where there is desire there is gonna be a flame||private

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  • [font=georgia]Opalescence padded up to the leader's den with nervousness seeping from the pads of her paws, eyes downcast and body shaking. It was just after the march meeting, the one that had announced the change in the stylist position. It had come as a shock, the emotions running like a tidal wave inside her mind and stomach. She wanted to puke, she wanted to scream, but all the she-cat could do at that moment was stand still.


    The scarred she-cat had arrived at the Elite at six moons of age with pure intent of becoming a stylist. While her mother was away and left her to fend for herself on the outskirts of the forest, Opalescence played with colors. She intermixed them with her paws and found beauty around her even when she herself could not posses it. After moons of training, the shy cat had witnessed how her styling effected the lives of her fellow elitist. She remembered the crown she had made Rosaliee that had allowed the young cat to come out of her shell, or the pendant she had crafted for Roseblood. It was still on the guard's neck today. Soon that would all be gone.


    No longer could she stand still. Even if she could feel her heart beating like a symphony vibrating in her ears, she had to speak up. Even if it came out with twice as many syllables as it normally should, she would have to try.


    "L-lorem?"

  • [fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font: 12px georgia][sup]The black tom mentally groaned. Another cat who needed his help. With the recent questions that he had been asked - literally, one idiot wanted to know who led the fucking Elite - Lorem wouldn't be surprised to hear another dumb thing. "Yes?" he growled, glancing about for the cat who had spoken in the crowded parlor.

  • Opalescence stepped forward, her mismatched eyes meeting the brilliant green of the leaders. Good Capone they were scary. Quickly glancing back down at her paws she began to speak. "I-I wanted t-to speak to y-you about the...the styling p-position."

  • [fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font: 12px georgia][sup]"What about it?" he asked, annoyed. "Don't dance around the issue; I've got other things to do." At least this sounded like a legitimate question - he gave her points for that.

  • [font=georgia]Opalescence straitened, her body shaking. Perhaps goiing to the leader was not a good idea after all. Maybe she should have talked to Sola before risking her tail. However, it was too late for that now. I-I w-wanted to know why y-you took it a-away a-and," she gulped. "If y-you wouldn c-consider b-bring i-it ba-ack."

  • [fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font: 12px georgia][sup]"I took it away because the stylists did nothing," Lorem meowed with a shrug. "Painting might be fun, but it doesn't sharpen your claws. Besides, nobody's gone to them for a legitimate reason in a while. The position's not really gone, anyways; it's combined with healers."

  • [font=georgia]"But it is hardly the same!" mewed Opalescence in an act of boldness, feeling shock at being told the stylists did nothing. Hearing her raised voice, she blushed. "I-I mean, the new position is very different. Th-there is hardly any styling in it at-at all."

  • [fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font: 12px georgia][sup]"There wasn't much styling beforehand, either," Lorem snorted. "When did we honestly use the stylists? Now, at least they can have something to do beside sitting on their asses."

  • Opalescence didn't realize she had moved until she saw her claws going towards the leaders face. The former stylist had leaped at his words, claws unsheathed and eyes narrowed in anger.

  • [fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font: 12px georgia][sup]Luckily, Lorem had been trained to fight for his entire life, so the leader simply sidestepped her claws. "If I were you," the leader meowed, his tone deadly, "I'd apologize right now and then leave. Otherwise, you might find out just how useless stylists were in a fight."

  • [font=georgia]Opalescence blinked, her mismatched eyes widened in horror. She had just attacked-if one could really call her spasm an act of violence-one of the leader's of the Elite! Her paws shook under her. Why had she done that, and why did she want nothing more than to try it again?


    "S-sorry," she stuttered. However, the former stylist was not sorry. A small flame was building in her stomach, burning at her insides and demanding her to take action. However, whatever fire was inside of her was extinguished by her shaking frame. "I-I don't know w-what happened."

  • [fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; font: 12px georgia][sup]"You don't? Let me spell it out." Lorem leaned forwards, lowering his voice and enunciating his words strongly. "You attacked the fucking leader of the Elite. That's what happened."