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Post by wolf on Sept 1, 2008 13:56:11 GMT -5
The best part of ‘Believe’
Is the lie
This town… It was full of crazies. What was up with that? And now, all of the craziness seemed to be rubbing off on him. It was totally unsafe to stay here in this place. And, at the same time, he kind of liked it here. Because, for some reason, he kind of liked the unexpectedness of everything. Like, for example, every day wasn’t exactly the same as the previous day. There was always something different that happened. Even if most of that was only possible because of all of the mental cats around, it was still an appealing part of the town. The fact that you didn’t know what was going to happen next, what people you were going to meet, where you were going to go… It just made every day a big surprise, so totally different from the day before.
Why was this town so appealing to him? After all, it wasn’t like he wanted to meet anyone new, explore places, or other things like that. The one thing he wanted to do more than most anything right now was leave this place… But, at the same time, he couldn’t. There was just something that made him stay here, something he couldn’t put his finger on. He had made his mind up to leave many times before, yet, here he stood, looking down upon the cursed town of crazies.
And in that moment, he realized how easy it would be to just… Die. Right there. He could just ‘slip’ and plummet to his death. Actually, there was a waterfall close to here, that would be a better place to die, he thought. To go over the edge of the waterfall, and commit suicide that way. This wasn’t the first time he had thought about suicide, though. Oh no, far from the first time. He had come really close to bringing his death upon himself when he had first arrived here, at a road. He had sat in the center of the road for a while, waiting for a car to come and make him road kill. But none had come for a while, and he was getting tired of waiting.
He had a flashback to his kitten hood very suddenly, abruptly cutting off his chain of thought before. Snuggled against his siblings, listening to one of their mother’s many heroic tales about their father, the humble hero slash stray. Now that Wolf thought about it, those two things used together like they had been in the stories was a complete oxymoron. How could a stray cat, who went dumpster diving through human trash to survive, also be labeled a hero? He couldn’t believe that he was actually so naïve as to believe all of his mother’s impossible stories about his father, the ‘hero.’ He was probably just some womanizer who went doorstep to doorstep, making the female house cats fall in love with him by spewing lies out of his filthy mouth. But, those stories had made him want to become a stray. And becoming a stray had led him to Daisy.
And now he was back to Daisy again. No matter what he was thinking about, his trail of thought always led him back to her. No matter what.
Lyrics: Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year by Fall Out Boy
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Post by striker on Sept 2, 2008 20:05:13 GMT -5
Being submerged in a sea of fur, Striker gently pulled himself out of the mountain his brother and sisters made on top of him. Almost out, one lat tug and he rolled backwards into a nearby bush. It was early morning and Striker had a lot of energy to spare. Sure he could wrestle with Lion or play tag with Kestrel, even if she'd find a way to cheat, but he wanted to go out on his own. Being blind and having to stay close to the family was one of Striker Wintertrap's pet peeves. He could never stop wondering whether he was an annoyance to his siblings or a burden to his mom. His being handicapped only slowed him down every once in awhile, but he always swares to himself that it will never lead to his downfall. He'll use it at his advantage.
Never has he seen the world around him, or the family he loves, but feels them, scenses them. He can name each personal scent on their fur. His goal was to get better with his handicap and use it to get back at hs father, Stellar, for leaving his mate to care for five kits. Indigo never told the kits the last name of Stellar, but what Striker didn't fully understand was that Stellar never even knew about 'his' kits. Striker still spat at the idea of meeting his 'father.'
Before he set off on his early morning adventure, Striker stood extremely still to feel if his mother, or siblings, sturred from their slumber. Nothing had changed from the energy around Striker so he turned around and high-tailed it, and ran. He was getting better at his walk, and found it a whole lot easier to just run. As he ran, the early morning dew stuck to his brown tabby pelt. He didn't really stop to check his surroundings but instead he wanted to feel free for a minute, to feel like he wasn't blind. He ran far from the falls where his family laid and didn't really become frightened about the thought of being lost. His mother had said that many cats roamed the town of Nenwood and he could only figure that someone would help him back home. You couldn't blame the poor kit for being so naive, afterall he was only a month old.
Slowing to a trot, the the ground beneath him turned from soft, wet grass to smooth, solid rock. He felt a steap incline in the ground under him, but he pressed on. "Whoa!" he exclaimed as he starrted to slide back down. Jumping ahead, he landed half on a rocky ledge. Sighing, he was thankful he laded on a ledge and not the hard rocky floor. Darkness constantly engulfed his sight, but the heat of the rising sun brushed his back se he knew the morning sun was making its way higher in the sky. Being very careful, he continued up the mountain path. He didn't have a clue as to what he was doing, but he did it anyway. You only live once. Feeling around using his paws, whiskers, and nose, he climbed higher and higher until he reached a flat area where the clean mountain breeze ruffled his fur. He could smell the clean, crisp smell of the moisture in the sky and he knew he was now really high off the ground.
There was a gap in the flowing air though, so striker opened his muzzle to taste the air. 'A tom' he muttered. He knew the exact difference between a femme and a tom. Being so innocent, he moved foward to meet the tom, steady but surly. Slowly walking, he made sure that the rock under him didn't dissappear. "How does Nenwood look, you know, fwom way up hewe?" Striker mewed as he took his seat next to the tom. His speech was getting a bit better. Striker puffed out his chest to seem tougher as he felt the shere hight of the tom next to him. The heat radiating off the tom's body reassured Striker that he was a safe distance from the edge, knowing that the tom wouldn't sit too close to the edge, right? Unless he was planning something...
'My name's Striker, Striker Wintertrap!" Striker introduced himself with pride, and he kept his eyes stationed over the mountain cliff into his own dark abyss. OOC: DONE!! |
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Post by wolf on Sept 12, 2008 18:36:01 GMT -5
Speaking of kittens. He heard the brown tabby kitten stumbling up towards him clumsily. He knew that all kittens were clumsy, but this one seemed especially clumsy. He wondered if he should leave it here and escape while he could, or maybe see to it that it didn’t fall down the steep drop and fall to its death. He sighed. It would be the latter, of course. Anyone else would look at his kitten-saving record and find him a good person, eager to help others and keep other felines safe. Yeah. Sure. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time… And that series of unfortunate events led him to saving kittens. Joy.
One the kitten was right beside him, Wolf immediately recognized the kitten’s scent. He closed his gold eyes shut, cursing his bad luck mentally. It was a Wintertrap kid. One of the ones that he had saved back when the two dogs decided to attack defenseless Indigo and her litter of newborn kittens. Stellar and Indigo’s kittens. He had saved them just for something to sort of hold against Sellar after the whole fishing thing. Revenge, in its own way. And now, their blood was coming to haunt him, or something along those lines.
He sniffed the kitten, immediately noticing that something was off about him. Some kind of disease or illness or something. He rescued Indigo’s kittens just to have her let them run around and get diseases from things? What a waste. Well, perhaps he was born with this illness. Maybe it wasn’t life threatening. Either way, that orange she-cat should have been watching her kittens. Why in the world would she let a sick one wander around this dangerous place? There were, what, a month old now?
”Looks like a big nuisance,” He mumbled to himself, hopefully not loud enough for the young feline’s ears to pick up. Well, even if he had heard, it didn’t really matter. ’So his name is Striker… He… Actually kind of looks like me,’ He thought, and his ears went back slightly. The kitten, with it’s brown tabby fur and gold eyes, actually looked more than kind of like Wolf, since Wolf himself had the same kind of markings and eye color, but you could easily tell them apart… Even if they were the same age. ’Now’s not the time to get attached to a kitten from the two cats you hate,’ He told himself. ”Wolf Sharpstone,” He said, introducing himself, and then, once the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to kick himself. What if Indigo told the kittens that he and the other tom saved them from dogs? Then he would never get this scrap of fur to leave him alone. ’What an idiot,’ He told himself.
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Post by striker on Sept 19, 2008 11:09:44 GMT -5
Striker's tabby tail brushed lightly against the ground as he used all of his scenses to pick up his surroundings. The slight breeze tussled his fur and he giggled a whimsicle chime of laughter at the tickling sensation. The tabby tom decided to speak and Striker pulled his small kitten head in the direction of the voice, forcing his ears to pick up every sound, every heartbeat. The tom had spoke softly, but Striker heard his mumbling words when other cats would not have been able too. With his lack of sight he used what he had. "Nuisance, huh? Looks pretty nice to me..." Striker grinned up at the tabby. "Hmm it looks like a bright lake...and it smells like trees..." Striker sniffed around and then continued, "and cats!" His little nose wrinkled.
It was silent for a second Striker introduced himself. Using his sensitive whiskers he felt the tom's mood change from common annoyance to irritation. 'Why would someone be mad at me? i haven't done anything wrong...yet' Striker thought as he furrowed his brow. Then his ears perked when he heard the air slip into the tom's lungs as he was about to speak. 'Wolf Sharpstone?' Striker thought for a second as he nodded his head to acknowledge the cat and let him know he did in fact hear him. "You know...that name sounds oddly familiar...where is it from?" He mewed half to himself and half to the tom.
Standing up on his paws now, he jumped to look head on at the tom, Wolf. He smiled menassingly "I know who you are! You're the cat that saved us from those dogs a while back. Momma's told us stories about that day." Striker's voice faded now and his eyes suddenly filled with pain and resentment. Grinding his teeth tightly he looked away from Wolf and spat at the ground. "My father wasn't there though...He wasn't there!!!" Striker snarled. Taking a sharp breath in he realized he was giving to much of his feelings away. Sighing he sat his rump on the ground and looked down at the stone floor, "Sorry..." he mewed. Feeling almost drained he extended his fore limbs and layed his head on his paws. Wolf had a spark of some sort of emotion Striker couldn't make out when he had spoken about Stellar and Striker couldn't help but wonder.
"Do you know my father? Stellar?" He looked up in Wolf's direction, and felt reassured when Wolf's scent was still there. |
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Post by wolf on Sept 28, 2008 20:14:21 GMT -5
Wolf watched the small kitten, barely taller than his flank, tell him about how he thought the town was. It was in that moment that the tom reached an epiphany, a realization that suddenly made all the sense in the world, suddenly and surely cleared all of his questions about this little scrap of fur. ’He’s blind,’ He thought, and as he thought those words, he became sure that this was indeed the case. What was a blind kitten, so fragile and breakable looking, small and defenseless, prey to most and predator to bugs, doing on a mountain? Wasn’t this the epitome of irresponsibility on Indigo’s part as well as complete idiocy on the kitten’s part? Though, since it couldn’t see, perhaps it wasn’t entirely sure about whether this was a mountain or not. Either way, this enjoyable excursion that the kitten ha decided to embark on fell on the shoulders of his mother. Though, frankly, Wolf was none too surprised that the orange tabby would just let his efforts of saving her kin be wasted by letting them do dangerous things like climbing mountains.
And don’t misunderstand, Wolf wasn’t angry at the mother of this sightless kitten because he was concerned for his welfare, well, to put it plainly, he didn’t want his efforts to be wasted in saving the kitten, even if it had been born blind, thus more susceptible to things like falling down mountains, rather than he actually cared about the welfare of the miniature Stellar, ah, what was his name? Striker. Though scrap of fur was so much easier to remember. It fit much more than Striker, he thought. Anyway, the entire point is that he must have wasted a perfectly nice day by the waterfall if the mental mother wasn’t going to give a rat’s ass about the whereabouts of her children or if they were safe and sound and alright. Perhaps because they were cuter when they couldn’t talk; Perhaps she cared more about them when they were cuter. Perhaps that was the case.
Even before Striker had confirmed that his name ‘seemed familiar’ he knew that he was in for a great time. Sarcasm came naturally to him, really, but that’s besides the point. He already knew that Indigo was bound to have told the kittens a story, a story of when he saved them. She probably made him sound heroic, brave, a humble hero, exactly as his mother had made out his father to be. And, honestly, Wolf could pass as this little guy’s father, seeing as(well, the kitten in question couldn’t see, but imagine he could for a second, if you will) their resemblance in terms of eye color and pelt. Now, personality was another matter entirely. Thinking about this, Wolf almost laughed. He, having kittens with Indigo Wintertrap? Oh yes, a match made in heaven. What was with him being so sarcastic today?
He remained silent as the kitten did a quick synopsis of his lovely time by the waterfall. It pretty much summed it up, really, him saving them from the dogs, and, well, he could go on all day about the dogs and then some without actually moving on with the plot at all of the day by the waterfall, but that was for another day. At the mention of Striker’s father, who Wolf was not really on good terms with, his ear flicked in annoyance. Though, he commended this kitten for also disliking Stellar Snowpaw. They did have a lot in common, then. As he did with Indigo. Ah, his only wish in life was to escape the Wintertrap family… Well, one of his wishes, that is. And here we are, back to Daisy.
”Yes, I know him,” He responded in an indifferent tone, hoping that the kitten would catch his tone and leave him. But, knowing his lineage, he thought that he had as much of a chance at that as mice lining jumping into his mouth like lemmings on their annual cliff diving. ”I also… Dislike him, but for different reasons,” He admitted, completely giving up hope of subtly telling the tiny cat to beat it. He might as well engage in conversation and practice his conversation skills. Hey, it’s never too late to become a conversationalist.
Admin's Note on January 29th, 2009: This thread is being archived due to inactivity.
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