i think i'm obsessed [o, announcement!]

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    the brute of a man slithered forward with the prowess of a hunter, massive claws pulling up the satin rugs and silk curtains that adorned the hotel floors, the diamonds from the fallen chandelier nearby sparkling under the delicacy of evening light. stars above his cranium could be seen from outside of dirty windows where distilled has collected only to be swept off once more. blood crusted the floors and soaked into carpeting, some fresh some years and years old that it had turned black. he could remember his pile of herbs he placed behind the bar, it was his own space where he kept his leaves for safe storage and easy access. everyone knew him, they knew not to touch his herbs as they would never bat a pretty eye again because he'd be sure enough to pluck them out.


    aloebite sat there thinking for a moment, just watching as he took a stand beside this fallen chandelier thinking and reminiscing of the past in silence, curious as to why he even left in the first place. the biggest mistake of his life. he had it all before he left. he had his children and his mate, his family. he had friends: taboa, sheogorath, rosemary, six, the rest of which he couldn't even remember now as it had been such a long time. his jaws clenched. he needs to move on and he needed to do something about it. a fresh start and a disconnection from his past in the tribe and windclan. this started with his clan-like name: aloebite. previously, he was aloe of adder's bite before he was connected to a strong of his own murders in the tribe. heh, the good ol' days.


    the tom lept upon the taboa's piano chair, not sitting in the middle but on his previous spot on the side to make his call, weaponry digging within leather.


    "i have an announcement to make!" his vocals were loud yet in a sense they were soft spoken but bold like marble. never obnoxious he was unless wanted to be as he was known for being lively but today he was down and he didn't know why. "i'm leavin' my name behind for a different one," he came next as a group had gathered and his words were heard. if anyone wasn't here, the word would spread soon enough. "call me aloebite and i'll have yer tail cut clean off and hung around my collar to keep me warm during leaf bare," he warned, this time his signature charming smile smothered the brute's maw as he rolled his shoulders back. of course he wouldn't cut the tail off himself, he'd have someone else do it because he never did his own dirty work, and besides he didn't like cleaning the blood from his fur as it was quite long. "i'll be known as wolfsbane," wether they wanted the reasoning behind that or not wolfsbane wouldn't mind answering.


    Scarecrow

    The Nightmare of BloodClan

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    The heat in his eyes was rarely of warmth. It was of hell-fire, sinister magma that cracked and bubbled to display malicious intent, the hatred of a beast bathed in flames so intense, they licked at the soul itself and in the darkness they glowed like red hot daggers freshly hammered within the depths of a burning forge. Despite such piercing fire in his gaze, The Scarecrow's presence was as cold as ice, and his breath alone sent a wintry chill through the atmosphere. His voice resembled frosty glass, smooth and full of a frigid lack of emotion that cut through the senses with gritty whispers grasping the mind. Those that dared spare a glance did so for only a moment, ducking their heads to hurry past, or return to their quiet conversation to utter a near silent tale of how they survived the devil's harsh glare. There were stories about him, a creature that drags fools into shadow and pries their mind apart with claws cut from glaciers. They are right to be afraid of their worst nightmare as it lives and breathes around them. The reactions of some of his clan-mates sent sparks of electric glee and satisfaction shooting through hidden veins. They were applauding his work with fear alone, urging him onward, to commit more despicable acts, and they didn't even know it. Perhaps they would one day, when they found themselves in the same position of so many of his victims. A BloodClanner was foolish to think that just because they were allies, they were safe. The Scarecrow would soon correct that belief.


    There was a voice that reached his tattered ears, and a ruined, war-torn skull shifted to set loose twin orbs of demonic light that shone with curious thoughts. Aloebite sat upon Taboa's throne, and he was addressing the crowd. How intriguing. But even more so was that he was witnessing an execution. The destruction of a cat so many recognized. Aloebite was dead, but like a phoenix, there were always ashes in which to reform. Another name emanated from strong jaws, and the Nightmare of a feline allowed only the slightest of smirks to twitch across his shaded features. Wolfsbane gazed out towards those that had paused to listen, and the Scarecrow stared back. Now why did you choose that name, I wonder? How I'd like to peel the answer from your little mind. But perhaps he wouldn't have to. The first question was always a probe, and if it went unanswered, the second would come from the shadows. "Why Wolfsbane?" There was a curiousness that laced his smooth tone.

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    I am the shadow on the moon at Night

    Filling your dreams to the brim with Fright

    (c)trexgirl

    that post was so good your writing always amazes me!


    luminaries encapsulating the silver scales of a fish glinted, illuminating against the delicacy of streaky sunlight that captivated calculated pupils and cold glass in the midst of winter. the sliver of a shadow in the corner of his vision drew these awfully tundra-like eyes of chilling complexion upon those of a fiery inferno. a battle of ice and fire threatened the destruction of their surroundings as the arctic drew blades against irises that melted within the sahara.


    wolfsbane's sharp, siamese features turned upon him in silence as silence fell over the hotel for a draw of a breath before scarecrow's words drew from his tongue in questioning. again, he was silent as he blinked and a crooked smile twitched upon his maw for only a sliver of a moment as he thought. satisfied by the question as the meaning behind a name was what made it of such importance. he looked down from where he sat heightened upon massive pillars for legs before he slithered from taboa's throne, despite his missing leg he was always graceful and more or so resembled a viper or a leopard as snake-like features found an unearthly balance of unusual displacement.


    his tail coiled and lashed as he took a seat, rising up dust in his wake for only a moment before he finally responded. a pair of lean jaws unlatching like that of a bear's trap. "aloebite is a fragment of my past. a history in which i honor in my memories but not a past for everyone to witness for themselves. besides, it was never a bloodclanner's name. wolfsbane represents several things. moving forward from my days in the tribe," he paused, amused at the thought of what got him banished in the first place before continuing as the brute's tumbling words were thoughtful though heavy as they usually were with saturated calculation. "you know, a wolf tore off my damn arm? don't get around to tellin' the story very much... i think i scare people, ha!" he rumbled with soft laughter. "anyways- it's also a plant, poisonous one at that, as it's used to kill wolves, you know? a reminder that i can outsmart death; but a plant none the less that honors by herbal knowledge. it marks my full loyalty to bloodclan too," he finished, forepaw sliding forward and back arching in a stretch before he drew forth once more as he watched the tom from the corners of his eyes. wolfsbane was an open book, well sometimes.

    「 just pull the plug, yeah — I'VE HAD ENOUGH 」

    Quietly he made his way over to hear his fathers announcement, eyes not betraying his emotions for a second. He kept them well guarded behind his exterior. The inferior watched curiously, keeping a distance. He still wasn't sure how he felt about his father coming back so for now he just watched at a distance. He would probably never change his name unless he just didn't feel connected to it anymore. Diabolos lifted his head as he lifted to his fathers history and he instantly began to question if he would ever move on from the past himself, or was he doomed to remember it forever? He allowed himself to be seen as he padded into the two cats eyesight, dipping his head quietly as he looked over to his father with a thoughtful expression. "Erm, sounds rough." He spoke with a hint of impression in his voice. The inferior flicked his tail then instantly felt awkward. He probably should of said more.

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