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last online May 17, 2021 4:55:33 GMT
RiverClan
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Post by ❝ aloepaw ❞ on May 12, 2021 3:37:20 GMT
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He gazed down at the herbs that Nettleheart had set down before him awhile ago. The older medicine cat had gone out, it was just Aloepaw in the medicine cat's den to study the herbs that Nettleheart had given to him. He spent time smelling them, feeling them, reminding himself where to get them and what they were for. He was still very young for a medicine cat, but he was learning very quickly.
[break][break]
Aloepaw paused and glanced at the entrance to the medicine cat's den. His rich chocolate eyes flicking from one side of the room to land again on the herbs in front of him. He could scent death on the air, and it wasn't freshkill. But he didn't know where it came from. He'd smelled it before, but could never place it. And it was always just a whiff, never more than that. It was so small that Aloepaw often thought it was just his imagination.
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Finally, he stood. He needed some fresh air, something to get his mind off the sign that felt like a bad omen. He needed to rest his brain from thinking so much about these herbs. It wasn't that it was difficult, he retained the information easily and quickly, but sometimes being in the medicine cat's den was a little sensually overwhelming. When he reached the mouth, his wide eyes landed on the freshkill pile, and that's where he began to head toward.
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last online May 15, 2021 20:19:39 GMT
RiverClan
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Post by Shrikethorn on May 13, 2021 1:19:10 GMT
[attr="class","graves"] [attr="class","image"]  [attr="class","lyrics"]
[attr="class","postcontent"] A bad omen? Shrikethorn would have laughed to hear it. His father had always called him something similar - a disease, a curse, a monster sent to tear Riverclan to the ground. Such harsh words had bothered him at first... Their implications hanging like a fog above his every movement, his every decision. For moons it had brought him anguish to know that he was so different and so sinful. Shrikethorn had spent most of his time during those dark ages trying his best to make himself worthy of his father's legacy. But he'd been young then. Foolish and insecure. For the light of the stars had never been his inheritance... but the darkness in between. Crowsight had killed for the pleasure of it and so, too, had Shrikethorn in turn. It had taken him long enough to understand that they were not so different after all and the realization had been... liberating. They had both been was omens of darkness and ill-will. But only Shrikethorn remained to carry on their dark work. So far he'd done well enough, sending his brothers and sisters to meet their precious stars above. But it wasn't yet enough. Shrikethorn craved more. It had been moons since last he'd felt as though he was taking steps toward another successful hunt, having yet to pick a suitable target for such a dangerous pursuit. Finchsong had been his obvious first choice of a victim but, for the moment, she remained too far from his reach to be considered practically for the honor of sating the itch beneath his claws. Next his mind had gone to her children - Cranekit and Swankit. It would be terribly easy to dispose of them, after all. Just one little push into the waves rolling beyond the camp and they would go on to join their family in the stars. It had been the most tempting of potential courses but… Shrikethorn could not yet risk raising the clan’s suspicions with the death of the kits so soon after their mother’s banishment. No. They would need to wait. Dippersight, then. The starkissed tom had been allowed to live for far too long, his presence a growing curse within the clan. For it was only a matter of time before Ravenfire’s brother began to grow suspicious of their activities. Shrikethorn's claws slid noiselessly from their sheaths unbidden as he ducked into camp, a large fish clamped tight in his jaws. Fishing had never been his strong suit and had long since been something he’d despised. But, in order to keep up appearances, it was something he found himself unable to avoid at all times. Unfortunately. The tides of his thoughts had only just wandered their way back to Dippersight when a flash of white snagged his eye. Shrikethorn paused, head swinging around to track the progress of Riverclan’s newest medicine cat apprentice with eyes narrowed in thought. Aloepaw - wasn’t that his name? - was someone Shrikethorn had never given much thought before he’d been apprenticed. He simply hadn’t seemed worthy of note, always standing in the corner peering about with too-large eyes and a blank expression. But perhaps… perhaps that had been a mistake. He was one of Starclan’s chosen and had always been destined to be their prophet. It was a terrible oversight on Shrikethorn’s part that they’d never had the chance to… get to know one another…Or something along those lines. It was time they changed that. The dark tom slid forward, dropping his fish at the edge of the freshkill pile. “Aloepaw,” he hummed lightly, turning the molten of his stare upon the young apprentice. “Looking for something to eat?”Tags :: ❝ quasar ❞ w/ ❝ aloepaw ❞[newclass=".graves"]--graves-bg-color: #1e1e1e; --graves-fg-color: #fefefe; --graves-font-color: #c5c5c5;[/newclass] [googlefont=Montserrat:300,400|Sen:700&display=swap]
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played by Fable
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last online May 17, 2021 4:55:33 GMT
RiverClan
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Post by ❝ aloepaw ❞ on May 14, 2021 3:15:25 GMT
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"Aloepaw, looking for something to eat?" large chocolate eyes lifted from the pile to stare straight into the amber gaze of the one he knew as Shrikethorn. A cat that he'd never really interacted with. Or... who'd never really interacted with Aloepaw either. His wide eyes stared at the bigger black tom with curiosity and an air of hesitation. That whiff of death passed by him again, but while still very weak, it was much stronger than before.
[break][break]
"Yes, I am." He said calmly. Then, "You smell of death."
[break][break]
He hadn't meant to be rude. It was simply an observation. One that Aloepaw tended to tell everyone he met. The way someone smelled like or looked like, or the way their voice inflected told the small apprentice a lot about others. Aloepaw couldn't see anything strange about the warrior in front of him, nor did his voice sound off or strange. But it was that smell that he couldn't stop thinking about.
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"Would you like to share a meal with me? Shrikethorn?"
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last online May 15, 2021 20:19:39 GMT
RiverClan
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May 15, 2021 20:18:55 GMT
Post by Shrikethorn on May 15, 2021 20:18:55 GMT
[attr="class","graves"] [attr="class","image"] [attr="class","lyrics"]
[attr="class","postcontent"]The moment Aloepaw turned his overly-large eyes upward Shrikethorn found himself strongly reminded of his dislike for the apprentice. He seemed vacant in a way that the tom couldn’t quite describe. It was as though he had life hidden somewhere deep inside those owlish eyes, but it was distant and hard to fully understand. It was… strange, to say the least. And, for a moment, Shrikethorn couldn’t help but wonder if others experienced something similar when they peered into the depths of his own molten stare. It was a thought he would not be allowed to linger upon for long as Aloepaw voiced his observation of Shrikethorn’s scent. Death, he said. The dark tom blinked in momentary surprise, mind whirring beyond an impassive expression. What kind of death did he smell like? Freshkill? Fish? Something more… unsavory? It had been moons since last he’d made a kill. Surely he didn’t retain the scent of his siblings’ blood even still. A small, nagging thought at the back of his mind fought to rise to the surface as he gave a low chuckle in response, “Well I was just hunting.” The pesky little thought pushed to the forefront of his mind before swiftly being driven back to the depths of his subconscious. Perhaps he’d spend some time later pondering over the implications of Aloepaw’s observation but, for now, it mattered little. The dark tom returned his attention to the conversation at hand as Aloepaw brushed beyond the topic of death to something a little more pleasant. Shrikethorn dipped his head lightly. “I see no reason why we can’t share a meal,” he responded smoothly, reaching out to reclaim his fish from the pile. With his food selected, the warrior turned to lead the way towards the edge of camp with a calm flick of his tail to summon the apprentice after him. Tags :: ❝ quasar ❞ w/ ❝ aloepaw ❞ [newclass=".graves"]--graves-bg-color: #1e1e1e; --graves-fg-color: #fefefe; --graves-font-color: #c5c5c5;[/newclass] [googlefont=Montserrat:300,400|Sen:700&display=swap]
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played by Fable
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last online May 17, 2021 4:55:33 GMT
RiverClan
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May 15, 2021 23:39:00 GMT
Post by ❝ aloepaw ❞ on May 15, 2021 23:39:00 GMT
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Something felt a little off. If Aloepaw was just a little more intuitive than he was, then maybe he could interpret the emptiness in Shrikethorn's eyes. But the scent of death was clear to him already. And he wasn't sure how to feel about it. Not that feelings were his specialty at all, but he could tell that somewhere deep inside they were similar and different at the same time.
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He met Shrikethorn's gaze with as much confidence and strength as the black tom himself. He most certainly wasn't afraid, but he wasn't stupid either. With his observation made Aloepaw wasn't going to tell others, at least not now. Not when he had no proof of anything or even an understanding of, what he assumed was the Stars, what Starclan was trying to tell him. Regardless, his eyes spared no inch of Shrikethorn's body. A strong but lithe tom, Shrikethorn had no light in his eyes. And the light that was there, could be seen as fake, at least to Aloepaw.
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The young apprentice watched Shrikethorn pick up his fish and Aloepaw did the same, picking a smaller yet just as appetizing fish. Then he followed Shrikethorn to the edge of the camp in a few bounds to catch up. Then he trotted beside him until they reached the spot where Shrikethorn wanted to be and Aloepaw allowed himself to crouch down beside him.
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"I bet you would have been my mentor if I became a warrior apprentice." He said nonchalantly before he took a bit out of his fish.
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