09.30.2019 → There has been some exciting changes on CD lately! We've added a new monarchy to the groups of cats on the islands, as well as restructured the boards a bit to allow for some space - thus, redrawing the map! We've also promoted Nifty to Global Mod! There are some auditions open right now for JungleClan Deputy as well as for all of the new Kingdom of Mokuhau high ranks - Artemis
09.12.2019 → Unfortunately Elaedria is stepping down as administrator due to life being too busy to keep up! The site will be going through some restructuring in high ranks as well due to this. Effective immediately, the word count is now 100 minimum. Some more changes will be coming in the future - members have been emailed a survey to help us figure out what to change and how to get better. Thanks for your patience! - Artemis
WEATHER
Year 55, Scorching Sands 09.05.2019 → The temperatures of the islands are a steady 98° F on land/ high 80s in water. There is almost no breeze, the sun is uncomfortably warm.
Prey during the day is pretty scarce due to the heat, however is quite active after the sun goes down.
Lost in the dense jungles of scattered islands, facing perils unimagined by their ancestors, are three warrior groups - The traditional JungleClan, descendants of the original clans carried aboard a twoleg contraption from their home long ago and breaking new ground on old beliefs. Second, the curious TidalClan, made up of kittypets who chose to abandon their long since passed twoleg civilization ways for those of true felines. Lastly, the mysterious Tribe of Twisted Roots, hidden in the mist from others with their strange ways and a deeper knowledge of the land around them. Together they must learn how to take their fate into their own paws if they wish to survive this land of erupting mountains and roaring waters.
Join our crew and dive into an island-based Warriors roleplay - a twist on the original series by Erin Hunter. We are a semi-literate site with a minimum of 100 words per post.
[attr=class,punkisaintstop] There's a world that was meant for our eyes to see
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ember of dying flame To the ends of the earth, would you follow me?
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[attr=class,punkisaintscontent] The was about to start its ascent into the sky when Ember of Dying Flame flickered open his hazel eyes. In the faded light he could make out figures of other navigators around him as his eyes adjusted; their chests rose and fell as they slumbered. The auburn tom blinked sleep away from his eyes and pushed himself to his paws. Careful not to disrupt his sleeping tribe mates he picked his way slowly out of the den and into the camp. Since the sun had not risen fully yet the morning air was brisk, but he didn't feel cold through his thick pelt. The slight nip to the air was invigorating to him.
[break][break]It was earlier than most would be up, but he didn't feel tired enough to crawl back into his nest. He may as well put the energy he had to good use. He turned his paws towards the camp exit with the intention of heading towards No-Salt Lake. The lake would be the perfect spot to watch the sunrise - but he also hoped that on the way through the territories he might find some prey to bring back with him afterwards. He trotted out of camp with his tail held high and his ears pricked, alert for any signs of prey.
[break][break]As Ember made his way through the territories he thought to himself about how gorgeous it was here. They were safe here from whatever lay on the other islands. Isolated. They had everything they needed her and have ever needed for the past hundreds of moons. His senses were ready for any signs of prey, but everything was still. There were no signs of prey or predators alike just yet. It felt like everything was asleep except him.
[break][break]By the time he had reached the large body of fresh water - the main source of fresh water that the Tribe of Twisted Roots had access to - the sun had begun to rise. He padded to the edge of the shore and sat down with his tail curling around him. The sunrise was reflected on the still lake in front of him, making it look like it was kissed by flames. As the sun climbed higher in the sky Ember found himself wondering what the day would bring.
At the other end of the lake, the witch swabbie might have been a statue he was sitting so still. It was hard to even see him breathe, and everything from his whiskers to his ears to his tail were perfectly still. He was staring into the water with his eyes unfocused and his head tilted at an angle that had to be somewhat uncomfortable. The orange light of the sun in its rising refracted across the water, making it look like a sea of fire reflecting in his wide green eyes. He was barely even blinking, his pupils round with focus.
The God of Fire was one of combat and pride. He tore and burned like a wildfire and ran alongside the Goddess of Death in battle, leaving her behind like the scorched pawprints he carried. Now, he seemed to be swallowing up the fresh water, swallowing up the thin and spindly witch swabbie without a scar on his pelt, swallowing up everything timid and easygoing in his heart.
In the water, Stingray saw war. Of course, the other cats on the island were always ones for war. They were no strangers to it. Their own pelts were raked through with scars, and the ancestors they had brought with them whispered words of violence even in times of peace. The war of the trees and the waters never concerned him, but in the water, he saw the tribe drawn into that war. He saw fire blazing all around them like the sunrise making his pelt glow, and jerked back to himself very suddenly. Stingray was breathing hard as his eyes caught Ember across the lake, and for a split second he could have sworn that the tom was the god he'd seen.
Of course, he reassured himself, nothing was set in stone. The only god who's word could not be argued was the Goddess of Death, the panther calm in the hurricane.
Regardless, Stingray was shaking in every part of his tiny body. There was every possibility that his overactive imagination had bred the 'vision' -- it wasn't even a true vision, not really. It was just him zoning out in the middle of getting a drink of water, and it didn't help that he hadn't slept the previous night (he wasn't meant to wander around alone, he really wasn't, but he'd snuck out. Something had pulled him to sneak away). Stingray took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.
He wouldn't tell anyone. It could very well be nothing. He wouldn't tell anyone until he needed to. Witches misinterpreted things all the time. For all he knew, the God of Fire could have just been telling him about a perfectly innocuous battle to come. It wasn't as if they were uncommon! For Stingray to see fighting in the fire didn't have to be at all damning, no matter how much he thought it might be.
He remembered his father's words. It wasn't good to get worked up over what could very well be nothing. He'd think about telling Scuttle, but there was nothing set in stone. Never anything set in stone.
Stingray started to make his way around the lake, tail high in greeting. He was too shaken to be shy right now. He needed to talk to someone. About... anything. Just... talk. "Hey Ember. How's your morning going?"
Dragonfly was up early frequently. It was one of the quietest times, and she appreciated the silence by herself. While she was more solitary by nature, she did also enjoy conversation with one or two cats. Once it became a crowd, it was easy for her to grow overwhelmed. She could do it since she lived with others her whole life, but only for a short time. She didn’t know why, but it seemed like talking with many others at once was more tiring than running around the entire island. She liked running though, so she supposed it only made sense.
Her morning trek took her around the mangroves that anchored in their camp, but it wasn’t long before she moved beyond them. Dragonfly wandered where the territory took her, without much thought. She reveled in the feeling of movement without reason or destination. She only slowed down when she realized that she wasn’t the only tribemate out before dawn.
She opened her mouth to test the air. No-Salt Lake was nearby, as were two distinct cat scents. Silently and carefully, she trailed closer. Her eyes picked up silhouettes, and she identified them as Ember and Stingray. She moved to join them, tail raised in wordless greeting.
[attr=class,punkisaintstop] There's a world that was meant for our eyes to see
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ember of dying flame To the ends of the earth, would you follow me?
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[attr=class,punkisaintscontent] [break][break]The tom had been so focused on the beauty of the sunrise that he did not realize he wasn't alone this morning by the lake. The reflection in the lake was completely still, unbroken by the hustle and bustle of usual daily life. Everything was so peaceful. Ember could often be found enjoying the peace of the morning, and every so often he ran into another member of the tribe this early. When a familiar voice sounded behind him he wasn't frightened. His ears flicked back and he turned to see Sand Where Stingrays Hide, his tail lifted in greeting. Ember blinked his hazel eyes and dipped his head in response. "Good morning, Stingray," He responded cordially. "My morning is going very well, thank you for asking." He added, casting a sweeping glance over the younger swabbie tom.
[break][break]The tom seemed a little startled by something, but Ember couldn't quite put a paw on what. He had a faint fear scent enveloping him and he was all but vibrating. "Is everything alright, Stingray?" He queried, his voice a low hush. He hoped that he wouldn't offend the younger tom - after all, perhaps he would rather keep whatever was going on to himself. Soon after the words had escaped his mouth he saw another figure approach from behind Stingray. Ember tilted his head as the familiar shape of Dragonfly Hovers Over Pond emerged. She moved softly and silently, her light pelt seemed almost like a misty fragment of his imagination in the soft dawn light.
[break][break]She quietly raised her tail in greeting, not speaking. Ember didn't know the young she-cat all that well, but she did know her brother. Monarch that Migrates North was the Tribe of Twisted Root's quartermaster. He seemed like a decent enough tom, but Ember felt he was far too young and inexperienced for the job and he had no problems speaking loudly to that point in public. He wondered if Dragonfly knew how much he abhorred her brother's leadership - but he was also curious as to what she thought about it. Surely she supported her family.
[break][break]He decided not to form a judgement on Dragonfly based on his opinions about her brother and gave her a polite dip of his head in greeting. "Greetings, Dragonfly. What brings you here this early?" He asked, his tone light and conversational. Formal, even. He couldn't help but cast a glance back at the younger tom. He thought that the distraction of himself and Dragonfly would be good, perhaps it would get his mind off of whatever had happened. Ember held a strong appreciation for the Witch and their swabbies. It wasn't an easy role to hold in the tribe. Interpreting every little thing that happened, looking for symbols to give inklings about the future. Visions. Omens. It all seemed like too much for one cat to handle.
Monarch was no stranger to early mornings, but today he awoke more slowly. The day before had been a tiring one. He wished for a brief, lazy moment to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, the sun was already up, with the early dawn bringing dim purple light into the camp.
However, he quickly noticed that today there was something out of the ordinary. Monarch spotted several empty nests, among them Dragonfly's. He was not too surprised. His sister was known to also enjoy early mornings. However, he noticed Ember and Stingray were gone too. Paw prints exited the camp. His fur prickled.
While Monarch did his best to trust his fellow Tribe mates, the amount of dissent in the last moon following his appointment to Quartermaster had shaken that trust. He found it a little weird for these three to be out, seemingly together, and so he followed their scent toward No-Salt Lake. These three never seemed too enthusiastic about his leadership, and Monarch could only hope to one day win them over. Plotting and secrets, however, were political actions that Monarch feared.
Most likely it was a harmless coincidence, but Monarch's anxieties were not assuaged. As he crept closer to No-Salt Lake, he spotted the three huddled at the lake shore. Whatever was going on, Monarch was eager to interrupt. Surely they would have no problem with him joining if there was nothing suspicious going on.
"A fine morning to enjoy. You're all up early," he greeted them rather loudly and dipped his head to Ember, the eldest of them.
He waved his tail in a more friendly greeting to Dragonfly. While the two shared some coloration, they could not have been more different. Monarch's stockier build and distinct golden pattern greatly contrasted Dragonfly's lean muscles and misty pelt.
"Is everything alright, Stingray?" he suddenly noticed the young Witch's distressed look. The cat was weird, alright. Monarch did not understand why there was so much fuss over his position while Stingray, an even younger and funkier tom, took on the challenging position of Witch with no issues. As the sun rose higher, Monarch wondered if Stingray had spoken to the Gods recently. Perhaps a sign from the Gods would make Monarch's Tribe mates support him more.
Dragonfly’s smile was slight. She was usually up this early, but it wasn’t a habit for her to go around talking about it, nor to stop with anyone on the way, so Ember wouldn’t know. “I’ve had a lot to think about. Walking helps take off the stress.” Her place as a navigator, her relationship with Monarch, her relationship with Ocean… She walked on a narrow branch with it all. There were navigators who grumbled about her brother’s rise to quartermaster, and she took note of every single one of those tribemates. She was aware that Ember fell in with that party, and part of her agreed with them. However, unlike Ember and the others, part of her also desperately wanted Monarch to succeed. And she wanted Monarch to succeed without losing himself in the process. Her brother was adept at advancing himself and showing himself favorably to those who mattered. To those who didn’t matter, well…
Dragonfly truly didn’t know what spectrum she fell upon. She tried to be Monarch’s voice of reason, to guide him away from a dangerous path, but it seemed like it caused more tension between them. She blinked her pale, jade-green eyes when she realized Stingray looked uncomfortable. Was something amiss? Before she could begin to speculate, a familiar scent carried on the breeze, and Monarch was there, framed by mangrove trees. Watching them. His sudden presence with the depth of her thoughts made her freeze, and her expression dropped.
She felt her skin prickle—his gaze was inscrutable. And then it fell into easy comradery when he approached with a verbal greeting. His tail wave was so similar to her own mannerisms that it was almost jarring. She warily lifted her head in her own greeting, but she was more than happy to have the focus back on Stingray. Schooling her expression, she fixed her gaze on the witch. If he had something to mention, she could only hope that it would be something positive or even something neutral.
The witch swabbie hadn't minded when it had been just Ember hanging out by the pond. Company was always nice when he was so shaken up! Dragonfly's appearance had been fine, too... but then they'd started talking, and then Monarch appeared, and honestly he was even more overwhelmed with this whole conversation. "U-Um. It's nothing, haha, I just didn't sleep last night. Got restless I guess, came out here to get a drink, and well I ended up losing track of time. Nothing to be worried about, promise! Just... should... um, probably go. Sleep. Now. Yeah."
Of course, a swabbie of seven moons engaged in a conversation with two navigators and the quartermaster was... a strange situation, even if he was in training to be the witch of the tribe. Stingray still didn't think of himself as anything more important than the average swabbie. After all, how could he be? He was just... Stingray. The only real difference was that he was hunting for herbs instead of prey, and fighting was a lot less of a focus of his training. And that he didn't sleep in the same place as the rest of the swabbies, but he didn't mind that so much. He didn't get along all that well with his brother, so being away from him was... fine.
But now that Stingray was thinking about it, hadn't that started when he'd become the witch swabbie? His whiskers twitched in thought. It sure had. Was his brother jealous? What was their to be jealous of? Maybe he was a little more important than the average navigator, but the witch still had to do what the commander and quartermaster said like anyone else. The only real 'perk' was that he talked to the gods, but that was usually terrifying. Physical incarnations of death, the ocean, and war sort of had to be. His ear flicked, betraying his discomfort. "A-Anyway, um..."
tag || Artemisnifty @sovereign || notes || forged in fire? || ▲
His sister's reaction was nothing but a friendly greeting, which assuaged Monarch's worries greatly. He was not sure how much to trust her anymore, but he could not help it. They had grown up together. She would not plot against him or encourage dissent against his leadership... would she?
"Anyway," he continued Stingray's sentence pointedly. "Since you're all up so early, make sure you all at least get some hunting done or something."
He was not about to allow his Navigators to dawdle about as the sun rose higher in the sky. Tempest would say the same, he thought to himself. Dragonfly might need these walks to relieve stress, and Monarch respected that. Yet at the same time, Monarch believed Tribe cats had to be accustomed to stress. They had to thrive on it. "We are lucky to have peace now, but challenge is always on the horizon. Take care of yourselves and make sure you get sleep... Stingray," he turned pointedly back at the young swabbie. "So that we are always prepared."
It still felt odd to be giving orders to cats like Ember who were clearly older and more experienced than he. However, Monarch knew he had to act unfazed if he were to one day gain their respect. His father had always taught him not to back down, not to be a coward. That philosophy had served him well and even now he would not let the other cat's seniority deter him.
He knew there would be consequences to lecturing Stingray in front of the others, especially Ember who was his senior. Perhaps he had been a little two stern. He had no issues with that, though. He was sure that the Quartermasters before him had to employ similar tones. How else could the Tribe cats have been bred into such tough survivalists? He met Dragonfly's eyes briefly, then quickly averted them. Monarch could guess what his sister would think. He had always been too uptight, too business-oriented, and too stern for her full approval.
[attr=class,punkisaintstop] There's a world that was meant for our eyes to see
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ember of dying flame To the ends of the earth, would you follow me?
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[attr=class,punkisaintscontent] [break][break]Ember nodded thoughtfully at Dragonfly's words. He wondered if Dragonfly had wanted the position of Quartermaster. Her brother had been chosen for it, and it had caused quite a stir among the tribe cats. He didn't know the she-cat that well, but he held a sort of quiet respect for the younger navigator. "Yes, walking usually helps when there is stress gnawing away at me. I hope you are able to work out whatever is on your mind." He responded politely, giving her a genuine reassuring smile. He did not feel close enough with the creamy coloured she-cat to pry any further, and instead was about to turn to Stingray again when he heard the sound of someone approaching.
[break][break]It had been a good morning, even though the peace and quiet had been interrupted by Stingray and Dragonfly, he still in a good mood. That mood faltered, though, when the footsteps stopped to reveal Monarch That Migrates North. Ember had to work hard to suppress the sarcastic eye roll he felt coming on when the spotted tom approached. The tom had been made quartermaster of the tribe, much to Ember's displeasure. There were so many cats better for the job. He didn't necessarily want the position, but even he could have done a better job than the unexperienced Monarch. Even Dragonfly would have been a better choice. His eyes flitted to the tom's sister - so alike, yet so different.
[break][break]Monarch spoke, and Ember had to bite back all sorts of sarcastic comments. Instead, he was saved by Stingray responding - the tom seemed overwhelmed by all of the other cats. Even though Ember didn't hold much respect for Monarch, he could understand why the younger cat would feel anxious being in his presence. Sometimes Ember felt that way when their commander, Tempest, addressed him directly. Instead of something reassuring said to Stingray, Monarch continued on as if the younger tom had barely spoken. Not only did he seem to not notice the discomfort he had caused the young tom, he started barking commands at them. Typical.
[break][break]As if reading Ember's mind, the spotted tom added that they should be sure to be well rested. It wasn't enough to make him feel satisfied, though. His hair had begun to bristle and the russet tom flattened his ears to his head, giving Monarch and outwardly hostile glare. "I won't speak for the others, but I came out here with the intention to be productive and I am sure that they did, too," He responded, clearly irritable. "I was actually just going to ask if Dragonfly and Stingray wanted to accompany me to go hunting before you interrupted." He added, clear that the invitation of hunting didn't extend to Monarch. Would the younger tom back down and leave? Ember didn't care, either way. He was happy to argue all day - he had no problem showing his distaste for the Quartermaster. He would obey him, but that didn't mean he couldn't give him a hard time. It also didn't mean he had to respect him. Respect was earned, not given.
[attr=class,punkisaintstags] nifty , dove , @sovereign - cranky ember!
Monarch was not here to hunt this morning, even if the others might be. He had followed the bunch solely with the intention of interrupting them. If there was going to be secrets in the Tribe he intended to know about them. Obviously the lack of obedience and support from Ember irritated him, but Monarch was not about to be fazed. He glanced at Stingray, who was as overwhelmed as ever. It would do not good to get in a conflict in front of Stingray and also Dragonfly. "Stingray? Hunt?" Monarch threw Ember an incredulous look and was rather skeptical that this team was doing any hunting with that Witch swabbie around. Monarch had thought of Stingray was someone who was unable to kill a mouse for his life. Sometimes he even caught sight of the swabbie hiding bones from fresh-kill as if grieving for the prey. Hunting was certainly to be a lie. "Well, you and Dragonfly get on with it," he waved his tail and meowed to Ember curtly. He made it clear that he gave permission to the pair to hunt, but did not approve of the two Navigators taking the Witch swabbie with them.
"Stingray, has Scuttle taught you how to hunt yet? I think Scuttle will need Stingray for some Witch training instead. "
Stingray was young and early in his training, so Monarch doubted hunting was part of Scuttle's curriculum. Besides, Monarch was not going to have the young witch swabbie's opinion of him to be swayed by these two grouches. Monarch needed the support of the Gods and of the Witches, and so he looked out for Stingray. It would be fun to spend some time with Stingray, Monarch thought to himself. Perhaps he should teach Stingray how to defend himself and hunt even if it was not regularly part of Witch training. Surely, they had to at least learn to fend for themselves? The nervous young swabbie had to shape up one day.
"Perhaps you should go get some rest before Scuttle bites your ears off with his tongue," Monarch purred more warmly and encouragingly to Stingray. He could not imagine suggesting a change to Stingray's training to the sharp-tongued Scuttle, but it would be something he kept in mind.
Dragonfly held on to the hope that the situation would go smoothly. The three of them were conversing harmlessly—mostly. Monarch had to know that he had to choose his words carefully, especially around all of them. She had enough faith in him that he would know what to do.
And that was where everything went wrong. Where she went wrong.
She stared in disbelief as her brother took the exact course of action she didn’t want him to. Instead of building bridges, his words urged in seeds of dissent. His tone took on the weight of authority he did not yet have, and as he continued, she felt her heart sink lower and lower.
The worst part of it all was when Monarch looked her way, proving he knew just what he was doing, what line he was crossing. He knew the best way to take, he knew what her thoughts would be… and he avoided all of it anyway. He was supposed to be proving himself worthy to all their tribemates. Instead he was proving their convictions and conceived notions.
Dragonfly felt a stab of a foreign emotion when his blatant disregard became clear. She remained silent as the rage blistered in Ember’s eyes, and she still did not speak as it bled through the older navigator’s voice. She had to admit that she knew exactly where Ember was coming from.
Monarch was crossing too many lines. It was evident enough by the fact that she could practically hear Ocean’s voice instead of Monarch’s as he addressed Stingray. It was like their father somehow took over him. She knew that wasn’t possible, but it made her feel that much colder.
She wanted to at least appear as a united front to others when they were together. She wanted to be a trustworthy confidant to the quartermaster. She wanted to help heal the divide between the positive and negative views others held of him. She wanted… many things. But she could do nothing if Monarch didn’t meet her halfway. He made not even the slightest attempt, and she couldn’t let his subtle insults slide. And so, she knew whose side she had to take.
Dragonfly stepped up to stand at Ember’s side. She looked at Stingray for a long moment before she finally spoke. “Monarch.” Her voice held no edge, no bitterness, but the warning was there all the same. “Stingray knows what he needs to do and when. He is the witch’s swabbie, not your own.” There was no way the quartermaster could push a witch swabbie to his own whims. It also wasn’t right to get Stingray caught up in the middle of tension that wasn’t his own. She stared her brother down, posture rigid, the weight of her words ringing in her own ears.
Stingray was frozen to the ground as the cats passive-aggressively fought over him and what he should do as a proxy for their own distaste of each other. He didn't like any of these cats speaking for him, but he couldn't bring himself to make a sound. The thought of hunting made his stomach turn, He liked all of these cats well enough, but this conversation was quickly deteriorating his opinion of them. His ears had gone flat and every muscle in his body was tense as he tried to figure out what to do.
If he went with Dragonfly and Ember, he'd have to hunt. He was already exhausted, and the thought of trying to kill anything made him want to crawl into a hole and die. But, if he went home to get some rest, he'd be siding with Monarch. That wasn't entirely a bad idea, seeing as clearly neither of these two were explicitly fond of him, but that could also set a precedent he was uncomfortable with that he always sided with whoever was the loudest (and that wasn't how he wanted to be known).
Stingray was on the verge of bursting into tears. He hated conflict in all its forms, but he couldn't will himself to run away or speak up, so he just... froze. Then, Monarch asked him a question directly, and he was able to take a heartbeat and snap out of his stupor. "U-Um... no. I... he-- no." His voice held a tension that betrayed his distress if his body language didn't. He wanted to let the ocean swallow him. He hated this so much.
He wanted to tell them off. He was allowed to, wasn't he? He was a swabbie, sure, but he was a witch, too, wasn't he? Was he?? Dragonfly's hesitant warmth had vanished like mosquitos in the breeze just as quickly as Monarch started to purr. Ember's chill made him shiver, and he felt like he was standing in the middle of a blizzard with ice growing on his whiskers. His paws were frozen to the ground and his tongue was heavy in his mouth as his heart started to beat faster. He hated conflict. He hated it so much.
tag || Artemisnifty @sovereign || notes || forged in fire? || ▲
He was not the most empathetic or understanding cat, hence why he glanced at Dragonfly. At times he felt he needed his sister to help, but right now he was not sure she supported him at all. However Monarch knew at her words that perhaps he had taken it a bit far, but he was not too sure what to make of the situation now. He hated to back down; he always hated that. It was something that Ocean and Tempest had taught him to never do. But were there times where it was right? "Alright," he meowed coolly. "Then do as you will. Make sure to check with Scuttle that it's alright for him to be out today." He would pay the senior Witch a visit, he though to himself. But Scuttle's opinion of him right now was not high either. It seemed as if the entire Tribe was an avalanche waiting to happen. Monarch, at times, wished the Quartermaster role had never been given to him. Obviously he could not back down from it, but at the same time it gave him more anxiety than his head could hold. Perhaps the Tribe had grown fond of their previous Quartermaster, who was older and much more experienced. Monarch could not even dream of following in his footsteps, however. They were starkly different cats.
Tension still crackled in the air. Stingray's mumbles were more or less lost in the loud silence. Monarch was not about to start a fight with an older Navigator. It was be unspeakably unwise. So he rigidly dipped his head to Ember and Stingray in feigned respect. "Good hunting."
Then, he waved his tail in farewell and disappeared into the undergrowth. It was a painful loss for him, but Monarch himself would never admit it. Not even to himself. He had not assigned them hunting patrol. Instead, they were able to finesse their own roles this morning. That did not bode well for him or his leadership.
Monarch leaped from rock to rock on his way back to the camp. Whatever their issue was, at least a morning walk could help clear his head. There were duties, still, waiting for him back at the camp. Monarch was not one to show his emotions.
To the ends of the earth, would you follow me? There's a world that was meant for our eyes to see. Out there's a world that calls for me. Well if there are strangers, and all kinds of danger, please don't say I'm going alone. I was ready to die for you, baby, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stay.
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Ember's eyes were a twin pair of burning fires. Stingray didn't need Monarch to trample all over his confidence, and for a moment the older tom felt bad for dragging the younger cat into it. The skeptical tone that he had when he spoke about Stingray hunting made Ember want to leap over and dig his claws into the quartermaster, but he knew better. Instead his claws flexed into the soft soil around the lake. He was able to control his temper pretty well, and he knew he would be out of line to start a fight with someone who was supposed to be commanding him.
[break][break]The way that Monarch took Ember's words and twisted them to make it sound like he had thought of sending them hunting made him all that more annoyed, but before he could do something he would regret he felt Dragonfly step forward to stand at his side. She was quiet for a long moment before fixing a calm, steady gaze on her brother. Her words were calm and not edged with any anger or bitterness. She had a calm sort of presence that even Ember couldn't help but respect. Almost before his eyes he saw the younger tom cool down.
[break][break]Tension still crackled through the air like a strike of lightning in Shrieking Storms, but Monarch dipped his head and relented to the pair. Ember's shoulders were rigid with defensiveness, even though he felt like he had won this battle he knew there was more to come. Monarch was not one to roll over and show his belly so easily, even if he was a well respected navigator in the tribe. Ember had to live with the fact that the younger tom did in fact get to tell him what to do, and the truth of that was like swallowing a bitter herb.
[break][break]The tom waved his tail and turned around swiftly, his spotted pelt slowly sucked in by the foliage of the jungle. Ember let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and turned to look at Dragonfly, blinking a silent thank you at the she-cat. If she had not been there perhaps his anger would have gotten the worse of him. He quickly changed his focus to the young witch swabbie, his brow furrowed in concern. "I'm sorry, Stingray," He mewed quietly. "I shouldn't have dragged you in like that. Can I make it up to you? Did you need a hand fetching any herbs for Scuttle?" He asked, genuinely feeling bad for causing the younger tom to be caught in the middle of the conflict.
He watched Monarch stalk away like a panther in the grass, leaving him staring in dismay after the tom who was essentially abandoning the witch swabbie. Then Ember shifted, too, his whole body changing like the wind, and he was apologizing to Stingray as if he hadn't just used him like a woodpecker uses his beak. At being addressed, the ice on Stingray's paws shattered as his chest started to heave. His ears were flat against his head and every hair on his pelt stood straight up, the rancid smell of terror pouring off of him in waves.
He could scarcely hear what Ember was saying. It all just sounded like whalesong, and all he could really hear was his blood pounding in his ears. His pupils had dilated and he was breathing heavily with his tail curled at his side. The swabbie seemed to be making himself smaller despite all the posturing, his back arched as every part of him shook. Then his breath was coming in heavy sobs, and it felt like there were ants crawling all over his pelt. The lights were too bright and he felt like he was being suffocated.
He was absolutely certain that he was being electrocuted, or maybe dying, or probably both. His thoughts weren't even making sense anymore. He nearly threw himself into the lake just to stop the sensation of being on fire. Maybe this was the war the God of Fire had warned him about. Maybe he had been meant to mediate between them, but he had failed, and now the fire of the Gods was burning him from inside out.
Of course, to everyone else this reaction might have looked like Stingray was ill, but he was currently hyperventilating and trembling in every limb, looking quite a lot like he needed the comfort of his father.
tag || Artemisnifty || notes || forged in fire? || ▲
