{you'd know my heart if you know my place}open

[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Something%20Beautiful%20v2/middle-5.png] [scrolly:h(282),w(444),sy] Without a doubt, Snowstorm's mood was blacker than it had ever been as he stalked out of camp, striped tail twitching. The twitching was the only outward sign of his irritation, save the vivid glowing of his icy eyes. Otherwise, the white Siberian tiger kept his face blank and with some force of will, stilled his tail. His flashing ice eyes the only warning now for wayward clanmate he happened to pass as he strode into the forest. Thankfully though, the forest seemed devoid of his annoying clanmates, something that Snowstorm actually was thankful for. He may live with them, fight for them and have been raised by them but that by no means meant he liked the. In fact, as he'd grown older, his disdain for his clanmates had grown with him. It was a sour thing, a physical thing, like a tumor growing against his heart so that each beat was muffled and strangled. Now, don't let that make you think that Snowstorm was a necessarily evil cat. It wasn't true. He simply was easily annoyed with the frivolity of those he lived with. They bellyached about patrols, whined about having to hunt, groaned about maintaining the dens and had their petty squabbles amongst themselves. It was simply nauseating and quite headache inducing. When would they grow up and realize that this was as good as it was going to get? This was all they had so they might as well suck it up and get over all their whining sniveling unimportant issues. It didn't help that his clanmates were so achingly expressive. From the time he'd been a kit just venturing out of the nursery, Snowstorm had been amazed by it. They showed emotion so easily! What was the point? Emotions could hurt you and would hurt you if you weren't careful enough to contain them or ignore them. His clanmates lacked that understanding however which left the white tom to sit quietly in the background, mentally marveling at the transparency of those he lived with. Affection would glow in their eyes with a sickening sweetness. Anger would rise up and burn up their hearts at the twitch of a tail. Sorrow would drown them the instant something bad happened. Confusion would cloud them over until they could do nothing but run in circles and pray someone would save them. It really was a sad thing to witness, the weakness of his own kind. That was why Snowstorm didn't bother with expressing himself. He kept his emotions in his mind, where they belonged. His clan had no right nor any business knowing when he was happy, sad, content, angry or whatever else. That was for him to know and him alone. He had those rare days however, like today, when his feelings simply wouldn't be contained. They would show in his eyes as one single cloying emotion, bright white-hot anger that would burn any that met his gaze. What could cause such anger in such a stoic tom? Apprentices mostly. They were the easiest triggers. Always in the way, always asking questions, always dodging him as though he was going to kill them at any second, all because of rumors the clan liked to whisper. A lot of warriors said he was dangerous, said his lack of emotion made him a threat to the clan because no one would know what he was thinking. They would flex their claws when Snowstorm coolly disregarded their squabbling and shrugged off whatever stinging words they threw at him when they got mad enough at his attitude. This attitude they had toward him, it passed on to the next generation, the apprentices of these petty warriors that had nothing better to do than gossip and be bitter. Like moss absorbing water, the apprentices lapped it up and held it in until they came into contact with him when they would spew it back in his face as though it made a difference. Snowstorm would curl his lip at them, disgusted by their blind faith that their mentors were infallible and obviously right in their judgments. One apprentice in particular today had tried to say Snowstorm was plotting with LionClan or something like that to overthrow Sparrowstar. The very idea was laughable. Why would he waste his time with silly stripeless lions? Snowstorm had merely sneered at the apprentice and stepped aside, swatting one of his large paws at the young tom. The apprentice, naturally, was inexperienced and stupid. Too stupid to keep his guard up at all times. The blow had caught him on the side of the head and sent him rolling across the ground. The strike had naturally led to witnessing warriors and other assorted clan cats to rear their heads and try to berate Snowstorm for his roughness. Snowstorm had barked a laugh and left without so much as a word of apology or a twitch of the tail to show he was sorry at all. He wasn't. Apprentices should learn to always have their guard up and be ready for attack, especially if they wanted to go around instigating fights with older more experienced cats. Snowstorm always, in the back of his mind, expected attacks from his clanmates. Apparently he made them mad often enough. It was well warranted too. His mentor, Redpoppy, used to have a bad habit of pouncing him whenever she thought he wasn't paying attention. It would be at random, when they were on patrol, when he was asleep, when he was eating, any time. The habit had stuck. If Sparrowstar ever got around to giving him one of those infernal brats as an apprentice, Snowstorm would probably pass on Redpoppy's habit, if only to give his apprentices the sense to keep their guard up. A snapping twig brought Snowstorm out of his thoughts. Sharp ice blue eyes swept the surrounding undergrowth. Long hooked claws slid from Snowstorm's large white paws, digging into the soft ground under his feet. Along his shoulders, the white and black fur rose in stiff bristles. Whirling around, his stone cold eyes glared toward the sound of the intruder on his solitude. Tagged;; open Words;; 1031 Song;; "Follow" by Breaking Benjamin Notes;; [/scrolly]

[jinxeh ఇ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] You must be crazy Well you think that you can take me on - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Something had set him off. A small disturbance among his Clan, a small disturbance that had upset his mother. The cause? His father had hurt himself on a patrol. How? Stormhawk, being the strong and stubborn tiger he was, wouldn’t tell. Meadowfrost was all up in a twist about whether or not he had been attacked, and her mate would not set her mind at ease. Seeing his mother in the state that she was in, brought out the ugliest side that the deputy had to offer. Orange eyes cold and angry, the brute had given his father a few choice words before storming out the camp in a heated rage. Luckily for his fellow Clan mates, the day he had had been relatively pleasant all things considered. Instead of unleashing his fury upon the camps structure, he had merely turned tail and gotten out of the camp, a storm cloud over his head. The tom felt every muscle in his body flare and burn with the anger he felt for his father. How could he do that to his mother? The poor femme was worried to death about him and he wouldn’t even give her the satisfaction of knowing he hadn’t sustained injury from an enemy cat. That’s what pissed him off the most. His father was too gosh darn proud to admit to anything that might cause him pain, even at the expense of his mother’s sanity. Crimsonfire knew she would tear herself apart worrying about what could’ve happened, would’ve happened if this happened, or this happened. That’s what made him want to rip his father’s throat out that this present moment. He couldn’t figure out how someone would be so selfish and ignorant to someone else’s feelings, especially the one you love and had a son with. It was ironic; Crimsonfire thinking his father was selfish and ignorant. Anyone who knew the deputy was aware of his arrogant side, the side of him that others deemed unworthy of the position of deputy. Fitting though, Crimsonfire considered himself more than worthy for the position; he was strong, fit, and a very capable warrior, even if he was a bit … proud. Crimsonfire hated the term arrogant. It had such a negative connotation to it that he refused to use it to describe him, or anyone else in his Clan. He felt that too many cats confused arrogance with pride, and proud he was. His father though, his father was ignorant. He brought definition to the word, and seemed to want to live by the definition he had so graciously given it. The large Bengal tiger would never understand that side of his father, just like his father would never understand how one could be so proud of their selves. Thinking about this father right now, sent a whole new surge of frustration and anger through his large, strong body. A deep growl erupted from his chest and he struck out with one large paw, claws unsheathed. The deadly weapon made contact with a fair sized tree trunk, and the force behind the strike snapped the tree in half where his paw had come in contact with it. Fragments of tree shot off in numerous directions and the tree fell to the forest floor, not nearly as tall as it was thick. Crimsonfire stopped to look at the felled tree, noticed it’s now twisted and destroyed trunk, and took into consideration the state in which the tree was upon his fury. No leaves grew on the branches that had once stretched out to the sky; it was dead long before the tiger had stricken it to the ground. Crimsonfire let out a long, slow breath. He felt the air escape greedily from his lungs, until he could no longer feel the air leave. Letting his airless lungs stay dormant for a few seconds, he closed his eyes before taking a breath in. He was so angry, and nothing he did seemed to give him release from the fiery grasp it had taken on his heart. Usually when he destroyed something, beautiful, he felt better and was able to calm down shortly afterwards. This time however, he only felt more frustrated and mad. It was probably because his initial anger was caused by his father, something that hadn’t happened in awhile. The tension between the two brutes was getting harder and harder to bear lately, and today was the snapping point he figured. His mother’s worried face flashed across his mind and he opened his eyes with a snap and continued on his way. TigerClan territory was fairly quiet today, not even the sound of a bird call in the distance. The deputy sighed heavily and changed his course, feeling rather parched. He never knew why, but he had always loved the soft sound of the lake, even when there was no wind to disrupt the serene surface. The calm, simple presence of the body of water, added a touch of peace to TigerClan territory and that’s why Crimsonfire loved it so much. However, the peacefulness of it seemed so off. How could he be so mad, and the lake so peaceful and calm? It increased his irritation once again, and he found himself rushing into the water, breaking the supple and uniform surface. The cool water splashed onto his face, and over his coat, cooling off his warm pelt, but not his temper. Crimsonfire growled once again. This is ridiculous! The tiger thought to himself dragging his sopping wet self out of the lake. Stopping for a few seconds to lick the water droplets from the spots on his pelt where he could reach it, Crimsonfire glanced around the area. No one around; no scents reaching his nose. It was unsettling to say the least. Shaking out his body quickly, he walked back into the forest walking heavily, no longer caring about anything that seemed even mildly relevant to being a warrior. If there were any prey around, he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to stop and hunt them; it wasn’t his job to hunt on his own. Someone else could come out and make themselves useful, but Crimsonfire would have none of that right now. His paw fell upon a dry twig, the sound of it snapping under his weight, as loud as a gunshot in the quiet forest. The sudden movement of a creature not far off, brought the deputy straight to the defensive, haunches lowered, claws unsheathed and ears back, teeth bared. “Hello?” Crimsonfire rumbled lowly, and cautiously, not relieving his body from the tensed knot it was in until he was certain that it was in fact, one of his Clanmates. He hadn’t planned on getting into a fight when he had stormed out of camp, but he wouldn’t back down. It would make him feel better to give a rogue or enemy cat a good smack down, but the scent on the air gave away no signs or scents of an alien cat. No, this cat was definitely one of his own, but who? The answer was revealed to him a moment later, with the flash of a white pelt against the dense forest floor. “Snowstorm?” SNOWSTORM. 1202. NOTHING NOWHERE by JAKALOPE TEMPLATE BY OH SO COOPERNATURAL ! @ CAUTION.

[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Something%20Beautiful%20v2/middle-5.png] [scrolly:h(282),w(444),sy] 'SNOWSTORM?' HAD said tom been a lesser cat, he probably would have groaned aloud. His muscles loosened just slightly when the voice slipped into the white tiger's mind and registered as familiar. A clanmate. The deputy, to be more specific, Crimsonfire. Fantastic. Really. StarClan must have a lot of love for him today, to guide the clan deputy right to Snowstorm. In fact, it looked like the ginger tom hadn't even been looking for Snowstorm. That was a touch of a shocker. Just a touch. How many times would clan warriors complain about Snowstorm's attitude or his swatting of apprentices like the one today? Sparrowstar and Crimsonfire probably heard more gossip about Snowstorm than Snowstorm did. The white tiger could only hope what they gossiped was informative, half of it he wasn't even aware of. Like his supposedly loner roots. Yep. That was a popular one, that he was somehow hidden among clan kits but really was a loner. Apparently that would account for his attitude and supposedly altered mental state. PUH. SNOWSTORM knew for a fact his parents were both firmly TigerClan in blood and one hundred percent honest about the origins of their kits. Snowstorm and his siblings had all been identical with identical icy blue eyes. In turn, those kits had been identical to their parents, a bit mixed but otherwise picture perfect. No loner blood. So Snowstorm was lazy about hunting when no one was starving. So he didn't do snappy patrols and instead chose to take all day and savor the solitude. So he didn't have patience for apprentices. That didn't make him a loner-blooded cat. Even Snowstorm could be insulted at such an idea. He might not show it openly, but it was an insult that the speaker often paid for. Which would lead to Crimsonfire and Sparrowstar being involved. THAT was the problem though. Snowstorm was thirty-three moons old. Crimsonfire was a mere twenty-one. Needless to say, Snowstorm had trouble taking the younger tom seriously most days. In fact, if he really thought about it, Snowstorm could remember when he heard Meadowfrost had delivered her kits. He'd been twelve moons old, still under Redpoppy's teaching, back from a day of running hither and yon simply because his crazy mentor had thought his stamina had needed work. The clan had been overjoyed. Snowstorm clearly remembered glancing at the nursery and then heading straight for the apprentice den to get some sleep without even stopping to grab something to eat. In his eyes, Crimsonfire was nothing special. Another young warrior that thought he had all the guts and courage to carry the clan. Through the impassive blue eyes of Snowstorm, the young deputy was just that, young. Young like all of them, untried in tragedy and a fool to his own confidence. STILL, Snowstorm kept his face blank as he turned to properly face the deputy. "Crimsonfire," he replied, his voice a low rumble with the tone of one that couldn't care less what Crimsonfire had to say. BARELY twitching his head in the minimum of what could be called a nod, the white tom turned away again. Right there a stickler for the rules could get itchy. The traditional greeting for a deputy was a nod of respect, usually something that could be easily identified as a nod without really having to think about it too hard. Snowstorm wasn't interested in Crimsonfire's ego right now though. He was still burning from that annoying apprentice and the foolishness of his own clanmates with their gossip, upstart deputies and other farces. NORMALLY, Snowstorm would be a touch more respectful, at least pausing to appraise the deputy. At the moment though, he didn't care that everything in Crimsonfire's posture spoke of tension and irritation. Normally such cues didn't go unnoticed and Snowstorm would pause to wonder if he was the cause. Of course, he wasn't the only bothersome cat in the clan. They were all bothersome if you asked him but that was a moot point. Whatever was bothering Crimsonfire though, that wasn't his business. If the deputy spilled his guts, as some cats did around him for whatever reason, Snowstorm would listen, absorb and shrug it off. Not his problem. If Crimsonfire had a kink in his tail, Snowstorm wasn't going to be the one to bear the brunt of it. He was far from self-sacrificing. At least, to the clan at large. Special cats might hold a place in his heart to be protected but they wouldn't know it until it happened. With that in mind, Snowstorm turned to stride away. Tagged;; Crimsonfire Words;; 789 Song;; "I Will Not Bow" by Breaking Benjamin Notes;; sorry, kinda a sucky post, it'll get better, feel free to have Crim get pissy or attack him or whatever [/scrolly]

[jinxeh ఇ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] You must be crazy Well you think that you can take me on - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Having only been deputy for a little while, it went without saying that the golden tom felt a little bit entitled. Not just to the benefits of being deputy: the responsibilities, the duties, the importance of his own organizational skills. No, he felt entitled to the other things; respect, honour, and above all, being able to tell other Clan members what to do. Everyone knew he liked to be in control, regardless of the situation, whether it be good or bad, beautiful or ugly. It was the way he was. He also quite enjoyed the fact that if he had something to say, everyone would listen to it, and that he had his own greeting that was required to be given, even in the poorest of days. When the tom didn't receive this treatment, he was quick to jump down the other cats throat and demand the respect he was entitled to. Today, was no different. He could really care less what kind of day it had been for the other party, he deserved the respect. The blunt reply from Snowstorm touched a nerve within the younger tom. Crimsonfire knew of the way the white brute acted towards his Clanmates, and he would always turn a blind eye for the simple reason that he didn't want to get involved in whatever had crawled into the Snowstorm's nest that morning and pissed him off. Granted of course, that Crimsonfire wasn't around Sparrowstar at the time. Those times, he would call the older tom out on what he was doing; anything to impress his leader and stay in his good books. Right now, however, it was a different story. Crimsonfire was interested in the reasoning behind Snowstorm's sour mood towards him. Usually it was pretty good, obviously because the young tom was in a position of power. Drawing his body out of the tense and defensive posture it had evolved into, the deputy brought himself to his full size. Furrowing his brow, he curled his lip slightly more out of annoyance than hostility towards the other cat. "Now, now Snowstorm." He began, a smug tone flowing through his vocals. The toms' eyes gleamed with anger, and amusement, both intensified by the presense of the white cat which had turned to walk away. A scoff escaped the cats maw. "Is that any way to address the deputy of your Clan?"

[/b] Crimsonfire's tail flicked behind him, a tick that had begun only a few moments ago, either sparked by the cats address, or by him dismissing Crimsonfires presence. Moving his own paws, he fell into stride with the tom cat, noticing the very slight height difference. Maybe it was his inflated ego that made him feel bigger and stronger than all other cats in his Clan, but he never realized how close the other cats were in size until moments like this. His whiskers twitched with irritation. "I don't know why you have to walk around like your life sucks." He spoke quietly, his voice no louder than a whisper. "Your problems, do not need to become the Clans'. Contrary to your belief, we don't care." Was the tom trying to get a rise out of the senior warrior? "Despite the fact that you think we need to have pity on poor hard done by Snowstorm, doesn't mean we will. Whatever you feel, you brought it on yourself." His voice had risen to a low growl, resonating from within his barrelled chest. "However, if you're feeling sorry for yourself, it does not give you the right to not give the deputy, me"[/color]pause, a dramatic emphasis on 'me', and a snarl, "the respect I have earned, and deserve from all my Clanmates." Stopping, he glared at the older tom.

If the disrespect given by the tom was because he was younger and in a postion of higher power, Crimsonfire would laugh. Age was of no matter when it came to things like this. It was all about ability; ability to fight, to hunt, to lead, to organize to problem solve. It wasn't something determined by something as meaningless as age. This new thought that erupted in the Bengal's mind, seemed to merely bring out dislike and disgust for the white Siberion. Surely you were supposed to be wiser the older you got? Apparently that aspect had failed to reach Snowstorm. Cocking an eyebrow at the older warrior, he rhythmically kneaded the ground with his claws, trying once again to bring down his level of annoyance and anger, though he was sure the tension coursing through his muscles, that were taugh beneath his beautifully decorated pelt betrayed the way he felt to Snowstorm.
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SNOWSTORM. 776. nothing
TEMPLATE BY OH SO COOPERNATURAL ! @ CAUTION.

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[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Something%20Beautiful%20v2/middle-5.png] [scrolly:h(282),w(444),sy] CRIMSONFIRE was one of those cats that didn't take disrespect lying down. What the red tom didn't know was that Snowstorm didn't necessarily disrespect anyone, he just gave what was due. Crimsonfire threw his weight around but was, as of yet, vastly untried. In Snowstorm's frigid gaze, the other tom was as much a pest as the others in the clan. The way Crimsonfire chased him down and fell into stride beside him, lecturing Snowstorm on respect and granting it to those of higher rank, simply proved that fact. Transparent whiskers twitched as Snowstorm let Crimsonfire's words role in one ear and out the other, heard but not listened to. Same as any other clanmate that was dumb enough to follow him around. It was like asking for punishment really. IT was funny though. They berated him for not listening, patronized him for now respecting and abolished him for not working himself to the bone. What hypocrites. He heard every word they said, remembered every lecture and speech Redpoppy had given, attended every clan meeting as tedious as it was. Snowstorm did his share of the hunting and patrolling, and unlike some didn't complain about it. He followed Sparrowstar's orders and when Crimsonfire said patrol or hunt, he did so. They got their tails in a twist when at the end of the day he didn't socialize and act friendly or bring in an extra kill. Why socialize with those that didn't think on his level? Why kill a deer that would go to waste because the clan was already growing fat from what they had? PALE orbs flashed as Crimsonfire demanded proper respect but for a moment, Snowstorm simply let silence roll between them. He continued walking, as if he didn't notice the ginger tom in his shadow, moving with ease through their forest home. "I will give you respect when you have earned it. Just like all the others." HIS words were precise and to the point, spoken in a voice that was quite neutral. Crystal blue orbs were kept fixed ahead and he moved without pausing or hesitating in his steps like a cat on a mission though in reality he had nowhere to go. Away from Crimsonfire would be nice but the deputy could act like a tick when he wanted to, buried under your skin until he got his fill. That was Snowstorm's impression at least. An itch he dearly wanted to scratch til it bled. THE clan could say what they wanted, Snowstorm wasn't outright disrespectful. Subtle about it rather than gushing like some warriors did. Crimsonfire and Sparrowstar, they'd never really earned his respect. They were alright at what they did but Sparrowstar hesitated too often for Snowstorm's liking and Crimsonfire had yet to truly prove to Snowstorm that he would be any different than the other gossiping warriors in the den. Redpoppy, his mentor, was probably the one cat Snowstorm properly respected and she wasn't even here. She'd denied the former clan leader the right to mate with her and he'd had her hunted like a traitor. Snowstorm had helped her fake her death and for her 'death' had been named a warrior. If he ever saw her again, she would be the only cat he'd ever respect. Probably the only cat he'd ever love, she'd been a sister to him even when he hadn't wanted her to be. CATS like Crimsonfire didn't understand Snowstorm's wariness of authority. Sparrowstar was all well and good but would she turn sour like the one before her? Would she stand tall when TigerClan needed her? Would Crimsonfire? Snowstorm observed, measured, calculated and kept his thoughts to himself where no one else could use them to hurt him. The clan interpreted it as moodiness and unhappiness. It wasn't. It was intelligence. Something they apparently sorely lacked. "YOU have more important duties than trailing me on a hunting patrol, deputy," Snowstorm said in clipped tones, emphasizing the word deputy. With that, Snowstorm slithered through a screen of ferns and with a neat leap, sprang across a narrow babbling brook. It was an easy jump and Snowstorm landed neatly on the other side, almost without breaking stride. It was a futile attempt to see if Crimsonfire would leave, though Snowstorm doubted it. Now though, he'd actually have to hunt rather than just wander. Crimsonfire would be looking for him to bring in prey after a comment like that. Troublesome but worth it if the deputy left. Tagged;; Crimsonfire Words;; 773 Song;; "Get Off My Back" by Bryan Adams Notes;; shorter than usual but it'll get better [/scrolly]

[jinxeh ఇ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] You must be crazy Well you think that you can take me on - - - - - - - - - - - - - - It wasn't like Crimsonfire wanted to lose his temper, it was just something that happened. Things like what happened this morning and what was happening now were more than enough to light his fuse and set it off. He had so much to prove in the Clan, that he had a hard time keeping his sanity, let alone his temper in line. The fact that the cold and desolute warrior was undermining his authority, and making it out to seem like he was unworthy of his postion, did more than ruffle his fur. It was a low blow to his ego and the tough demeanour he had built, rather successfully, over his twenty-one moons, and even more so, his three moons as deputy of TigerClan. He knew he was young, he knew he was inexperienced, but obviously he was qualified for the position and StarClan seen it fit, so what else mattered? Crimsonfire was doing his best with what he was given to work with, and with a cat like Sparrowstar as leader, that wasn't much. If it took him until he was an elder to prove to the Clan he was worthy to be deputy, he would. But why should he have to prove it? Letting his sparkling gaze linger on the face of the white tiger, he shook his head as the silence stretched between them. He was almost dumbfounded at the thought that the brute would ignore him as well as disrespect him. "You've-"

[/b] Strong jaws closing upon themselves, he ceased his sentence, the syllables dying on his tongue. The words spoken by Snowstorm, made the tom stop dead in his tracks. All lines of thought, breath, he was certain even his heart had stopped for a moment. Claws failed to work the earth anymore, making the tom completely motionless. Snowstorm's cold tone struck him as if the tom had reached out a paw and physically brought it down upon his chest. Earn his respect? How in StarClan's name do you earn the respect of the loner of your own Clan? The cat who walked around moping, and snapping at anyone who dared look at him. It was futile and it was absolutely ridiculous. Respect may not be there, but you have to at least pretend. Either way, Crimsonfire was far from pleased; he was hurt and more angry than he had been all morning. What a great day! he thought to himself aggressively and sarcastically. The muscles in his jaw flexed with the strength in which they were clenched together. It took everything the tom could muster not to take a swing at the cat who had once again began to walk away from him, only this time at a faster pace and with purpose.

Crimsonfire shut his eyes aginst the heat that pounded within his head. Snowstorm didn't even have the courage to look at Crimsonfire when he snarled the shot at him. Coward! the thought brought a growl from within and he bared his teeth when the cat shot back another shot at him, this one about how he was not doing his job properly. Apparently, the senior warrior was looking for a brawl between the two. Crimsonfire may have been younger, and less experienced, but he was very confident in his abilities as a fighter and while he wouldn't be the one to strike first, he wouldn't back down. Opening his burning orange pools, he glared at the backside of the tom as he proceeded on his 'hunting patrol'. He was young, but he was no fool. Snowstorm would never go out of his way to hunt for his Clan, he was too selfish in the young deputy's eyes. Taking a deep breath, he unrooted his motionless body, and bounded after him. He barely felt the ground beneath his paws.

"You think you can talk down to me like you do everyone else in Clan, but it doesn't work that way Snowstorm."[/b] Trying to keep his voice steady, but failing miserably, he kept his distance, approximately three fox lengths behind the white warrior. The golden tom's tail lashed furiously back and forth behind him, rather comically had it been a less tense situation. "Just because your feelings got hurt when you weren't choosen to be Sparrowstar's deputy, doesn't mean you can be rude to me. You may be my senior, but I am TigerClan's deputy!"[/b] His voice had reached a peek, halfway between a roar, and yowl, rather strangled with the effort it was taking him to keep his temper even though he knew he had flown off the handle. "Now, how about you actually do your duty as a warrior of this Clan, and prove yourself worthy of that title."[/b] Crimsonfire had long since caught up to Snowstorm, but right now, he let himself come to a halt. He wanted the older cat to retaliate. Show him he wasn't a coward. Crimsonfire stood back, head high, gaze looking down the bridge of his nose and shoulders bowed, in an act of dominace.

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SNOWSTORM. 842. nothing
TEMPLATE BY OH SO COOPERNATURAL ! @ CAUTION.

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[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Something%20Beautiful%20v2/middle-5.png] [scrolly:h(282),w(444),sy] 'JUST because your feelings got hurt when you weren't choosen to be Sparrowstar's deputy, doesn't mean you can be rude to me. You may be my senior, but I am TigerClan's deputy!' CRIMSONFIRE yowling challenges like an upset kit brought Snowstorm to a stand still. He was well aware of the space between himself and the red-pelted tom, a calculated, measured distance. Crimsonfire wanted a fight. His words were barbed but they lacked poison. Crimsonfire, like all others in the clan, didn't know how Snowstorm ticked. They didn't know how to hurt him and it bothered them. His disregard. His seeming laziness. It was amusing to watch them squirm when they didn't want to meet his impassive gaze. Now the deputy of the clan was throwing a temper tantrum and Snowstorm knew why. This had nothing to do with respect, at least not Snowstorm's lack there of. Someone had ruffled Crimsonfire's feathers and he was feeling the need to prove himself. Pick on another warrior. Brawl with a more experienced, stronger fighter and prove he was good. Crimsonfire wasn't mad at Snowstorm. Not as mad as the deputy seemed to think he was at least. He just wanted a fight. He wanted someone to hurt. Too bad Snowstorm had tougher skin than the other seemed to believe. "BEING a deputy, leading this clan, it has no value to me," Snowstorm intoned at last, voice bored, as though explaining a simple concept to a slow apprentice. Turning his head to look over his shoulder, eyes cool and clear, Snowstorm twitched his tail. "You squirm and squabble and fight, even now you're looking for someone to hurt for all the wrong reasons. That's all we do as a clan. Excuse me for not taking part." His last sentence was drawled with lazy disdain like someone had just offered him a meal of crowfood which he had to politely decline. SLOWLY, lazily, Snowstorm turned so he could properly face the furious deputy. His cool blue eyes roamed at their leisure over the fire-pelted deputy. Crimsonfire was furious. The muscles under his black striped pelt were tense, ready to strike. His claws worked the earth. Someone had ruffled him, picked a fight or shown him up in a way Snowstorm hadn't yet managed. To get so worked up over the mere lack of a deep bow, Snowstorm almost laughed aloud at the ridiculous nature of it. Why get so mad about something you should work to earn? For his youth, Crimsonfire did alright but he was untried. Just like Sparrowstar. ICY blue eyes narrowed as he regarded Crimsonfire, all heat and rage and frustration. "If you want to hurt me, do it already and get it out of your system. I actually do have hunting to get done today and a patrol to do which, might I remind you, you assigned." Snowstorm reclined on his haunches, for all the world looking as bored as he could possibly be. "Get on with it already." IT was far from Snowstorm's nature to 'take one for the clan' but he was sick and tired of being hounded like he'd done something wrong. He was no traitor, no criminal and if they would leave him the hell alone, everyone would get what they wanted. Crimsonfire just had to go and get his tail in a twist over something as stupid as a nod in greeting. Honestly! Didn't this cat have other things to be doing? Atop his head, Snowstorm's ears twitched as a bird called out in the branches but he was otherwise quite still, tail coming to wrap around his side and rest at his paws. It would be faster in the long run if Snowstorm just let Crimsonfire beat his frustrations out and have it done with. Maybe then the deputy would be on his way. Snowstorm could pay a visit to Goldenlight later, if he so felt the need. At least she was a she-cat of good sense in a clan of morons. SNOWSTORM would much rather be off doing forced hunting or that assigned patrol than actually doing something as foolish as giving Crimsonfire an open invitation to rip him open. Really, he would. Better to be doing that than waiting for pain but, hey, what could he do? His job would be that much harder if he went along pretending Crimsonfire wasn't there and all the while the deputy would get more and more upset about Snowstorm's 'disrespect' issue until the ginger tom finally snapped and attacked Snowstorm anyway. If Crimsonfire wanted to labor under the misconception that Snowstorm had wanted the deputy position, whatever but at least let him do it well away from Snowstorm. This way, Snowstorm figured he was saving himself some time and general irritation. Tagged;; Crimsonfire Words;; 818 Song;; "Indestructible" by Disturbed Notes;; lol [/scrolly]

[jinxeh ఇ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] You must be crazy Well you think that you can take me on - - - - - - - - - - - - - - There was no question any more, everything that was a part of Crimsonfire, was fuel to the fire that had engulfed his vision, his senses, his mind. Something that seemed to little, so minuscule, so damn insignificant had set him off on a path of destruction for the day. His target? Snowstorm. The reason was simple, and he was certain that the white tom knew the reason why the golden deputy was dying to sink his curved, slick claws deep into his flesh and tear. The fantasy took its sweet time playing out across his mind, the deputy relishing in the fact that he could make it happen. But despite the fact that Crimsonfire was young, he wasn't stupid enough to let his temper get the better of him. Ironic, seeing how he had already ran his mouth at the warrior. "You don't have what it takes to be a deputy, any ways. We may fight, but we are fighting for what we feel is right. You take no part because you don't care about this Clan."

[/b] His gaze stayed fixed on the tom, offering the challenge for him to strike, for Crimsonfire wanted to desperately to rip this tom a new one - literally. "The only reason you're still here is because you don't have what it takes to live on your own."[/b] Tact was not something the young warrior was good at, and it held no place in the brutes' words. The tom was young, and yes, he wasn't as smart as he might be. He had no problem personally attacking another cat, as he was so perfectly demonstrating at the present moment.

With the Siberian warrior now facing him, Crimsonfire was struck with a pang of disbelief with the look that was painted in his face. The stance of the warrior showed no sign of offence, nor did his face reveal any kind of anger, or annoyance. His unwavering air of not giving a mouses tail, was getting under his pelt and eating away at all reason that was still left to nest in the tom's young, foolish mind. Common sense had long since taken it's leave of absence, though the tom showed no sign of missing it. Crimsonfire was confident in his abilities as a fighter, and he was ready to prove it to the older warrior at so much as a flick of the tail. An open invitation would work just as well, and the tom bunched his muscles up ready to strike at the tom, but when he merely sank back almost in a sign of submission and acceptance that he was going to get a beat down, he hesitated.

The tom would offer up no threat to Crimsonfire, no challenge. It would hold no haven for his emotions, no release. Striking the tom down where he stood, would be like destroying the sapling earlier. His anger was without cause, without justification. Stormhawk had messed up, had worried his mate, but he had no intention to set his son off, and his son had no reason to fly off like that, in a blind rage that he would not be able to control. Snowstorms displacement from the entire conversation, and not caring was the main cause for him to be so upset at the world, but it was because it wasn't Snowstorm's fault. However, that information would not be accepted by Crimsonfire. He needed someone to blame, and Snowstorm was more than suitable for the blame.

Another thought floated into his mind, and gave him another reason to hesitate. His duty as deputy was not to take his anger out on his Clan mates. He had bigger fish to fry. Yet, here he was, ready to make Snowstorm sorry for everything he wasn't the cause of. Crimsonfire's entire action came to a screeching halt at the thought of what his punishment would be if Sparrowstar found out he had intentionally attacked one of his fellow Clan mates who had done no wrong. The mere idea of him being removed from his position of power, dropped a rock in his stomach, and a tight feeling upon his chest. Shifting his gaze from the warriors eyes that were glazed with boredom, Crimsonfire released some of the tension from his muscles.

"You're not worth hurting; you won't even stand up for yourself. Why would I take pleasure in causing you pain?"[/b] Though his body seemed calmer than it had been since the first encounter of the two, the battle still raged on within him. "Go on your hunting patrol, Snowstorm. Make sure you actually bring home something we can all feed upon, instead of just yourself."[/b] Crimsonfire's face curled into a very smug smile, and he cocked his eyebrow. Dipping his mockingly to the tom, he turned to walk back to the lake, then stopped himself. With a glance over his shoulder, and a scoff the tom spoke once more. "Coward."[/b] With a dismissive flick of his tail, he brought his head square on his neck and walked away, the grin still gracing his lips.


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SNOWSTORM. 848. Wow… I’m sorry, this is terrible.
TEMPLATE BY OH SO COOPERNATURAL ! @ CAUTION.

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[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Something%20Beautiful%20v2/middle-5.png] [scrolly:h(282),w(444),sy] THE fact that Crimsonfire backed down from Snowstorm's invitation was actually a relieving one. Snowstorm was no lover of pain and blood. Pain was no friend to him and taking one for the clan wasn't necessarily at the top of his to do list. He'd do it if he had to. The clan's safety was his safety and at the end of the day, no matter his disdain for them, they were entertaining sometimes. They were still the cats he slept with, still the place he called home. Crimsonfire and all the rest, they could curl their lip at him all they liked but Snowstorm was Snowstorm. He wouldn't change for their convenience. He preferred to think his attitude improved them. He tried their patience and pushed their buttons because if he didn't, an enemy would. The fact that the red deputy was backing down, that proved Crimsonfire could be forced to think before he leaped into battle. He could think about just who he was about to sink fangs and claws into and to Snowstorm, that was extremely valuable. Blind bloodlust and rage, if they ruled you, they would kill you. CONTROL was what Snowstorm specialized in. He analyzed things, processed them and understood them before acting on information. The senses, they could all lie and did so on a daily basis. Words were the biggest liars and Snowstorm liked to prove it. Day after day he shot down attempts at socialization simply because nobody bothered to wonder if he was lying. They took his words at face value. He brought home only food that was required, never more. They called him lazy. He said apprentices bothered him but never stopped to think about what the apprentice had done to bother him. Cats like Crimsonfire, they called him lazy and disrespectful but day after day he circled the borders and brought back enough food to ensure the clan was fed. Often he was the one to take food to Goldenlight and her shy apprentice if only because at least the old medicine cat had a good head on her shoulders. He patrolled and he hunted but never more than necessary because what was the point? More patrols would follow him when his was over and extra food would simply go uneaten and rot. Why waste? THEY would never understand because they were so used to lying to each other and fighting and thinking the world was black and white. Just because he didn't jump up and down for an apprentice or bow reverently to a deputy, it didn't mean he didn't sometimes entertain thoughts of teaching or feel glimmers of respect. Even as Crimsonfire called him a coward, a glimmer of respect reared its head in Snowstorm's chest. Why? Because the deputy backed down and thought before he attacked even in his anger. "THE clan will eat tonight, just as they do every night," Snowstorm intoned coolly, rising to all fours. ROLLING his shoulders and stretching, Snowstorm turned away from the ginger and black deputy. With a lazy wave of his striped white tail, the blue-eyed tom slid into the greenery. Let Crimsonfire be insulted if he wished to be, Snowstorm had hunting to do. A deer should suffice, or perhaps a boar if he could find one, though boars could be dangerous if enraged. Not too unlike Crimsonfire. At the wandering thought, Snowstorm very nearly cracked a smile but kept a check on the urge. Yes, perhaps he would go boar hunting. It had been a while since the clan had had one since it usually required more than one warrior to successfully bring down an adult boar. Maybe he could find a young one. A good sized boar would be more than enough to fill a few bellies tonight. TASK in mind, the white tom began systematically roving through the jungle territory. Crimsonfire and his bout of rage slid from Snowstorm's mind as he focused on the hunt. At long last, not too long after sunhigh, Snowstorm found a fresh boar trail. Tracking for nearly two miles, the tom finally peered through the ferns and found his query. The boar itself was a male, hoofed legs covered in mud as it rooted around the roots of a tree in search of tubers and mushrooms. It was quite large, probably easily as heavy as Snowstorm himself. Behind him, Snowstorm's tail waved as he pondered. Should he hunt it or retreat and go back to deer or antelope? The boar was bigger than he had expected and the curved tusks were formidable but if he could get a jump on the boar he might be able to avoid getting skewered. GLANCING skyward, Snowstorm's decision was made for him. The sun was beginning to creep toward the horizon. It would be dusk soon and Crimsonfire would have Snowstorm's hide if he didn't bring back something to eat. Shrugging, Snowstorm went in for the kill. HE leaped from the undergrowth, a streak of white and black. Large paws revealed sleek curved claws. The boar gave a squealing shriek, wheeling on it's attacker. Snowstorm managed to land a good stinging swipe at it's muzzle before having to retreat from the tusks. It kept squealing and charging as Snowstorm dodged around the clearing to avoid being charged, Hissing angrily, Snowstorm flattened his ears and lunged, aiming for the boar's shoulder. Hooked claws sank into the tough skin but the boar tossed its head with a wild squeal. Searing pain spread through Snowstorm's side making him recoil with a huff of surprise. The boar took advantage of his surprise and charged. It lowered its head and as it hit Snowstorm's side again, jerked its head up, one tusk slicing through the striped pelt. SWIPING at the beast, Snowstorm tried to focus on the fact that he hoped his ribs weren't broken. Recoiling again, trying to find an opening to flee, Snowstorm collided with a tree, large paws tangling in the roots. Snarling furiously, he swiped again at the boar as it tried to charge. It hit him and when it did, it felt like someone had dropped a boulder on Snowstorm. The tom slid to the ground, wheezing, blue eyes dazed. Blood from the two piercings in his side from the tusks painted his pelt scarlet. Bruises were blooming under his fur and his ribs felt like someone had forced them into a new shape. The normally sharp tom was sprawled across the roots of a tree, blue eyes dazed and foggy as the injured boar, deciding it's attacker was finished, ran off crashing through the undergrowth. SHADOWS stretched out around Snowstorm as if trying to wrap him up. They clouded the edges of his vision. All he could see was the sun setting through the trees and faintly hear his own wheezing breaths. Tagged;; Crimsonfire Words;; 1163 Song;; "Diary of Jane" by Breaking Benjamin Notes;; [/scrolly]

[jinxeh ఇ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] You must be crazy Well you think that you can take me on - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "The clan will eat tonight, just as they do every night," Strong legs had carried him a fair distance away from the tom, a carefully measured distance at that. The displacement between the two brutes was decided with the possibility that Snowstorm would turn on him and offer a real challenge, in mind. He had enough space to brace himself for the attack and dodge out of the way if necessary. Long strides had been taken, and every land mark in his direct and peripheral line of vision had been documented into his mind in preparation for the fight he secretly longed for. Paws falling upon the ground in silence, his ears were positioned in such a way that he could hear every sound around him, as well at the actions of his Clan mate. With every moment that passed in his departure from the confrontation, his posture grew more relaxed, and he let his head sink into a position of peace, instead of power. The words from the warrior had floated over him, in one ear and out of the other, in the quiet evening air. Crimsonfire responded, with a silent salute: a roll of his eyes and a small shake of his head. Whether the warrior hunted or not was not something Crimsonfire cared about. It wouldn't matter if he brought back one deer, or a whole herd of them, TigerClan would still look at him with contempt. The arrogant deputy wasn't blind to the gossip around camp. He was no stranger to the hate, and even fear that rested within the hearts of his Clan mates; feelings in which sprouted from the presence of the white Siberian warrior. Crimsonfire himself wasn't certain what he believed, he wasn't old enough to know of all the warriors' actions, nor did he care enough to pry. The fact of the matter was that the Clan talked, and he couldn't help but listen. Being that he was young, and deputy, put him in the perfect position to be thrown into the whirlwind of lies that bombarded his ears from the mouths of his Clan. Granted not all of them were about the 'traitor' known as Snowstorm, but the bulk of the were. Crimsonfire had heard rumours about himself as well, about him wanted and plotting that he was going to overthrow Sparrowstar, and that him and his father were at odd ends most of the time. Well, the overthrowing Sparrowstar was far from true. The gossip about Snowstorm, though, he didn't know whether to believe it or not. The tom never gave a smile nor sneer in inclination of fact or myth. Even if he denied everything they said, Crimsonfire had a feeling that the Clan wouldn't let them go easily. It was more fun to believe fiction, than to believe the truth. The tom was drawn from his thoughts when his paw struck a felled log against his path. A surprised yowl escaped his maw, and he leapt back a good fox length. Furrowing his brow, he felt warm embarrassment upon his ears, and he looked around sheepishly, hoping no one had seen him or heard his little moment. His anger had taken a turn for the better, releasing his mind from the blind fury that had him in its grasp for the vast majority of the day, but he was still a raw nerve. He couldn't say he was surprised seeing as it was the usual aftermath of one of his breaking points. However, the fact that this one had lasted so long, bugged him. Crimsonfire couldn't remember ever losing it for that long before in his life. Nothing had ever set him off that badly before. Crimsonfire let a sigh roll off of his tongue and escape into the slowly cooling air. More aware of where he was and his position among the trees, he carried on his way, not sure where he was going, just that he knew he wasn't ready to go back to camp and face the chance of meeting his father and losing it again. He wasn't quite low enough to do that. Stepping less than gracefully for the log that he had cleared in his pursuit of Snowstorm, he calculated his position in accordance to the pond, and set his paws in that direction. Crimsonfire came out of the tree line and to the shore of the pond. The oncoming night sky was reflected in the still of the surface water, and he let himself smile at the beautiful colours. Sinking down to the ground, he rested his head on his paws, and thought back to the past events and his actions. Disappointment in him broke through, and he felt greatly ashamed. There was no excuse for the things he said, nor the longing to rip into Snowstorms pelt. Glancing across the pond into the trees on the side opposite of him, his eyelids met, and they touched with exerted force. He couldn't believe he had let his temper get the better of him. He was proud, but his actions to demonstrate it; that was inexcusable. Crimsonfire opened his eyes and the tip of his tail flicked with annoyance and irritation. Snowstorm had demonstrated to him that he was the stronger warrior mentally. He was able to control his emotions, and only say was completely necessary, something that Crimsonfire had yet to perfect. However, the fact that the tom had shown no sign of protecting himself against the deputy, branded him as a coward in his mind. He didn't care if he was the deputy; if someone were to challenge you, you accept and not simply sink down in submission or acceptance of fate. Another sigh brought his eyes closed once again, and he realized just how tired he was... The squeal of a boar brought Crimsonfire to his paws, almost the moment the gut wrenching sound hit his ears. Half awake he looked around for the animal, and seen it barreling down the shoreline of the pond. Blinking his eyes, he wasn't alert enough to give chase and run down a boar of that size. On a good day, when his body was fully alert and his mind was sharp, he would, but he was no fool to take on a full grown boar. Jaws parting in a yawn that seemed to erase the stress from his mind and body, he caught the sweet smell of boar blood on the air. A rumble exploded in his stomach and he suddenly became aware of the hunger that plagued his body. Taking a few steps toward the direction in which the hog had taken off in, he dipped his head to sniff the ground, and his head shot up in surprise. The familiar smell of Snowstorm touched his senses, and every nerve in his body stood up in alarm. This blood held the smell of Snowstorm, as well as the boar. Crimsonfire opened his mouth and let the smell of the two creatures wash over his tongue. He dropped his head and something clicked. Why Snowstorm hadn’t come through the forest after the prize prey suddenly sparked the feeling of curiosity into the deputy’s mind. Concern flared up in him, and without a thought more crossing his mind, he took off, following the smell of the boar in the direction it came from. Having to slow his pace considerably to follow the twisting trail in which the boar had escaped through, he was breathing in deeply to keep the scent strong on his tongue. With every moment that passed, he became more worried, as the smell of blood grew stronger. The fact that the cat was Snowstorm held no place in his mind; one of his Clan mates was hurt, it didn’t matter who it was. Twisting his body around a small slit of trees, he came out into the area and the smell of blood overwhelmed him. His eyes searched frantically for the white tom, and when his eyes finally found their target, he froze and his mouth hung open slightly. Crimsonfire could barely believe what he was seeing. The warrior, who had stood up against him with a disconnected boredom, now lay on the ground, two gaping holes in his side, his pelt no longer white where the blood had spread to. Snapping out of the shock, he cleared the space between him and the injured tom with one clean, powerful leap. “Snowstorm! Snowstorm! Can you hear me?”

[/b] Concern flooded his every word, and his eyes were wide with worry. “Oh please, StarClan! Don’t be dead.. don’t be dead!”[/b] The words flubbed over his tongue, not really aware of him saying it, just noticing that noise was coming from his mouth. Nudging his face, he felt the shallow, short breaths of the tom against his face. “Come on Snowstorm, get up. Please. I’ll help you back to camp.”[/b] He whispered quickly, running his eyes over the wounds, and the mangled appearance of the senior warriors’ chest. Crimsonfire was horrified at the sight, unsure exactly what the extent of the wounds meant, but apt enough to know that they could be fatal if they weren’t taken care of. Crimsonfire stood by the tom, half crouched, praying for a response from the white warrior.


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SNOWSTORM. 1550. =O no! Snowstorm! </3
TEMPLATE BY OH SO COOPERNATURAL ! @ CAUTION.

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[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Something%20Beautiful%20v2/middle-5.png] [scrolly:h(282),w(444),sy] SINCE the day he was born, Snowstorm had been hyper-aware of everything around him. His senses were sharp and his mind even sharper. He grasped concepts faster than his siblings, faster than any cat his age. His mind had overjoyed his parents. They'd been filled with ambition for him because he was intelligent, truly intelligent. The problem had been that his intelligence put Snowstorm apart from the clan in a way they never understood. His mind, it was never quiet. He dreamed vividly and wildly, hunts and battles and training, they were all a mishmash of calculations and analyzing and observing while acting in a way most likely to turn the tides in his favor. Snowstorm had grown up a master of manipulation but poor at socializing because he didn't understand why his clanmates had to be so emotional. They wore their hearts on their pelts for the enemy to see. They gave away secrets that should be always guarded. When he didn't react just right, they got mad or scorned him. In the end, Snowstorm had simply turned his back on the lot of it, if for no other reason than to save his sanity. INSOMNIA was bad enough. No need to go adding angry clanmates to his list. Relationships were a complexity that Snowstorm didn't quite grasp when it was beyond enemy and clanmate. Love was something he'd never truly felt. Affection for his mentor in a sibling-esque fashion was one thing but he knew enough to know it wasn't the same. The clan pushed him away because he didn't let them know what he was thinking all the time. They gossiped and glanced his way when they thought he didn't see. Snowstorm had stopped hearing it moons ago because the constant whirring of the gears in his mind was enough to keep him content, twisting scenarios and predicting and calculating. NOW, for the first time in his life, Snowstorm's mind was falling quiet. It was a muffled sensation, as if someone had stuffed cotton in his ears. All he could do was watch the sun go down with a fringe of darkness around his vision and then distantly observe the sky turn from flaming orange to deeper and deeper shades of blue. He knew he should feel pain but if he was still, he felt comfortably numb. His sides burned when he breathed but if he breathed shallowly it hurt less. Puncture wounds didn't bleed a whole lot and most of his problems were probably bruising...though his ribs felt like their shape had changed. He chose not to explore that particular injury. Instead he kept still and let himself drift as his vision became hazier and hazier. Finally the tom just let his eyes close because it was easier and made him feel less like he was going to be ill. SOMEWHERE in the back corner of his mind, his rationality spoke up. He should haul himself up and go see Goldenlight. His ribs...they didn't feel right and the punctures could get infected. The problem was it felt like someone had cut off his paws and replaced them with boulders. His body felt heavy and strangely warm but cold at the same time. It was easier to just drift like a feather on a breeze. He would see Goldenlight in a minute, once he rested. That boar had really done a number on him, after all. Let Crimsonfire and his lot wait a minute. Gradually the rational side of Snowstorm's brain drifted off too, consumed by the darkness, hazy and quiet. FAINTLY the tom couldn't help but wonder if this was how normal cats fell all the time, with their minds quiet. Was it this muffled? This disconnected? Was this why they had so little control? It occurred to Snowstorm that he didn't really like the sensation. It felt like he'd been given too many poppy seeds or something. Overall it was too quiet and unpleasant, as if any moment he'd start hearing echoes or something in his skull from how empty and quiet his mind was. If this was the way normal cats were all the time, they could have it as far as Snowstorm was concerned. 'SN...STORM...hear me? StarClan! Dead..don't...' A voice filtered through the quiet and for a moment Snowstorm nearly leaped up and cheered before his body reminded him why he was so still in the first place. Anything other than noise though. Anything else. FORCING his eyelids to part took decidedly more effort than it ever had before. Even after an intense, long sparring session with Redpoppy followed by border and hunting patrol had never taken it out of Snowstorm like this. He'd always hoped right up when his mentor called, no matter how little sleep he'd had or how much work he'd done previously. Now though, it felt like a monumental effort. Still, Snowstorm was stubborn in his own way. Not on his watch, would his own body defy him. So, slowly, hazy light blue eyes revealed themselves. It was darker than it had been when he'd closed his eyes but he could barely see the sky because someone was looming over him. CRIMSONFIRE. Puh. THE fire was gone from him now, that was for sure. Snowstorm's analytical mind dredged itself up from the darkness when he saw the deputy's expression. Worried? Why? There were no enemies were there? Was Sparrowstar or someone else in danger? '...SNOWSTORM, get up. Please. I’ll help you back to camp.' RIGHT. An order. He could follow that, no matter what anyone said about his loyalties. ON instinct, Snowstorm made as though to curl his body and roll to his feet, as if Crimsonfire had just woken him up because intruders were in camp. Searing pain like lightning's fire burned through Snowstorm's side and lit his nerves. A strangled sound of pain choked itself from the white tom and for a moment his muscles spasmed, body not sure what to do to make the pain stop. After a moment he forced himself limp, breathing fast and shallow. Right. He was in pain. He could smell blood. The boar. He'd botched a boar hunt for the first time since he had been an apprentice. Oh he would never live this down. A low growl rumbled from the tom as he squeezed his blue eyes shut. He shut out Crimsonfire, shut out the forest noise, shut out the pain. Jaw clenched, Snowstorm lurched into motion again. The pain was blinding even though he tried his hardest to keep it out. Maybe it was just his imagination but Snowstorm swore he could feel the bones of his ribs grating against one another as he forced himself to his feet. The end result was Snowstorm nearly holding his breath because it hurt so badly, standing as weakly as a newborn fawn and shivering in the weak young moonlight. His skin shivered and jumped as the muscles under it spasmed and twitched. His breathing was erratic, too painful to breathe deeply but his body hungry for the oxygen. His vision kept hazing in and out as waves of pain rolled through him but he couldn't go back down. If he laid down again he wouldn't get up. Ever again. Long hooked claws dug into the ground as if it would help him stay standing as his whole body tried to sag back toward the ground. STANDING upright, if you looked at his side, under the skin near one of the punctures, shadows showed where the ribs were weak and slightly caved. Snapped by the boar. Sheer force of will kept him standing. Sort of. Tagged;; Crimsonfire Words;; 1309 Song;; "Simon" by OneRepublic Notes;; my poor baby </3 [/scrolly]

[jinxeh ఇ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] You must be crazy Well you think that you can take me on - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The level of concern that touched the brute's mind and engulfed his body, was one that he had not felt for any other cats. Of course, he had never seen a cat with injuries of this magnitude. He could barely comprehend what he was seeing, being as he was so young and inexperienced. Eyes moving with lightning speed, he tried to look at every inch of the tom cats body, and focus on his face, to see if there was anything going on in the toms head. The short and wheezy breaths that escaped from his nose were a sign that he was still alive, but being alive and being conscious were two very different things. Consciousness could be the difference between life and death in a matter like this. So the young deputy watched the older warrior expectantly, praying to StarClan that he miraculously got up and walked back to camp. Looking down upon the hurt warrior made Crimsonfire feel very young, and unsure of himself. Glancing away from the white warrior, he looked to the sky, clouded now, hiding Silverpelt from his view. He felt like a kit again, unable to do anything, bond by his inexperience and age. It was as if he was back in the nursery sitting beside his mother, longingly looking out of the entrance at the warriors leaving on a hunting patrol, and wanting to be with them. That feeling was rested in his heart again, only in a much different way. That was a simple matter of being too young. This ... this, was so much more than something as minuscule as that. He felt as if he knew nothing. The deputy was at a loss for what to do, all he could think to do was run back to camp and get Goldenlight. But, what good would that do? Would he rather sit idly by and let the older tom die from his wounds, or run back to camp and cause an uproar from the Clan mates. His heart told him to stay by the tom, and hope for the best, despite his great dislike for Snowstorm. His mind told him to go back and get a saviour who knew what herbs to use, give him some relief in the event that he would die. He turned his eyes away from the sky, the clouds offering him no solace for his troubled mind. Crimsonfire's hope began to fade with every moment that passed, with every glance to the bleeding wounds torn savagely into the sides Snowstorm. Crimsonfire couldn't help but feel a twist in his stomach at the thought that he wanted to rip his claws down the side of the warrior. This, this was wrong. Crimsonfire was also surprised to see Snowstorm in such a position of vulnerability. Despite the constant batter of the Clans words, he had never let them get to him, and Crimsonfire was no stranger to the fighting abilities that the white warrior embraced and shared with TigerClan. The fact that he had been beaten and broken at the will of a boar, the same species which the Clan depended on for nutrition was mind blowing for the tom. Crimsonfire shook his head and sighed, his eyes sad as he gazed upon the broken warrior. Moving his eyes from the scarlet blood to his face, his ears shot forward in alert, and he was standing upright as he noticed the open blue eyes of Snowstorm. Relief washed over him. He was conscious. Thank you StarClan! He thought and a smile broke across his face. The argument from earlier seemed to vanish from his mind. Crimsonfire did nothing to offer help to the tom, for the sole reason that he hadn't done anything other than open his eyes. And Crimsonfire was pretty certain that he wasn't pleased to see the golden deputy, even if he was there to help him back to the camp, or if he had even seen him for that matter. However, when the cat made a movement to get up, Crimsonfire moved back, getting ready to help if it was needed. Secretly, he wished for the tom to get up on his own, so that Crimsonfire didn't need to help. He would much rather not have to touch the bleeding tom. Crimsonfire flinched as the strangled noise of pain erupted from Snowstorms mouth, and his body responded no more. The deputy made no attempt to help the tom. He knew if he was in Snowstorm's position that - well for one, he would be on his own right now - he wouldn't want to be helped, he was too proud for that. Instead,he stood by, hardly aware of he moon peaking through the clouded sky above the two TigerClanners. A few long moments stretched thin among them, until Snowstorm attempted the rise to his feet once again, this time succeeding. Stubborn brute. Crimsonfire thought, and took a step towards him, watching the warrior if he were to collapse to the ground once again. "We need to get back before you lose more blood." The comment was completely unnecessary, but it was the only thing he could think to say at the time. Offering his services to the tom, he went to the side which was free from injury, and pressed against the tom. "Swallow your pride and let me help you." Crimsonfire grunted, swallowing his own, and speaking in a tone that showed none of worry or concern. His prowess had returned and he was back in control of himself for the first time that day. SNOWSTORM. 930. LOL. This post sucks. TEMPLATE BY OH SO COOPERNATURAL ! @ CAUTION.

[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Something%20Beautiful%20v2/middle-5.png] [scrolly:h(282),w(444),sy] A strange buzzing sound filled Snowstorm's ears as he swayed on the spot. It sounded like millions of angry hornets or maybe swarming bees. His head was hung low as gravity tried its hardest to drag him back down. Strangely though, Snowstorm felt detached from it all, as if he was watching it happen to someone else. He felt neither pain nor fear as he dimly processed Crimsonfire talking. Moving was what Crimsonfire wanted but to Snowstorm it sounded like a terrible idea. A painful one, in fact. Pain was bad. Maybe laying down again wouldn't be such a bad idea? He could rest a while then and maybe if he disobeyed and made Crimsonfire mad again, the deputy would storm off in a huff like so many of the apprentices in camp. 'SWALLOW your pride and let me help you.' THE deputy's voice brought Snowstorm's hazy blue eyes dragging up to meet fierce amber. Some awareness came back to the white tiger as he met the deputy's gaze. Distaste wriggled weakly within him, distaste for the deputy's persona. One moment he wanted nothing more than to hurt Snowstorm. Called him a coward, but the instant blood was spilled, he acted concerned. Acted like he cared. It was all well and good until someone got hurt, wasn't that the saying? It made Snowstorm want to puke, it honestly did. The clan didn't care when he was well and whole, they left him to his own devices without so much as wondering if he ever felt lonely or if he ever felt the sting of their mutterings. They called him a traitor without cause, insisted he was out to get them, that he'd turn on them in the heat of battle or try to kill Sparrowstar in a fit of jealous rage or simply because he could. Now that he was broken and down, the same cat that scorned him rose up to try and act noble. It was disgusting. And to think, everyone wondered about his disregard and disdain for his own clan. He'd die for them but no one cared until he was actually dying. "S...SAVE...your nobility," Snowstorm wheezed, pain snapping through his sides with each word. "You..would...see me dead...as q...quickly as...the boar...as...any...of them..." JUST because he liked his peace. Because he valued control. Because he dared to stand apart and think before he acted, the clan cast him aside. Scorned his name and gossiped when they knew he could still hear. Crimsonfire was no different. Hours ago the deputy had trailed behind him trying to pick a fight over something that didn't matter in the slightest. Now he acted apologetic, tried to tell Snowstorm what to do when it was painstakingly obvious. In camp he would probably claim he'd saved Snowstorm, reap some glory for himself while Goldenlight tried to keep Snowstorm away from StarClan's light. Snowstorm wasn't a fool though. He wouldn't fall for this false concern that would evaporate like the morning mist as soon as they were among other tigers. It was a farce and Snowstorm hated farces. The masks and fake personas and false happiness that his clanmates pushed on others, it made him ill so he acted like himself. There was no mask to Snowstorm. Just Snowstorm, and they hated it. He wouldn't be fake like them. Things like physical pain, they would never lie to him but his clanmates would in a heartbeat. PAINFULLY, Snowstorm began to move. His steps were shaky to say the least, punctuated by lighting bolts of pain and halting breaths. It hurt so badly that Snowstorm could hardly breathe at all. The sensation of his paws having turned to stone became more and more of a burden as the white tom tried to stagger his way back to camp alone. His vision kept tunneling in and out as the pain rose and fell with each uneven step. He ignored Crimsonfire, focusing instead on the sensations. The pain kept him aware, even as it tried to steal his consciousness. It was solid and real. If he felt pain, he wasn't dead yet and probably wouldn't be this night. Broken ribs were probably his fate from this ill-attempted boar hunt, but so long as they didn't pierce anything vital, he would live to hunt another day. GETTING to camp though...oh that would be a long, slow, painful trek. Slick grass under his paw made Snowstorm's front paw slide out from under him. Catching himself, more on instinct than anything, caused a pain so white hot and fierce to flash through his side that the white tom nearly fell to the ground, barely locking his limbs in time to stop himself. Catching himself a second time brought pain rocketing again through him, as if someone were repeatedly striking him with lightning. Clenching his jaw so tightly it hurt and he tasted blood on his tongue, Snowstorm screwed his eyes shut and tried to remember the last time he'd taken a breath. He didn't dare breathe, didn't dare move. Every muscle in his body was tight, locked down in pain, leaving him rigid and as still as a statue. Tagged;; Crimsonfire Words;; 893 Song;; "Remedy" by Seether Notes;; poor snowy.... [/scrolly]

[jinxeh ఇ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] You must be crazy Well you think that you can take me on - - - - - - - - - - - - - - It was almost painful for Crimsonfire to watch the older tom try and move. He was weak, the deputy wasn't blind to that fact, and it bothered the young brute. Mostly because only a few moments ago, or longer than that, - Crimsonfire had lost track of time - he had been staring the definition of anger in the face with an attitude that only the stupidest cats would try and pull. The difference? Snowstorm wasn't dumb, he just honestly didn't care that Crimsonfire was ready to rip his throat out if he so much as set a challenge for him. It was that fact right there that was causing the golden toms stomach to twist itself into a tight, painful knot. Things could happen so fast, without a moments hesitation. The fact that they had had that confrontation, should have been a clear sign to Crimsonfire that Snowstorm wouldn't want anything to do with him. He had taken out the frustration that was caused by his father and thrown it at the white tiger in a very unprofessional way. So it should have came without surprise when the cat turned his gaze to look at Crimsonfire, concern blazing in his eyes and wanting to help him. It was merely the way the young tom was, he did have a heart, contrary to popular belief of the Clan. The fact that no one knew of his kinder side, became horrendously clear with the look in Snowstorm's blue eyes. Of course, the pain was there, but a new look, one that Crimsonfire hadn't seen all day. A look of disgust. Naturally, one would assume it was about them, but Crimsonfire had trashed that idea the moment he saw it. He felt a pang of pity unravel the knot in his stomach. Snowstorm was disgusted in himself for wanting Crimsonfire to help him. How ... juvenile. It made Crimsonfire feel good at the thought that even someone so emotionless, and careless needed help sometimes. And the deputy would certainly help. It was the least he could do after the way he treated him. No, Crimsonfire didn't really care about the tom cat, not personality wise, but he was still one of his Clan mates. Living, breathing, hunting, fighting, contributing to keeping TigerClan alive. Not to mention it would look really bad if Crimsonfire didn't offer to help. He wouldn't be much of a deputy then would he? So here he was. Standing beside a warrior who he disliked with a passion, the smell of his blood choking him out, just because of the amount of it that was soaking into the ground and drenching the white pelt. Crimsonfire could feel the scalding warmth coming off of the injured warrior and he was about to speak when Snowstorm opened his mouth instead. "S...SAVE...your nobility," The tone of voice caught him off guard, but drew him away from the black and white warrior. He couldn't help but furrow his brow in disbelief that the tom was telling him to not bother helping him. Crimsonfire dislike for the tom increased ten fold and he curled his lip slightly. The next words out of the toms mouth struck a nerve within the deputy, and it shut him down right then and there. He was right. Crimsonfire didn't care about the tom, it would save the Clan some head ache if he wasn't around. But at the same time, there was a flicker of like for the tom despite his cool nature. Maybe that was the reason why the young cat was so offended at the toms words, regardless of the context and truth behind them. Crimsonfire refused to justify his words with a response, and merely took to nodding his head curtly, and his whiskers twitched. Something else was bugging the young deputy, something that he had almost done. The thought latched onto his mind with dagger sharp claws and wreaked havoc on his thoughts. Had Crimsonfire gone back to camp, he would be sleeping right now (or attempting to), and he would not be thinking of the absence of the white warrior, other than replaying their spat in his head. No one else in the Clan would notice him being gone either. Then there would be a very good chance that he would still be lying on the ground, barely conscious staring his ancestors in there celestial faces. Crimsonfire fully believed that he would be dead come morning. The thought haunted him, and he figured it always would. The 'what if..' of any situation made it hard for the tom to sleep. Drowning in himself, he was ignorant to Snowstorm and the fact that he was a ways away from him. It was only when the tom made a jerky movement that Crimsonfire was pulled rather quickly out of himself and back into the reality of the world around him. However, Crimsonfire didn't make a movement to help Snowstorm. He didn't want his help, so why should he give it? If Snowstorm wanted to make it back to camp, and boast about being able to on his own, Crimsonfire would let him. Letting his eyes flicker over the tom cats body and the taughtness of his muscles, he began to walk forward, but keeping a distance. He wouldn't assist, but he would make sure Snowstorm made it back to camp and to Goldenlight. The going was slow, but he knew it was tough on the white warrior. Crimsonfire didn't dare remove his topaz gaze from the tom, for fear that he would miss it if something happened. The second time Snowstorm had to catch himself, made Crimsonfire move into action. He didn't care what the Siberian said. It would be easier on him if he was there to help. With a few brisk strides, he was beside the warrior and the heat radiating off of the tom was much greater than it had been earlier. Crimsonfire pressed his fiery pelt against Snowstorms snowy one, and braced himself. "Walk." His voice was low, but gruff, it was a direct order, no room for question. "I'm helping you, whether you like it or not. Unless you want to die out here? Speak now, and I'll be on my way." Crimsonfire paused, and looked at the back of Snowstorms head, only because he wasn't in a position to see the toms eyes. " But I think we both know you can't make it back to camp by yourself." SNOWSTORM. 1079. Well, this is one hell of a rambly mess xD TEMPLATE BY OH SO COOPERNATURAL ! @ CAUTION.

[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Something%20Beautiful%20v2/middle-5.png] [scrolly:h(282),w(444),sy] IF Snowstorm's muscles hadn't been so locked down, he probably would have flinched when he felt Crimsonfire touch him. Not flinching from pain but just from the...strangeness of it. Not a lot of cats touched Snowstorm, freely or by accident. It was like he and his clanmates simply polarized away from one another. Frankly, it suited the white tom just fine. Touch had never been a big thing to him, not like it was for some cats. Some cats had to have touch almost constantly, mostly for comfort reasons. Snowstorm wasn't that dependent. Touch was alright but it honestly made no difference to him if someone touched him or not. Right now though he couldn't have moved if he wanted to, body too stiffened from pain to bother with such unnecessary movement. Flinching would just bring more pain. EVERY instinct the white tom had screamed at him to shrug off the deputy. Get rid of Crimsonfire because he was dangerous. The deputy could hurt him. End him, just like he'd threatened not mere hours ago. The ideal was quite unappealing. No matter how much pain he was in, Snowstorm wasn't in any hurry to greet his ancestors with stars on his pelt and moonlight in his eyes. Not yet. Long curved claws dug into the soft ground under his paws as the deputy rumbled instructions in his ear, insisting he needed help. The very idea made Snowstorm's mind rebel violently in a way his body couldn't. He didn't want help. Not Crimsonfire's, not anyone else's. They never offered help because of the generosity of their hearts, Snowstorm knew better than that. Still, his limbs were shaking and he felt ill in his stomach. MAYBE if it were Goldenlight helping him, then it would be easier to accept the help. The golden tabby medicine cat had been the only cat Snowstorm had ever met to actually offer aid singularly out of the goodness of her heart. Cats like Crimsonfire were...two-faced. But...for the sake of argument...Snowstorm honestly didn't feel like laying down and dying like a dog at the feet of the clan deputy. The thought of such a dishonorable death almost made Snowstorm vomit. It wasn't the fact that he'd be dying from a botched boar hunt. Oh no, that didn't both him. It would be dying with Crimsonfire standing over him as StarClan led him away. That was more dishonor than even Snowstorm could handle and he'd never been too horribly twisted up on the idea of honor and dignity. He had it but he didn't think of it much. Now he did. RELUCTANTLY, the white tom let his mostly uninjured side come to rest against Crimsonfire's shoulder, Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the ground ahead, Snowstorm let the deputy help him along on the way to camp. His thoughts focused on getting to Goldenlight. At least the old tigress would have herbs to make the pain go away, even if it sent him to StarClan. Snowstorm kept his jaws clamped shut throughout the slow trek, focusing on not making any sounds of pain as he felt his ribs grating together. Sparks of pain flew behind his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes and shot along his sides whenever he took a wrong step, causing him to grunt and pause before he could go on. The white tom focused on completely ignoring Crimsonfire until he saw the camp entrance coming into view. He was only faintly surprised to see the faded-to-white Goldenlight sitting just outside, looking as though she had been expecting them. THE old she-cat rose and came toward them and peered at Snowstorm's side with her hazy light blue eyes. Her whiskers, translucent with age, twitched as she clucked her tongue. "Quite a number you've done Snowstorm." Her light eyes skipped to Crimsonfire, a gentle smile coming to her maw. "I'll take him from here, Crimsonfire. He'll be up and well soon enough. Sparrowstar's been looking for you all day, both of you." GOLDENLIGHT was perhaps the only cat in the clan that Snowstorm had ever seen treat her clanmates as such, taking charge of a situation with ease no leader could ever master, viewing gaping wounds as mild ailments and already planning treatment for broken ribs before the warrior was even in her den. Sliding between Snowstorm and Crimsonfire, Goldenlight took up the deputy's spot beside Snowstorm. With more strength than most cats would credit to the aged medicine cat, she took Snowstorm's wait and continued their slow trek to camp, chattering quietly to the white tom and making a checklist of herbs to send Flutterpaw for, acting for all the world like this happened everyday of the year. Tagged;; Crimsonfire Words;; 816 Song;; "Bleed Red" by Ronnie Dun Notes;; hope you don't mind goldie intervening [/scrolly]