Tippecanoe and Scythe too! (P, Phan)

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    OOC: A play on the presidential slogan "Tippecanoe and Tyler too!" :3


    IC: Too much had happened in the past few days.


    Hydra had taken over the old territories, leaving cats with the choice to stay or leave. He'd even promised equality of toms and she-cats; the nerve of him, making those kinds of promises! Tippecanoe knew full well that saying there was now equality in this BoneClan was a lie. It was easy to say that, but knowing the toms on both sides of that whole conflict, banishing "hate ALL the she-cats!" from their thoughts would be a difficult task for him, indeed.


    That, and she had earned too much respect and leeway from Scythe to turn it all down now.


    Laying down and stretching herself out comfortably and nonchalantly, Tippecanoe rested her head on her paws, eyes still open, her chocolate tabby mink fur shining healthier than most of the she-cats in Skull. She was likely in better condition than even the other Warrants / female Skulls, considering her own history and relationship with the leader.

    It had been a hard couple of weeks. From taking over the Tribe to being driven out of Skull - now BoneClan - territory. Scythe still felt bile rise in his throat every time he thought of that - ousted from Skull without even raising a paw against it. Of course, since he hadn't even been on the spot, it wasn't as though he could defend himself.


    And he was grateful - very grateful - for all the cats who had come with him from the Tribe, who had trickled away from BoneClan to meet him and tell him of the changes, for those who had found the new territory, helped him settle Skull down in a new home. And it wasn't as though they hadn't gone through changes before. Indeed, they had had trouble before, and they would have trouble again.


    But it was still a bitter pill to swallow.


    In such a morose mood - morose enough, in fact, that Scythe was amazed that he hadn't yet murdered anyone. Of course, this was probably due only to the fact that no-one had yet been foolish enough to cross his path while he contemplated such things as genocide.


    The sight of his Warrant - no, not his Warrant anymore, a Skull, a warrior in her own rights, which was as it should be - cheered him somewhat, if not managing to entirely remove him from his bad temper.


    "Tippecanoe," Scythe greeted the female Skull, with a dip of his head in her direction.

    Wafting towards her was the scent of Scythe—to Tippecanoe he'd always be her mate, even though she was released from Warrant duties. Raising her head up again upon seeing the tom, she nodded to him. "Scythe," she mewed, sitting up. "So we're in a new territory now..new ranks."


    Change. Location wasn't the only thing that had changed.

    "New ways for a new place," Scythe agreed. "To prevent that sort of thing from happening again." He didn't think he had to mention exactly what "that sort of thing" was - Tippecanoe was insightful and understood more than she let on about the inner workings of Skull.


    "If most she-cats would just accept that toms know better, we could spend our time doing decent things instead of having to intimidate them all the time." He was almost beginning to believe the lie, the party line that was spouted so often and glibly from the high positions of Skull. He did believe it, had always believed it, even if he hadn't been aware of it.


    "It's good to have a moment of peace," he admitted.

    "There are plenty of decent she-cats within Skull," Tippecanoe meowed, remembering a chat she had not long before the Skull-BoneClan split and still choosing her words carefully. "But most of them are looking to get tortured and raped, it seems. They have no other mind for anything else asides from getting themselves laid."


    The chocolate tabby mink took a moment to rest her head on Scythe's shoulders. "Peace is always good," she mewed.

    "And they claim that she-cats have brains equal to toms," Scythe growled. "Honestly, if they were smart, they wouldn't have walked into Skull in the first place." It was an old grievance; they acted like total idiots and then claimed great intelligence. He would never be able to understand it.


    "Some, though," he conceded, "are decent. Like you." He leaned into her as she rubbed against him, enjoying the feeling. He had not spent enough time with Tippecanoe lately, and he regretted it. The split with the new "BoneClan" had reminded him exactly how fragile peace and life could be, and he was determined not to let anything he wanted slip through his grasp while he could hold on to it.