London Bridge is Falling Down [Mist x OPEN!]

[cazzy]

ooc;; So I wasn't sure if I should post. I decided to anyway... I don't have a whole lot of muse for Whitetail tonight, though.

The pure white she-cat seemed to read something in her deputy's eyes. No, she couldn't have. She must have been wanting to see some silent approval from her. It was just her brain playing with her. The she-cat stiffened, stopping her search of the she-cat's gaze. It was just plain rude of her now.

Still the sting of rejection did not make her any less excited as the toms left. Her joy of being alone with Mistpelt, once more, buzzed through her. She stepped forward, ever so slightly, angling her body into a closed stance. She hoped that it would be enough to keep her clanmates at bay. Or at least until she was sure the Deputy hadn't expressed something to her, in the most recent look they had shared.

Unfortunately for the white warrior, it wasn't long until Mistpelt's attention would have to be divided. From out of the shadows stepped yet another one of her Clanmates. This one a she-cat. Realizing soon that Warblerstep was the new arrival, and another warrior she hadn't had a decent conversation with in a long time. It upset her to think of the cats, in her own clan, she did not have a good grip on their personality or faith. There had been a time were she had prided herself on being able to read a cat quite well. Not so much in the recent moons.

Pushing her thoughts away, Whitetail let her posture seem open once more. Backing away, just a tad, the she-cat dipped her head in greeting.
"Good Morning, Warblerstep.

[neworleans]

Cedarpaw was feeling rather proud of himself (nothing new, really), having caught two voles. It was leaf-bare, so the prey was scarce. When he'd caught the two rodents, he felt a small surge of gladness rush through him, knowing he was making a contribution to helping his Clan survive in this harsh season.

He spotted Mistpelt and a few other cats. The apprentice noticed that she had a distinctly authoritative air about her. In fact, she was practically giving of this 'I'm in charge' feeling in waves. The brown tabby tom thought this very odd, but he kept his mouth shut. The fact that his mouth was full of vole helped him keep quiet, too.

Burying his catch at the base of a tree to collect later, Cedarpaw trotted over to the mainly-white she-cat. "Stonetail told me to go and practice my hunting. I caught a couple of voles- they're over there," he mewed, gesturing to the tree with his tail. "Just so you know I wasn't slacking off." Why did he feel the need to explain all this to Mistpelt? Well, she was deputy... that was probably why. That, and Cedarpaw really disliked being questioned. It made him feel funny, and he didn't like that feeling.

"So, er, is there anything else I can do? I'm getting the feeling you've got something specific going on here, and to be honest, I'm not really sure what that is." Ugh, he felt awkward. Why?

word count: 243

[Spec]

Her teal eyes never left the pair as they trailed out of camp, high hopes and perhaps luck on their side. It mattered not, as long as Starclan forgave them for their wrongs and blessed them with prey. Snorting under her breath, she returned towards the sole warrior left, Whitetail, who had currently shown more patience than Mistpelt first expected of her. Pushing aside another positive mental note of the snow white feline, a flighty smile rose to her maw – before another interrupted her in mid breath. Warblerstep approached, her frame slinking flawlessly towards her as sleep slowly discarded from her features. She never really formed a particular taste of her faith herself, another cat in which had avoided her for far too long, evaded her subtle questions and (not) so nonchalant comments. The mask followed shortly after, replacing her look of impassive distaste with one of semi welcoming simper, eyes betraying nothing from their mistress. When she spoke, Mistpelt immediately found fault. So, she had just woken! Black mark for slothfulness... “The morning patrol has already been given.” She stated expressionlessly, but recovered with a tight, hardly noticeable smile. “But you are free to gather a couple other cats and form a hunting patrol.” Her suggestion was offered only as a short reprieve, blending seemlessly into the idle conversation she halfheartedly put out. Then another cat graced her presence, one whom had appeared to have just returned from hunting. Even in leaf-bare, Cedarpaw had pulled off hunting as p[roper for his age, without complaint. Of course, he could have done better, but his twin catches had proven decent enough. She nodded once as he spoke, his explanation sufficient for the she-cat as she weighted down what to do with him next. “Good.” She stated calmly, feathery as a uplifting smirk flashed fleetingly across her maw. Such emotion was trivial, really, so there was no use expending that which wasn't necessary. “Since the weather has been getting colder, go into the forest and bring back some moss. Straclan knows it'll be helpful. Don't spend too long out there though, it's getting colder by the moment...Wouldn't want you to freeze to death.” Cheerful. One word to describe her last words, but it faded even as the last lingering breath left her. She shot Whitetail a heeding look, imploring her to be patient for just a few moments longer.

[thistle.]

The brown tabby cocked her head, an inconspicuous movement that only a practiced eye would be able to catch. Scrutinizing the other she-cat with a narrowed gaze, she remembered why being with the deputy made her so uncomfortable. She wasn't able to act like herself, for one thing, and for another, Mistpelt spoke with such cold courtesy that she often felt as though they were in different Clans. Formality, in her opinion, was silly. So was frivolity, in that matter. Her voice like ice, the warrior inclined her head quickly and said, "Yes, yes, of course." She backed away, but was only able to take a few steps before an interruption arrived in the shape of Cedarpaw. She wasn't sure why, but the earth-toned feline paused and listened to him and Mistpelt speak to each other.

"Since the weather has been getting colder, go into the forest and bring back some moss. StarClan knows it'll be helpful. Don't spend too long out there though, it's getting colder by the moment...Wouldn't want you to freeze to death."

Ha! Warblerstep scoffed. StarClan was dead, almost nothing. If they wanted to help the Clans, leaf-bare wouldn't even exist and the years would pass without them ever going hungry. Besides, the moss in the woods was probably stiff and cold. "If Cedarpaw tried to collect moss, he'd spend hours trying to scrape it off tree trunks and all he'd have to bring back will be some useless shreds, you know. It'd be too cold to sleep in anyway; feathers might be better, don't you agree?" She had not meant to speak at all; her sardonic words just slipped out. She couldn't take them back, but in truth, she didn't really want to. It almost pleased her to have a small pocket at the back of her mind that knew she was more logical than her superior -- at the moment, at least. Her smugness was invisible, though, and her facial features held only a defiant look.

[cazzy]

Whitetail knew she had not imagined the look Mistpelt shot her, this time. So she shifted her weight, getting comfortable, for yet another wait to speak alone with the Deputy. Her patiences was wearing thin now, but she promised herself that she could hold out. She flicked her tail, tapping it against the ground in a steady beat. A simple outlet for her impatience.

But her good nature didn't last long. It was one thing to barge in on the conversation of two cats. But then to blatantly ignore one of them? It drove the she-cat crazy. The white cat was half tempted to claw the tom's ears off. Unfortunately, she knew, at least, not to fling herself at her Clanmates. So instead, she quietly cleared her throat. Whitetail, then, dragged her gaze of each cat around her.

The warrior gave up, sitting farther back on her haunches. She would watch, a good plan she realized. For she found she could learn a great deal from cats by simply watching them. So she let her gaze turn from Mistpelt to Warblestep and then to Cedarpaw. The youngest one there, the tom seemed slightly uncomfortable but Whitetail guessed it wasn't because of the age difference.

The she-cat's eyes jumped to Warblestep as words slipped from the other warrior's mouth. Her own mouth twisted into a smirk, amusement hanging in her eyes. Although she felt the she-cat's argument was not necessary, among other things, she couldn't help feeling a small stab of envy towards the her. Wishing that she too had been brave enough to speak her mind. Swishing her tail, for she had realized that she was still beating it, she opened her mouth.

"But wouldn't it be better, Warblestep, to get the remaining, undamaged moss while it is still present?" Her words were sharp, but her gaze was friendly. She let a smile grow on her features.

[thistle.]

Now that was what she hated. Being contradicted in the presence of others. Especially when those 'others' were an apprentice and a deputy. She rounded on the she-cat and shot an irritated glance at her, letting a small hiss escape her throat. Whitetail's words, even though they spoke some sense, pricked her pride. In an equally blunt tone, Warblerstep snapped, "I thought I was only speaking to Mistpelt, not some random cat." She remained calm, however, keeping her tabby fur flat and her body posture as relaxed as possible. Her tail still lashed like an angry snake, which was the only bit of evidence other than her icy voice that she was angry.

Stay friendly, Warblerstep... Every move you make is being watched by Mistpelt... and then you will not be in Owlstar's favor if you don't meet your deputy's expectations.

Clearing her throat, the earth-toned warrior swung around once more to face Mistpelt again. She stared at the ground with a burning gaze, as though she was trying to melt the tiny specks of rock into puddles of water. Tail twitching, she waited for her to speak, giving no indication that the previous event had just occurred.

[Spec]

Despite her initial reaction towards Warblerstep’s argument, she forced herself to remain calm, a wave of forced patience starting from the tip of her nose to the unusually still end of her ringed tail. If she expected herself to gain favor from such words, then she was in for a wake-up. Feathers would have indeed proved more useful than moss, but how many birds molted in the winter months when feathers were needed most of all to ward off the chilly frost? The dark pelted she cat was a fool, not knowing things as a newly apprentice should. Moss, though, would be wet or stiff, but Mistpelt knew (as she deemed everyone should) that the hollow trees were a perfect place to collect moss in which hadn’t been touched by the dampness of the weather or Leaf bares touch. Before she could speak, however, Whitetail spat a sharp retort, the feat surprisingly pleasant in her eyes. Truth escaped her maw quite purposefully, noting her confidence. Soon after, her body straightened with poise, not at all affronted with the slight unease that she felt threatening to broil. “Moss doesn’t just grow in plain sight. Hollow trees are a perfect source of fresh dry moss. Besides, feathers, while satisfactory, wouldn’t be so easy to find. The birds have long sensed the presence of Leaf-Bare and have taken shelter in the trees – unless you propose to hunt them in their nests.” A delicate sneer of disapproval flashed across her features for the briefest moment, blinking swiftness that rarely betrayed such disappointment in her clanmates. She reserved such acts for the foolish and defiant, which Warblerstep seemed mounted on both.”That I wouldn’t suggest.” It was her turn to play the feint of friendliness, while perfectly irritated with the fact that she had spoken out of turn without first knowing her facts. Passive and patient, she told herself, and that she remained.

[neworleans]

"Good." Mistpelt's approving mew made him feel a little less tense. It wasn't brimming with enthusiasm, but a positive comment of any sort from Mistpelt was to be treasured to some degree. “Since the weather has been getting colder, go into the forest and bring back some moss. Starclan knows it'll be helpful. Don't spend too long out there though, it's getting colder by the moment...Wouldn't want you to freeze to death.” The thought of freezing to death sounded particularly unsettling to Cedarpaw.

He was about to do as the deputy had told him, when he heard another cat speak up. "If Cedarpaw tried to collect moss, he'd spend hours trying to scrape it off tree trunks and all he'd have to bring back will be some useless shreds, you know. It'd be too cold to sleep in anyway; feathers might be better, don't you agree?" Warblerstep, he realized, sounded bitter. It was as though she really found fault with the deputy's logic. What got on his nerves, however, was the fact that she talked about him like he wasn't there. "Um, hello. I'm right here," he directed at the brown she-cat, a snarl already on his face. The brown tabby tom's large ego meant (among other things), that he hated being ignored.

"But wouldn't it be better, Warblestep, to get the remaining, undamaged moss while it is still present?" Whitetail had a point. "I thought I was only speaking to Mistpelt, not some random cat." Warblerstep apparently felt the need to shoot down anything a cat said if it didn't agree with her opinion. Wow, talk about touchy, he thought. Then again, he wasn't really one to talk. If he were right in front of a high-ranking cat, though, Cedarpaw would attempt to swallow his pride (not an easy thing, mind you) and come off as well-mannered.

“Moss doesn’t just grow in plain sight. Hollow trees are a perfect source of fresh dry moss. Besides, feathers, while satisfactory, wouldn’t be so easy to find. The birds have long sensed the presence of Leaf-Bare and have taken shelter in the trees – unless you propose to hunt them in their nests.” Mistpelt's reply pretty much blew both Warblerstep's and Whitetail's comments out of the water. ”That I wouldn’t suggest.” He could tell the ebony she-cat's patience was being tested.

"Right. So, I'll just go and find some hollow trees, then?" he asked Mistpelt, careful not to sound offensive. This she-cat made him feel uneasy and a bit fearful. He didn't like that, and he wanted to find out why so he could stop feeling that way.

ooc: word count (not including quotes from others): 264

[cazzy]

Whitetail almost snorted with laughter. She stopped herself just in time, realizing that it would have been a bad idea. Warblestep was already touchy, that was instantly obvious by her sharp retort. Even if her words were not, well, the most eloquent her tone showed what was need. She tsked quietly and held her breath.

But Warblestep was not left hanging. Mistpelt left a stinging reply that left Whitetail gaping. She had a sudden new found respect for the deputy. And a small fear on being on her bad side. Well perhaps it was a bit bigger then small... She smirked with a lowered head. She could, but wouldn't, rub it in. So the she-cat shifted her attention to the deputy's word and then Ceaderpaw's.

""Right. So, I'll just go and find some hollow trees, then?"

The tom was getting antsy. And in all truthfulness the she-cat herself was too. She finally had enough of this small chat. Hanging on to every word from cats she didn't particularly care about. She was there, though, because of Mistpelt's asking looks. She would have loved to go a find moss, it would at least take her out of camp. Although trading places with the younger tom was not what she had in mind.

ooc;; Muse fail.

[thistle.]

Her claws slid out almost involuntarily, flashing threateningly in the sunlight as though some subconscious part of Warblerstep was telling her Clan mates that if it weren't for the warrior code, she could, and would, draw blood from her rivals. They weren't necessarily her enemies, but she definitely disliked them even though their words spoke the truth. Especially Mistpelt's; her argument was enough to shut the tabby up, as much as she didn't want to. But for the first time, her wit failed her, and she couldn't find a clever enough comeback. Neither could she resort to uncontrolled anger. The warrior inhaled and exhaled softly, feeling slightly calmer. Her claws sheathed and she took a step back. A guilty feeling swept through her heart but left quickly. In her opinion, she wasn't at any fault. She had not attacked, even though her recent body posture might've made them think that she would. And what kind of warrior would fight about such a silly, trivial topic?

When Warblerstep opened her jaws to speak, she grimaced, as though what she was about to say pained her. Then, putting on the most coldest expression she could, said, "I apologize. It is sometimes difficult to control my emotions when... provoked." She shot a glance at the others, not sure about how they would react to her sudden 'remorse'. It disgusted her, really, to try and ask for forgiveness for her nerve. She hadn't mentioned any of that sort, but to even speak about her feelings, or maybe-feelings, made her want to vomit. Abruptly she meowed, "The hunting patrol will be organized at once, Mistpelt." She swung around stiffly and padded toward the camp's exit. If she met any on her way, they might have to join her. But she wanted to hunt alone for now. Hopefully, the brown she-cat would encounter nothing but prey to vent her feelings on.

you can forgive, you can't forget