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5 days ago
Current If you think about it, Joseph the Carpenter was the most famous cuck of all. God straight up pumped Mary and he didn't do anything
1 like
6 days ago
Are you telling me Lions can't establish absolute monarchies? Not with that attitude! Have a little faith, won't you?
4 likes
12 days ago
You ever walk side by side with your bro, and your hands accidentally touch? You think to yourself, that was weird but I'm not gay? You are. You are gay.
6 likes
22 days ago
I'd rather not be puffing something that gave me lung cancer
2 likes
26 days ago
I know criminals can't hate crime because by their very nature they love crime
2 likes

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Interacting with: @skitts | @sassy1085



As requested, Flamepelt delivered a sudden diversion in conversation. It was...an interesting thought process. He pondered over the concepts of Starclan, something rarely discussed between warriors, at least from Branch's observations. Most cats seemed to accept that it was the medicine cat's privilege to see and bear witness to the holy imagery that was their ultimate goal. Questioning or imagining how that experience was never crossed their minds; for perhaps, they decided future was rested in compliance in order to maximise their effectiveness. Curious cats weren't a detriment to the clan, of course, but they still could use that time for more important matters. Flamepelt's curiosity was an intrinsic fascination, something that captured Branchfall's attention easily. His ability to just talk like that, so naturally, was honestly a small spot of jealousy for Branch. It was seamless, immediate and not the slightest bit disinteresting. Though, a social butterfly like him couldn't exactly mess up as something as simple as 'starting a conversation'.

As he went over to communicate his questions to Rainstripe, it gave Branchfall a moment to think over what had been proposed. Starclan, that almighty collective that had the valley in its paws, barely communicated with the common cat. All they had to go off was the word of the medicine cat and their stories. Other than that, their only experience would be in death. Some cats had embraced the chances of death with a welcomed embrace. For the good cats, they were ready to pass their souls off whenever that painful day came forward. Branchfall, on the other hand, was absolutely terrified of his passing. Would it come today, or tomorrow? Inquiries like those haunted him at night and during the day. Any patrol could be his last, and with the uprising of murders, who knew if he was the next target. How would he defend himself? Would his training be enough? Had it ever been enough for the cats who'd already died? For Starclan's sake, things had taken a turn for the worst. His heartrate accelerated, and not in the way when he saw another attractive clanmember, the kind of way that made him fear for his life. Was Starclan even enough for him? Maybe the more important question, was he enough for Starclan? Would they accept someone so dishevelled and disenfranchised as himself? He doubted himself more than any of his clanmates doubted him. Perhaps that's why he felt so hurt all the time.


"Oh, Starclan? An old idol of mine used to talk about her experiences with them a lot." He began with a cold reminder of Birchclan. It always came back to it, didn't it? Every single time. He couldn't escape them, even in passing conversation. It made him feel as if he were searching for excuses just to talk about them, when he really didn't want to. "Beautiful landscapes, celestial cats; everything we could dream of, but better. I guess it's right for it not to be known or understood, therefore we can appreciate it as the ultimate gift for when our time comes."

But Branchfall didn't want that time to come. Why was it so hard to appreciate that life must come to and end at some point? Where he ended, another began. His demise was the birth of someone else's story. The empty seat he'd leave behind could become the throne of any other cat. That would be his sacrifice to the clan, valley and world. Fading into obscurity, nothing of value nor any importance to the future of the clancats. There was no incentive to make something from himself because he was one of many. History and the mythos of the valley remembered one in every thousand clancats that lived. He felt no need to chase the unobtainable. And yet, despite knowing this was his fate, he could not help but feel terrified over it all.

It was a scary end, even if there was certainty of a life after. Flamepelt had accidentally sent him down a path of existential misunderstanding, nihilism and scepticism, but no one would know or care about what went on in his mind. He was that background layer to the grand story. A statistic, perhaps, in a list of murders, deaths, battles and eras. The greatest gift he could've been given was a single day's vigil after he moved on to the other side, where the day after not a single cat would remember or utter his name ever again. That's how Branchfall truly felt, it seemed, and only then was he coming to realise that.


"Hopefully you'll all be in better positions of power, notoriety and idolisation when that time comes. I'll just be doing whatever, I guess." Hiding his insecurity with a light-hearted, satirical prod at his carelessness, he tried to covertly step around the problems with his mind. Knowing full well that Rainstripe couldn't hear him, he put on a fake smile and beamed at Flamepelt to crack another falsely positive comment. "You'll have a mate by then, all kits and a lineage to go off of. If you aren't the Leader yourself by then, either your mate or kits will become it. Better choose wisely, though."

Mates. Oh, starclan, why must he flood his mind with such troubling aspects of life? Mates were that next step, that settling of his life and loyalty, finding someone specifically to dedicate his soul to. Forget that, Branchfall thought, it'd take reciprocation for that to happen. He realised how downtrodden his mind had been that day, taking a moment to try and cleanse a new slate, a tabula rasa, and to cheer up.

Unfortunately, the day still had things in store for them. Along the beaten path of their border, colliding with Birchclan's territory, something had been left in waiting for their discovery. A small gathering beside one of the oldest trees on the border...

When Branchfall noticed it with his eyes, barely catching a whiff of the aftermath, he squinted to make out its purpose. Three or four cats, all clustered together, seemed to be dragging something away. Rather uncharacteristically, Branchfall was the first to step forward and approach the situation, forgetting who those cats belonged to. By the team he'd reached them, it was too late to back out. He came into full view of several cats, some of which he knew at first glance. Their unforgettable appearances, colourations and voices. The disdain for rushing forward, knowing he had something to prove to MistClan, had left him face to face with four cats: Addershine, Wolfheart, Amberdawn and...Reedcoat...

The siblings looked at each other with estranged stares. For a moment, the desperate reunification saw them immobile, simply surprised by the presence of their next of kin. A foul scent was in the air, the decaying whiff of a fallen cat. It would've sickened him if he'd noticed the horrific scent to begin with. Instead, his eyes were locked onto his sister's and she returned the gaze with an unsettled look in her iris. Her expression was blended with the foul nature of her own discovery, and the arrival of the grace-fallen Branch. He never saw the others who accompanied him arrive, even if they did just as quickly as he had. Before either Branchfall or Reedcoat could question why the other had arrived, Wolfheart was the first to assert his presence.


"Hey, back away! We don't need interference from the likes of MistClan cats!" At an instant, the tension in the air blistered their chance at an easy communication. Branchfall was swabbed out of his trance to meet the apprehensive Wolfheart, who hissed with such a vile introduction that the former cowered back a little. "Go on, keep on backing up."

Having full control of the situation right from the get-go, Branchfall was hesitant to apprehend and question the happenings. Yet, before he could ask anything, he was shown a horrifying sight. Behind them, cut and scarred all across their body, with what looked like a sliced open belly, was the remains of a clancat. The name slipped his mind at first, the sight alone had left him speechless. It was the first of many excruciating corpses he'd witnessed first-hand. At the expense of their life, from what looked like a brutal showcase of murder, he felt even more sick in his stomach. Could it be yet another-

"Ey, they're peeping. I'm going to take him back to the camp and let them know of the news, watch them." Adamant to continue his dominating presence over the situation, Wolfheart delivered several orders before taking the body by the neck and dragging him across the floor. It was just as he was about to disappear into the bushes with the disgusting mess of a tom where he remembered the victim's name: LakeTalon, or something like that. It wasn't one of the older ones, someone who was a few moons older than Branchfall was himself. He remembered him being someone of a loved figure, a spritely kit that was playful with everyone and everything, even at his own risk. To see such a life extinguished and left in a unholy mangle was far too hard to believe. That was part of the horror that life had in store for the cats, and one of the many reasons Branchfall had an unrelenting fear of when it'd happen to him, where he'd be alone and friendless, without family to watch him drift away.

Wolfheart had vanished and dragged the body back to the Birchclan camp. In his wake, the awkward and tense environment was left to them. Almost without so much hesitation, Reedcoat walked off to the side and beckoned for Branchfall to follow her. It was still within eye and earshot of the others, just off to the side. The two other cats, Addershine and Amberdawn, were left to deal with Rainstripe and Flamepelt. There wouldn't be much cooperation, unless they worked something out. Either way, BranchFall focused on his sister, who seemed withdrawn in talking to him.


"Hey...Reedcoat...how're you?" Even before the sister who had a crumb of trust and empathy for him, he was as submissive and pitiful in conversation as ever before. She gave him a pained stare, letting out a little sigh. Perhaps smalltalk was the best way to bridge the gap between them.

"I'm...okay? I guess that's the way to put it." She looked over to the rest of the group, two Birchclan cats facing down two Mistclan warriors, and waited for them to explode into argument. Faking her interest, at least to be courteous, she pointed her tail toward them. "Friends? She looks nice."

"Oh, Flamepelt is. I've mentioned...him to you before I think? Rainstripe is-...she's another one, I guess. She's nice." Silence. Oh, by Starclan's will, the horrifying hesitation between the two ached their hearts. How was talking to family so frustratingly difficult?

Such difficult circumstances had placed two family members on opposing borders, driven by different ideologies and goals. When those walls were broken down, they could talk like nothing divided them at all. Today, however, was not one of those days. Tragedy had struck Birchclan, and there was many emotional and frustrated eyes getting ready to point their claws at their biggest adversary. Birchclan outnumbered and overpowered Mistclan in size and strength, sometimes considered the most influential player in the valley's politics. The last thing they needed was a conflict, but the series of murders had left them eager to take the first claw to one another's throats.


"Branch," she said suddenly, notably not using his suffix, "what're you doing? What's the clan done?"

"Wait, what're you-"

"Branch, I just want to know you didn't do this." His horrified look seemed to give her the answer she needed, and she sighed heavily. As she sat against the grass, near the dried blood stains of the corpse, she wiped her face with frustration and a desire to relieve her stress. "Sorry...I know you couldn't do something like this, not even out of necessity. I'm just so worried. Everyone back at the clan is so suspicious of your clan that I can't help but just feel something's wrong."

So, Irisstar had just as many suspicions as the other clans had toward him. He was always a shady figure that seemed to tiptoe around the political scene with grace and prowess, with everyone unsure of what his next unpredictable move would be. If it were true that he were worried about the wellbeing of his clanmates, something which many found hard to believe because of his obscure personality, then things were worse than he'd imagined. Everyone was impossible to believe, but no one seemed guilty enough to lay the blame on. And with BirchClan taking several of the deaths themselves, the idea that it was a conspiracy against them wasn't hard to disbelieve.

Reedcoat looked around her, clearly on edge by what she and her patrol had found. A fellow clanmate, another one, dead and slaughtered for no discernible purpose. Things couldn't have been worse unless there were a swarm of bears descending on their territory.


"By Starclan...this is horrible. I think Violetbriar has stopped hearing from them, the rumours are spreading fast around our camp." She shot a quick gaze at Branchfall, realising that she'd gone off on a slight tangent of her own. Assertively, she put a paw forward and tightened her stare. "For the love of Starclan, Branch, please don't get involved in things like this. These...maleficent acts are unforgiveable by everyone."

"You take me for a tom capable of that?" Upset by her suspicions and lecture, he let out a light whimper. The last thing he needed was for the only family member who was willing to talk to him to abandon him out of fear. "I'm not the kind to commit such atrocities. You know that, right?"

"I don't know, Branch. You've fallen into a bad partnership before..." As soon as she reminded him of his mistakes, his turn-coating and potential manipulation, he felt a metaphysical claw strike at his heart. The pain and agony, the burden of his mistakes, had barraged the rift between them and created a plunging pit to an unsanitary abyss. He would've been offended if it weren't true. Instead, he felt himself wither away into sadness, looking down at the grass. She noticed his sudden change in heart and tried to backpedal her statement. "No, Branch I...didn't mean it like that. I-...I'm sorry. Just, forget it. You should probably go back and report this to your deputy or something. They'll need to know about this as soon as possible."

Without much hesitation, though still plastered with an expression of dismay and distress, he approached Flamepelt and Rainstripe quickly. In a slight huff, he shook his head at them and took a deep breath. He didn't know how they'd take him taking the orders of his sister so easily, even if it was the right thing to do in that moment. Branchfall hadn't noticed if the four remaining cats had exploded into an argument or began a civil discussion over who to blame, which seemed unlikely to him, but he interjected for just a second to let them know what he was doing.

"I'm going to report this to Silverflight immediately. Just keep an eye on this, then when you're ready back away and leave. Don't escalate things...please?" And with that final question, he disappeared in a rush back to the camp, not looking back at the bloodied stains of another victim's essence.
Just for confirmation, RollCall!
Though I might not have the time to (I will if I can get it) join the RP, I just wanna come spread my love at the Wilfred Owen poetry name that has me fanboying k thanks


Interacting with: @skitts | @sassy1085



It was a glorious day, at least. That was where the positives tended to end. Things along the borders were always quite iffy. Anything could happen. The next big war could be snowballed from a border incident, and most of them were. They were walls in which the clans were divided, entities of harsh justice that ensured there'd always be a contest to be had. Though, it wasn't an imperfect system. The clans could define their hunting grounds and could adapt to their own parts of the valley, differentiating them and creating an identity amongst the wild. A sense of order, contained in a small plot of land that rivalled the others. Those were the things to be glad of. Time and time again, Branchfall had wondered how life on the free market of preservation played out. Relying only on themselves was a hasty job, especially in the presence of four great clans and the dangers the valley had to offer. He pictured the rogues and the loners as being amongst the most headstrong and capable cats across the land, held back only by their stubbornness and lack of social wit.

The perspective of borders was all too different from a cat who'd been on two sides of it. He'd seen one world and transitioned to another. That was a jarring experience. Life was different. The food was different. And whilst they all shared a conglomerate of ideas, religious beliefs and the all-encompassing Warrior Code, they were divided by a cultural significance and the great divider: thought. Branchfall had his own ideals pressed together into an ugly mess. And patrols like theirs were only the sharp reminders of the messes that had been made. The manifestations of an old world compared to the new; life before and the death of an old family member. He just hoped to StarClan that he wouldn't run into the cats he knew best. Whether they were family or just old friends, it was the last thing he needed.

Because of this, Branch came across as rather hasty. He was at the front of the group, checking everything and sniffing around as if he were in a rush. At the least, he tried to be thorough but couldn't hold himself up to the standards of a careful and detailed patroller. The first fifty heartbeats seemed to go off quite nicely. There wasn't an issue nor anything more than the faint scents of old reports. The roughened familiarity of a wild creature that skirted their territory was barely noticeable anymore, and so Branch breathed easily knowing that it wasn't anything cumbersome. Eventually, he grew tired of the silence between the three. It was deafening, getting in the way of his anxiety. The last thing he wanted was to silently stumble into a BirchClan patrol in the dead of morn.


"Hey, Flamepelt," he began in a mumble, "can you just start talking about something? Anything at all? New rumours, news or things of interest? I'd really appreciate it."





Interacting with: @Hero



On their voyage through the thick mist, Laurence stuck close by Cara. He tried not to latch on to her out of courtesy but the unfamiliar surroundings definitely tarnished his confidence. Why did he feel so scared? There was a presence around him that felt familiar in all of the alien architecture around him. A gut feeling, almost, or that presence of someone you know watching you. He felt like there were eyes he hadn't seen in a long time watching him, mimicking his own gaze and sharpening its teeth with a diamond whetstone. That anxiety drew him toward the only body he knew that was human - Cara wandered in her readied stance and seemed keen to keep her promise of protection. He'd have been lying if he said he wasn't both jealous and grateful for her presence. She carried herself with such diligence, even for a university student, and persisted with her stronger aura. It was a sight worth seeing a million times. And, god, Laurence felt embarrassed to even look at himself. Wandering around in a street of nowhere, scared out of his mind and close to paralysis and yet he flaunted over her mettle in his mind. He hated knowing that he was even in such a position, let alone mixing his mind with both the troubles of the situation and the fascination in the new ally he'd made.

With their eyes searching every place, he felt his chest pump with anxiety. Fuck. He hated being there. It was so horrific. No building looked real or hospitable, and yet the sounds of scurrying from inside indicated that something was around them, lurking with a devilish stalk about it.


"Hey...uhh...thanks-" Oh fuck, why did he start talking again? Was it because he hated the deafening silence that encompassed the pair or was it that today had shown him how much he truly loved one-to-one conversation? "I mean like...you didn't have much of a choice but...and we're just in this shitty place but...I mean, thanks. I don't think I would've moved from where you found me."

Cara stopped staring ahead to lpok back at Laurence, shaking her head. "Don't worry about it, I'm happy to help," She replied. After a short pause, she did laugh to herself. "It's a weird situation, I'm not really sure if we're doing the right thing, but...strength in numbers is better. I think."

"We're barely a pair," Somehow, through the blistering terror, he found his lips curling into a smile, "I mean, well...I get you."

His eyes began to scan their surroundings once more. Over on the horizon, he noticed a glimmer of golden sunlight break through the mist - only slightly, however. Squinting, he tried to gaze through the obstruction to see what had suddenly blossomed in the far reaches of their murky underworld. He couldn't see a damn thing, fortunately, but instead heard the roar of its upcoming barbarism. Feeling a sinking anchor strap itself to his gut, he knew that whatever was out there was anything but good. The grand scale explosions of violence erupted. The horizon sounded just like a dimmed warzone. He could no longer hear the sound that Cara wanted to investigate. And with the golden horizon blessing them with cursed implications, he reached out for her wrist, mostly grabbing half of her hand.

"We definitely shouldn't go this way." He suddenly spoke with strange conviction, a defiance to continue with their intrigue. "S-sorry...but, it's not...do you not hear that?"

Cara squinted as she tried to see through the fog, shaking her head in disappointment when she couldn't make out anything. As she moved forward, his hand held her back, and she looked back at him, surprised. "Hey now, we're fine," She told him. "It sounds far away enough, but if other people need help, we should investigate, no?"

"Cara, that sounds like gunfire or something..." Even though his fear was most definitely showing, he tried his best to keep a smile going as he met her surprised look. He took a quiet breath, before letting a meagre chuckle. "You look like...incredibly willing to kick someone's arse but I don't think it'll be much against...whatever's going on there. We can't do much realistically, not until we get home and figure out what this place is."

Cara had to stoo herself from laughing at Laurence's comment, although she gathered her composure as she frowned to herself. "You're right, but it isn't like anything else is really jumping out at us, is it?" She asked him. "We could investigate to see what's going on or take our chances into whatever else is in the fog."

If she weren't as calm and cool-headed as she was, he'd have declined the offer straight away. It was her influence, honestly. A blend of confidence, politeness, beauty and explorative behaviour creating the perfect leader. He felt rather outmatched, and arguing against her would've hindered his place and left him alone. It wasn't wise. He barely noticed himself holding onto her hand for support. Feeling like such a child, he cursed himself beneath his breath and held onto his temple with a free hand. Then, he nodded, and she began to lead the way.

The two trekked through a vast open plain. The sounds of the golden street off in the distance began to resonate throughout the tempered landscape. A rough of bombastic explosions rattled the glassless windows and the rubble that lay at their sills. He breathed calmly. There was no orchestral ambience, just the winds of emptiness surrounding them. As a filmmaker, he knew how effective at the endless sea of silence was in terrifying a man. It cursed him to know that this was reality and not some fictional cinematic piece he'd conjured in the back of his mind. There was no real escape, only the desperate shadows of some misfortunate twisted fantasy he now inhabited. God only knew what little he'd have likely done if Cara hadn't been coincidentally in the same place at the same time. The hallucinogenic fever dream had taken him to the highest plains of distress and all the way down to the lowlands of despair. How fucked had they truly been, and how lucky were they that they were yet to be slaughtered in the maze they were so ignorantly unaware of.

Suddenly, a translucent warp began to encompass them. It was much alike the effect that had taken them to the very same world. A sickness came in Laurence's stomach again. But as he stumbled around, keeping himself afloat by the clench of the hand, he noticed a figure off to the side, watching them. It didn't seem to be looking at him, however, but rather Cara.
@LetMeDoStuff can u help me? lol


Would have to be more specific on that one, but Ambra already said there's just one thing that needs changing. I'd have a look at that and see how you feel. If you aren't sure just tell me what you're not specifically sure on. I'll try not to rewrite the character as it is yours but we'll have to make concessions on it to let them fit into the lore
okay
i think i fixed it
Name:
Mistrunner

Age:
26 moons

Gender:
Female

Clan:
Mistclan

Rank:
Warrior

Appearance:
A Siberian cat with a glossy, white-as-snow coat. Her coat has a small patch of peach and grey on her face. Her ears are the same, her tail fading to a dark gray.

Personality:
A very elegant and sleek cat, Mistrunner has a sort of debonair edge to her. She's always surprising her comrades - and her prey - that gives her a reputation as a 'cat burglar' . If she wanted to, she could sit still for hours and watch and keep track of prey.
Biography:
Mistrunner was born with 2 other brothers. Mistrunner, as a kit, was very jumpy and got startled at even the slightest rustle of a leaf. Even more, she ignored almost every sign that enemies were near. Mistrunner became more crafty and shrewd as she aged up. Some would say that Mistrunner's apprenticeship was very doubted. Many more even thought she wouldn't survive to even see 17 moons. Mistrunner became more crafty and shrewd as she aged up. She has grown to have a understanding of the macrocosm (as far as cats can learn), and while very knowledgeable, she has very foolish lies that even the most slow-witted could guess.
Apprentice?: None.

Mate?:None.

Kits?:None.


Eyy that looks much better, though the Macrocosm bit is still probably going to be debatable, but I'd leave that to the GM to decide
okay, i changed it a bit
Appearance: A Siberian cat with a glossy, white-as-snow coat. Her coat has a small patch of peach and grey on her face. Her ears are the same, her tail fading to a dark gray.
A very elegant and sleek cat, Mistrunner has a sort of debonair edge to her. She's always surprising her comrades - and her prey - that gives her a reputation as a 'cat burglar' . If she wanted to, she could sit still for hours and watch and keep track of prey. Mistrunner, as a kit, was very jumpy and got startled at even the slightest rustle of a leaf. Mistrunner became more crafty and shrewd as she aged up. She has grown to have a understanding of the macrocosm (as far as cats can learn), and while very knowledgeable, she has very foolish lies that even the most slow-witted could guess. Biography: ?? Apprentice: None Mate?: None. Kits?: None.


Would need quite a lot of work. There are somethings I noticed that seem to conflict with the Warriors thing, such as an understanding of the macrocosm which seems a tad excessive, however I'm willing to sit down and help you out if you want a good bit of help. I will suggest that if you find yourself struggling a tad with Casual RP to start out on Free Roleplay forums as they are a lot more new user friendly too. Just tag me or message me if you would like some help on stuff! I'm all for helping new people
welcome to the guild, @gummiecandies. i know there's a warriors rp out there that @letmedostuff is in, but i don't know if they're currently accepting any more players


Why you gotta call me out like that, fam


Interacting with: @skitts | @sassy1085



Things happened. The meeting went by and someone got to mentor the new Skykit. The more he thought about it, the more he deemed the entire aura of the camp to be rather unnerving. There was a threat that most of the cats seemed to know of. Deaths. Quite a few. More than the usual brutal life of a clancat, at least. And despite this, things went by as they had done before. Meetings about cats coming of the right age, announcements of duties and the ever-passing days of silence in the glazed hopeless plains of the valley. It nerved him knowing that such little was being said. To him, issues left unchecked stirred the pot for great misconduct. He also understood the sentiment of ensuring there was no panic, but what calmness could there be without reassurance? Branchfall had so much to ask about it, but no one to really say it to. It wasn't his concern to most of them. A dead sister in the wake of it all, but why would they care if he'd not seen or been loved by her in moons?

Everything was a mess. He knew it from his now uncontained box of the clan. Seeing other sides made him worry greatly. And when Silverflight, StarClan bless her, gave out the duties for the day, he felt himself swept away with minor worry. BirchClan. Of course. It wasn't a vendetta or anything, he hoped. At least, it would've been awful for someone like Silverflight to have any sort of grudge against him. They hadn't spoken too much, even though he hoped to do so, and so he barely had an understanding on how she perceived him. Was he that traitor and easily manipulated tom the others saw or was he an integrated fragment of the greater clan.


"Come on then, he nudged Flamepelt lightly; his eyes suddenly caught and trailed behind Rainstripe's silent beckoning, "We should get going. And here I was hoping for a day of hunting..." As he prepared to walk, he stretched himself across the clearing and let out a little yawn, drying his temper to something more professional. He nodded kindly to Dawnstep in the hopes of a positive response and left to trail closely behind Rainstripe.

At first, he didn't really pay much attention to the third member of the party. Rainstripe was something special, though. A cat without the ability to hear. Must've been torture, he would think, but she seemed to cope in her own little ways. Reading mouths and thoughts gave her this little interpretation of life that he would never quite understand. It wasn't that she could articulate it by words anyway. But their time together as training apprentices at least got him more used to it all. Dwelling upon those days gave him a slight rush of melancholy, bleeding his focus into harsh realities. Had he been happy during those days? Maybe not. Maybe so. He couldn't quite read his own emotions as well as he used to. That clarity of right and wrong had faded whilst the opaque nature of his mind never demisted itself.

Rainstripe, huh? As Branchfall usually did, he began speaking to himself in his muse. She was quite difficult to read at times. Some of the others seemed more fluent in her way of communication but Branch had never quite mastered it himself. She was a soft, crystal white snowcat with the fur of a leaf-bare survivor. Quite pretty too, but then again which she cat wasn't at that point. Branch didn't fixate too much on anything other than getting the job done, which he then began to talk to himself about. Birchclan. Home. It wasn't less than a stroke of irritancy. The closer he was to those he loved the more it hurt to see them pass, and if they'd recognise him. He hated that last part. It should be something invigorating, a sense of pride of escaping what he thought was the corrupt lands of the valley, but instead he felt that shame, much alike a low hanging fruit. Sighing, he moved on. Sticking close to Rainstripe, at least he thought he wasn't too close, he circled around to her front. He presumed she couldn't read his mouth if he was out of her view staring at her.


"Nice to see you again, Rainstripe." If she could hear his tone, she'd have likely seen his discomfort or discouragement in the day's events. Well, perhaps his emotions would've shown it enough, but he still tried to gather himself to be kind to her. "Glad you get to work with me - and Flamestripe too...yeah."
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