Something Oh, So Bittersweet ((ANY))

[+: Alixa :+]

Dapples of morning light broke through the thorny walls and ceiling of the warrior's den, dappling a mud brown pelt with spots of golden light. Eyes were sealed against the slight that amanged to speckle her face, ears twitching every now and again to the sounds of other warriors stirring in their slumber as she herself remained still, sides expanding and contracting as her breaths came slowly and smoothly. Her tail tip twitched here and there, once very few moments, before her lids finally opened halkfway to reveal pale green eyes as she looked around, only a few warriors left in their nests. Slowly, with muscles working, she lifted herself into a sitting position, tail wrapping about her left side, but never bringing it to rest over the tops of her paws. Instead, she lifted her right forepaw to her face, and ran her bristled pink tongue over it before beginning to wash her face, freeing it from the debris that came with having dried moss and branches as well as crow feathers for a nest in which she slept. After she was satisfied with her face, she began to wash the rest of her body. A tom a few nests away from her stirred, eyeing her for a few moments. But this was what she felt upon her, not what she met with her own eyes. She wasn't completely new to being a warrior, but she wasn't what one would calla senior warrior, either. But all the same, she showed no interest in the tom whose gaze ran over her shoulders and down to wherever else that suited him.

Falconstorm was the last she-cat who had kits on her mind. Where her mother was somewhat sweet and friendly, though a fierce warrior both with a barbed tongue and claws sharp enough to shred a mouse to ribbons, Falconstorm was a lot like her father, in nasty temper as well as hunting skills and fighting skills. She was the last cat to ahve some sort of love story running through her daily life, her heart for none. Sure, there was a time when the very same tom that was watching her wash herself had been bold enough to try and make Falconstorm his. He courted her, went on the same patrols with her. But she ignored his gestues, giving him only respect for his experience and skills. But he thought she might see more in him if he pushed a little harder. But despite having a good amount of tolerance, there were some things that Falconsotmr just wouldn't tolerate, and that was being touched. By her leader, with a nose upon her shoulder in some sort of praise was even a bit much for her, but of course she knew better than to lash out at her leader. But anyone else that so much as tried to brush against her was crow food. And that was what that tom had tried doing. And anyone who looks at him now can see nicely three carved out scars on his left cheek, where she cuffed him, but with claws unsheathed to ensure she got her point across. Anyone who so much as met her would tell you she's nasty-natured and has one heck of a barbed tongue. But all the same, she respects her clan mates, and never really has an issue with sharing tongues with a few of her clan mates for a few brief moments. But gossip wasn't her thing, really.

She rose to all four paws, and padded out of the den, leaving the tom to watch her exit. Her pale green eyes shot toward the fresh-kill pile, but showed no interest. She would go on a hunting patrol later, catch a good number of whatever she coiuld find, then perhaps have one for herself. But as nasty as she has been known to be to others, especially to cats outside her clan, she was a grand warrior all the same who carried out her tasks as they should be done, thoroughly and to the best of her skills and abilities. She had her moments where she could be nice. But she was an opinioned, independent, strong-willed she-cat with a nasty nature overall. But who really looks over all that just to see a small sliver of kindness and open-ness toward other cats... She could think back to the day after her vigil... A few moons ago, her brother's life had been claimed by a badger, back when they had both been apprentices. She ahd two bothers at one time, though one had died a kit, and the other murdered in his apprenticeship. It was a wonder Falconstorm was still alive, but she most likely wouldn't be had she gone on the same border patrol with her brother, father, and two other warriors... But she can remember very well the grief that struck her parents, and the fresh want for revenge that flooded over her. Starclan knew of the hatred that ran hot through the she-cat's veins. Life had taken away the only two cats she had probably ever loved, aside from her parents... And when they had left to join Starclan, she only became more bitter, some say. And those who tried to comfort her, saying 'I'm sorry for the loss of your brothers', or 'Your parents are always looking down on you' could be certain that they would get a barb-tongued response from her. She didn't for others to pity her, and she never shared her own emotions with others. She kept such things known as personal to herself, and no one has yet to get a bit of emotion out of her other than the normal, ever since her parents had died. But she was who she was, and wouldn't have it any other way. Clearly, this was how Starclan fated her to be. And despite her fiery, nasty nature, her loyalty to her clan and faith in Starclan were stronger than anything.

She settled to the side of the warrior's den, waiting to see if a hunting or border patrol was about to get organized, so that she might have something to do. And as she waited, the tom emerged from the den, giving her a sideways glance. She returned the favor with a sharp warning glare, and sent him on his way as he walked out of the camp. With a scoff, she sat there, waiting, tail now resting over her paws.

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[Shadowscar]

Darkclaw was laying out next to the camp entrance, brooding as usual. He noticed Falconstorm padding out of the warriors den and sitting herself down, waiting expectantly. Darkclaw stared at the she-cat with admiration in his eyes, he had always thought the she-cat to be very pretty but never intended to say anything about it. He knew that not only was it uncharacteristic of him, but that it was characteristic of her to claw his ears off at the idea of mating.

Not to mention, Pinewhisker may still be out there somewhere...

Darkclaw thought to himself hopelessly. He knew that Pinewhisker was gone forever, but he couldn't help but hope that his mate... former mate was still out there somewhere trying to come home. Darkclaw's thoughts sullened his mood further, giving him an expression of grumpy depression. He turned his attention back to Falconstorm, wondering if he should go and talk to her even just to go out hunting. He was never really one for words... or much speaking actually. He preferred to communicate through actions and body language, because that meant he could talk less. He was sure that if Pinewhisker came back or he found another mate (StarClan willing) then his constant downcast personality would immediately brighten up, but since there seemed little chance of either happening he was destined to be stuck a wet blanket. He blinked at looked back at the warriors den, then back at the she-cat. With a gloomy expression, he made his decision and stayed sitting, not wanting to bother the cat with his awkward silence or gloomy attitude.

[+: Alixa :+]

Falconstorm once caught a couple young she-cat apprentices gossiping about her. One of them had made the unclever statement about how she thought Falconstorm wa snot only a grumpy she-cat, but crazy for not wanting to be loved by a tom, and have kits. And could you imagine exactly how Falconstorm reacted? Well, lets just say she not only walked over to the she-cats and gave them a stern talking to with a very babred tongue, but she also cuffed the she-cat apprentice over the ear that made the remark, but of course, with claws retracted. She felt the apprentice should feel lucky she hadn't been cuffed with unsheathed claws. But the apprentice hadn't seen it that way though. Most cats didn't, though. But most cats, on the other hand, were usually smart enough to watch what they said around her, and usually stuck to clan buisness. For example, asking her out on a hunting patrol or border patrol, but never getting the slightest bit personal.

As Falconstorm sat there, the cool air buffeting against her thick brown fur, she felt someone's gaze on her. Her pale green eyes shot towards tghe direction in which she felt it, and from across the camp, there was Darkclaw. Her left ear gave a short, brisk twitch, as her whiskers micmickked them. She would have sworn a flash of admiration sparked through his gaze, but she tossed it aside without a care. He was one of the smartest toms in the camp, perhaps the only cat who had yet to get a snappy remark out of her. And for that, she had some respect for him. She knew that he had lost his mate, but at the same time she also knew he hoped she would come back to him, despite the fact she was most likely dead, and never coming back. But at the same time, she really felt no sorrow or anything for the tom. He was a strong cat, and he would make it through his grief, whether or not he believed she was still alive. So, she got up to her paws, and padded over toward him at her usual gait. Her firm muscles rippled beneath her fur as she moved at a gait that was similar to stalking, but more fluid and graceful instead of slow and careful. When she was a rabbit-length from him, she sat upon her haunches, pale green eyes meeting his own.

" Not in a good mood today, Darkclaw?"

In her voice, was flatness, but for him, he was rewarded with the slight hint of playful teasing, though it was hardly noticable. He deserved more from her than the rest of the cats besides their leader deserved. An so, she waited for his response.

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[Shadowscar]

Darkclaw saw the cat before he heard her. He was busy staring into the sky thinking about Pinewhisker when the she-cat unexpectedly appeared in front of him. He stared at her with his gloomy eyes, showing a small sign of amusement at her question.

"Am I ever in a good mood? Not me, not Darkclaw the Shadow of ShadowClan, the 'rainbringer' and all those other silly names the apprentices call me."

He twitched his ears with the breeze, staring back at the bitter cat. He stared at her and for a brief moment he pictured Pinewhisker, staring at him with her loving eyes. And in the instant it was there, it was gone and Falconstorm was sitting there. He had always respected the cat, and her distance. He was never really in a playful or entertaining mood so he hadn't treated Falconstorm in a way that would get a snide comment. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, wrapping his tail around him. He looked up at the sky once more, then down at Falconstorm.

"Doesn't look like it'll be a nice day"

He said drearily.

[+: Alixa :+]

To lose a loved one.... Falconstorm knew the feeling all too well. And for those who knew her from a kit, they would know just how well she knew such pains... She never talked about her past, and what happened to her brothers. But she was never the sort who enjoyed ripping open wounds. Some thought she was incapable of feeling love and affection. They were wrong at one point in her life. She loved her parents, though she was more so attached to her older and younger brothers... Well, at least one of them. She had been born with two brothers, yes. But during their first winter, she lost her youngest brother... All three of them had come down with greencough. But her and her older brother, the first born in her litter, had recovered and returned to the nursery with their mother nad father. But the last born, he never made it out of the medicine cat's den.... That was where he'd died. So, did Falconstorm loath the medicine cat, Adderstrike? No, he hadn't been the medicine cat at the time. But the medicine cat before him... No, she didn't loath or hate him, nor did she curse his existance. It hadn't been his fault, it had been the bitter, cold winter that stole her younger brother from her... And for that, she had always been in the worst moods during leafbare. But perhaps th emost traumatizing loss was that of her older brother. They had been named apprentices, but her brother never made it to warriorhood... He'd been murdered on a patrol by a badger... The other three warriors were badly injured, and yet her brother was the only one that lost his life... And so, she sought revenge, yet never did she let anyone on to that.

The clan knew of her hard life. And perhaps that was why no one ever gave her anything to snap at, and mainly just stayed out of her way. The toms who had flirted with her would always say they were sorry for their loss. But that only made things worse for them, because each oen was cuffed with unsheathed claws. But not many toms did try and pursue her, which made her rather pleased. But really, the only ones that got the worst of her were the apprentices. Young, naive kits that didn't know when to hold their tongues... But that was why she never really talks much, or hangs around camp for very long. She was usually out hunting or patrolling, and would come back to camp, go into the warrior den, and durl up in her nest and wait to start it all over again.

She heard Darkclaw's words, whiskers twitching as he spoke. It was a tease, but his words showed just how depressed he really was. Falconstorm had been depressed for a few days after her brother had been killed. But now, she was just a bitter she-cat with a vengence. She scoffed at what the apprentices called him, before speaking her own words.

" They just need a good cuff over the ear, as far as I'm ever concerned..."

A quiet pause.

" So, waiting for anything in specific to happen?"

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[Shadowscar]

Darkclaw thought about her suggestion about the apprentices and decided that he didn't have the enrgey or will to scold any of the apprentices. Not to mention, he knew that all of those silly names were true nearly to the letter. He knew that he was an overall gloomy cat, but he tried not to bring anyone else down with him. It had been 3 moons since Pinewhisker's disappearance, but he still could not get over himself. The fact that he was already a downcast cat to begin with didn't help his depression over his lost mate. He tried to take his mind off things by looking back up at the now brightly shining sun.

"I'm waiting for the sun to rise"

It was a depressing comment, but true. He was waiting for the day when he wouldn't be so downtrodden all of the time. A day that he would finally hold his head high and be thankful for each new day. For now, however, he stayed somber and sullen. He realized that it may have been too obnoxiously depressing for Falconstorm, so he tried to lighten the mood.

"And you? are you waiting for anything in particular to happen?"

[+: Alixa :+]

Falconstorm wanted to cuff an apprentice every time they so much as thought of saying something witty about her bad temper. In fact, though she would never truly admit it, it gave her something to do, scolding and yelling at those naive young cats. They knew they had to be doing their tasks, and the second Falconstorm caught one slacking off, they were having their ears torn up by her as she spat at them for slacking off, and how they'd never amount to a good warrior if they couldn't stay focused. She didn't know where it came from, or what crawled into her fur every time she saw an apprentice failing to do their tasks right. But whatever it was, was good enough reason for her to straighten them out. And she even wondered, why in Starclan hadn't she been given an apprentice? Was there something wrong with the way she acted? If that was how Silverstar felt about it, then too bad for her. Falconstorm was a grumpy badger, sure. But that didn't mean sh couldn't take an apprentice, and turn it into a fierce warrior with great skill. But oh well, she hardly even wanted to put with with an apprentice, anyway.

She watched Darkclaw as he sat there, all sullen and gloomy. The cat had hardly even been the cheerful kind when he did still have Pinewhisker around. The she-cat was halfway decent, as Falconstorm thought. She wasn't big on any cat, reallly, though she did find Darkclaw, interestingly enough, a pleasure to be around. Perhaps he like his sullen, gloomy nature. But again, whatever it was, she didn't care. She just knew that he was one of the very few cats she could tolerate being around for a long period of time. His words reached her, and she looked to the sky. The sun was already up. She looked back down at Darkclaw, pale eyes looking at him with a quizical tint, but she didn't even bother to point it out. The tom was depressed, so she didn;t even bother to rain on his parade even more thna he was alreayd doing himself. And when he spoke again, she simply shrugged.

" Waiting for some sort of patrol, I guess. I'm sick of being in this camp. I need to get out and hunt or something."

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[Shadowscar]

Darkclaw's thoughts wandered back to his days with Pinewhisker. He remembered that though he still seemed sullen and grey, he was internally truly happy. He remembered going out on patrols with Pinewhisker and after catching a considerable amount of prey, they would find a nice patch of sun and bask in it, delighting in each other's company. Pinewhisker had been quick of wit and tongue, which had originally attracted Darkclaw's attention. She had always been able to take his downtrodden attitude with a grain of salt and a clever reply, which amused him to no end. Pinewhisker was a well loved cat aomng the clan, and was known as a strong warrior stronger than Darkclaw. That fact had always sort of embarassed Darkclaw, so the two had avoided talking about it. He remembered the two of them talking about having kits one day. Darkclaw was eager to have kits of his own, but Pinewhisker wanted to wait a little while. When ShadowClan had caught scent of the dogs in their territory, Pinewhisker devoted herself to the patrol. Darkclaw remembered the morning before her untimely death. They were talking about their future... "As soon as these dogs are out of our territory, I was thinking we could settle a bit and maybe have kits?"[/i] The past Pinewhisker had said. This had put Darkclaw in one of the happiest modds he'd ever been in his life. He enthusiastically had agreed and wished her luck on the patrol, praying to StarClan that the dogs had left...

Darkclaw briefly snapped out of his flashback just in time to catch Falconstorm's answer. He agreed with the bitter she-cat, it would be quite nice to get out of this stuffy old camp filled with disrespectful apprentices. He thought about asking Falconstorm to go on patrol with him, then he tohught better of it. It would probably be best to wait until an official patrol was made then they could both join, or they could just go their seperate ways. For some reason he enjoyed Falconstorm's company, but it wouldn't be the end of the world if she went on patrol while he continued to brood in camp.

"It is quite stuffy in here isn't it. Has the dawn patrol returned yet?"[/color]

[+: Alixa :+]

Falconstorm had fond memories of her brother. Well, both brother really, but the only one she remembered the freshest was the one who had been named an apprentice alongside her. Her younger brother she'd lost. And back then, when she was but a moon or two old, she didn't understamd why her brother never returned. Why he was always gone, and she never saw him around. Her mother was too heartbroken to explain, and her father thought it best that she didn't grasp the concept of death. But little did they know that their first born son would meet a smiliar fate. But no cat other than those fo Starclan could foresee the danger that lay ahead of Bramblepaw... But she does remember playing weith her brothers when they were kits. But her little brother Mudkit never seemed all that strong. And so, now that she'd learned the reason for his death, she saw it cold and cruel for Starclan to steal away her brother, but all the same knew that it was for the best, in some clouded way that she could still not quite understand. But oh, her beloved brother Bramblepaw. She remembered training with him a few times, and even being lucky enough to go on hunting patrols, and in the rarest of moments, border patrols. Bramblepaw and herself (Falconpaw at the time), had always made friendly competition out of hunting patrols, always seeing who could catch the largest rat or bird. And he usually succeeded, though she did ahve her fair share of winnings. But perhaps that was why she will most likely be forever bitter and vengeful.... Had he died when they got greencough, there's truly no telling whether or not she would be a nicer cat... But she blamed that badger. No better than a pile of fox dung is what that creature is. And she swore on the night she shared tongues with her brother for the last time, that she would kill every badger she saw. It sounded reckless, but it was her sense of justice. She didn't care if she died in the process. She didn't care if it found its way into another clan's territory. She wanted each adn every badger she so much as caught a scent trail of dead and bleeding. Nothing less than lifeless and limp at her paws.

She entered back into reality, pale green eyes now fully focused on the tom in front of her. But it was apparent that he, too, was thinking of some past memory. Most likely containing his lost mate, Pinewhisker. No one really had the guts to tell him she was long gone, and that there was no way she wasn't hunting with Starclan. Most would ahve expected that Falconstorm would be the one to stalk right up to him, get in his face, and tell him to get over it, and that she wasn't coming back. But perhaps it was because she knew his story, and knew of the pain of having a loved one torn from your side, that didn't permit for her to cross that line. Maybe, just maybe, she felt he had a right to believing, even half-heartedly, that she was still out there somewhere. That was a right that she wished she could have, but sadly, she didn't. She saw her dead brother's body, touched it one last time... There was no way in Starclan she was entitled to the right of thinking he was still out there somewhere, when she'd seen for herself his bloodied and mangled body before her.... Her ears twitched when Darkclaw's words caught her attention. And so, she let her pale green eyes sweep over the camp. Not every cat seemed accounted for.... So, she turned back to Darkclaw, and shrugged.

" I'm not sure. But if they haven't, they need to hurry it up so I can get out of here for a little while, at least. We could probbaly both use it."

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