Posts by ICARUS.`

^{❝ oh, i wonder what it’s like to be the type who doesn’t burn ❞}

^{✧ / mobile}

^{Louis's voice was familiar. He guessed, much like Evelyn, he held a lot of distaste for BloodClan and their father. The brief time Icarus had known the infamous leader, however, he had grown to respect the grizzled tabby. There were moments shared between them, and times he had tried to console whatever ailed the old man. Those were times many of them had not witnessed, had not had their heartstrings exposed to, and thus, would not understand.}

^{He did not blame those who feared his father. He looked like a monster, but only Ike and a few others seemed to know his heart was gold. Despite his sinister aura, the son had learned to overlook his father's flaws.}

^{He did blame those of BloodClan who despised him and his siblings, however, and especially for their heritage. Icarus looked over from where he laid, picking his most recent kill clean, and narrowed his eyes. The colossal narrowed his diamond oculars, letting out a snake's hiss toward the NPC along the lines of, "Don't you dare step on my brother's tail ever again."}

^{❝ oh, i wonder what it’s like to be the type who doesn’t burn ❞}

^{✧ / please do not post if your cat isnt in the prophecy plot, thanks!! if you wanna join in go here: anyone interested in doing a prophecy plot for the site-wide plot?}

^{Icarus's paws were weary. It was hard to believe he had truly received a dream, something his brother had shared in one way or another, and like the adventurous tyros they were, Icarus had set off. It was more so out of curiosity that it was real, not a belief that he had some higher calling. BloodClan was not a religious place, and the name of StarClan had never crossed the tabby's mind. How could he when he was busy trying to protect his family?}

^{On his trek, everything seemed to point him in the right direction. Even the passing crow seemed to caw at him in confirmation, as if offering direction to a lost traveler, though any stray birds' squawks would be long left behind as he departed BloodClan territory.}

^{It would be the full moon in only a few days' time, yet it was still waxing for now. The lopsided figure illuminated the clearing of fourtrees. He emerged from the shadows ominously, awaiting the appearance of more. My dream mentioned cats ... cats of the forest and mountains. Was this where he would meet the other Clans?}

^{❝ oh, i wonder what it’s like to be the type who doesn’t burn ❞}

^{✧ Their words toward he and his brother made his fur bristle. "Me and my brother are only 6 moons old and we have never even dreamed of being murderers, don't be ridiculous ..." To be fair, he had never met the other Clans. How were Cy and him supposed to know better when they were not even allowed at Gatherings?}

^{It seemed Mink was the only responsible adult here, and already it seemed she was taking the prophecy's lead. Icarus was happy to follow. "Our Clan is not full of ... murderers, but we are vicious, especially from the heat and lack of food." Were the other Clans not facing similar struggles due to the unrest? Well, BloodClan was quite a rag-tag group, after all. He had to admit that some of them were more cruel than others; meanwhile, the rest of them were just trying to get by in one piece.}

^{"And ... I'm afraid I'm not sure what, erm, StarClan is. Are they coming, too?" He blinked his blue orbs, confused. "My dream ... all I remember is that a cat with stars for fur said ... they said, 'Out of the wilting land, cats from every forest and mountain will bloom forth ...' and then, I think, 'their journeys intertwined with the survival of their homelands.'" He peered at the others meekly, lowering his head. Was he not supposed to have the dream? Then why had he received it? None of this was making much sense ...}

^{❝ oh, i wonder what it’s like to be the type who doesn’t burn ❞}

^{✧ The bickering as well as the confusion was making the boy's head spin at this point. All these Clan cats spoke of StarClan ... was that something his Clan did not believe in? Whatever the case, and whatever they were, in the moment they were very real to Icarus. From what he could tell, to them, they were ... their ancestors, it seemed? Or maybe just ghosts?}

^{But if it took dead cats to guide them, the forest must have been in trouble. For a moment, he thought of Pearl, his mother who had passed only a little less than a moon ago.}

^{He knew, in that moment, he would have to provide a BloodClanner's perspective. "I agree with the ... the ShadowClanner," he spoke once more, the Clans still unfamiliar on his tongue. "This is a matter of life or death for all of us. If we don't work together to somehow stop the drought, every cat regardless of if they are of a Clan or Tribe or even rogue will die." He paused for a moment -- what could they do about it, truly?}

^{"I suspect that ... the matter is because of twolegs." He was biased. He hated twolegs just about as much as he hated dogs. If dogs were the reason his mother died, then twolegs were simply accomplices to the crime. "It seems so strange and sudden for it not to be because of them. I think that's what these, um ... dead cats, StarClanners, are trying to tell us.}

^{"It might not be twolegs though. It could even be that StarClan doesn't even know why, and we're supposed to search for the cause and stop the heat that's occurring."}

^{❝ oh, i wonder what it’s like to be the type who doesn’t burn ❞}

^{✧ Icarus, while often more polite, could not help but agree. BloodClan was barbaric. Death, fights, and squabbles were commonplace, and there was no law to stop them. Often it was simply an "intervene if you want to" policy, but most cats could not say they could. The brutes that could survive often held authority, and the weak were trampled in their wake.}

^{"Manners are a ... foreign concept here, I guess," he murmured to Louis, eyeing the crowd he had drawn to himself. It seemed being assertive was less valued than the inability to have a thick skin. That wasn't a surprise, though; many BloodClanners seemed to fear being weak, being vulnerable. How else could they seclude themselves from the hellish landscape other than masking their pain? Even Icarus did it; of course, he understood the concept quite well. And he would continue practicing it.}

^{❝ oh, i wonder what it’s like to be the type who doesn’t burn ❞}

^{✧ Icarus was, under normal circumstances, a gentle giant. He held no fascination for violence, as far as anyone could tell. He was often a yes man, though, offering to protect others if needed. He proved his worth often, and frequently. As it turned out, that was his main objective: power; power to protect those he loved.}

^{But with power comes great responsibility. Was he evil; did he enjoy torturing random strangers? No, but if he had to, so be it. This was for the good of BloodClan; besides, he didn't have to kill them, thankfully. Ike knew he wasn't a murderer; yes, he would never dare kill anyone. These kittypets, well, they were getting what they deserved, according to Sinclair.}

^{"Probably not, but feel free to tell me anything you think is important, I guess." He sheathed and unsheathed his claws, the reinforced ones scratching against the hard concrete beneath his paws.}

^{❝ oh, i wonder what it’s like to be the type who doesn’t burn ❞}

^{✧ / my bf visited for a week so i was gone for a while, this post just explains ike's absence -- tw: for starvation and also vomit is kinda ew so yeah}

^{Upon bones that jutted all over hung an empty rag of brown-and-white -- a mere remnant of the once great tabby. The tragedy had not occurred all at once, of course; the heat had gone on for a while. For BloodClan, however, that was normal. The territory was unforgiving, shelter was minimal, and the elements ravaged cats all the time. They were a Clan of survivors. Titans did not bat an eyelash at the qualms of the meek.}

^{Yet the meek had been affected. As the food pyramid dictates, as the grass wilted and the cicadas ceased chirping; when water grew scarce and dead rodents littered the streets; when the trash, reeking of expiration and rot, seemed like the most prized possession for an appetite, BloodClan was not safe from the catastrophe. Ike was no different; and since he couldn't eat or hunt, most of his time was spent sleeping under the sun's unforgiving scorch. However, he eventually left to seek out something (anything) to eat. Icarus remembered a time where he had been repulsed at the idea of eating twoleg trash; now, here he was, at his last resort and only option.}

^{A neat shiny bag of plastic hung from his jaws as he galloped back from his jaunt, a crazed glee in his eyes. As soon as his paws crashed in a rough embrace against the train station lobby, his pink, soft, bony pads scuffing against its surface, his fangs struck gold. Within it was a hunk of black, yellow, and dark red: a fossil left behind of what had once been meat. The rotten delicacy, despite the way it made his eyes water, went down the hatch with ease. His stomach, tight, stinging, and hollow, was more than happy to welcome the sketchy meal into its clutches.}

^{As soon as the meat settled, however, a sickening feeling hit him. His mind began to reel, the station spinning around him, and he felt almost like he was being ripped from his own body. He crashed against the rough flooring beneath him, holding himself up only by his paws. Nausea crawled up his throat like a centipede, and he was possessed by pain. "StarClan, help me ..." he murmured, wondering if this -- this moment, this tragedy, this last stand against the city and its twolegs and its canines -- if this would be it. Who knew, in his time of weakness, he would hang his hopes on that old wives' tale of StarClan?}

^{But then the meat excavated from his growling belly, ejecting onto the pavement with a splat. A gruesome puddle of desperation stained the floor, the poisonous bag of twoleg trash standing idly by as if to laugh, I told you so. Before Icarus finally slipped away, he wondered why this was all happening to him. It had only been a few moons ago he had been a comfy kittypet, and even still he had become a strong Clan cat. Now, he was nothing. In the ashes of his phoenix his muscles had deteriorated to nothing leaving only bones, matted fur, and an overall skeleton left behind in the drought's wake. Even he wasn't the same, mostly apathetic to the world and only focused on food. With how weak he was, he could not even chase prey or kill rats.}

^{The tom blacked out, his worn frame hardly making a thud against the ground, and his collar - once snug - now hung loosely against his neck.}