Posts by orangeandkumquat

[justify]Opticalillusion flickered into visibility with ease, appearing by Dex with a smirk prematurely plastered across her Angeles face. "Don't knock invisibility," She said, carefully revealing her jovial intentions through inflection. Before her, the remains of the dead dragon were strewn about, and the former third tier had to squint her eyes as the scales reflected the daylight violently and without hesitation. The daughter of Coppermine and Twistedlies had never seen a dragon, let alone two. They forced to acknowledge that things had changed and that merit meant horse *. Looking at the liver who towered over her in physical prowess, she entertained the idea of a acerbic comment, though eventually decided it liked taste. Instead, in a smooth movement that warranted respect, Opticalillusion leaned forward and ran a paw over one of the scales, inhaling deeply as she did so. "Well, of course dragons would taste like *, Dex. They're nothing more than glorified flying fish," and fish was not BloodClan meat.

The midday heat pressed down on her black and red pelt, which trapped the warm air with ease. Drawing in a cool breath, she flicked her ear in frustration. The desert may have been hot, but at least it had always been dry and arid. To her surprise, a small reprieve managed to make it to her in the form of a breeze. Rustling the foliage all around, its gentle presence clear in the way it swayed the leaves and branches, Opty gave a contented smile. She figured that even if her new company was going to be terrible and inane, at least she was somewhere pretty. A shallow sentiment, yes, but it was enough to satisfy her currently. Golden eyes trained on a rabbit that hopped away in the distance, the soft and frumpy mammal stood in stark juxtaposition to the dragon skin. BloodClanners were terribly egomaniacal at times, to the point where indulging their narcissistic delusions of grandeur became what their selling point. That fact having been established, it was easy to see where Opty's inherent cynicism derived from. So it was times like this, where she watched both the rabbit and the static dragon scales, that she wished to be alone once more.

It took a moment for her eyes to find him, but eventually they did. Seeing Chimeraglare for the first time in a long time. It was not easy to forget his luridly patched cost or his conceited stare. He had been a strange apprentice, but the change that accompanied him was not necessarily in welcomed. Opticalillusion resented banalities and mundanity in whatever form it came. Chimmy, with his blatant inconsistencies, ensured that no routine was too established for him to disrupt. For that, she was glad. Mentoring him had been like training a more obnoxious version of herself. Both children of infamous leaders, Opty sometimes wondered whether their shared instability could be attributed to such a chaotic upbringing, filled with unspoken expectations and uncertainty. *, she was getting too introspective for her own liking. Rebelling against her own inner monologue, she hummed some imitated fanfare, amplified the sound with her handy dandy manipulation, and laughed. "I see you still fetishize epitomized white rods," She revealed a toothy grin, staying perfectly still in a chillingly natural way.

Her tail twitched behind her when a fly landed on it, but the simple spasm was enough to dissuade the insect from residing on her. "Long time no see, you little *." She was silently glad to see yet another familiar face. And while she had never been a very good mother, she viewed the multicolored tom before her as her one success. Sure, he wasn't actually her kid, but she has paid for attention to him than she ever had to her children, if only because they seemed to disappear immediately after she birthed them. Shaking her head at the distasteful memory, Opty flicked her ear back in momentary discomfort before returning her attention to Chimera again.

((mobile so lol watch for typos)) [/justify]

[justify]"I've never tried cat before, but I'm not one to judge," Opticalillusion said with a short but curt laugh, nodding towards the shrunken feline head clasped between the stranger's jaws. The tortoiseshell walked with impeccable posture, and so despite her diminutive size, she appeared intimidating in her precision. Her short pelt was a deep charcoal, nearing the absoluteness of ebony but refraining from crossing that line, it seemed. The former third tier from another era grinned at the canine, shrugging her shoulders. All clans had an auto-accept policy nowadays, with little to no protocol. She missed the time where one would have to engage in a riveting brawl before getting the OK from superiors to join. Unfortunately, such a thorough process had been eliminated in favor for more efficient and time-sensitive procedures that took the form of no procedure at all. But the daughter of Coppermine was no bureaucrat, no matter how much propensity she had for governing.

"I'm assuming you're here to join, or something? If you don't mind me asking, what led you to pick that particular accessory? I'm referring to the disembodied head. You don't have to speak, just think it and I'll here you, bro." Her telepathy was rusty, and if she used it too frequently, she found her head pounded incessantly in the time following usage. Opticalillusion had loved telepathy before what she had come to call the great excursion. Still, there was no use for broadcasting one's thoughts when one was truly alone. The undiluted solitude she had experienced had greatly impacted her general perspective, allowing it to transition it something that echoed absurdism. Sticking her tongue out as she concentrated on her own interior digression, she forgot about the melanistic African Wild Dog in front of her. "Hm, sorry, I got carried away in my own self-absorption," she said a bit sardonically. Opticalillusion glanced from side to side, her lurid yellow eyes disrupting the peaceful forest green.

(mobile sorry)
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[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:8pt; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; letter-spacing: -.5px; width:450px; margin-top: -10px; text-transform: uppercase;] ILET US GO THEN, YOU AND I, WHEN THE EVENING IS SPREAD OUT AGAINST
THE SKY LIKE A PATIENT ETHERISED UPON A TABLE[/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:10px; text-align:justify; line-height:11px; width:450px; margin-top: -10px;]With soft steps, she approached the border. Her head was down, not because she was frightened but because there was no point in lifting it up. She could see just as well with her nose skimming the ground as she could with it kissing the sky. The daughter of the long deceased Calmstar and the long forgotten Nimblestar, Spiritedpaw should not have been in ShadowClan. She was WindClan royalty, for all intents and purposes, but she had abandoned the moors in favor of something new, perhaps. She had never truly lived as a WindClanner, though the lanky and sinewy frame she inherited dared to say otherwise. Clad in a soft cream fur draped with mackerel markings, Spiritedpaw was nearly identical to her mother. Patches of white obstructed her diluted pigment, but they did not do so carelessly. Her ears swiveled as the sound of a distraught squirrel came to her attention, though she did not turn around to inspect it. Spiritedpaw was not hungry; she was tired.

She had been walking for what felt like weeks, months, years, even. The young feline knew this was not the case, but still found no way to reconcile any of it. Rolling her shoulders forward, a gesture she learned from her mother, Spiritedpaw sat down on what she could only imagine was the ShadowClan border, since it reeked of them. Smelling like nothing other than cat, she did not worry about her imminent acceptance to ShadowClan, unsheathing her claws and allowing her paws to expand. Her eyes, two milky, unseeing things, blinked once before shutting. The afternoon sun tickled her fur and soon she was enveloped by the warmth. Spiritedpaw allowed herself to lounge on her back, legs sticking out above her as the grass stained her pelt. Aside from the humidity, the day was pleasant. Several yards away, a baby bird cried for its mother, hungry. Spiritedpaw winced at the saddening call, burdened with yearning, and fought the urge to think of her own mother, Nim. She could not even remember her parents, and they had both disappeared before she was allotted the opportunity to know them.

Suddenly, Spiritedpaw felt vulnerable. The long-legged cream tabby drew her varying appendages close to her body, not minding the increase in temperature. She rested her chin on her forepaws, a stray leaf brushing against her whiskers. The thin, translucent bands twitched once and then again before falling still. Her tail fell to the ground without protest, and she awaited the arrival of a patrol. Having lived alone for so long, with only her traditionally suffixed name to act as a remanent of clan life, she did not know what to do once said patrol came about. She had not spoken to anyone in a good while, and began to wonder whether she could still choke out her own name. Sometimes, she would go so long without making a sound that, when she finally did, she was taken aback by the presence of her own voice. Solitude, it seemed, was not for everyone. Spiritedpaw inhaled deeply, pale nose awash in the scent of morning dew, though morning had passed long ago. Maybe she was imagining the smell of dew. It was, after all, her favorite perfume.

Spiritedpaw felt truly alone, unable to see the ground before her, or any ground at all. Her lack of sight normally did not bother her, but now, in the unadulterated loneliness that overwhelmed her, it did. But then again, her anxiety about her vision was merely derivative, and it had less to do with her physical state than it did with her mental and emotional. Spiritedpaw huffed, blowing a stream of air out through her nostrils, wondering if it swayed the blades of grass in front of her. In the far distance, she could have sworn she heard a twig snap. Getting clumsily to her feet, Spiritedpaw puffed out her chest, doing what she could to look intimidating. Ultimately, the end result was more pathetic than anything. "Hello?" she called out, somewhat desperate and unheeded. "Is anybody out there?" Spiritedpaw tried to do ensure that her own shock did not display itself on her face. She was not surprised by the noise, but rather by how imposing she felt. Taking a step back, Spiritedpaw frowned, ears poised and eager to pick up even the faintest of sounds.

( ( rushed ) ) [/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:8pt; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; letter-spacing: -.5px; width:450px; margin-top: -10px; text-transform: uppercase;] ILET US GO THEN, YOU AND I, WHEN THE EVENING IS SPREAD OUT AGAINST
THE SKY LIKE A PATIENT ETHERISED UPON A TABLE[/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:10px; text-align:justify; line-height:11px; width:450px; margin-top: -10px;]Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Morbi sit amet ante nec velit euismod accumsan. Donec at ante efficitur, dignissim nisi elementum, condimentum enim. Nullam dictum vitae neque vitae maximus. Nullam bibendum elementum justo non feugiat. Praesent efficitur elementum nisi. Integer sodales mi ut aliquam convallis. Donec porta in quam non dictum. Aenean lobortis purus sapien, ac pellentesque purus vulputate elementum. Suspendisse potenti. Duis non eleifend dui. Pellentesque ex libero, tempus eu egestas eget, posuere id felis. Donec sapien urna, eleifend ut porttitor ut, elementum sed est. Nullam maximus eu nibh non bibendum. Donec a risus id odio consectetur eleifend vel ut turpis.

Phasellus porta consectetur tincidunt. Praesent velit sapien, eleifend consequat quam sed, suscipit sodales dolor. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Maecenas aliquet euismod erat, ut auctor risus tristique id. Quisque nisl nisi, tincidunt et placerat quis, tempor id enim. Sed sem eros, aliquam eget magna in, luctus imperdiet ligula. In sit amet orci auctor, condimentum urna elementum, dictum erat. Phasellus ac augue et erat sollicitudin interdum at sit amet leo. Phasellus et lorem vestibulum, sodales enim at, tristique ipsum. In consequat elit in magna facilisis porttitor a vel augue. Mauris vulputate risus nunc, eget convallis ex vulputate sit amet. Mauris et vestibulum ex, aliquam hendrerit justo. Etiam gravida metus faucibus lorem porttitor, a fringilla magna sollicitudin. Cras dignissim tortor libero, in rutrum dui bibendum in. Donec id arcu ac mauris vestibulum lobortis in quis elit.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:8pt; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; letter-spacing: -.5px; width:450px; margin-top: -10px; text-transform: uppercase;] LET US GO THEN, YOU AND I, WHEN THE EVENING IS SPREAD OUT AGAINST
THE SKY LIKE A PATIENT ETHERISED UPON A TABLE[/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:10px; text-align:justify; line-height:11px; width:450px; margin-top: -10px;]Spiritedpaw found herself drowning in a current of stimulants. So many individuals had surrounded her, she having trouble discriminating the scents. The words of the elder feline reached her first, and the apprentice could not help but scowl. Her irises were a signature watery blue, a color that is indicative of vision impairment. Either the ShadowClanner speaking to her was blind as well, or she was insufferably nonobservant. Still, it was either the sentiment of noblesse oblige or her own discomfort that caused her not to snap and express her irritation. "I don't know if that was supposed to be funny, but I can't see." Spiritedpaw said without levity, allowing her claws to sink into the soft dirt cathartically. She was typically docile, and she had no intention of acting out, especially when her membership hung so precariously in the balance. But Spiritedpaw's vehemence was not to be ignored. But the blind tabby could certainly smell the odorous wound, recoiling at its fetid aroma. The daughter of the two former WindClan leaders made a mental note to stay away from the imposing she-cat.

Then, there was a softer voice, a nervous one with inflections saturated with anxiety. Almost immediately, Spiritedpaw retracted her claws, disarming her round, ivory paws. A smile that attempted to be reassuring spread delicately about her maw, and her tail swam diligently through the air. The tall feline felt the intrinsic need to protect kits in a stronger way than most others. She was compelled to comfort them regardless of levels of familiarity. Spiritedpaw attributed that nuance to her lack of contact with sentient bodies. She was never given the chance to grow up around siblings or experience the more jubilant aspects of life in her permissive lack of an upbringing. Either way, the tentatively spoken words of Yuuka were enough to quell her earlier contention. "My name is Spiritedpaw, and I would like to join ShadowClan." She spoke softly but enunciated with care. "What's your name?" Spirited asked, speaking in the direction of the cream cameo. Her social skills were rusty, surely, but the way in which she addressed Yuuka was tinged with skill.

A repressive, ominous presence loomed some ways from her. Spiritedpaw was born with the Sight, an antiquated but useful power. And while she could not see the luridly colored auras of those around her, she could feel them pressing down on her sides without regard. Hostesscupcakes' aplomb was clear without her doing much of anything aside from existing. Spiritedpaw was no discouraged, though, and figured that if they wanted her dead, she would be dead by now. It seemed like ShadowClanners were not the most talkative, nor were they good conversationalists. Spiritedpaw wondered if she made the right decision by coming here, or if she would have been better off somewhere else. But such a view felt too pessimistic for her liking, and she denied herself the pleasure of turning her back and leaving. Now, though, she was faced with a crowd full of what could only be called conscientious objectors. It was frustrating to be met with a wall of silence, such a mocking thing. "Is that it?" She queried, trying not to let her irritation find its way into her tone.

Spiritedpaw shrugged, shaking her head in both disappointment and disbelief before beginning to trod towards the heart of ShadowClan territory. Maybe she should have waited for a more clear go-ahead, but she did not care. Her stomach was roaring and her bones were aching. If she were suddenly unwelcome, she would retreat back to the empty woods. Spiritedpaw with her esoteric ways was unfazed by her actions, which could have been perceived as impudent or curt. Quite honestly, those two words would be how she described her momentary encounter with ShadowClan's silent brigade. She habitually let her head hang as she walked, not because she felt any impending shame. No, her head simply hung because that was how she walked. Pronounced shoulder blades moving seamlessly with her gait. Spiritedpaw felt something within her knot, and she began to worry profusely about whether or not her decision had been a sound one. In the case that it had not been, where was she to turn? She had no desire to go to WindClan; she had no desire to live in RiverClan; she was too calm to deal with BloodClan's constant fluctuations. It seemed that ShadowClan was her only hope to draw her out of her vagabond ways.

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yeah just like 4+ quality paragraphs a post kinda thing with my character spiritedpaw :3

I can make one, but I won't make both, sorry. So, whichever one of you is willing to make one, I'll make the other.

[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:8pt; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; letter-spacing: -.5px; width:450px; margin-top: -10px; text-transform: uppercase;] LET US GO THEN, YOU AND I, WHEN THE EVENING IS SPREAD OUT AGAINST
THE SKY LIKE A PATIENT ETHERISED UPON A TABLE[/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:10px; text-align:justify; line-height:11px; width:450px; margin-top: -10px;]The crisp spring air was tainted by a pungent, metallic scent. Wrinkling her nose as she drew in a breath, Eolianpaw, formerly Spiritedpaw, rose from where she was seated in the shade of a ticket booth. The newcomer cocked her head quizzically, not that it would aid her in witnessing the commotion. Her thoughts on suicide would most likely make her unpopular. The truth was that she could not care less what others did with themselves, as it was not her position to do so. To impose her own agenda on a given situation was foolhardy and selfish. Eolianpaw resented foolhardy and selfish people, and did what she could to refrain from hypocrisy. Much of her personal philosophy was derived from Camus' school of thought, but she did not feel like digressing at the moment. Instead, vaguely intrigued, she approached the concentrated smell of blood, ivory paws searching for dry ground. Her unseeing eyes stared forward, blinking occasionally, and her ears pivoted to catch the quiet retorts from her unfamiliar clan mates.

Her short cream fur bristled in the wind, but having been born in WindClan, the apprentice was not particularly bothered. Eolianpaw had no idea what situation had served as a catalyst for the ShadowClanner's suicide attempt; and once more, as if to prove it to herself, she reiterated in her thoughts that she did not care. Eolianpaw was here to survive, not befriend those who had difficulty with emotional processing. That being said, the tabby was hardly judgmental, simply apathetic. Her nose brushed against the concrete floor of the amusement park, tickled by a weed. To others, her hunched posture must have looked odd, but it was just how she walked. Unfortunately, in conjunction with her milky eyes, it drew a notable amount of superfluous attention to her. Eolianpaw exhaled quietly, sitting back and draping her tail over her paws. What she found to be the most bothersome about ShadowClan in her short stay was the relative insignificance of actions. An observer, Eolianpaw witnessed countless dramatized interactions that, while they felt grave in the moment of occurrence, lost all relevancy days later. She just did not want to waste her breath. That was how she rationalized her behavior, at least.

"Somebody slit their wrists, I believe." Eolianpaw said with an indifferent nod to whoever had asked the question. Surely if she could figure it out without her sight, the individual who asked that question must have been painfully dull. Eolianpaw scowled, angry that her mood was so sour. She yearned for the happiness that she had felt so many moons ago, back when her mother and father were around. Though, even then, Nimblestar and Calmstar were relatively absent figures in her life. She knew that Nim had been around recently, but it provided less comfort than she expected it would have. Tail twitching, Eolianpaw waited in silence for something to happen. Stacy had the medicinal aspects of the emergency covered, and everyone else was gravitating towards commotion. Still, a question rang inside of her head, not that she would ever dare speak it. She wondered if it were wrong to save the life of somebody who was committing suicide, as if it were not anybody's place to do so. Doing so invalidated the suicide attempt because it inferred that to kill oneself was wrong and that the individual was obviously missing something. Even if that were the case, whose decision was it to make? Where did the autonomy go? Or maybe autonomy was sacrificed when it came to things like these.

[/fancypost]

/rolls to steal briarrose

plsssssssss

[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:8pt; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; letter-spacing: -.5px; width:450px; margin-top: -10px; text-transform: uppercase;] CLANDESTINE HOSTILITY COVER'D OVER
WITH THE NAME OF PEACE[/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:10px; text-align:justify; line-height:11px; width:450px; margin-top: -10px;]If spring was the season for new life to begin, summer was the season for that new life to thrive. A small white figure made its way through dense forest. She had aged considerably since she had been here last, at the youthful age of three months. So perhaps, fittingly so, this was the summer she had been waiting for. Older now, no longer swayed by her father's betrayal, Eigther had no qualms with returning to her home. She was sure nobody she had once known would remain, but she would not have minded a familiar face. After all, considering the time that had passed since she had left, the former healer was certain that ScarC;an had changed. But the way her heterochromatic eyes held onto their ingenuous shine, and her soft pink nose twitched playfully whenever new smells came her way, it was unclear if she had changed along with it. A life of solitude was a life of meditation and rumination. She had had years to dwell on what had transpired many moons before, and while she would never truly move past it, it no longer served to be an immutable obstacle.

And yet as she continued towards the towering castle stained with red, Egg felt something stir within her. The she-cat stopped, suddenly. She looked down at her paws, as if to examine them. For whatever reason, they refused to move. Sighing, Eigther winced at the bitter taste that coated her tongue. She felt queasy, and reluctantly sat down, shuddering as the morning dew chilled her coat. Struck by a feeling of deep loneliness, Egg closed her eyes. Breathing deeply but slowly, the alabaster feline remembered hearing about Jinx's death. Had she heard it from Dreams? Duchess, maybe? Her father? She couldn't remember. What she could recall, though, with perfect accuracy was just how that had impacted her. She remembered how paralyzing the news had been. Her whole world, which had once been populated by vivid hues and joyous sound had become decrepit and hollow. Eigther had found consolation all around, in the face of what she could only call tragedy. But the sorrow she experienced as thoroughly as she had resulted in a passion for healing that manifested itself prodigiously.

Memories of her transition from life as a kitten to life as a healer apprentice were touched by both fondness and grief. They were great times of self-discovery and reinvention, but they were also tremendously trying. Egg was never popular. She could recall having only two true friends--Clownkit and Dreams. They supported her day in and day out, and she was forever grateful for the insulation they provided her. They could not have protected her from some of the things she saw, though. She thought of Duchess' death--an execution carried out by Cavalier. Eigther distinctly recalled the horror with which she watched Cav's aura change from a cheerful purple to a threatening, saturated, red, filled with vehemence and anger and spite. She remembered the words she spoke to him that fateful afternoon, speaking of just how he had changed from someone she wished to emulate to someone she feared. Egg remembered most of all the way her father had come in and expressed how disgusted he was with her as his daughter and as a member of his clan.

She forced her eyes open, unnerved and enervated by the revitalization of the past. She chewed at her lip, knowing that none of it mattered anymore. Nobody who lived in ScarClan--the Dominion--now would have a comprehensive knowledge of her personal history. They would not know that she had not died, but in fact run away to escape the scrupulous criticisms of her father. They would not know anything about her, and that was comforting. It was comforting because she had been so ruthlessly destroyed by the words that rolled off of the tongue of her father, of Cavalier, and her brother, Spartacus, that she did not have the strength, even now, to confront them. To her, they still rang true. Their judgments would always be correct in her mind. She would always be the weakest of them all, unfit for anything more than a meager existence on the outskirts of society. Egg yearned to preserve the mettle she had cultivated while she had been alone. It would not go to waste in the way it had earlier. This time, she would do things properly.

With time, she had grown into herself. Taller, leaner, and more astute than she had been as a child, Eigther thought herself well equipped for whatever the Dominion threw at her. She was sure it would be nothing compared to what she had faced in the past, but that did not mean it would not be formidable. Rising from where she sat, she began to walk once more. Her yellow and blue eyes peered off into the distance, where she could feel the presence of the varying emotions of individuals. They pressed on her, eagerly trying to impose, each wanting their own share of recognition. The Sight was still the only true power she possessed, but it had been her only companion when she was out on her own. A small smile appeared on her maw, complimenting the enthusiasm that reappeared in her gait. The nausea that had plagued her so persistently seemed to vanish, and the former ScarClan healer awaited the presence of a patrol or welcoming committee.

/ew gross im too tired to write lol

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[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:8pt; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; letter-spacing: -.5px; margin-top: -10px; text-transform: uppercase;] CLANDESTINE HOSTILITY COVER'D OVER
WITH THE NAME OF PEACE[/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0;text-align:justify; margin-top: -10px;]_{The serenity of the day was eclipsed by the sheer gravity of the situation. At least, that was how Egg justified taking the physicality of her surroundings for granted. Her one good ear that sat above her chartreuse eye swiveled about, attuned to the multitude of sounds being thrown at her. Attention piqued as soon as the deer made its way over, she found herself awestruck when the seal point spoke. Forgetting the words of the Protector with incidental ease, Egg was captivated by Crackedplaster’s claim to affinity. Jaws parted, Eigther’s astonishment was conveyed quite obviously. The former healer focused intently, doing what she could to remember the past in harrowing detail, replaying certain scenes mercilessly as if to inculcate her forgotten self into her present one. Inundated with nostalgia once more, Eigther drew in a sharp breath.}

_Genevieve.

_{There was a time when Eigther had resigned herself to do nothing but heal. Dark as that time had been, it had a certain admirable duality. Despite the intense feelings of worthlessness, Egg had studied her craft with the greatest care. She had been overtly passionate, and spent whatever time she could immersed in her own world. Healing was her gift. The feline’s pallid coat bristled with momentary excitement as her memory was restored. She could almost hear Margo’s frantic words echoing in her ear, and Egg swore she could still the smell the lavender she had used to lower Genevieve’s temperature. Lavender was always her favorite herb, but it seemed it was also the most notable, too. Reflecting back to the way she had maneuvered through the situation, the she-cat smiled proudly. It was a justified pride, though, not an unfortunate derivative of egotistical mentality.}

_{Eigther owed her recollection to her devotion to healing. Without it, the seal point’s significance would have been lost on her. Seeing somebody from her past so abruptly was dubious yet rewarding, for whatever reason. She had no idea what to say. She felt gratitude, but it was so unwarranted she was unsure whether or not expressing it would be appropriate. After all, Genevieve—Crackedplaster—had not come to greet a joiner with the intention of reuniting with a quondam acquaintance. Taking a step to bring her small form a bit closer to Crackedplaster, she mumbled something so softly not even she could hear it. Egg had not formed words, rather she had muttered something incoherent for the sake of it. The silence felt burdensome, and Eigther felt partly responsible for alleviating it and mitigating the tension. ”You look like you’re feeling better. I think this is the first time I’ve seen you conscious for an extended period of time,” Egg said, tail flicking. She smiled. ”Yeah, wow, I mean—I’ve gotten bigger. And I know we weren’t really friends or anything, but you don’t know how good it is to see you. Genev—Crackedplaster, it’s been years.” Grasping for words of more weight and aplomb, Egg stepped back, shaking her head as if in denial. She was delighted, frightened, and confused. Did Crackedplaster know the context of her disappearance? Did she know the fate of Clownkit? Did she know what happened to Spartacus?}

_{It took all of her effort not to ask the questions as they appeared in her mind. Egg needed to acclimate, and that would not happen overnight. The answers would come in time, and that she had plenty of. ”I’m returning home, yes. And it seems like it’s going to be more like home than I thought it would be. I just mean that you’re here, and, well, I thought I was going to have to start fresh.” Clearly, Eigther was confounded. Contradicting emotions raged and fluctuated within her. Surely, though, she could rationalize Crackedplaster’s presence. She knew that, in the end, she was glad she was there. She just needed to adjust. Several other members of the Dominion gathered around her static figure, but they said nothing, so she said nothing. Instead, she waited.}

_{As if the universe was humoring her, she made out the approach of a once stagnant aura. It was an aura that belonged to someone as torn as she was; it was an aura that belonged from yet another old friend, if she could call him that. Cavalier immediately refuted the reprieve she had hesitatingly associated with Crackedplaster’s emergence. She thought of everything the former leader had done, both to her and to her friends. The soft, tentative sound of her nickname resonated eerily in the summer air. At first, she did not dare to meet his odd gaze. Instead, she looked forebodingly at her paws, not daring to face somebody so controversial. But how could she not? Egg raised her chin, making it clear that she was no longer the same hopeless kitten he had known her to be. Resilient and driven, Eigther had no incentive to comply with whatever raucous doctrines Cavalier intended on implementing. She shut her mouth, a hard line replacing open curiosity. Anger boiled under her skin, and she unsheathed her claws subtly and rightfully.}

_{Of all the things that she had thought about in her time away, the exchanges that had occurred between herself and the former leader were what she dreaded the most. It was clearly necessary for her to review their dynamic, though, and no matter how much resentment she expressed towards what transpired, she could do nothing but be a spectator to the past. Bitterness haunted her features, and she felt aggressive. Maybe now was the opportunity to say all that she should have said before. ”You’ve lost the right to call me that.” Changed soul or not, Cavalier’s integrity was solely dependent on whether or not he attempted to right his wrongs. They had both lost mothers, something that Egg thought should have brought them together. They had both been promoted at a young, arguably inappropriate age. They were both susceptible to the judgments of the older high-positions, which were often cruel and presumptuous. They should have been closer, considering all that they endured separately.}

_{She stared at Cavalier, knowing that he had shed his dignity long ago. Maybe he was desperate for it to return. Egg pitied him as he stood before her. She wondered if she should forgive him—allow bygones to be bygones. Shouldn’t she be glad that yet another familiar face had appeared? But to do so would discredit her own morality. Eigther was frustrated at her inability to move on. She wanted the complications of the past to remain there. How could she allow herself to simply ignore Cavalier’s vices, though? She could not. Sighing, she frowned. They would talk but not now. ”We could have been great, y’know. Really, I mean it. And I will forever mourn the loss of what could have been, but I can’t torture myself with possibility. I’m better than that. I thought a lot about how you treated me and everyone other than Col and Sparty. I did, I swear. I thought so much about it that it sickens me. I can’t stand to play the events through my head anymore. You were rotten, corrupted, and terrible. I hope you never know the joy of forgiveness; I hope your actions haunt you forever and constantly instill some higher morality within you. In fact, I’d go so far to say that that I hope you can never truly trust yourself and stand behind your actions with genuine conviction, so you’re always wondering if you’ve done the right thing. But, then again, maybe I should thank you for being horrid. If you hadn’t been, I wouldn’t be saying all of this to you now.}

_{“Honestly, I don’t know what to do with you. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hate you. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad you were here. I don’t know if I can reconcile your actions from before with who I’ll find you to be now. I’m quite confused, and I’m sure you are, too.” Egg had a propensity for delivering eloquent monologues, it seemed. She sat down, looking from face to face, waiting for a response.}

[/fancypost]

[justify]^{Eigther really hated fighting. She thought it was dumb. It was a childish take on a matter as far from childish as conceivably possible. Fighting was communication for the inarticulate and the impatient. Thusly, she found it crass. The Dominion had abolished the healer rank, which irritated the former healer beyond belief. It seemed senseless. What? Were they so placated that they never engaged in fights anymore? Who would heal the wounds of the warriors? Egg shook her head in disgust, which was something she hardly did. Since her joining, the white she-cat had gathered a pouch of herbs, spending too much time searching for obscure remedies to equally obscure diseases. Maybe, she though, people just did not get sick anymore. After all, a small cold was no match for a cat that could breathe fire. Egg did not have to hear the yowls of discomfort and contention to know that something was going on. Even within the tall walls of the castle, the feline could feel the tension. The Sight more than compensated for her deaf ear. Slowly rising to her paws, she grabbed her bag of herbs and made her way out towards the commotion, as nonchalant as possible.}

^{The last time she had found herself in the midst of a battle she had been several months old, new to medicine, and frightened of anything larger than a ladybug. Reviewing the common sentiment that, of course, death waits for no one, Egg rolled her odd eyes and padded over the eolian stone. She felt the divots and nuances that were too insignificant to notice with the naked eye and were instead only appreciated when directly instigated. She gave a halfhearted scowl, turning to Haushinka but refusing to antagonize her physically. Her feelings regarding Cavalier were mixed. Grudges were exhausting, pointless, never-ending. She had said too much to him to simply give in to laziness and pettiness. Eigther contemplated waiting for a several more days, extending her silence and indifference towards him. His apology had been sincere, and she knew it had been. She had watched the difficulty with which he had spoken it, and the observed the candor of his aura. And, in the face of her indecision, Cav was in trouble. Once again she saw him as the eclectic blue tabby kitten he had been before all of this, two years prior.}

^{Standing on the sidelines was a waste of time, Egg realized. Determined to at least assist in damage control, Eigther pulled out a wad of gauze she had salvaged from a deteriorated first aid kit, grabbing some marigold as well. A skilled medic, Eigther found the battleground to be as disgusting as it was amazing. It required quick thinking and decent analysis. Egg believed she had the capacity to do both well. Clearing her throat delicately, she dropped her supplies and kicked her bag off behind her. "If anybody needs medical attention, let me know," she spoke as loudly as she could muster, vocal chords straining to maintain such a high volume for an extended period of time. She glanced at Caviar, worried and conflicted. She would help him if he were injured, but she was unsure if he knew this. Eigther had been unwittingly cold towards him, treating him as if he were a pest. The treatment was warranted, but it still felt inherently wrong. Biting her lip to deter her nerves, she walked deeper still into the fight.}

^{Most clans operated under a certain ethical code, even if it was an unspoken one: leave the medicine cats alone. From what she gathered, medicine cats were mostly obsolete. In battle, though, injuring even a recreational healer seemed to be frowned upon. But maybe Egg was delusional. It would not be the first time she thought such a thing. In the case that she was a viable target for a BloodClanner's attack, she was screwed. Sinewy as she may have been, Egg had never been trained to fight. She knew the basics, and under her father's former rule, it was imperative that every member of ScarClan could defend themselves. She had no confidence in that aspect of herself, though. Unsheathing her claws, something she did only rarely, Egg picked up her marigold and gauze again, looking for anybody who needed care. A lump formed in her throat as she watched Crackedplaster take on a plethora of foes--certainly too many for any one individual to handle. It was important to remember that most BloodClanners possessed every power possible and honed them until using each was as natural as using a paw.}

^{She felt her tooth poke through her lip, and winced in pain. A bitten lip was nothing in comparison a legitimate battle wound, though. In the distance, the verdant horizon mocked the crimson field. For the briefest moment, she cursed the forest, willing it away. The horrific sounds that emanated all around were enough to distract Egg from her distaste, and she returned her attention to the Dominion.}

^{//ew rushed} [/justify]

[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:10pt; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; letter-spacing: -.5px; width:450px; margin-top: -10px; text-transform: uppercase;]Orange's art shop

＼(◎o◎)／ A journey[/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:8pt; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; letter-spacing: -.5px; width:400px; margin-top: -10px;]❊ Ok, fun fact, I've never done this before, so I'm not entirely sure how to set an art shop up. Luckily, losty gave me some kinda decent advice.

HERE IS ME STUFF

HERE IS ME PRICE

ummmm ok so i guess for a headshot is 350,000 s
for full body, the price is 1,000,000 s.

please pay when I accept your order. if you're unsatisfied, you'll get a refund <3

HERE IS ME FORM

[/fancypost]

[justify]^{Somehow, Cavalier, Crackedplaster, and Eigther all felt right together. A trifecta to strive for--that's what they were. Together, they shared memories of a different time, a simpler one. Egg would not feign ambivalence; she made it quite clear she was glad both constituents were present. While her feelings towards Cavalier churned with complexities that even she was hesitant to try and understand, the she-cat was more confident when it came to her perception of Crackedplaster. There was something bittersweet about the situation she had found herself in. Her home was still her home, though now it went under a different name. Her father was gone. Dreams and Duchess were gone. Clownkit was gone. Sparty was gone. It was just the three of them now, and whether she liked it or not, they were going to be the closest thing she had to a family. So it was with notable trepidation that she approached the sparring domestics, watching the two renowned fighters lunge outward with enthusiasm.}

^{Without an official medic rank, Egg felt relatively useless. She found fighting deplorable when it was superfluous, and had never learned to properly defend herself. Eigther justified her presence at the spar by convincing herself that she needed to learn some more, not that either participant was exuding wisdom or knowledge. Her lips turned down, pursed slightly to convey her hesitance. The air whisked around her with enviable ease, and she was thankful that her pelt was short. Evidently, the superficial thought only lasted a moment before it, too, was evacuated from her mind. The sound of scuffling paws on the old ground was enough to distract Egg from any worthwhile introspection. She watched how the blue tom and the seal point moved, noting that it looked like a sickening dance. There was a precision involved that could not be appreciated until seen from an impartial distance. Eigther, well aware that neither Cavalier nor Crackedplaster was in true danger, had her ever-present satchel of herbs faithfully at her side. Slipping the pouch from her shoulder, she lay it before her so it was easily accessible.}

^{The most intriguing part of the sparring was the capriciousness of their auras. Once the looming threat of battle was successfully removed, it allowed for individuals' actual emotions to bleed through. It was, to some extent or another, indicative of how one reacted to variable situations while under duress. The pale feline yawned, smiling embarrassingly subsequently. The former healer rolled back her shoulders, continuing to peer at the duo. She could not help but think back to Duchess' death. She realized that her dislike of fighting may have found its origins in that single death. It seemed inevitable that she would revisit that fateful day. She wondered if Cav had any compunction, or if he had forgotten her entirely. Eigther had witnessed one of Duchess' suicide attempts, having picked a lovely wildflower just moments beforehand. Thoughts of Duchess and her specificities led to thoughts of Dreams and Liberty and Hestia. Part of what Cavalier and Crackedplaster's presence resulted in was frequent rumination on those she had lost. It was deceptive, really. She would see either of them out of the corner of her eye, and then expect to turn around and face the diminutive form of Clownkit, who would be babbling about some new fact he found endlessly fascinating.}

^{"Be careful," Egg spoke softly from where she sat. She did not want to distract either party from their activity, but she also wanted to relieve any potential worry. At this point in all of their lives, they deserved at least that much. Even if they were not best friends and even if they certainly did not share opinions, Eigther could be quite certain that they were not keen on stress. They had been stressed enough at a point where it was manageable, anticipated even. But now, living amongst strangers, Eigther found stress to be an unwelcome and unrewarding stranger. It did not come with her job, nor did it accompany family drama. She had no valid reason to feel the weight of the world resting squarely on her shoulders; she did not want one. Something caught her attention while she gazed haphazardly at the tumultuous clashing figures ahead of her. It was bright, and it was flying. Eigther knew what it was--a lone butterfly. She felt something incite within her that she could have sworn was gone. She immediately shed whatever baggage she toted, rising to her paws to gaze upward. The butterfly left as quickly as it had come, leaving Egg breathless and awestruck.}

^{Nobody else had noticed the beautiful insect, navigating the skies on translucent wings. Sitting back down, she found that the elation had not yet died down. Her heart fluttered and her blood raced through her veins, despite her sedentary state. Perhaps this was the excitement that Crackedplaster and Cav experienced so fully when they fought, even when they sparred. If so, then Egg could understand why they endured hardship after hardship. Aside from patriotism, something else had to drive any warrior. Eigther did not open her mouth to inquire as to their motivations, and reveled in her silent victory, not caring whether her assumption was correct.}

^{/falls asleep on keyboard} [/justify]

emerycutieface wrote:

ORANGE, HERE IS ME FORM:
what kind of doodle would you like? (headshot or full body}: full body
description of character: triped hyena / fox hybrid, basically fox with striped hyena mane nad tructure, green eyes, and little goatee thing (Face in avatar) red acents.
a reference would be grand:
if ordering a fully body doodle, what pose would you like, preferably?: something SEXY
anything else?: I LOVE YOu

Display More

[img width=510 height=505]http://i62.tinypic.com/25alw5k.png[/img]

/cries idk how to canine but i hoPE IT'S WHAT YOU WANTED NUKABBY <3 ok but yeah

it turned out silly not sexy my apologies but yay whateveR

/rolls in && tracks

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; font-size: 7pt; text-align: justify; line-height: 13px;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; padding: 0px; font-family: cambria; font-size: 20pt; letter-spacing: -1px; text-transform: uppercase; float: left; HEY MODIFY THAT WIDTH! ->; WIDTH: 200PX; <- HEY MODIFY THAT!; height: 20px; padding-top: 6px;]EOLIANSKIES[/fancypost]female – cream tabby w/ white - telepathy – the sight – 18 months - medium – daughter of nimblestar and calmstar - blind [hr]
There was a certain melancholy etched across her features as she returned to WindClan’s unfamiliar territory. Perhaps return is the wrong word, then. She had never truly lived here. WindClan was her home for hardly five moons. Yet she felt out of place everywhere else she went. Eolianskies could do nothing but blame it on her stature—tall and lean with an angular structure all around. Distinctly WindClan, one could say. Of course, now there was no such thing as “distinctly WindClan;” it was a milieu crowded with variation too difficult and bothersome to care about. Though she knew this may have been an elitist sentiment, she could not help but derive satisfaction from its affirmation. Lacking prejudice, she had no issue with the state of things but instead experienced a prolonged sense of nostalgia that itched and weathered her away.

Joining ShadowClan had been pointless. As she made her way through the abandoned city of Chicago, Eolianskies’ stoic expression failed to change. Jaded by past experience, she doubted that WindClan would be any better. Still, she felt she needed to try. For her mother and father, maybe. No, that was a petty excuse. She did not want to rejoin her birth clan for her parents, not exclusively. Eolianskies desired to belong somewhere she could belong without the perpetual fear of falling into insignificance. Certainly, though, her indifference prevented her from truly bonding with those she encountered, only expediting her nightmare and ensuring its fulfillment.The daughter of the two former WindClan leaders sighed, stumbling slightly on an overgrown weed peeking through the concrete. She had never been in a city before, not that it mattered. She saw nothing. Haphazardly, the feline used the Sight to get a glimpse of the afterlife here. Her eyes stared immutably forward, unseeing, as they searched for a spiritual presence. Not religious, Eolianskies found that her own non-secular preference had no influence on the dead. Their souls wandered about regardless of if she cared to see them.

The cream tabby continued through the inconsistent foliage, a low-hanging branch occasionally brushing against her back. The scent of two-legs was stale and too inconsequential to be dissuasive. Even if it were dissuasive, Eolianskies did not know if she would mind. Who was to say that one fate was better than another. A rusty nail rolled under one of her paws, and she had not been paying enough attention to hear it’s soft tinny sound. So when she stepped on it, the first thing she did was let out an enraged slew of curses. Suddenly, the metallic smell of her own blood wafted towards her. Irate and impatient, she hurriedly continued her walk to WindClan, leaving a single, smeared, crimson stain in her wake. Eolianskies grew up with three sisters who were medicine cats, and a mother whose best friend was a healer, as well. The she-cat had more dire problems to solve than an open wound. Plus, it was one of the only ones she was comfortable addressing.

Finally, she got to a point where she was too uncomfortable to persevere. With a grim look of frustration, she lowered herself to the ground, tail swinging idly. Sedentary, she awaited the arrival of a WindClanner.

[align=center][size=6pt]template (c) olivan[hr][/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; font-size: 7pt; text-align: justify; line-height: 13px;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; padding: 0px; font-family: cambria; font-size: 20pt; letter-spacing: -1px; text-transform: uppercase; float: left; HEY MODIFY THAT WIDTH! ->; WIDTH: 200PX; <- HEY MODIFY THAT!; height: 20px; padding-top: 6px;]EOLIANSKIES[/fancypost]female – cream tabby w/ white - telepathy – the sight – 18 months - medium – daughter of nimblestar and calmstar - blind [hr]
She had just joined WindClan. Unable to see the gradual change from forest to city, Eolianskies, too, had been taken aback by the rough, gritty feeling of the sidewalks. It was a harsh environment, yet it was fittingly so. The buildings that imposed their rigid silhouettes upon the sky and the incongruities of droll pavement made the general atmosphere of WindClan adopt an unwelcoming air. Eolianskies was the first to admit she was more cynical than most, and that she owed such a trait to a lifetime of disappointments. But indulgent self-pity was too pathetic for her liking. She would not pretend, though, that she liked the city's claustrophobic anatomy; this was not the WindClan she had grown up in. She missed the moorland, it was where she had thrived. Reminiscing as she thought of chasing rabbits with her mother all those years ago was enough to distract her from the consistent but dull throbbing in her forepaw, where she had stepped on a nail.

Hearing voices in the near distance, she made her way towards their sources. The sound that echoed off the sharp angles and abandoned underpasses all around her and the potency of an individual's emotion was enough to compensate for her lack of visual stimulation. Her whiskers quivered as she sniffed the air, discriminating between the varying beings present. Eolianskies dipped her head in silent greeting as she walked forward, stopping several feet in front of the tortoiseshell kitten. The placidity of her face was dictated by the sheer ambivalence she was currently experiencing. For as dark a world without light was, a stagnant mind was even darker. At risk of implosion, Eolianskies feared boredom more than anything. Boredom could only be reached if one permitted entertainment, so the feline was determined to remain in her apathy to deter such happenings. Even more sensibly, she had no idea how long she would stay in her birth clan--maybe a year, maybe only a few more hours. It was all contingent upon the impressions people made. She wanted to like it here. She wanted to like it for the sake of legacy, but legacy was not reason enough.

Saying and projecting nothing, Eolianskies lifted her chin to relieve the pressure that had built up in her spine. Shifting her weight to alleviate more discomfort, she winced when it fell on her injured paw. Recomposing herself as quickly as she could manage, she tossed her head back to lick a patch of fur, for the mere sake of keeping herself occupied. She rarely succumbed to embarrassment, but in a new clan, surrounded by strangers, she felt she had no choice but to feel it. Gauging the general gravity of the situation with the Sight, the daughter of the former WindClan leaders inhaled slowly, reveling in the feeling of the cool air passing through her slightly parted jaws. Such elation was transient and fleeting, but she enjoyed it when she could afford to. Refusing to contribute to the exchange just yet, Eolianskies waited for the kitten to respond to the words and questions of the others.

//mobile grosssssss

[align=center][size=6pt]template (c) olivan[hr][/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; font-size: 7pt; text-align: justify; line-height: 13px;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; padding: 0px; font-family: cambria; font-size: 20pt; letter-spacing: -1px; text-transform: uppercase; float: left; HEY MODIFY THAT WIDTH! ->; WIDTH: 200PX; <- HEY MODIFY THAT!; height: 20px; padding-top: 6px;]EOLIANSKIES[/fancypost]female – cream tabby w/ white - telepathy – the sight – 18 months - medium – daughter of nimblestar and calmstar - blind [hr]
"It is a pity that rationality has escaped us." Eolianskies thought, sharing it with whomever cared to hear it. She was careful with her voice; she granted no one the privilege of hearing it. There was something to the voice, something personal and intrinsically unique, that hindered her from doing so. Instead, she utilized her telepathy. It made things easier, as well. Her temperament could not have differed more from that of her parents. Both had been charismatic and warm, and while her mother angered quicker than her father, their interpersonal skills were strongly developed. Yet here she stood, a crude line of a mouth pulled into neither a scowl nor a smile, unfazed by the medic intern's vehemently asinine commentary. She did not share Polaris' consternation, and never would, if she could help it. Eolianskies prided herself on her ability to control--manipulate, even--a given situation. It was a trade that required tranquility, something that was refuted by such frivolous outbursts.

While not what she would qualify as a pacifist, she thought violence was an insufficient means to an end. When one resorted to violence, they engage themselves and the other party in a series of pointless acts of aggression spurred by nothing in particular. In her mind, violence was only used when the cause was superfluous. Violence is violence is violence. A good cause warranted more that hapless raids or wars; a good cause was something not worth fighting for but worth speaking for. Only commendable agendas employed logic. Everything else was a waste of time. Eolianskies' opinion was unpopular, that much she knew. She found it as valid as any other, though, if not more. The tall cream tabby sprinkled with white felt the simmering anger of Creeksong and Rhys with little trouble. The blind WindClanner was not here to placate or pacify anybody. She was not a babysitter. She was merely, in her own eyes, less easily swayed by ephemeral moods. The dynamics of the situation that unfolded before her were enough to keep her intrigued from afar, eliminating the need for her to express any genuine results of pensive mindsets.

Eolianskies found the lividness of these emotions especially fascinating, and allowed herself to be immersed in them fully before neglecting the Sight. A contented sigh escaped her, and she continued to stand still. Some wind came along, but it was insignificant. It was a warm wind, the product of a particularly warm day. The sun refused to retire, but Eolianskies enjoyed the way it hugged her pelt. For as impassive as she chose to remain, she was hardly a pessimist. "It is said that those who curse without a care are the least articulate of them all." She thought, once again sharing it with all those in her vicinity, but commenting specifically on the conduct of Creeksong and Rhys.

//mobile ew ew ew

[align=center][size=6pt]template (c) olivan[hr][/fancypost]

/CRIES OMG

IM RPING NIM'S KID
AND SHE'S A BUTT BUT I BASED HER KINDA OFF GRAV
CAN THEY MEET PLS
/GOES TO BUY TIME CONTROL