ALL THAT IS GOLD IS RUSTING - p, barbara needed

The winners for the June Spotlight Contest are: Writing is Goldie! and art is Officer495!
The July Spotlight Contest is up and running! You have until July 31st to enter.
Come check out our Gatherings! Medic, Official, and Leader!
  • Right, okay. The meeting only fucked him over slightly; just enough to make him think that perhaps now was not the time for sitting back and waiting for someone to find out that he held a dual membership with one of Bloodclan's enemies. It wasn't a political thing, it was personal - but Barbara wouldn't take kindly nonetheless, and he knew it.


    He feels kind of godawful, really, because even the thought of disloyalty makes him sick to his stomach and yet - and yet - here he stands, willing to sacrifice his crew members for personal gain. At least he'd get Somebody out of that mess, get his own personal workers out of that hellhole before any genuine harm came to his business - and No-Face, too, if the mutt was still chasing him around. Trevor could risk another clan, a place full of enemies he'd rather choke than work for, but he couldn't let harm come to the few that were keeping his own small business afloat. Frankly, he was reliant on The Cartel's economy, and tipping the boat could be risky if he couldn't keep matters under control - and, in all honesty, he didn't know what would happen by the end of this meeting. Anything, he supposed, including his own exile.


    "Barbs, lemme in." If he's apprehensive, then he does a good job at hiding it. He's waiting outside of her den, pacing slightly; Trevor isn't really sure what else to do with himself when he gets like this, and the excess energy has a way of making itself too prominent to ignore. "Got somethin' to talk to you about, c'mon."


    BARBARA F.  

    — I WANT TO FOLLOW YOUR SCENT

    BUT YOU WON'T ANSWER MY CALLS

  • Disloyalty was not something Barbara would stand for. She was loyal to herself before anyone else (except perhaps her brother - it was a very close fight), of course, but she was loyal to her clan and her clanmates as well. She may not like all of them very much, but they were Bloodclanners, meaning they were necessary to keep the clan afloat. Betrayal could take down an entire operation, and she couldn't let that happen. So, she had very strict rules set in place for both herself and the others, and if broken, there would be consequences.


    One of the rules, quite unluckily for Trevor, was that she would not tolerate her clanmates having dual-alliances with enemy clans. With allies and neutrals on the rare occasion that they had them, sure, but not enemies. If she allowed members of an enemy clan to join her own, she could easily be endangering herself and the rest of the clan. And, in the cases of war - like with Sunclan -, there could even be spies being sent intot their territory. Of course, people could lie, but she would find out someday - she would always find out.


    The blue eyed molly had been getting ready for her day, grooming her fur down flat and securing her leather choker necklace around her neck, when she heard Trevor's voice. What did he want? Padding out of the den holding a blue bow in her paws, Barb purred playfully, "Oh, how forward," and shot him a joking wink. "Sorry to disappoint you, though, my brother's in he-" she cut herself off when she realized this wasn't some friendly visit, though she probably should have known that in the first place. "What do you wanna talk about?" she inquired, any trace of joking amusement gone.


    //mobile

    tags

  • She lets him in and his grin is tight, unemotive. He doesn't respond. He doesn't say anything until he's made a few circles around her space, staring at the ceiling, casting sharp glances at her as he morphs thoughts into reasonable syllables and sentences that don't begin with "fuck everything, god damn"; when he finally decides to seat himself, he breaks the uncomfortable silence that's settled over them, answers the question that's sat on the end of Barbara's tongue since he shouldered his way into her space. "You're gonna let me talk. I got a lot to say. If you fuckin' interrupt me - you try and take this shit for something it's not, I'm gonna have to walk out and tell our dear friends that your reign on Bloodclan has been cut painfully fucking short. Okay? Okay." He isn't sure how else to keep his head in one place without threatening everything around him that moves - no, he had no intent to kill Barb, but why not make his point a little more clear? He wasn't here to talk shit and get kicked out of his only real home, not yet.


    "Gonna start simple, here. I have a personal venture, a little side business that I've been running for, what - two, three years? Ask any old fuck around here, I've ran every sale in this desert and its surrounding territories for longer than you've existed on god's green Earth. And sale of what, you may ask? Well take a fuckin' guess, hon, it ain't Girl Scout cookies." He works his jaw for a second, gritting his teeth and just waiting for her to cut in - he's used to Barbara's quips and attitude, but it'd be dangerous for her to test his composure now. Trevor sits back, rolls the tension out of his shoulders, continues with ease that seems too stiff to be genuine. "Now, back then, The Cartel wasn't around - and I shouldered all of this hard work on my own, because I was a fucking amazing entrepreneur, and I still am. Since I was busy being dead for a good year, though, I came back to find that all of my business had been stolen, and all of my friends were dead - The Cartel took all of my shit out from under me with half the effort. I realized, not too long ago, I needed to get an advantage... Sit in their ranks until I could either break off and take my clientele back, or work my way up and make The Cartel, and its customers, mine. But that's not the point."


    Okay, here was the hard part, if his little history lesson didn't serve as a death sentence already.


    "I am willing to give Bloodclan a little bit of a tactical advantage over The Cartel by doing some spy work. Even though I'm still wheeling and dealing over there, doing personal jobs, I fucking hate those bastards and I'd rather slit their throats than give them a penny of my earnings. They're sick fucks and they know it - and if I were running the place, we'd all be singin' kumbayah with less sex slavery poisoning the goddamned ranks." Winded, frustrated and a little too impatient to go on, Trevor stood up again and found himself working his claws into the dirt below just to keep from wandering about once more. "Barbie, m'gonna give you one chance to say yes to this. You let me spy for Bloodclan, I get to keep my business in The Cartel until I take down their leader and make the place mine or move out on my own time. You think I'm a creepy fuck, probably, but I know when shit is unethical, and I'm gonna do what I can to stop it. They don't suspect a thing out of me."


    Trevor cracks a smile, but this time it's a little faded, a little anxious. He's half-ready for Barb to sic half the clan on him and run him out of the place. "You've got a great opportunity sittin' in front of you, Barbs. So, how about we shake hands and pretend this conversation never happened?"

    — I WANT TO FOLLOW YOUR SCENT

    BUT YOU WON'T ANSWER MY CALLS

    The post was edited 1 time, last by TREVOR P. ().

  • The first thing he said certainly wasn't something the small girl

    appreciated. She narrowed her eyes, already looking ready to rip his head off. He was threatening her? How dare he? A dark scowl formed on Barbara's face, though she didn't move - she would teach him a lesson soon enough, but her own curiosity was enough to keep her from butting in and going off on the wildcat. He must have something important to say if it was that necessary for her to shut up. Biting her lip to keep from saying anything, she watched Trevor silently, bright gaze fixed piercingly on him.


    "Gonna start simple, here. I have a personal venture, a little side business that I've been running for, what - two, three years? Ask any old fuck around here, I've ran every sale in this desert and its surrounding territories for longer than you've existed on god's green Earth. And sale of what, you may ask? Well take a fuckin' guess, hon, it ain't Girl Scout cookies."


    So he was a drug dealer. She didn't give a fuck. But, come to think of it, what was he selling drugs for? Bloodclan didn't use currency - almost no clans did, as far as she knew, aside from the Cartel. Did he sell them in exchange for some sort of supplies, maybe? Whatever, she still didn't care - it didn't concern her, nor was it anything interesting. However, as he continued, she felt herself leaning forward ever so slightly, a deep frown still on her lips. He mentioned the Cartel, which caused suspicion to rise in her chest, though she shoved it aside for the time being, even if she was fairly sure she knew where this was going.


    "I realized, not too long ago, I needed to get an advantage... Sit in their ranks until I could either break off and take my clientele back, or work my way up and make The Cartel, and its customers, mine."


    He was a Cartelian. He was a fucking Cartelian, and she didn't know. Fucking bastard. Her expression didn't change, but a fire lit up deep within her. He had lied. He had been here for almost an entire month, pretending to be one of them, but he wasn't. He lived in the clan that had wronged Bloodclan on so many occasions, lived among the people that had caused her so much shit in the past. She didn't care if he claimed that he hated them - if he was so keen to betray the clan, he would have admitted to being a Cartelian the first day he was here. But he hadn't. He had lied to all of them, made them all into fools, and Barbara hated looking like a fool.


    She still listened, though, despite the strong urge to jump forward and kick his ass right there. That was what he deserved. Even if his offer sounded tempting, he had deceived her. He had deceived all of them. She didn't care that they were barely acquaintances - she didn't have to be close to someone to be betrayed by them. He claimed he'd spy for them, but who was to say he hadn't been spying for the Cartel this whole time? Who was to say him pretending he wanted to help wasn't just an act?


    It wasn't until his last words that she snapped. "So, how about we shake hands and pretend this conversation never happened?"


    The femme was silent for many moments, gazing blankly up at Trevor. He expected her to just forget about it? He wanted her to pretend, like he had been doing all this time? Oh, hell no. After standing silently for quite a long time, she finally spoke, voice quivering with fury, "You... you expect me... to pretend... this never happened?" If he actually thought that was something she would do, he had something else coming for him. In a flash, she snatched a heavy hairbrush off of her miniature vanity and hurled it at his head. Her whole body shook, lip curled and ears pinned to her head. She was angry all the time, yes, but she hadn't been this mad in month. "What the hell do you take me for? I'm not an obedient, good little girl that's going to follow your every whim, you lying bastard! You come to Bloodclan as an absolute asshole, but we take you in anyway. We let you live with us - we trust you, but you lie. You lied from day fucking one! And now you expect me to trust you again? I'm not an idiot!" She was practically screaming now, her fur standing on end as she moved to stand closer to the lion, nose lifted to stick as close to his as possible. "Maybe," she began, voice suddenly becoming multiple volumes lower, "if you had actually told us the truth, this would be different, but you hid the fact that you were an enemy from us. A fucking enemy."


    Barbie still wanted to snap his neck, but that probably wasn't possible. Plus, his offer was still tempting her. The young Queen watched him for a moment more, sides heaving as she sucked in air, which was exhaled sharply, angrily. "We can make a deal, though," she said finally. "Because your offer is such a good opportunity for Bloodclan, you get to keep your life, but you are going to be guarding the border until I'm ready to look at your ugly, lying mug again. I want you out there day and night. Food will be delivered to you by... someone. You may only leave for trips to the Cartel or trips to me to give me some info on them." She was a pretty lenient leader with most things, but she would not tolerate dishonesty and disloyalty to her. "Is that understood?"

    tags

  • Trevor is not a traitor, not a liar. He has avoided the truth, maybe dressed up the wording a little - but not once has he allowed himself to betray anyone that held his loyalties and trust. He could never bring himself to do it, too emotional and too assertive to use tact in his words. And here Barbara stands, the new crowned Queen of Bloodclan, after he'd lived through oh-so-many rulers in the past, calling him an enemy.


    For a moment, his expression cracks into something horrified, if not a little histrionic - his jaw parts and his brows knit together as he watches her move, words caught in his throat. Trevor doesn't flinch when she lunges for him, hardly moves when the brush is released from her grip but still recoils, just a little, when it strikes his face with a hollow crack. It would leave in its wake a pretty spatter of blues and greens around his swollen eye for days to come - but for now, it just stung.


    "You ungrateful little shit -" It starts out as a rumble in his throat, a slue of filler insults to close the gap between her attack and his retaliation. He brings his paw down from his face, only half-aware that he'd instinctively touched the raw spot with careful claws, and finds himself reaching for the object in question. When his paw finds the handle of the hairbrush he watches Barbara, assessing, just waiting for her to give any sort of indication that she thinks he's going to hit back. He wants it, the flicker of fear on her face that'll harden into cold contempt when she anticipates the fight. That's what they all do; the deer in the headlights becomes a bucking stag, but he hunts his prey to its grave all the same. She gives nothing. He gets angrier.


    And then he swings, without warning - he brings the unconventional weapon to the ground as hard as his arm will let him. All the while he's howling, seething, "- Fuck you! I just told you my deepest, darkest fucking secrets and you call me the traitor? I fucking told you that I was going to take over and make things right, I told you that I've done nothing but fuck them over just for my own personal satisfaction - and you're gonna sit there on your high-goddamn-horse and tell me that I'm not acting in the interest of Bloodclan!" His chest is heaving when the hairbrush gives under each violent swing, his shoulders tense when the handle splinters in his grip and the head of the brush hits the ground in broken pieces and lost bristles. "You're taking a lot of fucking risks right now, you know that? It's a damn shame I'm not spying for The Cartel, contrary to popular-fuckin'-belief, 'cause if I were smart I'd use this wonderful opportunity to do some serious damage. But no, you're lucky - I'm a vapid fucking bitch, a doormat for the High Queen of Bloodclan to wipe her perfectly manicured feet on whenever she so chooses. Thank you, dear highness, for sparing me of my life - I'm forever indebted!"


    And he laughs, then, an icy rasp that cuts through his words and leaves him breathless. The smile that remains is just as manic as it is venomous, as wild and untamed as it is aggressive, but the spark that lit the raging flames behind his eyes has all too quickly disappeared. He's the lucky one - not her. He's lucky that this won't be the third time he loses everything, starts over again with no one to turn to for aid. He isn't sure where else he'll go if Bloodclan won't take him.


    Trevor's more aware of this sobering truth than he would like to be; it's a heavy stone in his chest, a bruise blossoming on his cheek, property damage scattered around his paws. The smile melts away as quickly as it had cut across his features, and any emotional involvement in the argument he once held is long, long gone. "...You got a deal."


    tags

    — I WANT TO FOLLOW YOUR SCENT

    BUT YOU WON'T ANSWER MY CALLS

  • Satisfaction washed over Barb as her brush made contact with Trevor's face, lip curling into a smirk of bitter pleasure at the crack the object made when it struck him. He fucking deserved it. He deserved that and more. She wanted to do so much more, to perhaps leave him with a permanent reminder of what going behind her back would do to him, but for the briefest of moments, she considered the situation. Had he really been jeopardizing Bloodclan? Maybe what she had already given him was punishment enough for not telling her everything. However, these thoughts were gone almost the moment they came to mind, wiped away by the anger that still rushed through her. She was going to do her best not to act out anymore. She could do th-


    "You ungrateful little shit -"


    How dare he? How fucking dare he? The question was echoing in her mind once more, and a low growl of warning rumbled in Barbara's throat - as if her attack wasn't warning enough. Her gaze flickered down to his paw as he reached for the hairbrush before back up to his face which was undoubtedly throbbing, raising her head challengingly. Did he wanna go? They would fucking go. They would go and she would beat his sorry ass. However, just as she was preparing for him to strike back with the brush, he simply smashed it on the ground and started squealing again. This bitch was giving her a headache, but he was also making her angrier by the second. The white hot fury that coursed through her veins was so blinding she couldn't form words, so she only listened, vaguely understanding what he was saying. "I'm a vapid fucking bitch, a doormat for the High Queen of Bloodclan to wipe her perfectly manicured feet on whenever she so chooses."


    "At least you've gotten something right," she snapped, tail lashing as she took yet another step closer to the shouting tom, neck craned to remain making eye contact with him. She could feel his harsh breathing as his sides heaved and he laughed, laughed right in her face. She wanted to slit his throat right there - she could, she had her dagger and all -, but she couldn't. That wouldn't be "leader-like behaviour", would it? Or, maybe it would... god damn it, she didn't know how this shit worked. Barbara had been punished for fighting with her clanmates in the past, but she also knew people definitely weren't supposed to disrespect positions higher than them, especially their Queen, and that was exactly what Trevor was doing.


    Her claws were unsheathed, sinking into the carpet below her as she longed to give the lion a cuff to his other eye, just to make them match. However, just as she was about to jump on him and wipe that stupid smile off his face, it disappeared on its own, and he spoke up once more. "...You got a deal." Damn right she did - if not, he'd be out of there before he knew what hit him. "Good." The single word was uttered so harshly one might think she was going to kill him anyway. "Now get out of my sight," she snarled, turning to sweep up the splinters of what were left of her brush.

    tags