blocking him out. Quickly, as if talking hurt her, she moved a paw, using one of her claws to point, and motioned at the bloodied figure on the edge of the rancid-mud-path. "Mine kin, My brother, he has passed into the stars." Her eyes clenched shut, then, and she let out a soft whimper.
And she thought she heard the evil chuckle and say, from the depths, Not with a bang but with a whimper...
fate is what you make it
are you lost, too? a frozen soul, a broken quill? [style=width: 424px; background-color: #000000] you have a story to tell, - faithclaw [/style] |
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