At The Opera Tonight [MistxVole)

[Rolo]

Volepelt was not put off at all by her formal tone, in fact it almost soothed him. Formality was the basic need in their relationship, for it was incorrect for relationships to be based on emotions rather than respect. If emotions become too involved, they cloud your judgement. He knew that too well, so, the majority of the time, he was more likely to talk to a cold cat than a friendly one.

When it came down to her remark about her dictating his duty, he didn't care to grace it with a reply. She should know he already knew that, that he did his duty as best he could. Besides, the she-cat had failed to consider the fact that a good servant does not only filled his master's, he predicted what his master would want. He had been the ultimate servant, he had gone beyond the orders to do his utmost for his sworn leader. In time, she would learn that their bond could never be as clearcut anyway. She would learn he would allow her to control him only in the ways he knew he needed to be controlled, in accordance with Starclan. He had a will, being a complete slave was not Starclan's will.

Volepelt wandered forward, showing no signs of retaliation as he willingly sat where she had ordered him to. As soon as he was settled, his pale-coloured leader began to speak in her authoritative tone. Instantly, he placed all other thoughts in the back of his mind and opened his brain to her ideas.

Patiently, he listened to her, his form an image of supreme focus. He nodded in agreement throughout her speech, the movement becoming most rigorous towards the end of it.

"You're most definitely right." He mewed as soon as she was finished, a look of slight anger crossing her face. "If this were my old clan... Tr- our leader would have been purging so many cats, the camp floor would have been stained with blood."

He bowed his head sadly in what an innocent onlooker could believe to be a mocking gesture, so prominently was his anger and sadness at the situation displayed on his face. It was true, it caused him great despair... there were so many kits whose souls were doomed from birth, due to the tainted clan. There was no period of purity for them, unlike his childhood, no period of bliss, just the cold harsh reality of sin, staining their pelts like blood. The idea of so many lost cats, so many young lost cats, brought him close to tears. As Mistpelt had said, something must be done.

"I agree." He mumbled softly, "The kits are our future... and these kits know nothing of the true nature of Starclan. They need to know... from the moment they are born that purity is what they are aiming for in life, not selfish happiness or made-up dreams. A great strength comes from knowing Starclan truly, with an open soul."

He paused for a moment, gazing dreamily up at the sky. His tone had notably softened as he spoke, showing a gateway into the kind, peaceful side of his nature. It very rarely shone through when he spoke about anything other than his beloved starry leaders, so it was a marvel for him to hear his low voice lighten. Within it came his true happiness, a muted happiness that glinted in his eyes. It was more of a summer breeze of an emotion than a powerful sun, but that was the way he appreciated Starclan... how his clan appreciated their beliefs.

"In my old clan," He dipped his head back down and gazed at Mistpelt unwieldingly, "Kits were kept in their birth den until six moons of age... and were visited by no cat at all. The mothers were trained in ambivilance, little fondling was bestowed on them and talk was limited. The mother told them nothing of Starclan, so they were kept in a delightful ignorance... one in which they experienced full purity as they had no teachings to doubt. Upon getting to six moons, they were immediately apprenticed... and they were always eager, even if..." His eyes clouded for a moment, but it passed swiftly, "most of them go through a rebellious period before becoming a true believer."

He dipped his head and closed his eyes. A deep and painful longing for his old regime struck him. What he wouldn't give to be called Chance again... even just once.

"But yes..." He said, opening his eyes. Business tone, no emotions. "There are ways of aiding kits on the way to becoming pure... I shall hope you consider my old clans strategy as it worked well. The only thing it would need to work correctly was regular talks on the fundemental elements of belief, spiritual training alongside physical training... but I should think you've already had that idea."

((If you're wondering, the Tr- thing was him about to say his old clan leader's name, which was Truth ;P))

[Spec]

Solemn. Stoned face and formality, Mistpelt didn't allow her eyes to wander from her companion, a consort of sorts, council of her whims which also included one who shared her most necessary of ideals. She naturally felt relieved, finding someone who shared equal beliefs, someone who took their ancestors seriously. Starclan was not to be trifled with, especially in Their anger, which her paw and jaws would know of no distinction. They would purge, they would cleanse...even if her path was directed to her doom, paved in bloodshed from start to finish. She would take pleasure in every drop she shed, especially from the unrighteous. Forgiveness had to be earned, not thrown around like the riff raff who inhabited this pathetic run clan, where blood had nearly thinned into water. Her head inclined slightly from his agreeable words, not at all surprised by his response, in fact, she had grown used to his support by now, more than enough not to doubt his affinity towards the entire matter. Her jaws parted, taking breath before speaking. “Then you're old leader was a wise cat, I'm sure. Rest assured, I am meaning to do the exact same thing...so many need to be cleansed...” Her last words receded into a sort of distant haze, withdrawn slightly, a never-ending concern for her clan's well being. It wouldn't be far though, and this future was nearly within her grasp...blood would fall like rain, and because of this, most souls would be saved. It was increasingly difficult to blink back her sorrow, shield herself from the morose gut wrenching nausea that tore at her belly. It sickened her, the revolting truth that scurried beside her, around her everyday. She could smell their sins, every single one, and her heart cried out for them reflecting their souls as they were engulfed by the blackness that tainted them. So many young...the kits...exiled from paradise.

Mistpelt, however, did not make her emotions obvious for long. A fleeting glance and then it vanished, disappearing into the confines of her heart. A shadow flickered across her face, black markings inky against the white contrast of her face. A smile rooted itself there, lulling itself upon her face in a dreamy fashion as his words flew into her ears, so comforting. So perfect... With unyielding determination, she knew she would make it so, completely true. Every word. Kits were their future, the future of Fogclan...and even of Starclan Themselves. Such promise, unknowing responsibility for a kit to bare upon its shoulders, yet the weight was feathery with the touch of Starclan to strengthen their steps, growing and learning in Their ways. The tiniest hint of a airy sigh escaped her maw, chest fluttering delicately at the thought. Yet her mind hardened once more, sharpening at her voice refocused instantly, although this time, she funneled a minuet amount of her approval through her speech, hinting she had accepted his views with an open heart. “How pristine, Volepelt. Yes, that will do perfectly. Of course, I always expect a bit of rebellion first off, every leader must think of such things. Also, I believe that only pure cats should be given the privilege to have kits. It would be simply horrendous if their mother started spreading blasphemy into their ears at such a vulnerable age...” She nodded her head mutely before continuing, adding power to her words, eyes clearing supporting her utter frustration and even subtle rage at the matter of treachery.. “As spiritual training goes, I have already thought of specific programs that will train the apprentice's spiritually. At the end of their training period, either one of us will assess their progress. Failure to pass the 'faith test', the first, will be prohibited to become warriors either for an extended period of time, or for the rest of their lives.” She paused, a split second for Volepelt to add his own thoughts towards the subject, ringed tail flexing lazily at her side, expression that of a elegant viper.

[Rolo]

Volepelt sighed softly as she spoke of his old leader, her intentions. Strangely, Mistpelt's compliment for the one he admired so passionately, with the whole of his soul, seemed to comfort him greatly. He relaxed, a warmth filling his entire body and a soft, sweet sadness lingering in his mind. His female cohort's words had reminded him gently how lucky he had been to have been born into a clan led by such a cat, to know such a gifted and beautiful cat. He was immensely proud of him, the cat who ruled so entirely over an entire clan's hearts, all for the good of Starclan. The cat with infinite kindness and wisdom... he owed so much to him...

But he could not ponder about what he had lost. Truth was gone, he was watching over him from the stars. His old clan was but a distant and warmth-filled memory, he could not live in the stars with his dear leader, he must live on earth until his time comes. To live in the past was to die, to waste Starclan's gift, and that was a sin he would not succumb to again.

Mistpelt's assurance that Fogclan would come to be like his old clan was like soft bird song in his ears. He was rest assured. He was certain in Mistpelt's future, that with their work it would come about. Together they would make it happen, as Starclan had ordained it would. Mistpelt was a worthy cat. Though lacking experience, slowly she would come to be as pure a reflection of Truth as she could be, even if she would eternally lack the power of his first master. The she-cat would learn, she would learn to rule with Starclan's encouragement. She would always be second to Truth, he knew that, for she would never be a male cat... she'd never have the power a male cat possessed. But it didn't matter. Perhaps this was purposeful on Starclan's part? Maybe, with this floundering clan, Starclan's new leader needed a queen's touch?

Volepelt noticed Mistpelt's facade change softly, as a 'coldness' took her heart. Volepelt smiled. Yes, Fogclan needed her touch... her gentle guiding paw. How could he doubt that she was the right cat to lead the clan? Such an aptitude for care... how could she fail in winning the hearts of Fogclanners?

Softly, Volepelt wandered over to her and brushed softly past her, his head beneath hers as he showed her a deep warmth. It was a soft gesture, completely free of lust or intent, it was innocent. He purred, moving away from her again to sit a mouse length away.

Mistpelt continued on, and he sat silently carefully considering her points. His head bowed, he was completely attentive and showed neither delight or dislike at any point during her speech. There were points she made which subtly showed her inexperience, where her fiery qualities clouded her thoughts. She had not yet gained the calmness and patience a leader would, but he knew that would come with time and encouragement. Slowly, her judgemental streak would fade into fairness, she would understand that Starclan would forgive after a life of sin. Starclan would wait all a cat's mortal life, They would never forsake a cat like Mistpelt was suggesting.

He remained deep in thought for a few moments before he spoke, keeping his voice completely calm. Formality, as always, but tinged with an affection for the departed.

"My old leader was indeed wise." He murmured softly, dipping his head, "It is a shame you could not have met him before he met his demise... he was as close to purity as a cat could get."

He purred, moving his gaze to hers, "But it doesn't matter. Together, we shall find our own path to perfection and aid Fogclan as they follow it for themselves."

There was no pride in his voice, he was deeply humble. He bowed his head again.

"I am entirely glad you will be taking up some of my old clan's practices... my old leader truely would be proud to see the perfect conditions taken up by other clans..." He spoke carefully, his eyes meeting hers unflinchingly, "But I ask you to find more patience within yourself."

He paused, he did not move, "It would be easy... quite easy to take only the best cats in the clan. The cats who learnt to love Starclan quickly, or after a short period of doubt. We'd create a perfect clan sooner, purity would be within our grasp. In the short term. But..."

His eyes closed for a moment, before opening again, "Is it not our task to teach our entire clan the love, the never ending love, of Starclan through our own clan morals? What message would it send to our fellow cats if we told them we would never accept them truly... never let them grow? If we tell them they can never be warriors... they will have no hope. A faith test, along with spiritual training, is right and natural... and so is delaying of warriorship, but I will not stand for never allowing the hope of warriorship to those who are lost."

A silent anger spread across his features. He had not felt like this since Leaf had died.

"Cats can change. They have changed. I have watched three apprentices, of the worst breeding and attitude, transform into the greatest of warriors. The clan had nearly given up hope on them, but they found their own way and saw the beauty of Starclan. Some cats will take time to take to the correct path in life, but often, if morals are taught to them well enough, they will get there in the end. I was one such cat," He said strongly, "and look at me now. Without hope that I could some day become a warrior, find glory, I'm not sure I would have strived to find the correct path so studiously. Often those who are lost for a great amount of time come to be the strongest followers of all, as they recognise the gifts they gain more strongly."

His voice was still filled with respect, but he spoke passionately. Never would he allow Mistpelt to forsake a cat because they were difficult. It was not their task to block the path to honour and glory, that was Starclan's right alone.

"I implore you," He continued, "to take on only the practice of delaying warriorship. I accept there are sinners who will not change, but for those who do we must keep the way to glory open. We must not judge, that is Starclan's right only. Some may never pass the faith test... it is only right that it can be repeated numerous times. It is not to short term purity that we should look to, but a long term one which will last beyond your years. I believe it is only patience that will bring that about, and I hope you feel so too."

He closed his eyes, wondering silently if Mistpelt would not take so kindly to his rather impassioned speech. But for all Fogclanners out there, he must argue, so they in future would have a fair ruler.

"And as for kits," He spoke a little more calmly, "My only... qualm with the idea is that it is hard to monitor and ensure only true believers have kits. I can say now that it will not be until you have ruled for many moons that the true believers will outweigh the doubters. Therefore... it would surely be wiser if all cats could have kits, for kits is something Starclan will always want and Fogclan needs, and simply have you spread the word of Starclan to the kits yourself to counteract whatever the mother might be telling them. That means that we will have more kits faster, and due to the process we shall be going through in apprenticeship, I believe even kits with bad parentage can become good warriors. Anyway, if needs be, we could always take kits away from a sinning mother and give them to another pure queen to care for, if things got too bad."

[Spec]

Her eyes were drawn to the sincere stare of his gaze, pondering and in thought. At first, she questioned what his reaction would be, since this was really the first time she had discussed such important and necessary matters with another being (besides the present reassurance from Starclan themselves. As well as the obvious company factor, knowledge exchanged and words of wisdom was a pleasant thought, leaving her with a fresh and pure aura sticking to every individual strand of her fur, her soul brightened, uplifted. Like a inanimate object, Mistpelt refrained from moving, her breath as faint as her heartbeat as she considered her possibilities. Moment by moment, the seconds dragged by, extending the void of silence as she awaited his words she so desperately needed to hear. But she was not impatient, would not even part her mouth for expected speech. The calm, however, settled into the lowest corners of her body, bestowing a balancing air. The ringed tail was her pendulum, tossing back and forth every other beat, random but coy. Just like a drifting feather descending from the sky, his voice seeped from his maw, equally tender. Her head inclined a fraction of an inch, weighing down his words with a fleeting smile. Had his old leader really been so pure, so untouched by sin? It appeared that Starclan favored him well, it was only a pity that he was not still walking among them, but in a way, he led a better life now. With the promise of Starclan, she couldn't imagine a more tranquil way of death.”A blessing indeed...” Her mouth parted, revealing words from her soul, the unveiled portion that rarely surfaced such gentleness, a patience that she would indeed require if she were to listen to Volepelt's next speech.

Naturally, she listened. She was never beyond picking apart exactly what meaning the tomcat conveyed to her. It was clear that his words had deep meaning, or else Starclan wouldn't have willed him to say such things, so she considered them to heart, observing each detail for what they truly were, suggestions in their most respectful aspect.”It is one of my most humble goals,” She mewed softly, her voice empty with any contempt that she would naturally feel for the unworthy. It was warm, with the slightest tinge of heat, the flame still bearable and smoldering.” Starclan is love, is hope for those who have blinded themselves towards Their love. Some might reject Them, but Starclan would never reject their children in return. We...I must not turn my back towards those who need my guidance most, as for patience...Well, I will adapt.” A powerful force bent her shoulders, humbled by Their awe. She would never forget, could never forget. Their image scorched into her soul like a thousand stings, every one of them burning and imploring her not to be forgotten. She would never let her children falter, she wouldn't disappoint. With Starclan by her side, any feat, no matter how hopeless, could be conquered. Once more her shoulders squared, poised and structured as she recovered with only a faint bow other head to acknowledge her mortal vulnerability, the awe inspiring aspect of Starclan fueling her desire for change for her clan. Her gaze had not hindered upon her comrade, however, their deep oceanic pools glistening as she watched him. “Every cat has the opportunity for greatness when they have finally found their soul, found Starclan and accepted Their eternal love. Who am I to denounce such things?” Dreamlike yet decisive she continued.”Starclan mustn't just reside in their minds, but in their very hearts, were true admiration is remembered and retained. Without this, as you say, would be merely temporary.” She nodded sharply to confirm this, her mind''s gears oiled for preparation, but always, always with an open heart. “Parentage can be overlooked.” Her words were of approval in its rawest form. “Kits are the future. And you're right, fostering in questionable circumstances would be wise. Especially if things were of particular danger of any aspect towards them.” She held her breath, catching it silently in her throat as she gazed into his eyes, her elegant features calm and resounding like a mute ring of comfort. “Whatever your previous history consisted of, I am happy that Starclan guided your paws towards Fogclan. Having friends in these dark times are a blessing, dear Volepelt..” A small smile rose to her maw, unmistakable yet with unclear intentions. Mutely, she rose to her paws, settling upon her cloudy gray haunches as the sea foam flames in her eyes danced.

[Rolo]

Volepelt could see the effect of his words almost as soon as he had spoken them. His speech had impacted on the she-cat in the exact way they should have, and the great amount of humility that Mistpelt displayed in her very stance was admirable. Watching her humble form, listening silently to her servile words, replaced any lingering feelings of unsureness he had been feeling.

Her words were good. They were honest and true. She had managed with some ease to embrace her own faults and promise to fix them, in doing so promising her clan and her omniscient rulers that she would learn exactly what she needed to. Volepelt noted the words in reverence, but did not focus upon them. Words, promises, rules could change, it did not matter to him so much what they were or what meaning they had. What mattered to him were the soul, mind and heart of a cat, and these aspects of Mistpelt were... mesmerising.

Upon watching her shrink under Starclan's might, knowing completely that she had listened with the whole of her ear and heart, Volepelt felt a gush of warmth for the she-cat drive through her entire body. The force of it, the force of looking at her, made his entire body feel such a great admiration, he wasn't sure he could bear it. There was something new to this feeling... something completely strange to him. It made him desire her... not desire power over her or the great leadership she could give him, but the parts of her made by Starclan but dependant from Starclan.

Volepelt found himself returning her smile quite naturally, his paws itching to brush against her once more. He was tremendously proud of her... it was all he could do not to praise her like she were his own apprentice. She was learning.

"Good, Mistpelt." He said warmly, his voice low, holding unintentionally some of the pure affection and desire he felt for her in that moment, "You are correct, so correct in all of your words. I am sure Starclan are immensely proud of you for your honesty and your willingness to change your faults."

Volepelt felt further warmth filling him when he remembered Mistpelt's last words. They filled him with so much warmth, it felt almost painful.

Volepelt moved towards her slowly, once again letting their bodies meet. Brushing past her entire body, he encircled her from behind, and so his entire body enveloped her own. Licking her cheek once gently, he sat softly beside her with his pelt against hers.

"Your company brings me great comfort too, blessed Mistpelt." He mewed softly, feeling a great pain building up in his chest. "Know that I will always be there... to serve and to aid you, my sweet Mistpelt. Together..." he breathed, "all earthly darkness is conquerable."

[Spec]

Mistpelt stood reverent while the curling smile of true sincerity graced Volepelt's features, perhaps the only tom who she deemed worthy enough for t flip side of her demeanor. True, she was Mistpelt, the deputy, the Chosen Disciple of Starclan...but she was also a she-cat, a cat with desires like lime any other cat, which make her spirit soar. What she had expected to be purely business, it pleased her to uncover the friendship that was gained by this encounter, steadily blossoming out to a full bloom. She was like a rose, beautiful, but also filled with prickly thorns, eager to make her enemies bleed for denying her deities and undermining her beliefs. She felt a great fierceness rise to her chest, smothering her completely in a delightful ecstasy, pride, and eagerness to better herself for her clan and those around her. Her life, to change those who she had grown to share Starclan's love. This seemed like a fair trade. Pleasant thought, however were paused when he spoke his words, his admiration clear in every syllable of his voice, tone and pitch destined to speak her name. Surely Starclan was indeed proud of her earthy devices, her duties, or else they would not have placed her in such a privileged position of power. What Mistpelt craved most was her parent' s forgiveness, a release to all those years of pain instilled suffering she endured during the cold years of travel. She barely had time to blink back inward tears of sorrow, laced with the softest tinge of happiness. This time when he moved towards her, she was prepared for his touch, gentle and feathery upon her cloud soft pelt, her frame molding effortlessly into his own. Eyelids heavy, they nearly met in blackness, her vision hazy with pleasure as his tongue swiped over her cheek with a most tender caress. Head tilting back, her throat vibrated into a purr, increasing in sound until it responded from every fiber of her body. His words had touched her, but it wasn't his words that made his pure, it was his soul, a soul made untainted by her unsheathed paw and the grace of Starclan. She had forgotten what other matters she wanted to attend to, they could...wait until a more pristine opportunity. For now, she bathed in his attention of her. “Forever. Swear upon it.” Her speech was rather blunt, but there was unfathomable meaning to her words as if tiny shards of her soul were knotted along with them, heightened with the most feathery command, her body leaning against his.

[Rolo]

Volepelt's purr joined her own, reverberating through his entire body. The vibrations created by her pleasure seemed to merge with his own, giving him the strangest feeling that they were of one body. He knew then, instantly, that his warmth... his touch had effected her, she was embracing him as he had not been embraced before. She moved into him... she relaxed so softly, allowing herself to enjoy his tender grasp. The warmth and relaxed state of Mistpelt's body made him shiver, but it did not make him want to shrink away. It made him draw closer still.

An overwhelming pain grasped his chest, a deep sadness filling his own eyes with tears. As his head drooped slightly under the weight of this emotion, he asked why he was feeling such an emotion. This embrace... it was bringing out of him some deep longing he had never truly realised. It was something deeper than his wish for Starclan, his wish for a leader or even lust for a she-cat. It hurt him, it hurt him deeply and it made him despair.

Just as his sadness reached its peak, Mistpelt uttered her command. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening as he considered the momentous significance of her words. His own sadness was stifled for a moment, as he gave himself a moment to judge what exactly could have caused such words.

It took him only a moment. Mistpelt was feeling a sorrow of her own. In such warmth, they both felt coldness.

Why was it? What was it?

His heart pounded, he found his breath was shallow. The words... they meant everything and nothing. They set a more immediate sadness in his heart. How could Mistpelt even doubt that he... worshipped her? That he would not walk the darkest paths to serve Starclan with her... to serve her alone. It pained him.

He turned his head softly and hid it among her pelt, unable to speak. He wept silently.

"I will..." He mumbled soothingly, his voice choked. "I will." He repeated a moment after, more strength coating his words. He withdrew slightly from her fur.

"Don't doubt it for I swear it to you. I wouldn't abandon you... you should know already."

He shivered, his head still low. Another wave of pain.

"And what of me, dear Mistpelt?" He whispered weakly, "Will you... will you abandon me one day, in body, in heart but not in faith? Will you leave me? Do I matter to you only as an accomplice in faith?"

[Spec]

Her fur clung to her body, but no apparent warmth came from it, or else it was a very faint heat, still unopened. The pulse upon her back quickened as he registered the exact meaning of her words, cryptic and so simple all in one, the touch warped for a blissful moment, where time itself was left standing still behind them. Why had his heartbeat plagued her body so, why did it rake its claws mercilessly across her heart when all she wanted was the be left in the light of Starclan, alone with Their forgiveness and love? Her maw twisted to yowl out her agony in one belch of freedom, without containment any longer. Why did Volepelt haunt her, his words instilling the greatest amount of passion she had nearly ever experienced before. It was hopeless, for her insides were knotted with emotion, and it took ever ounce of self control she acquired over the years to stop herself from unleashing all her sins into the air. She would have to do so, and quickly as soon as Starclan permitted it. Her guilt was immense, and she was drowning in his adoration. His head, shielded from her view plunged gently into her pelt, the warmth of his face moistening with his tears, physical or the very essence of his soul pouring forth was unknown to her – but she allowed it. Oh, did she allow it. She waited to what seemed to her like a tiny piece of eternity, just clinging onto his every breath, awaiting his divine oath upon his lips. She loathed how long it seemed to be taken, consuming their mortal lives with every fading heartbeat, only to be replaced by another.

Then his voice drifted from his lips, cutting his words short as they were partially muffled in her pelt. TO what she could understand, she placed the syllables out to be 'Why thrill'. She blinked, half corrosive to this meaning, but he spoke again, clearer, in a tone she could not mistake. He had said he would. Her eyes stretched, widened by the truth of it. She couldn't help it, she was awed by his devotion and admiration, loyalty and...Her lips curved into a smile, brightening her lips for a brief moment in time yet it faded with the leaving seconds, a ghost upon her features. It brought her joy, such joy it would threaten to burst her heart. The flames ate at her, one step further and she would be consumed by them. Before she could offer her gratitude, even though she could barely put them into words, the innocent inquiry rang from his opened maw, suspended inside her ears, which she wouldn't doubt would remain there for a very long time. Stiff-legged, she withdrew from his touch, inching her body away from his own as she forced herself not to stare directly into his imploring gaze, full of longing and the other emotion she would dare not address. As simple as that. She stood, regaining her full height once more and padded slowly away from him, the coldness returning to her as she mutely pondered the definition of his words, the commitment he questioned of her.

There she remained, still and frozen, but then before all hope seemed lost, she shifted her body towards him once more, their separation a mere length away. She could no longer begin to deny it, so their was no desire to halt it's growth. Of course, she wouldn't so readily admit it, but she felt it like an inferno inside of her body, welling up to greet her comrade...no, that wasn't the right word at all, but she was lost to what word could replace it, so she merely overlooked it and continued in her desired action. At her distance still, her voice fell from her lips, an emotion filled ring that was surely distinguished. “Oh Volepelt...” She whispered in turn, so soft...What had risen in his head that made him believe that she would ever forsake him, in body or heart, but never in faith? Like a elegant specter approaching her prey, she erased the space separating them once more, a soft collision into his frame with her own. Her chest pressed up against his own, her sea foam gaze penetrating into his own, with a sear that could burn as she looked upon him with great tenderness. “How could I forsake one so precious to me? You will never know what it is to feel my absence, Volepelt. I swear it.” She buried her maw deep into his fur, a sweeping caress into his dark fur. Her body had long returned to its original state; curled into the body of the one who adored her. Yet her maw left one lingering remark upon the air, half stifled by his fur as she spoke, but she spoke with crisp definition, without hesitance. “And more, much more than that...”

[Rolo]

Volepelt felt his heart would burst as Mistpelt left his grasp. He had felt her freeze a moment ago, the stiffening of her body sending a great shiver down his spine. Yet, it was nothing compared to the agony he felt as she parted from him. The pain was so deep, so harsh, he felt that he might crumble and fall to the ground. But, the hurt was so immense, he could do none of those. All he could do was stand and watch. His mind and heart were not apart of his body, his soul was so broken his body was a mere shell. All he could do was stand and watch.

He felt his entire future falling away from him in an instance. Without her... without her guidance, he could not live. He could not. He would die of sin, he would die of living with cats with sin. He couldn't survive... he just couldn't. He might as well curl up and die.

Feeling as if he were being choked of air, he watched as Mistpelt wandered away. It felt as if time itself had paused, holding it's breath in waiting for his inevitable rejection. When Mistpelt finally turned back to him, he braced himself for a pain greater than he could imagine. Ears back, tail drooping, he stood as if the expected pain weighed physically upon his form.

But... the death blow did not come. Her words... they were not harsh nor cold... they were soft. They were warm. They willed him out of his broken state.

He could not believe it. He didn't believe it. Even when her soft gaze met his, he still could not feel. It was as if the warm breezes of summer were gently touching his pelt, willing him to inhale and notice it, but they still could not penetrate him. He felt an immense coldness in his heart, and had penetrated to the core of him.

It was only when Mistpelt rejoined him again, returning to his side, that he truly started to calm. As he watched numbly through glazed eyes, he slowly began to thaw with her touch. He began to relax again, melting slowly beneath her grasp. Although his muscles were still notably tense, he found himself able to move and think independently again, as if his seperate parts had merged together to make a whole again. His mind was no longer disconnected from his body, and his soul had returned to existance.

When she finally spoke, Volepelt felt his coldness finally beginning to recede. The words... they were like a hot flame filling him with great warmth. He dipped his head beneath it, immersing himself as much as he could in it. However, try as he might, he could not find that immense warmth he'd felt before. The icy chill of his imagined rejection still reigned in dark corners of his heart.

Volepelt's head remained low, as he realised in despiration that he needed to re-establish the distance between them. He needed to shy away from the flame... it was burning him. Formality had to return.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his head high again, allowing the subtle coldness his form usually held to fall upon him again. Shuffling backwards inconspicuously, he sat and gazed up at his leader.

"Good. Then we are bound by a promise to eachother. It will be kept." He said softly, his tone a low growl. Although it held a great amount of formality, the underlying passion still shone through and gave it a considerable warmth.

"But now we have other matters to attend to." His tone was business like, but still considerably soft. "I must know of when this take over will happen and how. We have a considerable amount of followers now, we need to keep them informed over what will be happening if we wish to keep their dedication."

[Spec]

Her body slowly engulfed the warm that she was exposed to, allowing herself to creep closer to the flame at careful distance. Words were words, action spoke louder than them naturally. Speaking of words, they hardly meant anything – if they were carried out accordingly to her new spoken oath she had mysterious unleashed upon her soul. True, she would never abandon Volepelt, her beloved follower and companion, but she was still doubtful that she could retain her idolization towards him. Comrade of faith, to faithful accomplice, to beloved friend...Mistpelt could hardly imagine what he felt for her at that exact moment her tender words escaped her maw. Love was unknown to her, even then. Starclan held her heart completely and fully with little room for competition, but...her words echoed through her mind, while ruefully innocent they still came from her lips, he translated them heavily, unconsciously warped by his devotion. Formality won victoriously over the lust of her heart, devouring her urge to continue with her deadly seduce (as he might have conspired it to be, indeed). She paid little heed when he retreated from her, stiffening becomingly as the coldness returned to her once more, unfazed by the transition. The ivory she-cat inclined her head wisely before staring down at her servant, eyes icy once more, brimming with a flickering smooth gentleness all the same, quite the opposite from her harsher tinged voice, more hollow. “It will be kept.” She mewed with an emotionless ring, concision as mindless as habit. Once her voice concluded his previous thought, she listened to his next speech when he spoke, clearing depicting the sound of tenderness and warm still in his voice, despite his will to eradicate most emotion from his actions. It was rather...adorable. “ The scent of change is more evident in my nostrils. The previous night, I caught a glimpse of a starry night while I slept, brimming brightly as a dawning beacon. It will happen in eight moonrises, close to the full moon. It will happen then. To the question of 'how', my dear Volepelt, I have debated this as well; Owlstar's wickedness must be revealed. I shall call a clan meeting when the moon is high and reveal the wickedness of Owlstar's sins, including the distasteful slothfulness and neglect of her apprentice, as well as unfaithfulness and betrayal...She welcomely accepts Pineclan's filth and would sit idle and watch her clan be affected by such matters. Her sin is immense, which is plain to see. I will call the clan into order and explain my motives, speaking Starclan's dream to them all so that they may know truth.” She paused briefly, to inhale with deep reassurance, looking at him gravely. “Naturally, I am expecting an outcry...rebellion from the few who are blinded. Reassurance would be in order, but if it persists...more necessary action will need to be taken. And don't worry, my followers are informed of the basics, which will be strengthened to retain their dedication.”