in the midnight hour // {Monarchpaw?}

[alice?!]

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[atrb=background,http://i43.tinypic.com/14l682o.jpg] [scrolly:h(188),w(189),sy] He shouldn't be awake right now. Really, he knew that Slittedwing would probably want him in the morning to help her gather the necessary things they would need. While Green-leaf was in full swing now, the harsh leaf-fall and leaf-bare could never be far from the Medicine Cats' minds. Still, he couldn't sleep. He found that he was restless most nights, when he and Monarchpaw were young, he remembered whispering well into the night. Jadestorm would admonish them with a quiet but steeped-with-affection voice, but would pretend to ignore their 'stealthy' attempts at continuing whatever conversation was so important. Now, he supposed he should be used to the fact that it wasn't happening anymore -- but sometimes it startled him how far apart they had grown. It wasn't even that far really, just that other priorities had cropped up in both their lives. The clan came first now. He was restless when he didn't know what to do, Harepaw had always been the one to talk about feelings, and now that she was so busy... he couldn't be sure she'd want to hear about his insecurities. He missed her. The excess stress made his leg ache. It was probably in his head, he knew -- but that didn't make the tingling any less, the crawling feeling that woke him just when he'd begun to sink into unconsciousness. He paced. Oddly enough -- the motion eased the tension, loosened it in the slightest -- perhaps odd, since usually it ached with overuse. He didn't question it though, because with the pain easing he really didn't care. Eventually, the pain had all but faded -- though the restlessness was another matter. He settled himself, hunched near the tiny nest he'd made himself out of the view of the camp guards. While they might not admonish him, he doesn't want to risk it just yet. The moon isn't full above him -- somewhere stuck in between new and half, as if it almost can't decide. He knows it's not true -- but it scatters his thoughts from somber things. The wonky moon's light casts it's pale blue light over their barren camp, turning the soft golds and browns all around him to bright silver, his own pelt is awash with it's color -- tan turned to a glinting grey and his once creamy chest is now a near blinding white. His posture his hunched, his shoulders curled inward -- a classic stance he takes when he is alone -- bending under a pressure that sometimes feels like it will suffocate him. Harepaw can't even pinpoint exactly what it is, only that he feels he is floundering beneath something he cannot escape on his own. His first helping hand his dead, and his second? Too preoccupied with her new warrior life to have time for moping Harepaw. He knows, deep down -- that this is the furthest thing from the truth, but it was his decision to spend his life under Slittedwing's instruction that set their separation in motion. Perhaps he is at fault for the divide he feels is ever widening. If possible, shoulders buckle more with this new revelation, no matter how untrue. Perhaps that is why his Monarchpaw is so cherished, because she cuts through those layers and layers of thought like they didn't exist and pulling him from his self-induced depression, telling him what's what and setting him on his way. He knows he needs that now, just can't ask for it. He would never ask. It's slow, and short and bleh. But I'm kind of happy with it and hesitant that I'm making him to depressed instead of just overly thoughtful... Bold, italics , underlined [/scrolly]

[` hatter !]

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[atrb=background,http://i376.photobucket.com/albums/oo205/wowee333/MONARCHMIDDLE2.png] So, for once, Monarchpaw was securely in her nest, muzzle resting oh so delicately on her forepaws. Fellow apprentices dozed softly on her sides; all around her. Only the sweet, dream-like sounds of quiet breathing broke the beautifully peaceful setting, surreal in the cascading moonlight. Pelts of silver, shades of grey. Deep within the trenches of the sleeping cheetah’s mind, however, led to something more sinister.. Dreaming, cloaked in the shadow of untruth, Monarchpaw fell. She fell and fell and fell. Bottomless, wherever she went. Nothing made sense. Everything made sense. It was horrifically endless. It ended in a heartbeat. Up, down, it all felt the same. Panicked. Her mind was so jumbled, so confused, that when she suddenly found herself staring into an open plain, she jumped. Her paws were smoothed by the softness of downy grass, starlight cast an unrealistic glow over the prairie land. It was CheetahClan. This Monarchpaw knew. Even with her mangled mind, she could recognize it. What was she doing here? A deep rumbling, somewhere behind her, made the apprentice whirl around, eyes wide and frenzied as a tiger stepped from the shadows. Every paw step he took towards her made the budding flowers underneath him wilt, turn black, die. He was death, in its purest form. Letting out a yelp, Monarchpaw tried desperately to run, to do anything. Her body wouldn’t respond; she was frozen, paralyzed in her fear. Never had she seen such a large animal, watching her with malicious, hungry eyes. She was his mouse; he was unanimously the cat. Cold fingers of dread broke up and down her spine; she would have shivered if she had had the motion to. As if in a slow-motion movie, the mysterious figure reared back, muscles coiling in a gruesomely slow manner, and then he sprung, fangs bared. Blood spilled down her vision, drowning out her senses. Vaguely, she heard a wild, guttural animal scream. It took moments to realize it was her own. Jolted awake in a fit of tumbling, Monarchpaw scanned the den aimlessly, heart pounding out of her chest, tail twitching in terror. A dream, it was only a dream. She forced her breathing to a low roar, ears pinned back and eyes squinted shut. Blood, why was there so much blood? Apprentices popped single eyes open, drenched in annoyance, and glared at her. She had disturbed their slumber, boo hoo. The she-cat muttered an unsympathetic apology, still badly rattled, and untangled herself from the mess of torn nest fillings. Solitude, maybe that’s what she needed. There was little way she would be getting back to sleep this night. Beautiful. Training with an hour of sleep would be a jolly good time. She flicked her ears in frustration, telling herself fervently that she was not frightened, that it was nonsense. She pushed out of the apprentice’s den, bathed in cool moonlight, and gave a quick nod to the guard, who was looking at her rather suspiciously. It hadn’t been one of these nights in a long while; where she would be graced with a rather unpleasant nightmare and be too worked up to return to a peaceful slumber. Besides, if that was what was waiting for her on the other side of her eyelids, she didn’t want any part of it. Her body involuntarily shuddered. The night was dead. Not a single breeze swept the CheetahClan camp, not in the slightest. Monarchpaw remembered fondly of the nights her and her brother would converse secret battle plans, deep into the night. That was back when they had so many connections. When they were thick as thieves. Now, don’t get me wrong, the two were still brother and sister to the bone- it’s just that they were drifting apart. It was a slow drift, yes, but it still drew a part of Monarchpaw’s heart away. With these thoughts in her mind, if only to remember what has passed, the youth silently padded to the place where she knew her brother had his nest. Apparently, he had been restless as well. Harepaw had a mournful look on his face, depressed and sad. Immediately, the urge to always protect him leaped into her heart; the urge to nuzzle her muzzle into his shoulder and tell him it would be all right. She didn’t change her expression, though the fear had faded substantially from it. Replaced was mild worry for her brother, followed by a hollow feeling, whatever that meant. If only they could be as close as they once were. Never was she able to hide things from Harepaw, like she could from many others. She was always herself around him. Her many personas simply ended the moment she opened her maw. “Couldn’t sleep, either, hmm? You do realize Slittedwing is going to tear you limb from limb, right?” She murmured, a soft smile on her pretty face, slight distaste at the mention of the medicine cat. She didn’t directly ask him what was bothering him, though her eyes held question. “The moon seems wrong tonight. I hate the in-between stages. It needs to make up its mind.” Notes- :)

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[alice?!]

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[atrb=background,http://i43.tinypic.com/14l682o.jpg] [scrolly:h(188),w(189),sy] She came from nowhere, his salvation. So wrapped up his his thoughts he failed to notice her presence -- even though her scent swept around him in the cool night, perhaps he chalked it up to wishful thinking. She spoke, quietly -- though that couldn't stop him from starting in the slightest and then glancing at her with sheepish eyes. He simply nodded to her first question, as it was obvious -- and shot a slightly nervous look toward where the Medicine Cat was probably sleeping. She would flay him alive if he showed a hint of tiredness tomorrow morning -- but if he got to spend nights with Monarchpaw, he would bear it. He gaze flitted up to the moon above, and her words wandered along the line of his earlier thoughts. He simply nodded again -- and used the silence between then to study her. She looked flustered, with her fur slightly mussed and a scrap of soft grasses stuck in the fur on her shoulder. His question was quiet, as he made an assessment. "Nightmare?" He moved hesitantly to pluck the tuft of grasses from her shoulder, not entirely sure as to why he was hesitant around her. This was Monarchpaw, he chided himself. He needn't treat her like Slittedwing. She didn't need to say yes, because whether or not he was right, she looked stressed and frazzled. That was enough for him. It was rare that he was the protector, but he was observant more often than she, simply because he tended to not be blinded by emotion. He scuttled closer to his side, ignoring the twinge in his leg at the awkward movement. It was stiffer now, because he'd sat in the same position for so long, but he could asked Slittedwing tomorrow if there was anything he would be able to do about it. Harepaw would look at his sister's features -- noticing that protective glint in her eye -- ah, so she had seen him before she had spoken, probably noting his distressed look and giving into her protective instincts. He tried to ignore how it felt like they hadn't spoken in ages, or how he didn't even know what to ask her. He did know -- that her mind should be somewhere else, rather than on the nightmare, or whatever stresses that had brought her from her nest at such a late hour. "How's training?" He didn't sound like her brother. He sounded like a curious stranger. That, more than perhaps anything tore at his heart. 428 bleh. but I had a great idea and then I forgot it when I started posting on my other site. XD bear with me and the muse should pick up. Bold, italics , underlined [/scrolly]

[` hatter !]

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[atrb=background,http://i376.photobucket.com/albums/oo205/wowee333/MONARCHMIDDLE2.png] Harepaw looked wishful, him in his handsome spotted coat. She had hoped for a smirk, a small giggle, when she mentioned the rude old medicine cat. He had only nodded slightly. Was he that caught up in his thoughts? Monarchpaw sympathized for her brother, yes, imagining how hard Slittedwing would work him tomorrow if she found out he was sulking in the small night hours. But why was he so very sad? The same desire to wrap her tail around his flank and rest her head on his smaller shoulder flounced trough her mind again, and she had to firmly keep her paws dug into the dirt floor to stop herself. She felt his paws on her pelt, assessing her and her current condition. Monarchpaw could only imagine how she looked, what with how she had scrimmaged with her own nest. Nightmares, a pain no matter how you looked at them. Unconsciously, she raised a paw, wet it with a lap of her rosy tongue, and ran it over the rumpled fur on her crest, fixing her eyes on the befuddled moon and settling herself beside him silently. Naturally. “Nightmare?” Of course. No matter how hard she tried to cover her weaknesses, Harepaw, her blood, would sniff them out. It was somewhat of a talent, how observant he was. Or maybe he just knew her best. Either way, Monarchpaw removed her gaze from the silver globe, and nodded, briefly stating. It was in her interest not to relive the towering tiger, hungry, malicious eyes baring down on her like knives, her own blood seeping down her vision, the animal scream so untamed, vicious, drowning out anything else- “It’s nothing. Nothing important, anyways.” This didn’t sound convincing, even she knew it. If maybe to reassure herself, she murmured again, stronger than before. “My mind was just being ridiculous. What’s new?” She let out a soft breath, a shiver lapping at her spine, despite the unseasonal warmth of the night. The camp was eerily silent, not even late-coming birds breaking the hush. Her lovely almond eyes, now a rich, deep brown in the darkness, roved around camp, picturing the slumbering cheetahs within. Dawnflower, away from others in the warriors den, Tearstar, introverted and dozing in his private abode, Colorcry- Monarchpaw inwardly rolled her eyes, he was not her favorite cat. Yes, not a single soul was awake in the midnight hour. That is, besides the camp guard. Tomorrow would be lovely, what without any sleep and a dawn patrol as soon as she could spot the rising sun. Boo. The silence between brother and sister wasn’t exactly awkward, it was just a kind, balanced quiet- both cats trapped in thoughts. When his voice baited her from the trenches of her mind, Monarchpaw swiveled her head to stare at him, again slanting her head to the side with an amused glint. He sounded like her mentor, or perhaps a polite passer-by. Affectionately, she knocked her brother with her lithe, corded shoulder, shaking her head bemusedly. “Oh, come on Harepaw, you know that’s not what you really want to ask me.” If cheetahs had eyebrows, she would be raising one quizzically. “What am I? A new friend?” She laughed quietly, though edged with a masked sadness, barely detectable under her easy front. Other apprentices so rarely saw sadness, they likely thought her incapable of it. Memories, they always had memories. She fondly looked back on them, smiling with a sweet tenderness that was so uncharacteristic. “You remember that little butterfly we caught? We spent hours making a cage, herding flocks of them until finally that pretty monarch butterfly fell for our trap.” Monarchpaw giggled. “I was so happy that it was a monarch butterfly, just like me. A stupid little thing.” So excited by their own triumph, the two kits hadn’t watched their new pet very closely. In a matter of minutes, it slipped out of the branches and flitted away into the horizon. They had laughed and laughed at their own stupidity, scolded by their mother after being unable to stop. Monarchpaw shook the clinging grass from her pelt, a reminiscent expression pinned to her sloped muzzle. Notes- I apologize if this sounds rambly ^^'

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[alice?!]

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[atrb=background,http://i43.tinypic.com/14l682o.jpg] [scrolly:h(188),w(189),sy] "it's nothing. Nothing important anyways." such a little warrior she was, already. Always the stronger of the two -- though he supposed they both held their own strength in the same sense. She was the strong spitfire who would stand aside for no one, and he was the quiet and steadfast -- always trudging forward, no matter what twists or turns his path would force him to take. "My mind was just being ridiculous. What's New?" He would answer with a quiet summary of long working days, and mostly work that required a lot of memory. As of now -- he was learning the basics, the foundations that all medicine cats should know. Absolutely no major healing yet -- he was lucky if Slittedwing allowed him to bring her herbs just yet -- perhaps for fear he would bring her the wrong thing. His mind was more preoccupied now with his dearest Monarchpaw. She brushed it off, he could tell, but the panic had not yet dulled completely in her eyes, and if her ruffled appearance was any indication of the severity, it must have been a strong dream. Not to mention her reaction to his question. He'd like to think that if it had been no big deal, she would have told him about it. Her casual brush-off indicated it was something she either didn't want to worry him with (because worry he would) or she didn't want to disclose. He was patient enough not to press her. With such little time together, he wasn't going to push for details -- not when it could run the risk of one of them angering the other and storming off in a huff. Enclosed so tightly in his thoughts, he over-reacted upon her soft shoulder bump, nearly falling over as he jumped. A nervous laugh as he attempted to cover the fact that he'd started like a terrified kit, simply because his sister bumped him. He charged forward, leaving his embarrassment behind and staring at her for a few moments, an indignant expression fitted on his features. "Well no, if you must know, it's not exactly the most interesting for me, but it is for you so therefore I would like to know! And besides, it's not like we're as close now as we --.." Oop. Way to go Harepaw, just bleating your fears out to her. Of course, she wouldn't hold it against him probably -- because she was Monarchpaw, and she always wanted to protect him. Once again, a silence settled over the pair. It wasn't much of an awkward silence, no -- they were much to close for that, but the distance between them had once been nothing -- and now even the slightest bit that it was was enough to scare him -- and make him feel as if they were entirely different souls now, rather than Harepaw and Monarchpaw, the troublesome two. Her memories made him blink, sadly simply because he cannot think of their younger selves without thinking of Jadestorm -- and he figures that thinking of her will always sadden him. A slight shake of his head. No! "Yes. I remember, you made me tell Thistlepaw off because he kept trying to see what we were doing and you were too busy." Another small wistful smirk, before he leaned a shoulder against her, head nestling against her shoulder. She may hold herself back, but not Harepaw. 592 omigosh please don't hate me -.- so sorry. so so sorry. <3 btw, Thistlepaw is made up. Added a little bit to the memory if that's alright. Bold, italics , underlined [/scrolly]

[` hatter !]

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[atrb=background,http://i376.photobucket.com/albums/oo205/wowee333/MONARCHMIDDLE2.png] "Well no, if you must know, it's not exactly the most interesting for me, but it is for you so therefore I would like to know! And besides, it's not like we're as close now as we --.." Oh, Harepaw, always sacrificing his own wills for the good of others. That’s how it always went about. Monarchpaw trudging down on the paws of others, stepping on toes, and then Harepaw running, or rather, hobbling, behind cleaning up after her mess. He was a kindred soul, a dreamer through and through. Inside, she was so very happy he had picked the solemn path of a medicine cat; not only because it fit perfectly with his forever ailment, but also so he wouldn’t be expected to leap into a battle. That, very much so, was a scary idea. Monarchpaw had never been able to picture her quiet, soft-minded brother... having malice or ferocity. Wrong, like this in-between stage o the crescent moon. She glanced back at the dappled cheetah, sharply, when he displayed his inhibitions. Of course, she’d been feeling this too, just not so fiercely- more of a dull thud on her quick-beating heart. “Oh good lord, did Harepaw just get a backbone? What a day!” She purred lovingly, light-colored auds crinkling at the edges before falling back down again. The humour died down, gravity took over. The sadness in his wistful yellow eyes pulled guilt from the pits of her stomach. Her mind flickered to the moments where she could have waved him an easy hello, stopped to make small conversation. Even today, after returning from a patrol, she had seen him eating a piece of impala, alone and eyes down, but she had favoured settling in with Dawnflower for the mid-afternoon meal. Slittedwing didn’t give him any attention, never sought to make peace, little own friendship with her young protégée. The dreams and aspirations of becoming a warrior had clouded her vision, shaded family for a different priority. "Yes. I remember, you made me tell Thistlepaw off because he kept trying to see what we were doing and you were too busy." Ah yes, she remembered. She remembered everything, besides maybe the sad memories she yearned to cut out. Jadestorm’s death now ended with a quiet blur- a defensive mechanism to save her from the pain and grief. Since Monarchpaw realized, understood, her ties over Harepaw, she had systematically been using him as a sort of shield; unknowingly, without even recognizing it herself. She liked to believe that her brother would do anything for her, as she would for him. Thistlepaw was a nosy little mousedung, anyways, picking his paws into the doings of kits. Harekit, introverted, needed to be pushed to raise his voice every so often anyways. It was only healthy, so Monarchpaw told her roving mind. “Oh, the look on his face. Threatening to tattle us to the elder warriors, pshh. He never did, never had the guts.” She pulled her gaze to fall on his sweet face, grinning luxuriously. When he silently rested his head on her much broader shoulder, she did not flinch, didn’t tense. This was something she would forever be used to, could not imagine the day when this ceased feeling natural. Letting out a puff of air that faded into a weary sigh, Monarchpaw murmured into her pair’s close ear, his tuft of fur tickling her rosy cheek. “You know I’m never far away, right? That I’ll always be here?” Notes- Oh god, eeeew. I apologize for the crapiness.'

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