HEY THERE BONITA — open, introduction

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    there was something very pleasant about the presence of waterpaw. it isn't that she's overly charming, or some lovely little flower, or even a spunky spitfire. in fact, it was the fact that she was none of the above that made her so easy to be around. she was calm and easy and she just didn't care about silly little things. she was someone to be around if you wanted company, if you didn't want, didn't expect anything out of it. she was always even emotionally, never high, never low. she was open and honest and up front with you. you knew exactly what you were getting into with the fem.


    she wasn't rude or cold or detached like the rest of her clanmates, she was just different. she couldn't help but say whatever was on her mind. her thoughts were most always nice, they were simply odd. they could make others uncomfortable, if one didn't realize that you couldn't just buy into everything she said. if she called you attractive, it was because she thought you were - not that she had any sort of feelings beyond that.


    perhaps that was why the apprentice found herself sitting alone at sunset. because she was refreshing, but she wasn't charming or lovely or spunky. she wasn't some name-brand candy bar, and most preferred to spend their time with those who fit into the usual archetypes. not that waterpaw minded; she was just fine on her own. she sat there, just outside of the apprentices den, staring down at a mouse in boredom, unsure if she was really all that hungry.

    [center][fancypost=background-color:;border:0;width:75%;text-align:justify;font-size:9pt]Miska almost didn't notice her. Sometimes there was a beauty to felines who were enough to everything, but sometimes there was a bigger satisfaction to felines who were more than they should have been. Of course, Miska was awkward. He did nothing that made him stand out, but because he had once been a loner, he stood out just a little more than the rest. He stood out because Miska was a jig-saw piece that was desperately trying to wriggle itself into a constantly growing puzzle. He was trying to shape his ends to slip into the puzzle just a little better, but still he had a hard time. Instead he just stuck out. When he did seem to fit in, Miska wasn't the right colour or the right style, Miska just hadn't found the place where he could fit. But he was determined to get there.


    He was sitting outside again, prodding his paw at a bed of moss he had made himself so comfortably outside. He still didn't have the guts to enter the dens, he was still sleeping under the blanket of stars. But there were few stars in ShadowClan's nights. At least sundown was pretty. For a brief moment the colours made the territory look a little brighter, a little more hopeful, and that in itself made Miska smile a little more effortlessly. A genuine gleam over his youthful features. But he soon noticed the fem who sat outside the dens, sitting behind a rodent that was ready to be eaten. A mouse. For the past few days the tom had been trying to eat the stranger delicacies. He'd set his attention to eating frogs and lizards, the slimy, the scaly, he hadn't touched a single mammal.


    It soon occurred to the ivory tom that he'd been staring in Waterpaw's direction for longer than he should have. He unwillingly approached her, trying to think of what to say. After all, if he looked away and didn't say a word to justify himself, it'd be creepier than just talking to her. "Is sundown always this pretty?"
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    a voice disrupted her mental wandering, forcing the fem out of her stasis and her eyes onto the white male. miska, she reminded herself. waterpaw knew everyone's name, regardless of whether or not she actually knew them. many of these people, she'd been raised with, and those who came into the equation later in the picture were known.


    she didn't know the younger apprentice well, though she knew very few people well, but she knew of him. so when he came up with a line, she couldn't help but quirk a brow. she always said exactly what was on her mind, it was like a tic, and this time was no different.


    "that sounds like a pick up line." she said, tone flat. she wasn't often very expressive, not unless she had good reason to be. so she stared at him with blank features, dark blue eyes tracing over the male's features. "i don't think it is, considering you're a kid and i'm a few sunrises from being a warrior, but it sounds like one." there wasn't much of a reason for her to point this out, but there never was. she wasn't very good at recognizing or stopping herself from doing this, of course, and even if she could somehow tell, she didn't care much.


    of course, she didn't linger on the matter, she never did, and instead glanced at the sky. "pretty is objective. i prefer it when it rains, and everything is gray. gray is a nice color.


    "want to share this?" she moved from one thing to another effortlessly, pressing the mouse forward. the femme had been raised well mannered, and she'd been taught that it was rude not to offer to share food. she wasn't sure why, it just was. apparently.


    LICHEN;;


    While he didn't exactly enjoy being surrounded by dozens of cats that he didn't know or trust, he had started getting used to it. He didn't get defensive anymore when someone appeared out of nowhere, he didn't attack those that he didn't know. In those situations, while his heart did race and his instincts screamed at him to protect himself, he would try to keep control of himself out of fear of being kicked from the clan. The injured tom wasn't able to protect himself, after all.


    That being said, he still didn't spend too much time in camp. It was quite confusing to the tom, the different dens that forced a bunch of people into an enclosed space. He didn't know who slept where, or why, but he did know that he couldn't trust anyone not to attack him while he was asleep. To add to that, the main part of the camp was too large and open for the tom to feel secure He couldn't keep note of everything that was happening around him, and he was constantly worried about something coming at him from above.


    Even though he had all those complaints, he still made sure he spent some time in the camp, if only to get accustomed to the scents of the others and to earn their trust. He had been sitting a few feet away from the pair that was currently talking, focused on the entire camp, before having his attention forcibly dragged to the two. They were so close, their voices easily reaching his ears. Miska said something about the sunset, and the unknown molly replied in a strange manner.


    Slowly, the blue-furred tom would push himself to his feet before moving over to the two, not caring if he was butting in on a conversation. He didn't really realize that it could be seen as rude, due to not really being around others cats much prior to joining the clan. "Wha's a warrior?" That was the first thing he asked, lowering his hindquarters to the ground with care. "An' I would have t' say that I've seen beau'iful sunsets. While overcast skies are charmin' in a way, I prefer th' color that sunsets hold."


    Of course, he couldn't exactly see the sunset at the current moment, but he could remember the beauty of them. The dozens of different colors lighting up the dimming sky, the buildings dotting the landscape occasionally reaching so high that they would stand among the colors, as if the sun was enveloping them in its dying warmth. When it was overcast it normally meant rain. And while the monochrome shades held their own beauty, he didn't find it as breathtaking as the sunsets.
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    information — updated: 04/05/17


    (c)trexgirl

    [center][fancypost=background-color:;border:0;width:75%;text-align:justify;font-size:9pt]Miska was far too young to find himself in the deep end of romance. Instead he was mostly the type to fall under the category of skinny love. He'd never admit romantic feelings, he still had yet to be in full control of his emotions - his constantly spiraling pit of contrasting emotions. It wasn't to say that the boy was impulsive. He was far from impulsive. He was actually quite composed for a child who spent most his time dreaming, but Miska still had issues with the feelings inside of him. So when he heard Waterpaw's remark he felt as if he had failed at something. He stared at her with wide eyes. A pick-up line. Miska had heard many phrases and words, but never 'pick-up line'. He was admittedly stumped. "No, I don't think it is," he replied to the feline, flicking an ear in her direction. She seemed to like to talk, but she didn't ramble random topics. She was generally on the same train of thought, just different aspects he supposed.


    "I was really just asking if sundown always looked like this while placing my question as a compliment of ShadowClan's territory," he mumbled softly at her comments, noting that the fem was a lot older than him. She preferred the sky to be a canvas of monochrome. There was once a time Miska didn't mind a colourless landscape, but that had been before his hearing problems arose. Whenever Miska experienced deafness, the world lost just a little more colour, and the boy's hope diminished every time. Grey was a lonely colour, a colour that reflected his anxieties and worries. He would rather not favour the gloomy atmosphere.


    She spoke again, this time with another topic. She wanted to share the mouse and Miska felt a little unsettled, perhaps it was because he had almost gotten used to the strange textures ShadowClan seemed to adore. "Ah, sure," he said, avoiding the attachment of 'if you don't mind' on the end of his sentence. His whiskers twitched when he noticed Lichen's scent straight after, and he turned around to smile at the sight of the feline. Although the apprentice was sometimes hard to handle, he quite liked the former loner. "A warrior is the main rank of Clans, I think. They serve and protect the Clan with their life. They must be pretty honourable to do that."


    His icy gaze softened with Lichen commented on the sunset, and Miska's teeth lightly pressed together. It hadn't been too long ago that the angora noticed that the tom was blind, but he figured he had been blind his whole life. So to hear him mention seeing something, he couldn't help but feel down. "I don't know what's sadder," he admitted, "Never being able to see, or losing sight? Because if you've never seen a thing before, you know you're missing out on a whole different world but you'll never have to hold onto the nostalgia. But if you once had the ability to see and lost it, you'll find yourself constantly trying to remind yourself what that huge world was. I fear that feeling."
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    at his relatively awkward response, followed by a quick explanation of his intent, the apprentice's whiskers twitched in amusement. clearly, he wasn't trying to pick her up. he wanted to be clear about that. "i'm not sure if i should be offended or overjoyed that you don't want to reproduce with me." it wasn't really directed at him, but part of her train of thought that never stopped at only the station of her mind. it always left, sprinkling her every bit of consciousness into the world. "i'll settle for thankful."


    at his sure, the fem pressed the mouse forward for him to take some of whatever he liked most. while she could appreciate a good frog or two, she liked to leave them for the kits. they always seemed to enjoy playing warrior, eating frogs and toads, considering they were the furthest thing from a mothers milk as their diets got.


    at the next apprentice's inquiry, the fem couldn't help the chuckle. "it's a miracle that wasn't the first thing you learned about this lovely little swamp-of-the-forest. or the forest in general.


    "warrior's ain't all that great. it just means you're old enough to tell some others what to do. and you get a bigger den that smells less like angst and anxiety and more like lust and over achievement. and you get a free pass to reproduce. encouraged, even, to hit refresh on the whole cycle and move back to the nursery to cuddle up with kits."


    she couldn't help it, couldn't stop herself. the words just came and came and her lips never stopped moving. and once she'd concluded on that topic, even if only momentarily, she moved to the next. "i'd rather have been born blind. you'll never have to adjust to anything, it'll always be the same darkness. nothing to miss, nothing to forget. you won't have to hold onto memories of sight like they're the last piece of prey for the season."


    LICHEN;;


    He would direct his empty gaze to Waterpaw, an expression of pure confusion on his maw. Did mollies actually get to chose whether or not they reproduced here? And even more surprising, they got to chose who's children they would give birth to? "Where I came from, queens would 'lways be pregnant wi' some random dude's kids. If ya were able t' carry kits, then ya would start breedin' as soon as ya could. The toms would mate with any female that they came across, an' would kill any children that weren't their own. Ya have a strange way o' doin' things? How haven't ya died off yet? I mean, if ya get to chose when an' t' whom you are bred, then can't some mollies go their entire lives without breedin', without passin' on their genes?[color]" Out of their conversation about warriors, that was the first thing that caught his attention. It just seemed like a poor way of doing things. Half of an average litter would die before the age of six months due to illnesses, predators, and injuries. Even more will die in the next six months of their life, leaving very few alive after one entire year. It didn't seem like it was productive for the females to chose whether or not to produce, but it made sense as to why all these cats could live peacefully together. The females had a say in the matter, which meant that the males didn't need to constantly fight one another in order to win the chance to mate with a female.


    It wasn't until after he was done being confused about the whole reproduction deal that he was able to process the information about warriors. It seemed interesting, but strange. Why did they group people up by age like that? It should be by skill and ability rather than something so stupid like age. Just because you were older than others didn't mean you knew to hunt or fight, and just because you were young didn't mean that you didn't know how to do those things. "Tha's stupid. Why would they be willin' t' throw their lives away for someone else? That goes 'gainst th' most basic o' instincts, t' keep yourself alive no matter what." That was the one thing that kept him alive this long, his body refusing to let him give up even when he was both mentally and emotionally done with everything. Death was something to be avoided at all costs, and those that didn't understand that weren't intelligent in the young tom's eyes.


    Next was the conversation of sight, which honestly made him a bit antsy. He had never specifically told anyone that he couldn't see, but he guessed that it must be pretty obvious. He relied on primarily scent and sound to navigate through the camp, to lead himself to a specific feline. He was easily spooked if he wasn't paying attention, and he didn't really react to the normal visual cues that an average cat would. He would give his tail a couple of slow lashes, as if to get the uncomfortable feeling out of his system, before thinking about it. Would it have been better if he had never seen? Almost immediately he realized that it wouldn't have been. "Well, I have t' disagree wi' ya. I believe that havin' sight in th' first place makes things easier in the long run, since ya know what other people are constantly talkin' 'bout or referrin' to. If ya had never seen somethin' in th' first place, then how would ya know wha' it means when someone says that somethin' is beau'iful? If ya lost your sight then you would be able to appreciate an' understand physical or visual beau'y, even if ya couldn't see it yourself." He would never give up his memories of colors, as they were too important to him. Having had been able to see, even if just for a short period of nine months, was something that he would treasure. Sure, the transition was difficult, but he would rather lose something he had rather than never have it in the first place. That way, he could at least act like he was normal, that he was like everyone else.
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    information — updated: 04/05/17


    (c)trexgirl

    [center][fancypost=background-color:;border:0;width:75%;text-align:justify;font-size:9pt]Monologues. He wasn't fond of monologues. Miska would rather stay quiet, and it was hard to pick up everything when words were being thrown from one cat to another. His paws shifted slightly in the dirt, fidgeting past each other as his feathery tail swept closer to his warm body. They were talking about reproduction. It was a topic Miska had no interest in regardless of how important it seemed. Children were parasites, Miska was a parasite. Life leeched onto other life to survive, it was as terrible as that. "Well I'm just a kid," he mused, flashing a gleam to the to-be warrior, "You can't expect my mind to be sharp on that subject. I have to concentrate on being the best I can."


    He stayed silent as she continued to speak, Miska taking a few bites and chewing thoroughly. His mind was concentrating on not swallowing too fast. It was a bad habit of his - eating too quickly often led him to heart burn. It wasn't a nice feeling. She seemed to really like the idea of reproduction. His whiskers twitched in his own silent amusement. It'd suck if she were sterile, he thought to himself before glancing the other direction, I can imagine her as being the type to steal someone's kits. I just get that vibe from her. It wasn't as if Miska was always right, but he acted almost so certainly on the details he picked up. He guessed it was how he noticed the way Lichen reacted. The first time he met him, there was something interesting about the grey tom, so he stayed around. The second time was in the medicine cat den. He bent down to smell every herb, and when it came to the goldenrod on the ground, he distinguished it by smell. None of the other herbs from what was scattered in front of him was shaped the same way as the herb. He considered that it was possible for Lichen to have a hard time distinguishing colours, but he had never even checked the flower he mentioned to look like a dandelion. He never smiled back at him either. But it was likely just Miska's intuition, a hunch.


    Even then, Miska was still holding ground that he was certain, even if Lichen never seemed to give too many blaring hints or confirmation. He wanted to believe in the things he saw, otherwise there would be no point in him picking up the small details. It would be a waste of his time. "As long as we can adapt," he said, ending his words with an inflection, but Miska held back the next words he was about to say.
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