![⋆ -- fALLEN __ [s t a r] Avatar](http://i41.tinypic.com/fx576c.jpg)
Post by ⋆ -- fALLEN __ [s t a r] on Apr 16, 2009 19:56:45 GMT -5
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OOC:
[nickname] :[/b] Cyan, Aireh, Skye, anything you can thinks of.
[other characters] :[/b] Lightfall, Moonkit, Grasspaw, Reedfoot, Astralpaw, Airpaw, etc.
:[/b] xx__skyeflier@live.com[/font]
BIC:
[name] -- Fallenstar
[age] --[/color] 34 moons (almost 3 years)
[gender] --[/color] Tom
[rank] -- LeafClan Leader[/font]
[short description] -- a charming, autumn-pelted tom with sparkling green eyes and milky paws.
[personality] --
Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor,
summer an oil painting and autumn
a mosaic of them all.
To speak about Fallenstar is like describing sunshine. For a blind man, the world is utterly black and lifeless, something that feels void of color or emotions. If they were to meet a cat such as Fallenstar, it would be akin to seeing sunlight for the first time. In this way, this autumnal tom is quite like any other. Many a cat has described this autumnal as the sun. Meeting him, rumor says, is like feeling the sun's brilliant glow on your finger trips, the warmth of the day radiating off his expression and onto yours.
Although Fallenstar is riveted among the clan for his supposed "charm" and "wit", he is better well-known for his mirthful smile and twinkling eyes. At first glance, Fallenstar appears to be welcoming in such a way that is nothing like the daydreaming Flightstar or the ill-tempered Tanglestar. For sure, here is a tom that is unlikely to hold grudges of most sorts.
He is a warm-sort of cat, evident in his beaming smile and cheeky grins, but the cat that he was before his best friend's death still lies within him somewhere, which makes it both good and bad. Before, Fallenstar held less expression in his gaze and in his smouldering emerald orbs lied a sort of burning hatred, an anger and anguish, that melted the hearts of the cats around him -- for, to see a cat as young as he was, to bear such a heavy burden was more painful than anything they had thought possible. It was pitiful.
Fallenstar, even as Fallenpaw, hated it. It's easy to see that he's not the sort of cat to underestimate, expressed in the confident gleam in his eyes and the curl of his lips just before he lets out a deafening snarl of outrage (which is rare), but to give him or his clan any sort of pity is a huge mistake in itself as well. Although he is easy-going and happy most of the time - or gives an outstanding effort to appear that way for the sake of the world around him - under lies a specific anger when he sees pity given to a cat that would rather not have it, or - like himself - does not need it. Sure, his clan are known for the skittish and meek nature, running amongst the treetops with flames of fear running in their eyes, but Fallenstar sees potential in them, potential that Twigstar and all the leaders before him, must have saw too.
LeafClan's leader is brilliant and witty with a bemusing charm that tends to bewilder the cat's around him, but he is not perfect despite what some clan members seem to think. For instance, within his own clan, its easy to see that Fallenstar has more than one soft spot - Splitmask, Stagpaw, Fawnpaw are three big ones - that he will, gladly, make exceptions for. Appearance-wise, there is a limp to his step, an awkward gait to his walk, after any battle; personality-wise, Fallenstar's biggest attribute and weakness is his big heart, a heart that is more golden than his sunny smile.
His mission, he thinks, for LeafClan is to make them as strong as possible, to bring out the outstanding warriors he knows are in their hearts and no matter how much it might hurt him, might hurt them - the four clan's in general, he is willing to do anything to do it. Calm and composed with a mirthful grin that manages - in every situation - to flicker across his face, he may just be the image of a hero that he had saw in his father; on the other hand, maybe not.
Although Fallenstar's loyalty and pride blazes past the average, akin to the shooting stars in his heart, Fallenstar is perhaps too soft for his own good. If his clan were to all group together and assure him of something that he was positive - even in the depths of his heart - that were wrong, the tom just might step down. His clan comes first, he says, no matter the circumstance. The ambition in his heart is rather subdued, an odd situation for most leaders, and in fact, as a kit, he had never even thought once of becoming leader; when his mother died and the entire clan had expected him to become leader the moment he turned 12 moons, well, that all but terrified him to pieces.
Beneath his smile and warm demeanor lies a second shell of emotions that cats often overlook. Being born as the bastard's son of BranchClan previous princess, Leafwhistle, and an ambitious black-swirled warrior, Treeblaze, that later proved as a horrible father, has taken it's toll on Fallenstar; these chain of memories have become a heavy burden upon his shoulders that wear down upon his soul to a point that almost seems beyond repair.
However, he is much too determined to live the life Elkstride didn't have the chance to (to live for the deceased warrior) and to let the sorrow and bittersweet that occasionally encompasses his heart, soul and mind, take over. His attempts to appear as bold, bright and cheery is not overseen by any cat; in fact, most know him in this way, a cat never to be played with but one that is easy to be with all the same, instead of the confusing, awkward and solemn apprentice he used to be.
For enemies or outsiders - with a few exceptions, that is - Fallenstar can be just as painfully harsh and blunt as his half-sister, Tanglestar. Jaw tightened, eyes cold and lips curled into a furious snarl, there are few cats who will be able to mistake the LeafClan leader as the rest of his meek, skittish warriors. In battle, he is terribly fast and fluid, even if he may not be able to match the speed of some of his quicker warriors, due to his heritage.
All in all, Fallenstar is a loving, warm and charming tom with a painful past that he tries, terribly, to forget.
[appearance] --
Like a blurred, castoff effigy that is magically filtered into a much sharper, almost brilliant, light, Fallenstar also appears in the world with a heartwarming peal with sprinkles of invisible light cast around him, as if it's that which makes him shine. A portrait of the same with melted airs of breathtaking smiles and crinkling laughter is him; a soundless photo of burning murmurs and thoughtful creases -- both, as different as the contrasting reflection are, prove as impeccable definitions, inside and out, of this mere tom.
Cat's can't seem to see past him and for whatever reason, many a cat has claimed that their leader has this sparkling, as if glowing, pelt that makes it impossible to look away. (It's not really all that funny but Fallenstar can't help but out right laugh, a clear sound that rings like the familiar peal of silver bells; he's seen some innocent apprentices muttering, I'm straight, I'm straight. I was not staring. So not. as they walk past him, casting frivolous glances every few seconds) He isn't beautiful though and any other clancat - ones that reside in groups that don't skitter about the treetops endlessly, flames of fear rising in their eyes like a squirrel about to face death - would be able to vouch for you. The young tom-cat, when looked in the way that the clans see him (a completely average tom placed in an innocently average world), seems to be nothing out of the ordinary -- a good, sound leader, though impossibly warm-hearted when it really comes down to his clan and his actions towards them, that seems to be bathed in what appears to be the true essence of autumn, softer pastels of auburn, ebonite and ivory painted alongside a sunshine amber.
However his clan -- poor, poor LeafClan cannot seem to find these faults that everyone else sees. They fail to see the way he hobbles on a leg - like a disoriented penguin, actually, the sight is enough to make anyone laugh at him - after a battle. They can't see his many flaws -- his crooked smile when he feels like being arrogant, the disdainful smirk that fills in the creases of his face when he thinks that the apprentices aren't being trained correctly, how he blushes when he does something embarrassing. They can't, for StarClan's sake, see normality in their fearless (not really), ferocious (not likely), smart (more average, actually) leader. In their eyes, he's simply angelic.
Even at first glance, toms and she-cats alike find themselves entranced by him, tripping over their paws just to see him, let alone talk to him. One glance, as they say, will always bring you back, wanting more. This particular beauty bears a striking resemblance to a flaring comet streaking across the sky, as the the sheer yet somehow modest beauty of this simple, yet so complex, leader will set the viewer's mind into a spinning whirlpool, perplexed and appalled all at once. He doesn't believe any of this, scoffing and making meaningless jokes of this 'nonsense' whenever he has the chance.
Because, in all honesty, he is
And uncomfortable too, but that's besides the point.
What is true - something that not even Fallenstar will be able to joke around with, laugh about, and something that he won't consider on such light terms, obvious in the hard glint of those darkening amber-flecked pools or tightness of his jaw - is that he is, quite, an odditty among his peers -- which means, evidently, he looks nothing like a real LeafClanner should.
Stereotypically, cats of this particular tree-dwelling group are known for their skittish, meek nature and scrawny, thin bodies -- they are not lean, able-bodied creatures with wiry frames and strong muscles in their hind legs when they are to jump; no that is BranchClan. Named for his autumn-flecked pelt and golden-rimmed eyes, this tom is certainly a different type of cat than everyone else he associates with, within his clan that is. Unsurprisingly enough, Fallenstar does stand out among his clanmates - though this should not be mistaken in a bad way and so, he does indeed look very different compared to the. On the other hand, the mixed ancestry that flows through his veins makes sense of all of this.
If a cat is too ignorant to have heard the rumors floating about - which, in fact, had been the truth at the time - how there had been some foolish (though undeniably, good-looking) kit that had stumbled upon LeafClan territory, pleading to see his father (which unleashed a sort of furious rage among the adults that surrounded him at the time), then cats will easily be able to tell by his leaner, almost wiry, stature and slightly muscular frame - something that all but screams I wasn't born here! to any right-minded LeafClanner - about his heritage. As sad as it might be, depressing even, the great Fallenstar was not clanborn, even if he did carry LeafClan blood.
His father's genes, clearly, did not have much say in his son's appearance; at least, not now.
Treeblaze had been an outstanding warrior, no doubt about that and would've certainly been quite a wonderful candidate for the next deputy, if that situation should've arisen. He had a mate and a daughter -- a wonderful daughter, at that, named Tanglekit. However (there are always 'if's' and 'but's' to a story; this may be the biggest one yet) he did not love his mate, not like he should have. Worst of all, no matter how wonderful he was - or could have been, if not for his love affair - there was no changing the fact that LeafClan blood ran thickly through his veins, sweeping away any other outstanding traits that there could have been. A skinny tom with dark, matted fur that threaded through the infamous small, thin frame that all LeafClanners possess and the same long tail, painted over in appeasing gray-swirls. His eyes were a bright and vicious jade, flames of ambition burning so brightly that it would look as if such a strength should crush the soul of the cat holding them; perhaps this what made him so great, or gave him the potential for such greatness.
And, more importantly, this is one of the few marks that he left on his only son, Fallenstar; this striking feature of the LeafClan leader is the only part of him that has the right to be deemed special. The pairs of verdant-green optics are, indeed, quite holy in their own right, darker gems of chamomile and sage sifting through the StarClanly depths. They are dazzling, wide and down right, brilliant to every angle, pigment, and hue.
As a growing kit, his eyes were glistening, pale-green emerald which were almost like the mesmerizing shade of fir and pine trees melted into his soul, as if you could see the entire forest in his eyes. His eyes are different, having lost it's kit-like touch, but they continue to gleam a brilliant beryl -- starting out in the middle like a seagreen ocean-waves, sparkles of lighter amber residing in them and ending with a wide, laughing emerald-green. They seem like two wide suns in the center of his face and bear a shocking similarity to a grassy field; his eyes, like that, are never ending in color, nor emotion and certainly do not lack the ability to strike wonder into every cat's heart, if he so chooses. Nevertheless, they are a shocking hue of beryl-jade, and almost a perfect match to his autumn-flecked tabby coat.
In comparison to the rest of his streamlined figure, the amber-flecked pools almost appear like a bit of sunny sky peeking through a haze of clouds. They are undoubtedly the most intriguing feature the tom-cat possesses, although he may not really be aware of it - but he doesn't think he's all that great in general, which is rather untrue [or the least, he fails to acknowledge that fact]. Anyway, it seems that the best way for him to catch someone's attention is by making eye-contact, so that is also a habit of his - no matter how unfair it seems. LeafClan cats often find themselves caught in his warm gaze, unable to not react unusually. (cats will either be paralyzed by his sunshine gaze, having been lost in it, or laugh at him, to which he will sport a toothy grin)
Like with many cats, his eyes are subject to change. When faced with a topic he is passionate about, they will flare a brilliant emerald. If a drastic event takes place, they will look down-cast and most of the color will drain from them, leaving only a pale green with specks of dusted amber. This occurs quite commonly, though many cats can't fathom as to why he's so lighthearted in the worst of times, the two pools of deep malachite are most beautiful when he's happy. They seem to smile and laugh along with his face, flashing brilliantly under the sun; this is probably the main reason why he can be considered so charming.
And then, there's the genes that his mother - his sweet, delectable mother who had been seduced and loved and then thrown away again, as she was worth no more than a pile of trash (the thought sent an angry snarl ripple through him, the mere sound enough to make any right-minded cat shake or tremble in apprehension) - gave him.
Leafwhistle had always been a pretty cat; yes, unbelievably quiet, but pretty. Perhaps that was what caught the eye of that unsuspecting tom, the one who was more ambitious than all of LeafClan put together and was ready to do anything to achieve the greatness he desired. The young femme was well off enough that she made most toms give her a second glance and make some catch their breath at the sight of her as they melted underneath her warm gaze. She had golden eyes, gentler than a feather’s touch, that were as quiet and mellow as her steps, yet were sweeter than anything, shimmering like crystallized honey beneath silver flecks. With a streamlined figure and face, she was the optimum of pretty; certainly, she was what others said her to be. She was the princess of BranchClan.
Yes, her parents – Fallenstar’s grandparents – were the great Rockstar, her father, and Duskpetal, her mother. So, indeed, although he may not know it yet, Fallenstar has BranchClan royalty running thickly through his veins. He was destined to be a leader from the start, whether it was of BranchClan or LeafClan -- it just so happened that the latter were the lucky ones. LeafClan had won the gamble.
Furthermore, young Leafwhistle also radiated a sort of perfect innocence and seemed to be the kind of typical she-cat that most cats wanted. She rarely spoke, but when she did, her voice turned out to be softer than most cats would breathe; she was the kind of mate who would smile and nod agreeably to what her mate said, even if she was thinking completely different thoughts. She would not rebel - ever - as it was not in her nature, nor was it how she was brought up to act.
It is not only the fact that at times, Fallenstar does to appear to be as soft-spoken and reflective as his mother was, but the current LeafClan leader has seemed to have her looks, more than anyone else's, as well. His eyes, though a smouldering pine-green, also has that warm, softer look that makes him so appealing to those in his clan. With a pelt that is quite the unusual, yet somehow easy on the eyes at the same time, he looks, at first glance, like autumn - or as the clan-cats call it, leaf-fall. The tom's coat is as peaceful as it appears.
A combination of the softest amber and gold, diffused with sparkling hues of melted chocolate, his pelt is threaded in the classical tabby pattern, the thick bands of ebonite and auburn a perfect match to his warm, almost sandy, coloring. The darker hues line the edges of his perfectly-carved face, the thin strands of fur each a slightly different hue than the rest and from his father, he shares a random assortment of odd metallic threads that run, hidden, throughout the expanse of his pelt. With a coat that is neither long or short, Fallenstar is very adaptable and can withstand most weather, though he does prefer leaf-fall over all others. (It's not surprising, though, considering; it's cool and breezy without the infernal "pollen" substance suffocating him like no tomorrow, as the circumstance new-leaf.)
With an underside that is softer than melted honey and more pillow-soft than a rabbit's tail, it also bears a certain sleekness that readily melds into his darker coat. Often dusted with dirt from skittering through the treetops to protect his home, but never exposed if he can help it, his chest is painted over with a creamy hue with specks of milky chocolate. His face is much like a carved, smiling mask and is shadowed over with a brown base that is highlighted by vibrant oranges and golden. Two rounded ears that are still somehow sharply triangular are perched atop his head, with tuffs of angelic white purffing outwards and there is still something surprisingly appealing about his angular features as there was when he was younger. Two wide-green pools, ones that are constantly sparkling with keen knowledge that seems beyond him, prove as the centerpiece of this wonderful artwork.
In matters of of build, Fallenstar appears to be nothing like either of his parents. He is neither skinny and meek, like his father, or sleek and slim like his mother; he has semi-broad shoulders, yes, that slope to a more languid, almost streamlined bodice that also gives way to the strong, somewhat muscular legs of every-born BranchClanner. In fact, he seems like a combination of his grandfather Rockstar - a dark brown tabby tom with shockingly blue, blue eyes and large paws, accompanied by a lithe frame - and his uncle, Sparrowflight - a tall, pale tom with a slight frame and a sharp jaw with equally sharp amber eyes - more than anything.
Fallenstar is neither outlandishly tall or impishly short, but rather of a moderately-average height that tends to tower over a few cats whom the "tall" gene seems to have skipped. When standing shoulder-to-shoulder with other cats, he's only a little taller than his half-sister, Tanglestar, perhaps only a mouse length taller than cats like Nightshade or Gorsefang and conceivably, a little lacking when faced with the likes of those bruteish TrunkClanners.
His frame as a younger warrior could be more aptly described as lanky and disproportionate - limbs flailing every where with ears too big, paws too small, legs too long, his everything too everything; however, now, he has grown into himself with wiry muscles rippling softly beneath slight-broad, but slightly-slender at the same time, shoulders. His body is lean and equipped with a long tail and legs, but his milky paws - dusted off with golden snow - are still a bit on the smaller side. He counts that as a good thing, however. It's most funny to see other cats fall of trees because of oversized paws, but not himself; that, for a fact, oftne hurts.
Even now, after he has been accustomed to LeafClan's lofty treetops and too-thin branches, most of the muscle is in the tom's hindquarters, edging his haunches and thickening the tendons in his hind legs so he has extra springing power. Instead of adding weight, this seems to just make Fallenstar's lithe body into a longer, lighter speeding streak of amber-gold fur and dark stripes. However, he does have a fair amount of muscle on his shoulders as well. Unlike his father, Fallenstar's body is built for strong front blows as well, and he can tangle with some of the stronger cats out there by combining his speed, quick turning ability, long legs, and powerful blows into a whirlwind of moves and strikes.
Yes, Fallenstar is a rather charming tom at best and at worst, still a rather pleasing one to the eye. However, he is not to be described as pretty or beautiful or perfect as so many others assume of him. He is nothing like his father - or he likes to think, save for the eyes (in which case, he has no choice to agree that they share the same ones) and more like his mother than anything else. He was perfect for BranchClan, but as it seems, there's another cat who's seemed to fill his place -- his half-sister whom it seems that, despite the circumstances, he's never been able to form anything harsher than mild-jealousy towards.
So yes, indeed he is quite the cat, but overall he's just average.
Nothing special.
[tattoos] --
Each cat who has passed the trails that StarClan has given them and the training that any apprentice must pass to join the world of the warriors, are branded with special markings, whether they are swirled with an unseen omen or an honest, natural one. However, because leaders are marked with special signs that are unique to their clan and their original one when they had traveled to the Red Island all those moons age to receive an important verdict; they are inscribed with two, either contrasting or similar, symbols that label and define who they are.
As for Fallenstar, his own tattoo which threads through his pelt in beautiful stormy-gray shades, fading in some parts to a foggy acid hue and brightening to a bubbling oceanic shade in others. As if with golden-flecked black paint, a cloud is imprinted upon his right flank, the insides flecked a metallic blue. Tiny shapes drift towards his shoulder blades in small drips of pale colors, resembling something close to tears or raindrops. The colors fan out, sort of like a comet, over the small of his back, revealing tiny flicks of color that are actually shapes sealed into his fur that resemble - if glanced at closely - leaves. For him, this symbol is a reflection of his warrior name -- Fallenrain.
This tom, as destiny and fate have realized long before, is a leader -- and so, as a leader, he bears a tattoo that labels him as the leader of LeafClan, which is another reminder that he is not where he had - originally, it would appear - intended to be. It's another reminder - an extremely anguishing one that his father made sure to inscribe into his heart - that he "backstabbed" his birthclan; he can't go back, not now -- not that he'd want to betray the cats of his home now. It's just something he has to live with.
In shades of varying autumn hues, the majority a reflection of the dark green flames of his eyes, wavy lines at out from his right shoulder blade, in swirly spirals of pattern, the paler edges of them revealing a golden tint. The diamond of the end of the pattern is a shocking blue hue, such a striking contrast to the rest of it that it often appears to glow under the moonlight and constantly remains ever incandescent under the sunlight that peeks through the lofty treetops of his home.
Indeed, Fallenstar has gone against his birthright and proven himself again and again; these underlying markings, branded on him what feels like long ago, are enough proof of that.
[history] --
☇ I must say, it's a nice day,
when the leaves start to turn,
there is so much to learn from the freeway ⎇
He had wanted to know and it should've a completely reasonable question.
"Mom? I was playin' with Rainkit just now..." He licked his lips hesitantly, eyes flickering downwards to stare at milky paws. He felt his face burn and although his coat was certainly dark in color, he was quite aware that it wasn't dark enough -- not nearly enough to block the blood that rushed to his cheeks. Ah, what a silly question he had asked.
But his mother wouldn't -- no, she could not refuse him. She was his son and most of all, he was the prince of BranchClan. No one refused him; not that, of course, he let it go to his head.
"What's wrong, m'dear?" She blinked warmly at her only son, rasping a warm tongue over his ear in reassurance. This only made him cower further, face flushed terribly. She hid a smile. "You can ask me anything, Fallkit."
"He had to go because his father was gonna play with him an' Hailkit..." He paused then, eyes dropping down to his paws and he let out the shaky breath that he didn't know he'd been holding, the start of a frown twitching at the edge of his lips. After a moment, his head snapped up and there was such a fierce passion in his eyes - to know, to finally know - that made Leafwhistle take a step back.
She bit her lip. Just then, he had looked so much like Treeblaze.
She choked back a cry at that simple thought, turning her head.
She had committed a secret crime, broken a sacred rule, - not even her parents - knew about. It such a horrible abomination that if such a classified piece of information were to leak out, it would surely mark the end of her life -- but more importantly, her son's life.
Yes, no matter how wrong it was and how much she wanted to release the stress from her shoulders, to release the burden onto someone else, she couldn't; in the end, it was just as simple as that: Fallenkit, was and would always be, the most important thing in her life.
She had fallen in love with an off-limits tom and betrayed the clan (and family) that had always been by her side, believed in her through thick and thin; Fallenkit, that adorable little bundle of energy, was the price she had to pay for her mistake.
Oh, but what a sweet, sweet punishment it was.
Yes, no matter how wrong it was and how much she wanted to release the stress from her shoulders, to release the burden onto someone else, she couldn't; in the end, it was just as simple as that: Fallenkit, was and would always be, the most important thing in her life.
She had fallen in love with an off-limits tom and betrayed the clan (and family) that had always been by her side, believed in her through thick and thin; Fallenkit, that adorable little bundle of energy, was the price she had to pay for her mistake.
Oh, but what a sweet, sweet punishment it was.
"But, mama, I wanted to know..."
He continued on, breaking Leafwhistle out of her thoughts, and completely ignorant to his mother's pain. At this point, young Fallkit began pacing quietly in place and when he looked at his mother, the soft beryl-green gaze was back, only slightly remencing that of his seemingly-forgotten father. The relieved sigh that his mother let out seemed to go unnoticed by the moon-old kit. He was an awful sharp fellow for such a age, wasn't he? He blinked softly, voice dimmed to little more than a murmur. "Why don't I have a daddy to play with me like that?" He squealed in surprise as his mother tugged him forward, face pressed into her warm fur, and began to wash him, humming softly. The sound was comforting and nice, but he wanted to know -- ah, why was he getting sleepy?
His eyes drooped closed. huh..? aah, wait...
"You don't need one, not one like that," she whispered, rasping a tongue over his ears. The last thing he saw before he fell asleep, lost himself in the world of dreams, confused him; the anguish that flooded his mother's eyes, he was sure, so sure...
It wasn't supposed to be there.
when the spring comes around,
you can show me the town that you live in ⎇[/center]
Fallenkit swallowed thickly, trying to hide the tears that had begun to prick his golden-green eyes and even he, at just two moons, was old enough to understand, understand this horrible injustice. He pawed at the ground, helplessly looking around to find some source of comfort. It was the same as always, but at the same time it wasn't. He was there again, asking those infernal questions, but this time was different (so, so different that it hurt) because no one was there to answer him.
Leafwhistle was dead, dead, dead.
Now, the young tom was surprisingly mature for his age but even then, at the delicate age of two moons, hadn't completely grasped it entirely until he saw her. She wasn't moving, nor breathing at all. He hoped, that little part inside of him dearly hoped, that perhaps she was just playing a little game with him, or maybe this was his punishment for going out to play with Rainkit outside of the nursery without her approval.
He pawed helplessly at the familiar calico-melded fur, biting back a helpless cry of his own. The kit let out a pitiful mew and cast desperate glances at the cats around him, wondering how they could be just staring at him like that, at her like that, but not do anything. Some of the looks were disdainful, directed towards his mother as if (he would only later realize this) she was just crow-food, but the majority were softer and deplorable, burning into Fallenkit's autumn coat. Blinking back tears, he inched forward and tried, desperately, to forget the burning gazes of everyone else.
He pressed his cheek against Leafwhistle's own, as if his own flickering warmth would prevent the coldness from seeping into her lifeless bones, but she was still cold, cold, cold. His mother was really, really dead and he couldn't do anything, not a thing, about it.
Why wasn't he crying? Why wouldn't the tears come? He was supposed to be sad; this was his mother for StarClan's sake! Fallenkit was smart enough, had seen enough deaths, to know that at times like this, the family was supposed to cry and the clan was supposed to express soft murmurs that would carry her body onto StarClan. No one was doing that though; they were just staring at him, fiery gazes burning into his pelt. Was this even real?
The heartwrenching pain that twisted in his gut, like a knife that contiously stabbed his heart going deeper, deeper...
This pain had to be real; didn't it? If it was, then why --
"... so he's going to be our new leader?" He heard someone murmur. An arrow of panic shot through the young tom like a lightening bolt, making him stumble and disoriented, he whipped around to find whoever would dare say such an outrageous thing. Leader? Duskpetal, his grandmother and the BranchClan deputy, was alive wasn't she?
Leafwhistle was dead; this was no time to be thinking of --
"I suppose," Riverdawn replied. She was a well known warrior among the clans for her fighting abilities and despite her soft name, she was a rather fiery she-cat with a sharp temper. Fallenkit stared, bewildered at his aunt, surveying the familiar smoothed fur - painted over in an astonishing amount of gray, with the exception of dainty white paws and a dash of amber on her cheeks - as if she had gone crazy. Her sister --
Duskpetal stepped forward with a sort of authority that insured that she definitely deserved her position, automatically erasing the doubts of the others around her. (some cats had admitted to thinking that she had been picked just because the leader, being her mate, favored her above all other warriors) Fallenkit stared at his grandmother and furrowed his eyebrows, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine when he saw her. She was intimidating.
The tom inched away, pressing his pelt against his mother's cold body and unable to hold it in, he turned back to Leafwhistle's lifeless frame with a soft whimper. He was surprised, however, when he felt a cat press their nose - so much larger than his - to his muzzle. It was comforting.
But, he was more surprised to find that it was wet. The young kit turned, blinking in astonishment to see the deputy's flushed cheeks. Of course she had been crying; her daughter and mate died during the battle. He suppressed a relieved sigh (at least someone had a heart) and leaned further in to his grandmother's gray-tinged amber fur. The tears --
"Yes, he will be a fine leader," she told the clan, stepping away.
just came falling down.
☇ And tonight I walk through an empty street,
With my shadow stretching in front of me, ⎇
[/center]With my shadow stretching in front of me, ⎇
Fallenkit had to get away but as to where he didn't know but of this he was sure, he needed to be anywhere but here.
His paws slid easily across the smooth expanse of territory as if he was flying; he wished it felt like that too, like he was flying, because if he was flying, then he would probably be in StarClan, and if he was in StarClan, he'd be with his mother; if he was with his mother, he wouldn't be hurting like this. Oh, he wished that he could be feeling anything but this.
The young tom paused in his steps, trying to catch his breath, and glanced rapidly around him, golden-green eyes wild with half-panic and part-exhilaration. He didn't know where he was going; he didn't know anything except..
He didn't want to be leader, not now. They had no structure, BranchClan was crazy. They thought that just because he was the prince, the wonderful and sweet prince of BranchClan, that he could do things like lead a full blown clan; for StarClan's sake! He was only a kit, not even an apprentice, but Duskpetal was counting on him to be leader as soon as he was warriorized. The entire clan was counting on him --
".... what do you plan on doing, Fallenkit?" Fallenkit whipped around, golden-green pools meeting smoldering blue ones. Windpadded up to the young kit, the start of a smile tugging on his lips at the obvious confusion that clouded Fallenkit's beryl-green, rimmed with gold, pools. It was obvious he didn't remember him.
The younger tom looked away, fidgeting uneasily. Jetflare had been like a second father to him, he faintly recalled, but that didn't change the fact that they weren't related. He was simply Leafwhistle's best friend -- but even then, he hadn't cried for her at her burial. Not like Fallenkit had.
The tom murmured, "My mother's dead." Fallenkit whipped around to glare at him; his mother had told him that Jetflare was her best friend -- best friend huh? more like former best friend. He didn't recall ever seeing Jetflare. Not once.
Well, until now that is.
"That is true," the warrior murmured, eyes shielded of any emotions. That both infuriated and confused young Fallenkit. "She didn't deserve it and neither did Rockstar, but we cannot spend time brooding on needless topics." They were standing in the middle of the forest, the older tom easily towering over the "prince of BranchClan". He stepped forward, dark eyes boring into the flimsy soul. Did he know?
Of course not. Jetflare laughed softly at the uneasy expression on the nervous kit's face and leaned back, sitting down. Lifting his blue gaze - so much like Rockstar's, despite not being related - up to the expanse of sky above, the tom rocked gently on his paws before letting out a soft sigh. "Believe it or not, Fallen, I was there for you. There before you were born."
Fallenkit flattened his ears, inching backwards; he didn't know who to trust anymore. He needed stability in his life like Leafwhistle has provided, but lately, everyone just seemed insane. "... then what happened?" he retorted, tiny claws unsheathing out of dusted-golden paws. He could say it, but did that mean he meant it? No.
Jetflare sighed. "You have to understand that..." He swallowed thickly, which made Fallenkit confused and bewildered, but also to create a swell of concern to rise up in the chest of the young kit -- enough empathy for him to relax, a small smile - like a mirror image of his mother's own - tugging at his lips. He raised a paw outward, like a peace offering.
Jetflare chuckled softly, taking it and bringing the small tom to him, as if he was his own son. Fallenkit squirmed in his grip for a second, before awkwardly situating himself between the large paws. ".. I loved your mother, more than any friend should," he murmured," So when she went off and fell in love with that foxdung of a tom Treeblaze -- I-I cut off relations with her for a while. She had hurt me more than she will ever realize."
Then the warrior let out a harsh laugh , one that was so painful that it made Fallenkit's ears ring. His mother had -- wait, his father was Treeblaze, the BranchClan warrior? Golden-green pools widened; so that's where he got his eyes from. He began telling the long-winded tale of cats that had been alive far longer than Fallenkit had. It made his head spin, but he listened, quietly, silently, maturely.
Jetkit and Leafkit were the best of friends. Jetkit had been there when Leafkit had taken her first breath, her first step and seen her first image. He had been there when she tripped, when she messed up, when she was apprenticed. He had always been there for her and in turn, she had been there when he had his first crush, when he caught his first prey, when he got his first praise from his mentor, Rockstar.
They were truly best friends who should have fallen in love with each other. Unfortunate for Jetflare, the love had been unrequited. While listening to this heartbreaking story that he didn't quite understand, Fallenkit tried to remember all the things his mother had told him. Her mother had told him of Jetflare and if anything should happen to her, that he was the one to go to with questions. That he, above all us, deserved the title of his father.
Swallowing thickly, Fallenkit nodded -- but at the same time, he couldn't help think that his mother had been right. Jetflare did deserve it.
Jetflare stood then. "... what now?" His voice was rough and low, as if the anguish of his love's death had torn him down just as much as it had for Fallenkit, but he still couldn't hide the tears that streaked his cheeks.
Raising himself too, the young kit gazed at Jetflare with a scrutinizing stare. After a few moments, he shook his pelt and smiled briefly, as if saying goodbye. "You would've been a good dad to me, I think." He paused. "As much as I wish you were, you're not..." He closed his eyes. Perhaps, Fallenkit was much older than he let on. "I'm going to go find him, my real father and maybe, maybe then we can start a real family."
Jetflare stared at the tom that would've been his son - should have been his son in any other life - with a shocked, almost appalled expression, before composing himself. He nodded. "Very well; just remember, you'll always have me to come back to."
With a goofy grin that left the older tom utterly bewildered, Fallenkit raced off into the depths of the forest with a much lighter heart than he had entered it. Perhaps, just maybe, things wouldn't be so bad from now on.
For a moment, he paused and with a forign expression playing across his face, turned to look back at Jetflare. Blue eyes that were in so much anguish that it hurt to look at them, a feeling that twisted deep in his gut, and the young kit stumbled briefly, trying to shake his head of the image. This was right; if it wasn't then someone - like they always did - would stop him and put him on the right path. Forget Jetflare; he didn't have the courage to get what he wanted, Fallenkit did.
There were wounds that not even Jetflare in all his glory, no matter how kind and good of a father he would have been, could heal. The autumn-pelted tom composed himself and scampered through the forest on light, almost dancing paws. With a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and forced himself to forget his previous life.
He had a dad, a dad who would make it all better.
☇ When my lonely thoughts meet my lonely feet,
And the cold reminds me that I've chosen this life,⎇
[/center]And the cold reminds me that I've chosen this life,⎇
Fallenpaw watched the kits silently before him, tumbling in the windblown branches as if nothing was wrong, as if everyone was as happy as they were. A pang of jealousy shot through him; they could have this peace, this wonderful sweet innocence, that he almost had, but never again would he have it. The sudden anger spread through him in bursts of flaring red, sifting through and breaking parts of his heart and mind, with a wild, foreign whirl of emotions, spinning in and threading through his memories until he could barely see straight. Slowly, he inhaled the crisp forest air that seemed still so foreign to him, despite a few moons of living here (here meant LeafClan; LeafClan meant home, no matter how much he couldn't force himself to believe it) and his brain cleared a bit, golden-green pools focusing on the tumbling kits.
Littlekit and Smokekit, kits of a cream-furred queen named Softheart that was known for her optimistic nature. A cat that reminded him of his mother. Fallenpaw sighed.
The ground was slightly damp and cold to the touch; all the dew this morning had somehow penetrated the hard, frozen earth like sunshine blasting away clouds and as soothing as it was to any warrior trekking back from a long patrol, Fallenpaw watched the tiny kits slide all over the camp, childish giggles resonating through the trees. The scene reminded him of himself and Rainkit.
The tom bit back a groan and fidgeted uncomfortably against the thin branch that surprisingly held him up, fighting the urge to look down. Everyone had known how well that had went the last time he had done it. Clearly not very well, if the fresh scars that lined his flanks - as if branches had scraped them - and a broken paw were not obvious enough. Yes, yes; Fallenpaw - then oblivious-to-the-evils-of-the-world Fallenkit - had fallen through the lanky treetops of LeafClan. It wasn't just embarrassing.
It was, he learned, not a very pleasant experience. It was, however, a good thing that Silvergale - a fairly new queen, mate to Whitenight, who had lost a good number of kits due to a tough leafbare just recently - caught him before he fell too far. Subconsciously, the tom purred. She was very nice, that Silvergale, and he couldn't have hoped for a better foster-mother. She was the complete opposite of his own mother - who would never be replaced in his heart - and yet so strikingly similar. Both sweet cats on the inside, Silvergale also portrayed a sort of motherly-strict air that got Fallenpaw, and his - he supposed - littermate, Elkpaw, into trouble on more than one occasion.
Not knowing why, Fallenpaw's gaze flickered upwards, sunlight streaming down to his charming face and highlighting most of his features. His lips curved into the start of the smile, relishing the warmth that the light brought and striking green orbs fluttered closed as he lost himself in the moment, not paying attention to the familiar thumping of paw steps that came.
"Boo!" Elkpaw shouted in his ear, causing his companion to let out a yelp - one that, assured, was not (of course not) a shriek, nor a yelp, but a very tomish shout - and startled, stumbled backwards. He blinked furiously, blood pounding in his ears, and hackles raised, his lips curled into the beginning of a snarl. An intruder --
... or just Elkpaw. He frowned, his friend should have known better than to break his concentration. Just for that, Fallenpaw raised a paw and smacked him halfheartedly across the shoulder blade.
It sent the lanky tom tumbling. Oops. Blinking, the young apprentice quickly scrambled to his paws and mouth moving rapidly, spewing out a million apologies that the amber apprentice was probably too disoriented to hear at the moment, he helped his best friend to his paws. "er, sorry. I forgot." There really was a difference between LeafClan and BranchClan, wasn't there?
Elkpaw laughed - a brilliant, throw back your head laugh that made his shoulders shake - and grinned wildly. "Whatever; hey, guess what? Mo -- uh, Silvergale --" he babbled on needlessly, the happy tone playing around with Fallenpaw's ears, the sound wisping around them needlessly, but he wasn't really listening. He gazed at his friend carefully, almost patronizingly, for any signs of injury...
"dude, loosen up." Elkpaw sighed in aggravation, glaring openly at the autumn-pelted tom. Shaking his shoulders, he ignored the apologetic smile that touched his lips (a smile, he thought in frustration, that would make she-cats swoon) and the wry, almost guilty expression that came with it. Sometimes, that guy had no backbone. "And stop thinking about your dad. He's bound to come back sometime."
Fallenpaw looked away, not meeting his eyes. Auric pools filling with hidden emotion that would make hearts clench in discomfort, he shuffled his paws and sighed, "... perhaps."
Elkpaw stared at his friend for a moment and sighed deeply, a thing he rarely did. Biting his lip, the tom looked around briefly before scooting closer and dipping his head toward Fallenpaw, careful to keep his voice barely above a murmur. "Honestly, he's a darn idiot for leaving you; so stop thinking 'bout him. Your mom was awesome, I bet. She wouldn't want you sulking over your good-for-nothing father," he whispered and then stepped back, ending with a charming laugh that fell in with his twinkling eyes, as his slapped his best friend and litter mate lightly across the shoulder.
Fallenpaw turned to the dark-hued tom and blinking, letting out string of chuckles himself. For Elkpaw, he forced a smile and raised himself to his paws. "You're right," he meowed, trying to rid the image of Jetflare from his mind.
The auburn-pawed tom grinned and puffed out his chest in a gesture of mock-pride. "O'course. I'm always right. Now about Silvergale an' Swiftpaw. You won't believe this --"
Smiling, Fallenpaw leaned back on his paws and breathed in the crisp morning air as Elkpaw blabbered on about "The Talk" that had occurred today. Perhaps life in LeafClan wouldn't be so bad and just maybe, just one day he'd forget about all this -- he'd forget about Jetflare.
And perhaps, one day, maybe, he'd forget about Treeblaze too.
☇ i must say, it's a nice day,
with the flowers in bloom,
there is so much to view from the freeway ⎇
[/center]with the flowers in bloom,
there is so much to view from the freeway ⎇
There was a strange thickness that filled the air and no matter how much Fallenpaw tried to swallow it all back, the bitter bile that continuously rose in his throat would not got away for like the lights in a morgue, the moon had bleached the land and the cats, its rays sucking all life from the dusty earth.
The tan-flecked tom cast a lingering look at his mentor, Twigstar and shuffled across the camp soundlessly, the soft silver flashes that illuminated the camp pressing gently against taupe shoulder blades. The autumn-pelted tom stared at the LeafClan leader with a desperate, almost desolate look, clouding his emerald-green gaze (one that made a certain LeafClan queen shiver, just because it looked so much like Treeblaze that it terrified her) and his caramel lips curved to form words, to ask a question to LeafClan's leader, but his jaw snapped shut almost immediately as the lean golden-white cat suddenly rushed forward, amber eyes glinting with some foreign emotion that the fourteen-old Fallenpaw could not possibly decipher.
The tom turned to Elkpaw, who looked perhaps just as worn out as he did and somewhat confused when his dark-flecked friend would not turn to him, not smile with that wickedly brilliant grin that he always wore, young Falenpaw turned away, ducking his head to avoid a branch. His companion, however, did not see this; Elkpaw hit into the branch head-first, causing him to tumble backwards. Since the rest of the patrol had already begun to stand below the Highbranch - where Twigstar stood, amber eyes suddenly glazed over with a hidden emotion that Fallenpaw had not learned or experienced yet - Fallenpaw rushed to Elkpaw's side, helping him get up. Elkpaw leaned on his friend, somehow having lost the ability to move.
Silvergale was dead. Their mother was dead.
There was a tugging pain in his chest whenever Fallenpaw thought about it, a resounding guilt that suffocated his heart when he remembered that he had been too preoccupied to help her, but one look at Elkpaw - a tom who had never lost a mother, not like Fallenpaw had (no matter how much the autumn-pelted tom wanted to forget, he couldn't forget Leafwhistle) - he knew that his heart would not bleed as much as it had for his own real mother, not like Elkpaw's was bleeding right now.
"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Highbranch for a Clan meeting." Twigstar paused, molten-amber orbs glowing with a certain pride that bewildered half the clan and as for the other half, instilled a sort of wonder in their hearts. They knew what this was about. "We have come back with both good news and bad, but we will begin with the good news." The lithe tom turned to focus his burning gaze on young Elkpaw, Fallenpaw and a creamy she-cat with the name of Windpaw. Both toms, faces flushed as the clan turned all eyes on them, stumbled forward. Windpaw, eyes soft, padded behind them and settled her self by Elkpaw's side, making his cheeks redden more visibly. "These three apprentice have been accepted by StarClan and for this, they will receive their warrior names."
Fallenpaw stared up at his mentor, eyes glowing under the moonlight. Elkpaw blinked, pain of his mother's death suddenly softened (just now, a throbbing pain in his side) and looked at his leader with warm eyes, the wavy lines along his neck illuminated by the lights of the night. Windpaw watched her leader eagerly, tail flicking gently and drawing attention to the three circles intertwined at her flank, a smooth line running through all three.
That night they were named Fallenrain, Elkstride and Windspire, respectively.
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