$on$/the/way2the!HOSPITAL!

[- - t i d e]

τ ω i s т є я

Û Ý Ü

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leader of southclan


he stared into the glass,

pads pressing against the cool surfaces, almost uncomfortably, awkwardly, unaccustomed to the comfort that came with balancing on an even surface. And as it did not ironically turn out, his paws were, in fact, not used to such a surface- only on rare occasion did the terrain that mapped the SouthClan territory prove constant long enough to have a sense of steadiness- of constant. For a moment, he pondered on this thought; his life, so much like SouthClan, weaved in erratic and interval-lacking patterns.

Twisterstar raised his head, tearing his eyes away from the mottled visions that played like an old movie beneath his slumping figure. The light caught his underbelly, casting darker shadows upwards across his pelt, giving the notoriously chaotic-powered leader a look of misted mystique. His mottled gray coat, thinned from the warmer season that had blessed the lands, ruffled as a gentle breeze spiraled past the Spire's towering rock.

His faded cerulean optics swiveled in their sockets to lift further upwards, to the trees, allowing himself to look upwards at the stars that winked through the darkness, seeming to drill holes into his back with their dead, sunken eyes. A sudden thought wandered on the top of his mind- why must the Clans look down for guidance, when whispers of the ancestors came from above? Was it because StarClan wished not to become too involved in the affairs of the living; or were they too cowardly, too afraid of their own children, to linger close enough?

The leader shifted his weight from one forepaw to another, a slice of brilliant static trailing down the length of one of his toes, reminding him once again of the power he held inside of his being. It was intoxicating just to imagine how much stronger he was than most of the cats in the forest, the only true match for him that could ever be were the three other leaders- Coalstar, Skystar and Capestar. Did they not think of what they could do? Of what they could be?

Heroes.
They could be heroes.
A shadow flickered across Twisterstar's face; his eyebrows tilted downwards in concentration, eyes fixating on a shadow of black swimming underneath his paws.
Yes, they could be heroes.
But they could also be monsters.

He averted his mind from the tracks at which his train of thought were starting to journey on; it was better to not get caught up in such fantasies of great power. There was no such thing as a godly mortal, and while eat of them either built their bodies or slowly decayed, none of the beings on the surface of the planet would ever truly succeed in ultimate power.

Besides, who would want that?
After a moment, Twisterstar concluded that he certainly did not. For he understood what it was like to be powerless, to be helpless, to be without any resource of fighting back-
with a twisting heart, he remembered the crumpled body of his mother and the flashing, smirking, tooth-filled grin of his wicked step father; the tom who he had grown up a tortured child under, watching with pure weakness as he beat his pure-hearted mother time and time again, blood spilling over blood. If only he had known what he could do back then- he could have stopped him.

Weakness. The feeling of being pathetic, worthless, garbage. His mind's eye reflected the faces of his laborers, double checking that they had none such envy or despise as the eyes of his own grandfather had held, and checking for a third time just to be sure. He tried, he certainly did, to have the ranks of the Clan be ranks of duty, not ranks of social class. But there were always the egos of other felines that he could not control; their actions, their intentions, not his own. Elite warriors wiping their dirty paws on the backs of laborers, warriors twisting their claws with jealousy at ceremonies of important ranks, and kits having dreams fulfilled and destroyed all with a pawprint.

Twisterstar sighed, pausing, letting his thoughts run wild behind closed eyes. Only after the storm had raged by did he reopen his optics, staring down into the faded images below his body. It was better to clear his mind of such wanderings at the Spire, where the contorted images encouraged notions of the darkest- and the greatest- kind, and kept them for future generations to ponder over. When you were leader, a conflicting mind was like being an artist with an unsharpened, damaged pencil.

He stared into the glass.
However, he was not looking at the ominous ghosts in his paws, but at the even more elusive feline staring back at him.

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[C A P E [penguin]]

c a p e s t a r
lost inside, not quite alive

leader of eastclan

Ragged breaths and nonrhythmic steps. Pounding hearts and wild eyes. She made her way up the spiraling path, memories of her past haunting her, flooding her mind. Nothing else could cover it. She was still in shock, in fear of her father. She was sure he hadn't made it up there but it was still heart stopping to think she could look into that glassy surface and see the face she feared the most. Her eyes drifted to the sky above. If only there wasn't any stupid greed. Any fear of losing rank. One small slip almost caused the loss of a kit's life. Now it was the precious life of a leader, but it was still a wonder back then how such a prideful father would try to kill of his own young.

Her eyes filled with moisture and clouded with questions. Why was there such difference. She had tried to make the clan so loosely separated so as not to cause ranking problems. She didn't want such an accident as her past to happen. Sure, she'd still protest against half clan relationships but not enough to cold-heartedly end a life. Her steps faltered and she stopped. She was at the top now and looking towards the clearing. In between obstacles to the glassy area where another leader, Twisterstar stood.

He was obviously lost in his own thoughts. Unaware to the knew presence. The she-cat blinked back her stinging tears and sucked in a silent, constructing breath. She wasn't one to cry or feel emotions. She was impassive... but somethings were too strong for her to keep inside. Her serious and blank face covered her previous grief as she stepped forward quietly. Her mind trailed once more onto the wonder of what powers the leaders contained. Enough to wreak havoc on the forest but enough to stop even the most horrible disaster. She knew if anything were to go wrong with the leaders and these powers that StarClan would find a way to strike them down. But it was somewhat tempting to use this unique traits. Capestar felt her body go cold and held back the urge to freeze whatever was underfoot. No. She was to be a leader. Not some crazy ambitious murderer like her father.

She stopped at the glassy surface and tilted her head, leaning over it. Her icy blue-silver eyes and stony face were reflected clearly. She saw Twisterstar's reflection across from hers and she looked up to meet his eyes after moments of staring into the reflective thing. She blinked and dipped her head respectfully, her breaths still a little uneven from the way up. She was not to let anything show. Just courtesy and respect towards the SouthClan leader. Something needed among the clans. Peace. No fighting and no horrible disasters around every corner. She pressed her paw to the surface, looking down once more. Her eyes wandered among The Spire before she finally spoke. Hello, Twisterstar. Nothing much. She was never much of a talker. A listener, a secret keeper. That's what she was.

She let her icy gaze rise back to the other leader. A question filled them. How was SouthClan... what was the reason for him being here? Coldness was detected by her paws and her eyes darted down to the glass. One of the few things that felt more freezing than her average temperature. She used her icy power so often that it seemed her body temperature had also dropped a few degrees. Stormy gaze rose back up, the same stony look to them. Was Twister so curious about the powers and ranks as she?

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[- - t i d e]

τ ω i s т є я

Û Ý Ü

[/size]

you cross the creek only once;
going back would be suicide.



he might have never have noticed her,

he might have just continued to stare into the glass until the sun rose and the rays of light dulled the images and hid away the magic, forcing him to trek back to SouthClan, the Spire loosing its awe in the strangling embrace of the sun.

Twisterstar had always preferred night to day. Ever since he was a young kit, Twister, in the Badlands with his mother and Typhoon. Night was when the Badlands were the most breath-taking, between the rumbling storms and the erratic fires that spurred randomly across the land. Night was when everything was different- night was when magic of fantasy and reality would come alive in its own surreal way.

"Hello, Twisterstar."

His pulse crackled, the sudden realization of the intrusion jolting his senses from their calmed state. However, he calmed himself with a soothing reassurance of his knowledge of whom it was that had reigned upon his time of loneliness- the kind of loneliness he welcomed with open arms. It was just Capestar.

It was just Capestar. Silently, almost eerily, he turned with his neck still craned in a downward angle, to catch his passive stare with her own. He did not scramble to cover his moment of weakness, as one of an opposing Clan might have; it was undeniable that he had been startled, and to say otherwise would make him a fool.

L'eau. He whispered the word on hot wafts of breath, rolling them on his tongue, tasting them. L'eau. L'eau. L'eau. It was foreign to him- not the word, of course. How many times had he named the elements and their specifics for his mentor as an apprentice? How many times had he recognized a feline by their full title- his own he had uttered many times, although his name in several different variations. No, it was not the word that struck Twisterstar as foreign, but the grasping of such element that was alien.

Caelum. It was a natural thing to him, an essence of his being. His breath was in the beats between the crackle of lightning, his bounding legs the winds that swept over land and sea alike. He could imagine being without his element, yes; but continuing on with the life he had now, continuing on being who he was now, was inevitably near impossible with the lack of Caelum. But L'eau... that was different. He could imagine creating storms that tossed water and sent it spraying, but to hold it in your cupped paws? To chill a patch of moisture to the point where it froze and cracked?

"Hello, Capestar," he meowed calmly, shifting as the multicolored light glowing from below once again caught his underbelly, casting darker shadows up what was left of his figure. "What brings you to the Spire on this very night, when the Clans are in peace, and there is nothing to consult for?"

He did not smile. "Because I know you will ask, I am here because I concern for the relations amongst all cats alike. Between ranks, between elements, between Clan and non-Clan."

Twisterstar raised his head and looked calmly with sunken eyes in the direction of the other leader. Despite the calmness that glazed their outer layer, behind the first glance into his optics, a thunderstorm, a tornado, a raging hurricane, brewed like an echo; or perhaps a foreshadow.

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[C A P E [penguin]]

c a p e s t a r
to listen is to understand, to speak is to state

Stony expression, hard and the same. She frightened him, but it bothered her not. The same frozen look stuck to her face, a tight frown that was not at all unpleasant, just stressed. She listened to the tom, her icy pools, piercing and observing. He was here for the same thing. How odd. She licked a claw and looked at it glinting in the moonlight, just the same as the cool glassy area nearby. Ahh... such a cool surface. Coldness, something she loved. Wetness, something she took wondrous pleasures in. The water was her life, ice what kept her alive, bringing her senses alive and keeping her mind running.

Water was the only thing that seemed as calm as her on the outside. Yet, like the water, the leader could be pushed to seethe when a storm comes along. Pushy felines were not cats Capestar often took a liking to. She preferred the leaders, ______star of WestClan, Skystar of NorthClan, and yes, Twisterstar of SouthClan. They were dignified, smart, and knew their places. Not ones to let greed or stupidity get in the way of justice and truth. How her mind tossed and her tongue twisted her next words. To clear her mind only for speech. The only way to keep troubling matters locked up tight and away from the grasp of her mouth and it's tumbling words. Nothing to slip from her mouth that was unnecessary to be said.

Ears twitching, the EastClan leader took in her surroundings. Silence. Something she often accepted. Not many words were needed to fill a silence. Sometimes these lulls in noises were good and kept a healthy mind at peace. Sometimes it allowed calming thoughts invade a mind... and sometimes it kept uncomfortably conversations away. But not this one. She had to face this one, whether she wanted to speak her mind or not. Creeping towards the glassy ground once more, Capestar turned her head to the sky. What had their ancestors done to their world to make it so unfair. Her ears swiveled backwards and she turned to face the tom behind her. Her mouth slipped open and her gaze wandered, blankly. What brings me? About the same as you.

It seemed the leaders could not get much out of their ancestors on their history. They always tried to hide it behind walls as if it were some big secret. That was Capestar's job. She was the one hiding things and trapping them in. StarClan was not supposed to be the one to hold things from the clans. They were to speak wisdom and truth, but none of that had come from them lately. The EastClan she-cat wondered if this was how it always was. The leaders unable to pry anything out of the starry spirits.

She sighed and looked at the glass. The stars reflection shining brightly and brilliantly. All twinkling with some knowing that was locked behind hidden doors. What was there to hide and not know? Was it dangerous news... or a long kept secret? Not even looking at Twisterstar she spoke once more. Have StarClan been hiding things from you as they have for me?

[/color] A question she needed an answer to. She didn't want to be the only one... what if she was? Was StarClan abandoning her or were they avoiding all the clans?





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[- - t i d e]

τ ω i s т є я

Û Ý Ü

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a leader cannot be a leader
if there is no one to follow.



the leader listened to her question,

taking a moment to think over her words as they slid through his ears. He would have answered right away, had it not been for him pausing. Her calm, unshaken outer shell did not fool Twisterstar; he could easily sense the worry and anxiety itching below her pelt. It was a gift, and a curse, that his brother had teased him for.

'Mr. Sensitive,' he would snicker, which the young Twisterstar did not take kindly to, because being 'sensitive' was like poison to a rogue; which is, quite bluntly, what he had been up until his sixth moon.

His gray pelt rippled, the mottled fusion of grayscale shades shimmering in the combination of concentrated light from the glass-encased pool underpaw and the cerulean moonlight that flooded through the bordering tree cover. Twisterstar paused, contemplating a response to her query-

'Have StarClan been hiding things from you as they have for me?'

Ah, of course. He had not spoken to any of the recent passed elites in his dreams; instead, his unconscious state had been as normal as a warrior's, except his own were not fantasies he embraced, but ominous warnings his own mind conjured up.

But was StarClan really hiding things? Twisterstar looked into the glass. Did they know more than they were letting show? He had never once known the ancestors to retain information; but then again, if they had, he would not acknowledge it anyway. Perhaps... Perhaps StarClan did not know everything. Perhaps this matter of concern was something cloaked in their crystal balls, hidden from their heavenly eyes.

"StarClan would speak if they had a matter to speak for," the leader said smoothly, his voice milky like a bite of creamy, fresh rodent flesh, and equally as entrancing. Yet his tone was full of an untitled emotion; an emotion of worry, patience, and passivity all packed into one. "Therefor stating that perhaps our dependency on their warnings have made us lean on them a little too much, leading us to think that they know everything."

It was something, StarClan. How could one body of rotting felines ever produce such grand power? They could see into the future, bless felines with new lives, and extraordinary powers. They could break the borderlines of life and death; and he had even heard an instance in a land far away where one feline was brought back from the grave. Imagine that, mused the tom. A zombie warrior!

But the notion only increased his wariness. StarClan's power was undeniable- but in the face of destruction, in the case of disaster, would they use their abilities to assist the four Clans? Or would they leave them in the cold? Twisterstar thought of his own powers- immense, great, and awe-striking for those who had never held such abilities in their paws. If he could help the four Clans in a time of great need with his powers, he would not hesitate. A shadow flickered across his eyes. Would he really?

The silence was thick and felt sticky in his throat as he inhaled; the kind of silence that you did not want to break because of the awkwardness that came with it, but because the stickiness clogged your airways and made you feel as if you were about to choke. He stood to his four paws, the light beaming off his underbelly, the long shadows casting upward shading his faded blue optics and making them seem much darker than they were in more reasonable lighting. It made him seem ominous, almost deathly. But he tilted his head downwards, breaking the dark shadows across his eyes so they caught the tinted glow of the glass underpaw.

"This feels like the calm before the storm- although it is not truly calm, it is just a saying. Before a storm, the earth feels anxious, as if it is preparing, waiting. As if all beings alike are holding their breaths, swaying, awaiting for that first thunder to crack, for that first lightning to strike. That's what it's like."

She probably wouldn't understand. The L'eau did not feel weather as the Caelum did- they felt the cold, the calm, the lapping of water. They felt the depth of the ocean through a dolphin's swaying fins, or the rush of a trout as it rocketed down the plummeting waterfalls. They did not understand the mystique of a storm, the rage of a tornado as it tore through everything in its way, or the freedom of a gale as it spiraled across lands.

But then again, he remembered Typhoon's comment from long ago, during the few dreaded moments before his brother had been- had been refrained.

'You think you get it. You think you understand storms, just because you've got some in you. You know nothing about storms- you know nothing about how they build, how they grow, how the darkened clouds gather silently and without notice! And you certainly don't understand what it is like when the balance finally snaps; when the sky can no longer hug back the fray hiding in the curtains, when they must draw back and let the chaos rain!'

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[C A P E [penguin]]

c a p e s t a r
it's in these times
that doing nothing is suicide
and doing something is dangerous

Calm before the storm. She knew what it meant, but not from the storms perspective. Only from the smooth flowing water that came before the wind sucked and pulled, tossing the waves of water here and there. Yes, she knew what it was like to feel this calm, this hesitation before a monumental moment happened. She had felt this sensation the night her father tried to murder her. A feeling she didn't like. A foreboding sensation and sinister warning telling you to watch your back and be prepared. Sometimes a calmness you swept away with your paw, thinking it was nothing. What the SouthClan leader said before this finally gelled in her mind. StarClan not knowing something. The thought never occurred to her... but this didn't feel like a lack of knowledge. It felt more like a helplessness, a fear of what was to come.

They had to know about the past and what may be to come... but they must not know how to work this out. They were all alone. The clans were there to work this out themselves. Her icy blue eyes struggled to meet Twisterstar's and a clouded understanding filled her deep pools. No point in hiding it. They would get no help from their ancestors. She shook her head lightly and slowly, turning to look of into the distance. Her mouth forming words softly. They... don't... know... Was it even going to help to speak to StarClan? Or was it best to avoid the frozen glass nearby. If StarClan had no idea about what was to come, then what was the point? The she-cat sighed, doubtful thoughts crossing her mind.

The stupid dead beings. How could they create such a system that could spoil so easily. How could they make such a horrid rank as a laborer's? All they did was enforce tensions and jealousy, hatred and greed. Something that could tear a world down in a matter of seconds if not controlled. But how were they to stop this from going to a point of danger? Should they just stand and watch, knowing these cats were rip each other to shreds with their emotions? Or should they take action, possibly stumbling upon the wrong step and tying the not even tighter. Capestar looked down at her paws, her voice still coming strong, her eyes narrowed to thoughtful slits. What should we do? she rumbled.

Light started to creep up, peeking over the large rise of the land. So much for their chances of being able to speak to StarClan. As if consulting them would even profit in anything. The EastClan leader scoffed and turned her head to look at the glass once more, showing the stars and dark sky still overhead. Should we speak to the other leaders or keep silent and observant? This was a surprise. Capestar asking for a ideas of action was a rare thing. She always took matters into her own paws, keeping things from running loose, but it never helped so why hide? Hide like the StarClan cowards. Sit back and watch like the useless StarClan. Demolish the clans like the destructive StarClan. Why had they started this and left the new leaders to deal with it? No one told Capestar of the problem she'd have to overcome! No, they just put her up in the position and told her to take it. This is what her father had wanted. What was so special about it to him? Just conversations with cats long dead and all EastClan cats dependent on you... what a life StarClan must have.

Who was StarClan, really, and what was their purpose if they could not help the clans through this type of trouble. What leaders have joined their ranks and sat back and watch the clans tear themselves to pieces. Do they even try, or do they just act helplessness? Capestar flinched and tossed the thought aside. She needed a solution. No more questions needed to be added to her mind. That only added complication and that was not wanted. She wanted a straight and simple answer for solving this rank related problem. She needed the other leaders. Her eyes met Twisterstar's the same stony look as before. We can't just sit here. That was her thought on it. They were to take action. It was better to take chances than throw it all away.

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[- - t i d e]

τ ω i s т є я

Û Ý Ü

[/size]

it can hard to walk in another's shoes,
especially when those shoes do not fit.


he knew that capestar would not understand,

that she could not possibly get the life of a laborer. She had never stepped in the shoes of a laborer, and although her past was a challenging one, it had not taken the turn that Twisterstar's had to the point where she was the lowest of the low in the Clan. Twisterstar could remember back to his laborer moons, this period being when he had received most of his training. From the time he was six moons and he and Typhoon had been sheltered in SouthClan, to the twelve moons of age he had been when WestClan had dared to snatch a kit right off of his own territory. Of course, while Twisterstar still wrinkled his nose at the crime, he felt an odd appreciation of the deed- because even though the kit had almost died, it had been the event that had revealed his powers.

He did not rejoice this because he could be an elite, but because he had been able to take over Glacierstar's place. Glacierstar, despite her mastery at L'eau, was no less than an incompetent leader. Although she had a strong heritage of powerful elite warriors, the blood did not make the cat, just ran through their veins. The classes of duty had become social classes, and laborers had be ridiculously submissive, all other cats having full permission to verbally abuse them when desired and physically damage when disrespected by the 'dirt'. He still bore the scars of a brutal attack from Glacierstar when he had spoken out against her choice of an offensive position against WestClan, the faded marks hiding between his shoulder and back.

Twisterstar knew that laborers had not been as mistreated in other Clans- he had not been a laborer long enough to even get the full perspective of the abuse. Despite the lack of rights, being a laborer had prided Twisterstar- he knew very well, after witnessing a few battles, he would have not lasted long in the fray of war as a dud (when he had been a dud, that is). So being banned from the honor of battle was something he did not find as unrighteous; rather, he enjoyed being able to be some use to his Clan, despite the fact that he could not fight. He could keep kits fed, elders happy, the territory clean, the herb store stocked. His work saved lives, just as the warriors' did; he kept cats from starving, had the herbs fully stocked at any emergency, and prolonged the elders' straying life.

Of course, nobody had expected the loner, presumably without Clan blood, to spark an elite power out of the blue, but it happened, and when it did, he suddenly found himself being bowed down to and feared. It was intoxicating, but not in the way that he found pleasurable; instead, whenever he treaded by his once-fellow laborers and they bowed with fear-scent radiating off of their trembling bodies, a sour taste was left in his mouth that made him want to turn around and scream, 'What is wrong with you?! Get up, get up, you fools!' But all he could have done was bite his tongue and bare it.

"Nothing, we do nothing at all," Twisterstar hissed, his calm and even voice twisting into an urgent tone, and although he knew very well he held no authority over Capestar and the relationship between leaders was a pact of respect, his hiss was also weaved with the tone of a command. "What is there we can do? This is the calm before the storm. There is no storm yet. Who is there to fight? Our Clanmates? StarClan? Ourselves? We cannot speak this matter to our Clans; they will accuse us of siding with rankings. We must keep quiet, act as if we suspect nothing. When the storm comes-" he stopped himself, his eyes fixating on a misty figure below the glass. It was a dark, gray figure, twisting directly below the two leaders, looking much more vivid than the misty figures usually did.

StarClan?
No. Something else.

He shook the thought away, wiping notations of the curiosity from his consciousness as to refocus. "-when the storm comes, that is when we will sweep in, the gales to blow it away." He hesitated, his tone dying out into the calm, unshaken one that he usually spoke with. When the storm did come, would their winds truly be strong enough to blow it away?

Once again, Twisterstar found himself staring down at his mottled gray paws. Of course they were; the four leaders between each other dominated the elements. If anyone dared to threaten the existence of the Clans, they would be there to stop them. But what if the threat was their own Clanmates? Would they be able to fight their friends and family?

As the sun's rays began to lick the Spire, it revealed deep gray clouds hovering across the once-dark sky, waiting. Twisterstar looked up, and mused, Look. Literally a calm before the storm. But it didn't amuse him as much as he presumed it would. The clouds rumbled like a hungry kit.

Or more or less a starving monster.

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[C A P E [penguin]]

c a p e s t a r
falling and tumbling, through my own past
lost and searching, for the truth
confused and afraid of what is to come

Sullen thoughts and a weak heart. That's what makes a horrible leader, but Cape had achieved that long ago. She squinted, her eyes glaring at a point in the land far, far away. The she-cat began to pace, thoughts flowing quickly through her mind. Powers. Ranks. Greed. Twisterstar was right. What was there to stop now? When there is to be a storm, you prepare during the calm. So wouldn't that be the case now? They had to plan something before the walls broke, before the tides came in. She didn't know what it was like to be anything but an elite, but she knew what is was like to feel pressure, to have death stare you in the face and to know what these ranks could push you to from a view of just an innocent kit.

Her eyes switched to Twisterstar's. Searching for words, answers, memories, anything he had that could help. Did he contain such things? Capestar sighed, hissing silently in her head. Some of the most seemingly perfect things could be so harmful. Most of those 'perfect' things were balanced out with 'imperfect' things. So wouldn't that mean they needed some type of so called 'imperfection' to straighten this out? She chuckled softly, it sounded sinister and evil but it was just a dismissing of her thoughts. How stupid she was. How willing she was to look for a simple solution. It wasn't just going to wait and be found. She had to work for it.

Impossibility. Stupid to even try. Emptiness. Pointless to think about so crap. Common sense. She had quite a lack of it. With a hiss, Capestar turned to the glass and smashed her paw against it. Her paw throbbed and the glass stayed the same, no crack or mark. It was satisfying, though. The only way she could harm her ancestors. Rage flickered in her eyes for once. Helplessness. She felt stupid. She was ready to give up, give in without trying more than two seconds. She shook her head, looking at the rising colors and light.

Theres no way... she murmured. No way. She was giving up, turning in. Already it seemed so overwhelming. Where were the other leaders when they needed them. Her eyes were searching as they scanned over the trail over and over again, silently willing them to emerge. She had to talk to them. Her eyes narrowed once more. She wasn't to give up until she knew there was no way. There was still a chance with half the clans left. There was still minor hope... just barely any.

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[- - t i d e]

τ ω i s т є я

Û Ý Ü

[/size]

if god wanted you to sit around all day,
he wouldn't have given us legs.


he narrowed his eyes,

the rage he could feel boiling within Capestar sending a wave of anxiety through his body. Her paw collided with the glass, and he drew back, a hiss emitting from his own throat, but not out of pain as her's was. His hiss was dangerous, cautious- almost threatening.

"That's what everyone said when I blew half of WestClan's elite warriors straight to hell," Twisterstar retorted bitterly, the hopelessness within her voice disgusting him. His whole life, Twisterstar had been passive and submissive, keeping his head down as he slipped by others of higher rank, and this upbringing had imprinted on his personality. He was still passive, but he had sworn never to submit himself to anyone- not even StarClan. Nobody would ever own him. Never again.

But he had surprised himself. It was rare for him to bring up anything out of his past- in fact, most of the other Clans had heard almost none of it. To them, he was some kit that just popped up out of thin air and had been a late bloomer when it came to powers. To WestClan, he had been the nuisance of an apprentice who had taken chunks out of their warriors.

"There is always a way. We do not need StarClan to hold our paws and guide us across the river's stepping stones." Twisterstar creased his eyebrows in determination, a dark shadow crossing his faded navy optics as he took a few steps across the glass, his claws clinking against the delicate surface. He turned to look at the other leader over his shoulder. "We, the leaders alone, have enough power to equal all four Clans' warriors, elite warriors, and laborers combined. As long as the leaders see the light at the end of the tunnel, the current at the end of the tides, the blue sky behind the storm clouds, there will be a way."

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[C A P E [penguin]]

c a p e s t a r
even when you feel like dying
you gotta keep on trying
until the very end, when you know
there isn't a way and dooms upon your back
just try anyway

Claws gleaming, mouth silently screaming. Her glare was sharp as she turned her gaze on the leader. She bit back a hiss and a sputter of mean words. That was not the way to talk. Instead she kept her gaze steady as they searched deep within him. Was he tactfully calling her weak in his own little way. She wanted to spit Did I ever say I was going to give up?! She had only spoken that there was no way, deep down inside she had felt there was no way... on their own. Had he heard her thoughts? No. Then where did he have to speak.

She wanted to hiss that she didn't care about his past. That even she had gotten her father to blank when he thought that it was her last breath. She didn't care about the past, only the future. Sure it seemed dark, but she knew there was a path to follow that would lead to the end, no matter how grim it looked. The job was finding the path. Her mouth opened and closed before she finally steadied her voice and spoke.

We at least need to discuss with the other leaders. Dismiss his words, and his speak of will and power. He had a point, but they still didn't know what the others thought about this or if they were willing to agree with the two leaders. They could easily lift their noses and say they had their own problems, blind to the terror that was looming over them. That was doubtful, but still possible. Had he considered this? Is there a way we could meet them? Her eyes were emotionless again as her voice was flat. All business, no feelings. She was back to her old self, ready to take on the world.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[- - t i d e]

o o c - - air ?

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[x -- a i r e h]

§ κ y ƨ t ɑ r

[/u]

^{Clouds, birds, tree tops
The freedom of being on high
Closer to the sun
Further from the slum,
But farther to fall when they die.}[/center]

☄ He had known something was wrong, ever since he had woken up that morning. The crisp night air swirled around him as the silver tabby glided through the forest on dancing paws, but the look on his face seemed to be anything but happy -- it was filled with a sort of hidden horror that would surely make anyone flinch, though he still managed to obtain that carefree air about him that always came about Skystar. Even if he didn't feel that way.

That was his life.
Putting on fake masks
Flashing forced smiles.
A world where nothing was true
and his life was nothing but a lie.

Great StarClan, he was a lie. So why was he still there, living the false truths that he had made up? That was a question he couldn't answer yet. Emitting a soft sigh, milky pads touching the soft ground beneath his lean figure, he climbed up the strange path in a daze, not really understanding or knowing why he was here and doing what he was. Blurry hues of blue and gray and black flitted before his cobalt pools, usually a light with a sort of happiness that no one had been able to mirror but now fogged over with a confused stare, before he suddenly stopped, sensitive ears flickering silently in the coming darkness.

Foggy mist swirled before him as he looked down, the forestry that had begun to surround him nearly invisible, to the caverns below - the very same ones that had covered the start of this familiar pathway - and mouth twitched into an odd smile that both reflected his pain and anxiety, young Skystar stared for a another moment, as if uncertain, before clambering up - though graceful, he was also quick - towards the spiral as the foliage grew thicker and thicker.

He was so enclosed in his thoughts, having already been buried beneath the deep folds of his mind, that he hadn't noticed where he was running -- or even more importantly, anything around him. Heaving a sigh, the young tom slowed to stop and raised his eyes, unhappy and clouded over with hidden agony, to the tree tops, the pale sunlight that leaked through the canopies falling in disarrays upon his beautiful silver coating in such a way that - if he had taken the time to look - he would have marveled at [just simply because nature itself nearly always enchanted him]. "... where are you? ' he whispered, even though no one was there to hear his soft cry, and forcing another smile upon his face, the young tom turned tail towards the top of the spiral -- where he had intended to in the first place.

It had started as an itching sensation in his paws that morning, then during mid-day it had turned into an annoying tingling feeling that shook his limbs, and finally it got so bad that he could not have calmed his mind down at all -- that he would jump every single time a young apprentice scrambled past, eager to please their leader by gracing him with some prey, thinking that he needed it when all he needed was peace. And it continued to worsen as the day had wore on until the medicine cat had suggested, quite kindly and with concern lacing his voice, that he go out for some fresh air. Before Skystar knew it, he was heading towards the great Spiral -- the place that kits had heard of in stories, so eager to see and experience but unable to unless they reached the higher ranks. It was something that, having already been to this place, that Skystar both comforted in and feared.

He busted into the clearing, the odd feelings that had been coursing through him all day too much to bear, and wide blue eyes staring at the cats in front of them, unknowingly intruding on their peaceful scene, Skystar suddenly realized that his chest was heaving -- had he really been running that fast? Sighing after he gained his breath again, the young tom diverted his gaze from the two other cats and seeing no other option, padded up to them, the smooth texture beneath his paws still awkward to the touch. A wind whipped around them once more and the young leader, his pelt soaked with the rain that he hadn't known was there, lifted his gaze up to the sky, a wry smile on his face.

"Interesting, isn't it? " he mumbled softly to the stars.

[Skystar, leader of NorthClan]

   

notes;; eeew. -stabs-
word count;; 759
status;; complete

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