A shape of things to come (OPEN!)

[Cloudbat]

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[bg=141414][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] Kitewhisker felt lonely. This wasn’t an unusual feeling for the old tom – quite normal, in fact – but normally he managed to hide his loneliness under blathering and busywork. Today, however, Thrushfang (as usual) had skipped out on him, and there seemed to be few cats in camp. Even Stonepaw and Dovepaw were gone. “Oh me…” he sighed. “Have they all gone to their dooms? Will I ever see them again? It would be bad to be alone, all alone…” Holly, as well as predictions, had also liked poetry. He recalled a scrap of a poem she’d once told him. Little snowflake One of millions Unique, yet all alone Calling all to sleep down deep Tiny beauty, on your own. He sniffed, snuffling slightly from the cold. The tuxedo cat looked around for a leaf – and found one, daintily speared it on one of his claws, and wiped his nose. “Calling all to sleep down deep…” He whispered to himself. Yes, it was getting colder. No doubt disease and hunger would strike soon. But what of today? Would he die today? No, surely he’d know. Would he? Kitewhisker had only ever sensed the futures of others…others! A new scent reached his nostrils; that of a tom of his Clan. Company! Sweet company! “You…um…person! Come talk to an esteemed elder!” He meowed hoarsely, tail twitching in excitement.

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[Slug !]

The sun was not so warm today, peering through leaves that were only just beginning to turn their leaf-fall colors. The air, dry and cold, made Elmfang's nose itch and mouth taste like cotton; it was a migraine waiting to happening, a dull ache behind his eyes that would become pine needles in his brain. He glared out of his den, demanding an explanation for all of this; willing the weather to change into something more tolerable. A rebellious little breeze passed by, ruffling his pelt and giving his nose a frosty nip and oh, Elmfang really, really hated leaf-fall. Cheeky little badger. “You…um…person! Come talk to an esteemed elder!” Elmfang stared blankly at the other, um, person, because they had to be talking to someone else. Or maybe Kitewhisker was just confused; that seemed to be the case. A lot. He looked to his left, to his right, and then, grimacing, Elmfang looked over his shoulder. No cat in sight. He looked back at Kitewhisker, the alien feeling of trapped, I'm trapped! Like a rat, ah ha ha! overwhelming him slightly. The elder looked eager; that was incredibly suspicious and unnerving. ...Ridiculous, that's what it was. "Shouldn't you be inside?" Elmfang gruffed, refusing to leave the safety of his den to--to go anywhere near the old, crazy coot. The crazy was contagious, he was sure. In fact, he was starting to sound a little crazy himself. Don't judge. [bg=3c3837][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Cloudbat]

[bg=141414][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] "Inside? Why, of course not!" Kitewhisker was genuinely surprised by the warrior's recommendation."I need to be out here, to observe and predict the grim fates to come." He paused, thinking, as his dull green eyes inspected the tabby-and-white warrior."You...remind me of your name." He could predict without knowing a cat's name, but it made it harder. Names gave him a sense of identity...especially these warrior names. They were highly convenient - appearance, and skill or personality. Future-telling wasn't all educated guesses, after all, though that was quite a bit of it. You also had to know a little of the cat themselves. For instance...from his tough build, he'd probably be injured in a fight. Most likely a horrid, bloody one involving loss and anguish. But on the other paw, perhaps he'd be killed over a grudge or betrayal. Hmm.

[Slug !]

"Inside? Why, of course not! I need to be out here, to observe and predict the grim fates to come." A moment's pause. "You...remind me of your name." "...This is the reason why we have the elders den," Elmfang muttered under his breath. Keeping the crazy under quarantine, right. He flattened his ears. "Your predictions won't be all that helpful if you freeze to death, you half-cracked nut," Elmfang grouched, and then squared his shoulders, because really, was he the only one with common sense anymore? It was too foxing cold to think about how much of his clan was made up of morons. Maybe if he closed his eyes, they would all be gone by the time he opened them again. Elmfang tried an experimental blink, and no, Kitewhisker was still there. "Weeeell," he started off, sickly sweet with a wide, toothy smile. Or maybe his was baring his teeth, he couldn't tell--he didn't have eyes in his mouth, y'know. "I'm a tree and a--" weapon? Bone? Bone. "--bone, so. Who am I?" Elmfang batted his eyes, just because. [bg=3c3837][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Cloudbat]

[bg=141414][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] OOC: I had a post for this days ago but my dumbass computer pooped on me right before I was going to save it in a word document. OTL BIC: Kitewhisker, staring off into space, didn't hear the warrior's muttered words. But he came back - relatively - to earth when he spoke again, growling. Oblivious as always to insults, the frail elder simply beamed at him. "Well, naturally! That's why I have Clanmates like you!" Purring, he shifted and huddled close to the thick-furred tom. He was nice, soft, and most importantly, warm. It was somewhat cold, especially for someone with a fairly short pelt like his. It grew, but not until later in the season. "Hmm...nuts. I like nuts; I've tried a few. Don't eat mushrooms, though, they make you crazy for a while." He nodded sagely at the bigger StreamClanner, completely unaware of the irony of his words. But then his brow furrowed and his tail twitched slightly in agitation. He wasn't a kit! What was the point of this silly guessing game? Oh well, he'd humor the cat. Pulling away slightly, he looked at him quizzically, his whiskers twitching. "Well, you're going to have to give me a better clue than that. There are tens if not hundreds of kinds of trees. You could be named Juniperskull for all I know." He mewed, coughing slightly, noticing with distaste that his nose was running again. "Bones though...bones...hmmm...claws aren't really bone...pelt, whisker, storm, belly, nose, eye, ear, fang...fang! Fangs are sharp and hard! So you're something-fang, eh? I'll just call you that until I figure out your prefix." He glared at the tom triumphantly. Why was he batting his eyes? It bemused the elder. Equal to it, he raised his eyebrows in retaliation, tilting his head to one side.