WE'RE NOT TOO FAR GONE — LITTLESTAR

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    [center][fancypost= width: 450px; text-align: justify;][size=11][font=timesnewroman]Sweetophelia had been attacked days earlier. Her long flanks were now wrapped in thick, white bandages, hiding her new injuries from plain view although the story remained easily guessed by any animal who saw her. The BlizzardClan leader was still mulling over the identity of her attacker. All she could remember of the encounter was another feline - a blue feline. It was an unusual description, and she surely would recognise her assailant should they ever encounter one another again but the thought seemed unlikely. If you were going to target a clan leader and failed, wouldn't you use a spare form just in case things went wrong? A dark frown crossing her features, she took a seat near a large boulder, just a few feet away from the border. With her new injuries, she found herself needing to catch her breath far more often.


    @LITTLEPAW G. D.
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    info — updated 2/7

    [center][fancypost=borderwidth 0px; width: 490px; height: auto; font: normal 10pt arial; text-align: justify; line-height: 15px]apologies for late response ;w;

    It was faint, that scent, but Littlestar would recognize it anywhere even if it was covered underneath the thick scents of other clanners and various things. Blood was just such a sharp, distinguishable smell. And because her childhood in the Exiles had been a rather gruesome one, the scent was horribly nostalgic. Yeah, bad, she knew. But it was becoming more common in present adult(ish)hood. Of course, Hawkclan wasn't as violent and nor would it ever be but accidents happened as did raids and murders. Thinking about the possibility of her clanmates getting murdered made her pissed even though it hadn't happened at all. God, she just needed to calm down. She felt so angry all the time even if she was lying down doing nothing. It was like there was no end to the anger. Even if she seemed calm, even if she was smiling, she felt angry. Deep down. The fire was always there. Smelling the scent, the dark grey tabby snapped to attention. It was like a switch had been turned on inside her as she straightened up and headed towards the source of that horrible scent. She found herself coming near the border and when there was nothing there, she frowned but then she saw an outline of a female sitting near a big boulder just outside the border. She recognized this female. The Blizzardclan Leader. Sweetophelia. "Woah. You all goods?" The injuries on the felines flank were bandaged but still, clearly she had taken quite a walk to get here.


    "What're ya doing here, Oph?"

    [center][fancypost= width: 450px; text-align: justify;][size=11][font=timesnewroman]That feeling of intense anger at even the prospective thought of seeing one's clanmates be hurt or murdered was shared by Sweetophelia. The BlizzardClan leader was generally composed, more serene than any other emotion, but her passion flared up when it came to her duties. She took her role of leading the animals under her protection very seriously. It was why she had been so terribly affected when Eren had gotten his leg torn off in the Cartel - watched it be eaten before his very eyes.


    It had taken her by complete surprise when someone had assaulted her - even if she was objectively aware of the fact that as a leader of a major clan, she was always a prime target for infamy-seekers. "I'm fine," the tall Ragdoll replied, turning to look at the younger feline. "I was attacked a few days ago. I suspect it was one of the Cartel's hitmen, but clearly they didn't do a very good job." Her dark ears flicking, the Targaryen continued speaking, "I was just walking - I'm not gonna stay confined to camp all day just because of a little mishap. But what about you? What are you doing wandering so far away from HawkClan?"


    OOC | No worries!
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    info — updated 2/11

    [center][fancypost=borderwidth 0px; width: 490px; height: auto; font: normal 10pt arial; text-align: justify; line-height: 15px]The Monarch, like Sweetophelia, was also protective of her people. She didn't nessecarily feel sick when someone got hurt but she felt guilty. Every time something happened, she envisioned Ichigo staring at her, disappointed that she wasn't able to protect his people. She.. she doubted he'd do something like that but still, she couldn't help but imagine the armored cougar do such a thing. Sighing, the HawkclannerA Cartel hitman? Her ears beared down on her cranium and she shook her head furiously, claws digging into the earth at the thought of the scum that were stains in her mind. "And good fucking thing too. Those fucking cowards." Would it be known to all that she was a girl of colorful vocabulary? Even in front of children (although she tried extremely hard to tone it down in front of them). Littlestars gaze flickered from Sweetophelias injuries on her flank to the Blizzardclan Leaders eyes as she continued to speak. "I know this is weird but I smelt you," Littlestar explained with a shrug of her shoulders. "Just thought you were hurt bad or some shit like that." She added, ears twitching. The feline sank to her haunches and tilted her head to the side, glancing at the nearest tree mostly because she was feeling like other people were watching her talk to Sweet. "How've ya been.. asides from that junk?" She subtly gestured at the injuries with her crooked maw, pink nose twitching. Injuries didn't disgust her or make her throw up as they had done with Colin but that in no way meant she liked them. Littlestar was no sadistic fuck.. although she might've been had she not taken to leaving the Exiles at a young, ripe age. Still, she had been affected by the Exiles ways nonetheless. It still affected her to this day, flashbacks of it all. She peered curiously at the Leader, awaiting her response.

    [center][fancypost= width: 450px; text-align: justify;][size=11][font=timesnewroman]Sweetophelia would have been surprised to realise how much Littlestar looked up to Ichigo. Sure, Tama had been a fine leader, but Sweetophelia had met the girl when she had first came to BlizzardClan. It was difficult to feel much awe for someone you had grown up alongside. As for Saltcircles, he had been fine enough, but his leadership had lasted only four days, and even then Sweetophelia could sense that he would not be the vigorous, energetic leader that could succeed Tama. As for Feliks - her former mentor and leader - well, his reputation was largely tainted in her eyes. She knew of the tanned wolf's association with the Cartel and frankly she didn't approve of it in the least. They were a band of criminals, made up of whores, drug addicts, murderers, and rapists.


    "The blood? I was hoping that the bandages covered that up. But I suppose that because the smell's always with me, I've become nose-blind to it." Hopefully if an infection should break out, she would quickly take notice. Infections could be fatal, but what Sweetophelia feared most was rot and amputation. "Fine I suppose. BlizzardClan is fine too - we just dropped two allies to neutrals though: SunClan and the Rift." She added, smiling, "Don't worry - HawkClan's safe." The only issue had been the fact that neither SunClan nor the Rift ever contributed towards the alliance, hardly even showing up when ambassadors were sent out and never once deigning to attend one of BlizzardClan's allied events. A relationship couldn't be all take - both parties needed to commit.
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    info — updated 2/16