Posts by Battlecry.

[justify][size=9pt]( ha, I thought everybody had forgotten him by now. xD But he's got a new body, though it'll be permanent. )

The tomcat watched with cool blue eyes, deciding to just make this easier on everybody by introducing himself. "Ehr." Insert awkward silence followed by introduction. "I'm Streetpaw. I don't know if you remember me or not." He swallowed and looked at the walls before adding a bit stupidly, "I dated your daughter."

[justify][size=9pt]He'd been aspiring the position for a quite awhile, quite a long while. Not because of the title it offered but because of the proof he was worth something for his Clan. It was always good to feel needed. Maybe this would be the big break for Streetpaw?

Maybe not, after all, there were a few tests he had to pass or else it was a no go. He'd been dancing quite often again, this would either be easy or hard. Nimble, strong legs but unorthodox grace. There was really no definite telling.

[justify][size=9pt]When he had made the decision to throw caution to the wind and try out, Streetpaw hadn't realized the pressure of it. Would it be an individual testing or a group testing? Would his nimble albeit thin legs give him a bonus or a drawback? Would he make a fool of himself? Biting down on his tongue, the silver torbie stepped forth, cobalt orbs flashing.

[justify][size=9pt]The silver torbie glanced quizzically at the kitten perched atop a hybrid. Was this a joke? He wasn't entirely sure whether to laugh or just frown in disapproval. In the end the tom went with sighing and sitting stoically, his clear glass orbs reflecting those around him. "This is interesting."

[justify][size=9pt]His herb knowledge had dissipated into self-preservation as a loner, there wasn't a single medication he could think of to help the poor child at the time. All Streetpaw could do was be there, casting Turtlepaw a thoughtful glance. Almost as if they were changing positions. He had been the healing-oriented one and she the protection-oriented one in the past, now not so much. His lip twisted in a smile grimace before he looked back to the wounded feline. "Can I do anything to assist?"

Streetpaw took a step back. He of course was completely clueless about the female's passing, only knew he hadn't seen her in awhile. He swallowed hard. "I didn't know it was a sensitive subject, sir. I'm sorry .. I meant no harm by it ..." The way his eyes had changed colors scared the life out of Streetpaw, and it was all he could do to slip his orbs away from them.

Remaining dutifully silent as he watched the scene, the silver torbie curled his tail around humself. Clearly Glasskit was not a liked cat here, which was fine by him. Streetpaw just wouldn't talk to him. Safe himself the trouble.

[justify][size=9pt]When he had discovered his sister's pregnancy, the only thing be had prayed to starry ones above for was her safety. For her birth to be normal an easy, not stressful. For her to live through it and walk out a survivor. If Wingspan had died giving birth or before the only person he could blame was himself, for not being there to protect her from unforseeable forces. To fight with her. For her.

But she had slipped out unnoticed before she birthed. Streetpaw hadn't seen any signs proving she was going to birth, so he stayed at the entrance of camp, awaiting her return. And he waited. And waited. And waited. Only after several ticking minutes did the silver torbie begin to panic, his cold cerulean eyes flicking across the raining horizon. His pelt was plastered to his slim form and he could hardly see. Oh Starclan, his sister was out in that storm! Finally he stood, attempting to follow her.

It took Streetpaw several minutes for Streetpaw to navigate the storm-barren mountains in search of the tabby. He was starting to lose that kindled hope that she had survived. she was starting to break down. But suddenly the sound of a child's mewl reached his ears, striking him like a dagger. It was a miracle.

His paws tread through the moist and slippery ground until he found her hideaway. Dismay etched his features as he realized he was too late to stand by her side and help her birth. Pushing his way forward – but not without a polite 'excuse me' – he reached Wingspan's side and sniffed at her worriedly, searching for any signs of harm, fretting like a mother for his dear siblings. Only when he was sure she was fully intact did he draw back and give her some space, celestial optics glittering with worry and nervousness for Wingspan.

"Wing ..." he began to stress in a pleading voice, only to break off as he noticed the three bundles by her side. Praise the heavens, she'd given birth to three of them. And they were all alive. She had to be happy? Yet the tears staining her beautiful face claimed absolutely otherwise. The sight of his siblin in such distress brought him to his knees, gently attempting to press his muzzle into her cheek as a way of comfort. He hated few things, but seeing his family in pain peaked the list at the summit.

He licked her tears, wishing they would go away and Wingspan would be happy again. He wanted to see her gorgeous smile, her eyes light up as she overlooked the beautiful things she had created. One way or another these were solely her children and nobody else's, not even the biological father. And he would make sure hell rained down on Flintpaw for ever doing harm to his family. He would.

Pushing his furious thoughts aside for later date, he paused his fretting over her cries and pushed forward a more determined face. He would help her through this. Every step. Every breath. He would be there. To make up for when he was gone. When he had abandoned her. With an air of resolution, he sat up and brushed his tail along her tear-stained cheeks, "I will help you raise them, Wing, I promise." He'd already raised an adopted litter with Aero before she died. That fatherly part of him rose again. He would be the best Uncle known to cat or man.

[justify][size=9pt]Partnering up. This was a tough decision, seeing as he knew nearly nobody there that was trying out. He felt like the nerd at sports camp, too small to be anyone's teammate though he was easily one of the smartest and most tactful there. His celestial orbs flickered across the others before resting on an advancing form, a pretty tortoiseshell who he remembered acutely. She'd been there when he had returned, and when his mother made the snowman, hadn't she? Perhaps a friendship would be in order, she seemed nice enough to be friendly.

Well, wait a minute. Was she coming towards him? He hadn't seen that coming, and actually fell silent for thirty seconds before regaining his sense and plastering a smile on his face. The smile began to melt into a genuine one as he did a regulation of a charming formal bow, left paw moving forward and right one bending down to accompany the action as he lowered his head regally. He then straightened up, with an excited tint to his eyes. "I'd be honored to, milady." He was a Shakespeare, only as a cat, it seemed. "I'm Streetpaw, I believe we've met before?"

[justify][size=9pt]Normally Streetpaw would have melte under her soft voice, but now he stood tall and determined. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it, and that was final under his term. He felt no need to solidify his earlier statement – it was clear in his heavenly blue eyes he was going to help her raise these kits and he was going to do it to the best of his ability. Still, he reassured the fact, "I must."

And on Javert. If the tomcat dared break his sister's wounded heart more than it was already, he would be another name added to Streetpaw's hit list. He'd probably castrate both males if it came to it. Though he didn't really like to get violent. That wasn't him. He would probably publicly humiliate Flintpaw, though. He deserved it for taking advantage of his littermate.

He bent down to lick the moist pelts of the kittens, just to keep them warm until the rain xeased and they could bring the children back. These were now his nieces and nephew, therefor they were his family, and he was bound to protect them just as much as he protected his sister. They shared blood some way or another, and he would stand for them all through thick and thin. "They all have your beauty, Wing. You should be proud of yourself and them. You deserve to be proud." he meowed without looking up.

[justify][size=9pt]Streetpaw's jaws parted to utter another worthless apology. Words were worthless, all they did was hurt and destroy. He was making an absolute fool of himself and the sooner he realize this the better. But there was another realization about to slam into him like a semi truck on an interstate going eighty miles per hour.

Considering she's dead.
She's dead.

She's dead. Dead. [b]"Dead ... ?"

His apologetic features crumbled like a damn under the impact of a bulldozer, every carefully structured muscle going still and then dropping into absolute disbelief. His celestial eyes portrayed several emotions, staring with confusion and tumbling into horror. His beloved, his closest friend next to Blackpaw, the one who'd helped him raise two abandoned kittens .. was dead? Gone? No longer?

Every detail was one Streetpaw could not believe not decipher. No, no, no, she couldn't be dead. She was probably just missing. Not dead. No way. No fathomable way. Aeropaw couldn't simply disappear from the planet without saying goodbye, could she? Did she still love him? Hate him? She couldn't be gone.

But then he remembered. Remembered the day his soul split in two. He'd thought it was heartburn. Ha. Heartburn. His heart was burning now, smoldering into small useless ashes. His bond with her. It was broken. In pieces. Unreciprocated.

Somehow he'd started sitting, his eyes glazed and he focused as he recalled this. He offered no words, only silence.