in bed with a snake [open]

[` `shadsywadsy.]

No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide

The day was warm. Well, not just warn, it was more than just warm. It was burning, sweltering even. The heat craved an audience and demanded its attention. It sent its seething waves upon the clans, seeking justice for their relishing in the springs cool weather. No clouds were in sight, no reprieve from this cruel vengeance within view. No breeze crept slowly upon them to take the edge off. Just heat. Burning, relentless heat. It was uncomfortable, and there was no escape from it. None whatsoever.

But at least the trees branches offered some shade, some cooling effect on Thunderclan's territory. So it was crazy to think that someone would be basking in the sun, right? No one would want to do that right now, it was so hot your blood would boil, or so it seemed. But there lay a red and white tom, beautifully built to be a masterpiece. He was artwork, that's what he was. He was beautiful, he deserved to be on display for everyone to see. His eyes, now closed, were almost a perfect match for the top color of his pelt, a reddish orange. They were brighter though, containing flecks of gold that sparkled no matter what. His form was lithe and erect, always proper. He was not short, but not tall either, but somehow he had this way of seeming larger than he was. He was a pretty boy, sterotypical confident and charisma included. But what warriors didn't realize was that it was all an act. A facade in order to keep his popularity. He didn't think he was handsome, or even nice. He was an *. An ugly * at that in his mind. Just like his mother always told him he was.

A snake laid dead beside him. Blood pooled onto snake rocks from the separated body and head. The tom had left it there, not caring to clean up his mess. He'd do that later. He was actually kind of hoping it would ward off any snakes that wanted to come out. They would see their friend and be like "oohhh noooo my ffrrriieennndd" and go away. He would just kill any other that disrupted his quiet time anyway. Not like it mattered really. The warrior took a deep breath, wondering what would happen if he was bitten. He would probably nonchalantly go back to camp, ask for what's-his-face and get healed up. Hopefully it wouldn't be one of those poisonous things. That'd be terrible. Yes, he couldn't afford that. It would mess with his bad boy routine if he was stuck in the medicine cat den for moons because he was being an idiot and wanted some sun. Or he could die. Which would be even worse.

Speaking of death, what happened afterwards? You know, after you died. He often pondered this. Most thought that you would go to Starclan, but Sunstorm didn't believe in starclan. Who the hell would want to help this pitiful, miserable excuse for warriors now? They were disease ridden, angry overgrown rats with claws. And that's forgetting the violent tenancies and the, fight first think later approach all the leaders seemed to take. And the leaders were just popular warriors now! All because "their prreecciouuss starclan" left due to the moonstone being buried under a pile of rocks. They acted like it was tragic. Like Starclan was the only thing keeping them at peace with each other. Suck it up, be a warrior, and move on. That was his philosophy. They didn't need Starclan to civilized.

Honestly. The clans were no better than a group of mangy rogues now.

He let out a sigh. He was getting hot, but he was too lazy to move. All that thinking about Starclan and the clans got him worked up. He breathed deeply, trying to calm his thoughts. He didn't get worked up alot, but when he did it was bad. A warrior was bound to come rain on his parade here soon, they always did, so he figured he might as well calm down a little so he didn't accidently cut their head off or anything. You know, just normal stuff.

S U N S T O R M

[STREAKZ]

streakfeather
i don't want no savior baby, i just wanna have a good time 

Small paws picked their way cautiously over rocks. Snake Rocks was a place best avoided in heat like this -- the dangerous adders enjoyed sunning themselves on the rocks when that was the case. Still, Streakfeather was stalking a large black bird. Something like that could feed many mouths in the Clan after all, and as long as she was careful she had no need to worry.

The bird twittering ahead of her suddenly started and took flight. Streakfeather froze, green eyes widening in dismay as she tracked the bird's flight. Well, so much for that. The silver tortoiseshell felt a twinge of frustration flood through her, and she twitched her whiskers as she looked around for what had startled the bird.

Sunstorm was lying in the rocks. Her whiskers twitched, and irrational amount of annoyance flared through her. The bird must have seen his pelt, it stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the stones around them. She quashed it immediately, sudden panic flaring through her. Hold on, why was a perfectly healthy warrior just lying in the middle of Snakerocks?

Her heart wrenched and she hurried as cautiously as possible toward her Clan-mate. There was blood spattered on the stone near him -- was that a snake? Streakfeather felt her gut give a violent twist. Oh StarClan no, she didn't want to discover someone dead!

Streakfeather's claws skidded the against the rock, tearing slightly and causing pain to lance through her. She halted near his tail, her panicking mind registering that the snake was without a head -- and that the warrior was breathing. "Sunstorm..." The she-cat realized with a wash of embarrassment that there wasn't anything wrong at all. She'd been worried for no reason, Sunstorm was just fine.

The senior warrior shot a look to the snake at her paws and relaxed, though embarrassment caused the she-cat to work the stone in front of her with edgy paws. "I thought-- for a moment... ah that is. I'm sorry that I interrupted you."

Really she ought to have been cross with him. He had practically given her a heart attack, but Streakfeather was presently so relieved that he wasn't dying of poisoning that she couldn't help but forgive his mild stupidity at having decided this would be the perfect place to sunbathe in any case. She supposed it made sense, the sunlight was bound to make the rocks warm and pleasant.

"You were lying so still I thought you'd been killed." Streakfeather said, her pent up nerves had loosened her normally quiet tongue, and she was finding it hard not to babble. "You're being awfully casual for lying in a place known for it's adders."

She added this last part with some mild amusement, casting looks around her at the cracks in the stone where snakes were likely to lie. Her whiskers twitched again and she cautiously sat down.

at least i'm not as sad as i used to be

[` `shadsywadsy.]

No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide

The tom was oblivious to his fellow warriors stalking of a rather large black bird. In fact, he was oblivious to everything going on. He was lost in thought, ensnared deep in the dark tendrils of his own mind. His thoughts snaked around him and caused conflictions, as well as deadening all his senses. He was a sitting duck, and he was lucky that the warrioress was on his side, otherwise he would have been an easy catch for some ruthless Riverclanner.

He flicked his tail against the stone and heard the beating of large wings above him. He didn't even open his eyes, however. There was no need to, he knew the bird was flying away because of his slight movement of his bright orange-red pelt. And the heard the slight thudding of dainty paws coming towards him. He was aware of everything now, slowly awakening from his own thoughts. At the sound of his name being gingerly meowed, he opened his eyes to see Streakfeather, a senior warrior in his own clan standing at his tail. A smile formed on his maw and he forced his lethargic body to sit up. He noticed her eyes dashing to her paws, embarrassment hot on her face. She had thought he was dead, but was relieved he wasn't. Why, he wasn't really sure. Even if she did know him he wasn't worth anything. But she didn't know him, only in passing and on a few patrols had they met before. He felt terrible, however, for giving the she-cat a brief moment of worry. Her slate gray pelt was too pretty to be worrying about silly toms like him.

He was about to speak when her lips started moving once more. She was apologizing for interrupting him. Good! My thoughts are so important! He wished he could roll his eyes at his own thoughts without it seeming like he was doing so at her. She wasn't interrupting anything, in fact he was glad to have her company now. His thoughts were beginning to turn to his sister and mother and it was never good when they did that.

She opened her maw again, meowing about thinking he was dead. Well I figured that much sweetheart. He found her chatter amusing as well refreshing. He could tell if it was because she was embarrassed, or if this was how she normally acted. And then he heard her comment on his casual appearance, his confidence. That was something he seethed of, confidence. It practically breathed in the air around him. Confidence was something he was good at showing, but not good at feeling it inside. He was plagued by his mothers words, her insults, her demeaning banter. She followed him everywhere he went, but you would never know it by the look of him. He sat up straight, head held high and chest puffed out slightly. A smile struck his face with friendliness, and his bright orange-brown eyes shone with a sparkle that said "hi, I'm full of myself".

His pretty boy appearance he knew would work no magic with her. He waited a moment, making sure she was done talking before he started. He didn't want to interrupt the she-cat, that would be bad manners. His tail curled around his paws, and he realized she must have been stalking that bird that he scared off. Oops. He chuckled in his mind, not daring to do so aloud. And your awful casual about stalking prey in the same place, Streakfeather. Even if she was 40 moons his elder and he respected her, he didn't have to listen to her slightly scolding statement, as he took it. He didn't even listen to Wolfstrike, the glorified warrior. He had some issues with authority. Just some.

S U N S T O R M

[STREAKZ]

streakfeather
i don't want no savior baby, i just wanna have a good time 

Streakfeather probably should have socialized more than she did -- particularly after the loss of Honeyleaf the slim she-cat had taken to keeping mostly to herself. Even now, thinking of the Medicine Cat Den and how it had once been her place of quiet refuge made her heart ache with loss. The fact of the matter that, besides what she counted as family, she didn't really speak with other cats anymore. She just kept to herself, her head down and her whiskers drooping.

It was nice, she realized as she sat with Sunstorm, to just sit and chatter with someone for once. The she-cat felt oddly at ease, perhaps it was because of the stress she'd earlier felt -- going from being terrified that a cat was dying to complete relief had a way of loosening you up after all. Even so, she wondered if maybe she could manage to befriend this tomcat -- she'd seen him around camp enough. Of course they weren't more than strangers living in the same place, that was partly Streakfeather's fault she was sure though.

She just didn't talk to others often. She stuck to herself, and suspected that the rest of the Clan thought her a bit odd -- self-conscious around even the nicest cats made it difficult to make friends. Still, she felt a flash of something like determination. Sunstorm seemed nice enough, why shouldn't she try to socialize?

Oh the kits would be so proud of her -- or not kits. She had trouble with that sometimes, remembering that they had long since grown -- and gained positions that made her heart swell with a deep pride that filled her from whiskers to tailtip.

Goodness he looks proud of himself, Streakfeather thought, amused. The tom looked as though he'd just done something to take great pride in, a great victory or something of the sort. He was young, she knew -- well not so young as a new warrior. Still he had many moons ahead of him. More than Streakfeather had ahead of her that was for certain.

She twitched her ears at his response, blinking for a moment before purring with laughter. "Good point," the she-cat meowed, whiskers twitching with amusement. She settled down carefully, mimicking the tomcat's pose by curling her slender tail gently around her small paws. The silver tortoiseshell lifted her eyes to his face and lifted one paw to her muzzle as she chuckled quietly to herself.

"To be honest I thought that feeding the Clan went above my own safety," she meowed, ducking her head in an embarrassed way. When it came to caring for others in any way they came first. Streakfeather had little love for herself so why would she extend the courtesy to make sure she herself managed to stay healthy and not get killed? There was nothing superior about that in her either, it was just a genuine order of things for her. She loved her Clan, she didn't love herself.

That's how things fell into place. "Not that I recommend it, ThunderClan needs strong warriors like yourself." She sounded almost casual as she threw herself aside like she was nothing more than a scrap of fur. She'd always been on the slender and petite side, and though she could fight as well as any warrior she knew better than some just how easily she could be overpowered.

at least i'm not as sad as i used to be

[` `shadsywadsy.]

I'd chime in with a
Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things
With a sense of poise and rationality

The tom watched as the pretty she-cat fell into a comfortable sitting pose. She may have been a senior warrior, but she still had it. Her striking eyes and beautiful coloring made her seem younger than she really was. But she had a good 30 moons on him, and beyond just simply noticing that she was pretty, she would be nothing more than a friend to the tom. Her eyes hid something that was deep within her, and he could tell. It wouldn't pry though, it wasn't his business. Just like his wasn't hers. He would not ask anything of a cat that he would not to answer himself. And he most certainly did not want to answer what secrets he hid underneath his well crafted facade.

As she told him he was a strong warrior, his chest puffed out. She called him strong, and useful to the clans. This made his confidence soar through the roof for a brief moment before his mother tore it down. Don't fool yourself! You're nothing to the clan! She's just saying that because she has pity for you!

He resumed his original position of simple arrogance, trying hopelessly to maintain what little confidence he had left. His mother was right. She always was. Part of him wished she was still around, maybe she would have a sliver of pride left for him. Just a tiny bit was all that he asked from her. Just whatever his sister didn't get. After all, Flake was the one that killed her, not him. He was loyal to her. It satisfied him a little that she was killed by the one she had devoted her life to. if there was a starclan, he hoped she was tormented by that.

He returned his thoughts to the she-cat who sat poised in front of him. He realized the depth of what she had said, and instantly felt bad for what he had been thinking. He would not scold her for it, for being so quick to demean herself, but he would try his best to correct her thoughts. She deserved better than that with how pretty she was. And plus, he would not wish his plague on anyone else. With a smile on his confident face, the tom let out a slight purr. Oh but my dear, the clan also needs pretty and selfless warriors such as yourself. The words, normally flirtatious, sounded like nothing more than a compliment coming from his lips. Which was strange, considering he flirted with every female creature that passed in front of his gaze. That was just who he was. But something about her told him his charm would be wasted.

He thought back on his memories, trying to remember if he had ever talked to her before. He remembered seeing her at meetings and in passing, and he thought she was on one of his first border patrols as a warrior, but he couldn't recall a conversation. In fact, he couldn't recall her ever speaking. She normally stayed in the shadows, watching as the world passed her by. He remembered thinking what could ever happened to such a she-cat that would make her so shy and unsociable.

But here she was, chatting with him like it was nothing. He wondered why, and it showed on his eyes. He never was good at hiding what he was thinking. His orange brown eyes gazed at the warrioress, watching her like a new apprentice watches the battle moves of older and more trained cats. Then, as if he cane to his sense, he realized it didn't matter why she was talking to him or why she had chosen an idiot tom like him to speak to. It just mattered that she was here and he would accept her conversation with open arms. After all, where would strong warriors like me be without brave ones like you to lead us?

He hoped that his smile and shining eyes would make up for his brief moment of scrutiny he had put her under. He really did need to work on hiding what he was thinking. As a cloud covered up the sun and gave then a brief reprieve from its relentless attacks, he realized how hot he actually was. He ears picked up the sound of running water from the river and an idea sparked in his mind. And since your so brave, and im so hot He paused briefly to let out a laugh, And not just in looks He added the last bit with a little arrogant purr, building his up his mask beautifully and then continued on, Would you like to join me for a little swim? His eyes sparkled with the question, and he waved his tail toward the inviting river. But he didn't move other than that. He would wait to see what she would say, and surely with it being so mercilessly warm, she would not turn down the charismatic warrior.

S U N S T O R M

[ooc: sorry it took so long... I swear I started this post like five different times before I got his personality just right in it.]

[STREAKZ]

streakfeather
i don't want no savior baby, i just wanna have a good time 

She would have thought he was flirting, had it not been for the genuine way he spoke. Streakfeather twitched her ears, trying to think of a way to protest -- oh no not really. She had caused ThunderClan so much trouble, trouble that only she, Honeyleaf and Riptalon knew about true, but trouble nevertheless. The thin tortie couldn't imagine that she'd be able to possibly explain that to Sunstorm, that it was all her fault that some cats had died.

A chill crawled up her spine -- yes because of her habit of holding her tongue some had fallen to the paws of a cat she once loved. Thoroughly shaken by the sudden onslaught of old memories she would much rather have forgotten, Streakfeather shook herself and turned her gaze onto the younger warrior.


"Ah, I see your point," Streakfeather meowed, but she nearly cringed outwardly at his words -- courageous? When she couldn't bring herself to face her own secrets? When she'd rather bury herself under her own lies, let herself fall into that web of deceit like it was a safety net, than face the truth? No, Streakfeather was in no way courageous. She was a guilt-ridden coward, doomed to live out her days in fear of any one of her secrets being discovered by cats who wouldn't take it near as well as Riptalon.

What would the Clan do, after all, if they new the truth behind Wolfstrike's mother? What would they think of her? Honeyleaf was gone now, she'd take her sister's secret to the grave, but what if they'd left some leaf unturned? What if some cat did, somehow, know the truth?

When she finally passed away, she thought, death would be a welcome escape to this. She wasn't sure if she could possibly walk among her Warrior Ancestors, not with her heart so heavy with lies, but even eternal darkness where she could be justly punished for her falsehoods would be better than being crushed under the utter terror of them being discovered. Not for her sake, but for Wolfstrike's - for her kits. They were, as far as they knew, her children, and she would allow herself to believe that they were.

That, she knew, was selfish.

Streakfeather hauled herself from her darkened thoughts and forced herself to meet Sunstorm's twinkling eyes -- there was something about them that gave her a burst of energy she hadn't felt since apprenticehood. She could remember herself running through the forest, snatching up leaves as a ginger tom leaped after her -- for a moment her heart ached but she pushed it away in favor of listening to Sunstorm's words.

A loud purr leaked out of her throat, despite herself. A sneezing bout of laughter rocked the she-cat's slim shoulders, and she ducked her head. "Great StarClan Sunstorm, do I look like a RiverClan cat to you?" She could hardly stifle the laughter to just talk, and her whiskers were twitching with mirth as she considered the tomcat's words. To be honest it wasn't quite fear that would keep her paws away from water so much as a genuine dislike of having her pelt cling to her in such a way.

Still, despite her earlier decision at her own cowardice, she found herself having a difficult time turning Sunstorm down. How could she possibly, and still manage to save face? She felt like an apprentice being goaded into a dare, for StarClan's sake how ridiculous. That little voice in her head -- her conscience -- told her that she needed to just brush this off. Simply turn her paws home and laugh it off as though it were a mere joke. Another part of her, an even tinier voice, pointed out that she really hardly ever got to have any fun or "live" just a little bit. What could it hurt?

A whole lot, but she still shoved aside her misgivings as she got to her paws. "And where, pray tell, do you suggest we go swimming? The river? I know a cat or two that would claw our ears off -- unless that's the brave part you're talking about. Are you brave enough to go for a quick swim Sunstorm? Or just intent on getting a Senior Warrior's tail chewed off by her own son?"

Not son, Streakfeather thought, but of course Sunstorm didn't know that. None of the Clan did, and Wolfstrike may as well have been her child. Her love and pride for the position he held would match any mother's.

at least i'm not as sad as i used to be

[` `shadsywadsy.]

I'd chime in with a
Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things
With a sense of poise and rationality

Sunstorm liked the way she laughed, the way she could hardly get out her words because of it. Most of all, he liked that he had caused this in her. He felt like this laugh was not something most cats had heard, and relished in the fact that he had. He watched her blue eyes fall upon him, and watched how she lit up when they did. He enjoyed making cats happy, making them feel safe, and so when he thought he was doing his job right, it was something not even his demeaning mother could take away from him with her haunting words.

He listened as she asked if he was brave. Brave, no. Bravery suggested that you were able to face fear because of some honorable cause. His only cause for going swimming was so that his coat wouldn't feel on fire anymore. Maybe he didn't like the way the water dripped off his thick coat, but in this heat he was pretty sure he'd welcome it. Yes, he had just been sunning on these very rocks, but that was because he wasn't hot then. But he was now, and now was all that mattered.

With a flick of his tail, the warrior gently tapped Streakfeather's shoulder. Oh but you do look like a Riverclan cat Streakfeather! Just look down at yourself! He smiled as he took a step back to look at her entire coat, which he guessed could be Riverclan coloring. And maybe I just want to instill my bravery into another, unsuspecting cat, so I can have fun with someone around here. Everyone's always so serious these days. His voice slowly got lower until the last sentence was a mere whisper. But he had a smile on his face, taking the serious words and giving them an energy of sorts. But if you're too scared, we can always go chase some birds. Because that's always more fun. He rolled his eyes at his last statement, making sure she knew the sarcastic sense of humor he sometimes chose to have.

S U N S T O R M