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Post by ghostwoodwarrior on May 14, 2012 15:46:41 GMT -5
“Sorry for the rush, but you seemed to want to get a move on. And I still feel that we will at least be questioned before being set upon. Is it not proper to identify strangers here before trying to harm them? As for them fearing me, that is something I do not wish. I prefer to have earned respect rather than have others fear me. “ Ismo stated proudly. He then bent down and gripped his kill and dragged it a short distance into the brush.
He began to lick the fur from the corpse but stopped. He looked up to Quinn as she walked gracefully into the foliage after him. He took in every shift of her fur, the slight sway in her stride. Her confidence was definitely attractive to him and her regular sarcasm was actually enjoyable. But he knew he would have to keep himself in check around her, his trusting nature must be balanced with caution.
“So,” Ismo began, ”What is this Code of which you say the Warriors are failing to uphold? There are just so many questions I have that I feel I must know before I can accomplish my goals in life. Things sound completely upside-down.” Ismo’s tuft tipped ears flicked as his distress built. It took a lot of effort to calm himself and focus. He looked up at Quinn and after a brief moment realized what he wanted to know first. “What is your story Quinn? What has you out here trying to survive alone ?”
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Post by sil on May 14, 2012 17:56:42 GMT -5
[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true] | [atrb=width,350,true][atrb=background,http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g171/Sillvy/Qbg1.png]Quinn noticed the tom watching at her again; he hardly ever took his eyes off her. The attention was as unnerving as it was pleasant. “No worries,” she meowed. “You surprised me with your sprinting off into the unknown wilderness, is all.”
The Snowshoe took a seat in some dry brush nearby, folding her tabby-striped tail neatly over her paws as he ate. “I don’t really know where the Warrior Code came from. I guess supposedly from their StarClan—uh, by that I mean the ancestral Warriors whom the Clans believe watch over and guide them. Or it was passed down. I don’t know. It’s a set of rules that they all live and fight to uphold. ‘Defend your territory, check and mark your boundaries,’ and all of that noise.”
One chocolate ear twitched as if a fly were bugging her. “Well, they used to. Until their StarClan stopped speaking to them, now they don’t know what to do with themselves.” Quinn shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sure you’ll figure out more on your own, more than I care to know.”
“What is your story, Quinn?” Ismo asked. ”What has you out here trying to survive alone?”
Quinn felt her hackles rise at the questions. She wasn’t accustomed to giving out so much personal information. “My story?” she began in a teasing voice. “You know, back where I’m from, cats only asked those sorts of questions when they desired to take advantage of the information. You already guessed most of it; I was a pet to a human a long time ago—a few humans, actually. But I left that life and I’m now I’m here.” The she-cat wasn’t willing to share any more of herself right now, even to this honorable tom. “I’ve simply found surviving on my own to be…less stressful.”
Suddenly feeling awkward, Quinn coughed. “So what about you, wildcat? And listen, don’t be so discouraged about the Warriors. You can judge them for yourself. If anything, they most certainly could use a noble, strong cat such as yourself. Set an example, that sort of thing. Y’know?” She shifted her paws and glanced away.
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Post by ghostwoodwarrior on May 14, 2012 19:42:49 GMT -5
Ismo tore chunks from the rabbit and chewed quietly while he listened to Quinn. But as he listened he took in everything he could pick out of her demeanor, body signal, anything that could get him more information. He took great care to notice it all. Once Quinn finished and looked away Ismo took another few moments to eat before passing the remaining half of the rabbit to her.
“Eat all that you can, I’ll finish whatever you can’t. But from the way you’re speaking and reacting you aren’t keen on joining me once we find the clans. And I can see I have asked one too many questions of you, for that I apologize I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. As for my own story, it is short and simple to be honest. I trained with my father as soon as I could be separated from my mother. He taught me everything he knew in the ways of combat and hunting. When my mother visited, they would both teach me to better my observation skills and sharpen my mind. With their combined teachings I reached great heights, ones I never thought I could. When I was eighteen moons, my father looked me in the face, put his head to mine and told me that I must find my own path amongst the Warrior of which he had told me so much about. And so I went, and here I am.”
Ismo breathed in deep, letting it out in a long low sigh. He watched Quinn eat and noticed the blood spattered across her white maw and realized his beard was likely even more gruesome. He shrugged his shoulders, deciding to take care of it later. He turned to face back towards the pool and spoke again. “The news you bring of the clans is, I admit, a bit disheartening. I suppose I will indeed have to build my own opinion of these clans. But I thank you for the compliment my friend. Maybe if fate allows I can set an example and help set things right, in at least a small way. But I am afraid I must ask one more question. You can refuse to answer, and after you make your decision and finish your meal we can be on our way. Well, after we clean up we can be on our way. Why do you not use my name when referring to me?”
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Post by sil on May 16, 2012 11:59:27 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true] | [atrb=width,350,true][atrb=background,http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g171/Sillvy/Qbg1.png]Quinn did not complain when Ismo offered her some of his catch, crouching down to take her fill. She hadn’t eaten since before she came into the Creeping Woods. There were stories about the prey here in this forest, of course, as there were stories about anything that came from these woods. The dead rabbit hadn’t reanimated to steal her eternal soul or anything yet, so the she-cat assumed it was safe. It was certainly tasty enough.
She continued to eat while Ismo talked, the only indication that she was listening was the twitching of her tail. When he finished—with yet another question—she lifted her head a little and looked up at the tom from under her brows. “No wonder your father sent you off; the only cats who could deal with your endless chattering are the Clans. You mewl more than a kit,” she meowed, half-jesting. “With no disrespect, it must’ve been many moons since your father visited the Warriors. The Clans have been in discord for some time.” Sitting up a little more to make a point, Quinn flattened her ears against her head and narrowed her eyes a fraction. “And as of now, no, I don’t have any major intentions of joining a Clan. I said before I prefer living on my one. I am a loner, after all.
But tell me, wildcat—what is your plan? To just skip into the first Clan territory and ask the first patrol if you can join their ranks? Even in their greatest days, the Warriors have never been fond of those not Clanborn…”
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[/b] The Snowshoe trailed off, her head turned to one side, and her eyes lit up with enjoyment. She gestured to the air below her own muzzle with one paw. “You, uh.. got a little something on your… cheek things.”Having cleaned the rabbit of meat, Quinn got to her paws and tossed some dirt over the corpse. She met Ismo’s eyes with mischief in her own. “I’m sorry, does my nickname offend you?” she asked, knowing full well she hadn’t actually answered his question. [/color][/size][/left][/blockquote][/td][/tr][tr][td] [/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by ghostwoodwarrior on May 16, 2012 14:42:16 GMT -5
Ismo snorted at Quinn’s half-humored jabs. He was sure that if the roles were reversed, she would ask just as many questions. Or was that his pride talking? Regardless, she was right in one respect. It must have been a long time since a member of his family had been around the clans. Ismo was also a little disappointed in Quinn’s utter rejection of the clans, but from what she had told him he could understand it.
“Well in that case I have no more questions for you, at least for the time being. And I feel that running straight to the clans is no longer the wisest of options. I know too little about what is going on and I must observe and analyze in order to decide what the right path for me to take is.”
At Quinn’s mention of the gore on his beard, Ismo rolled his eyes, ”You’re a little bloody yourself, my friend. But no the nickname does not offend me. I simply think that it might not be the safest thing to call me should we end up within hearing range of one of these patrols you keep mentioning. Now that you have finished eating though, I believe it is time we got on our way.” Ismo finished by shaking his head briefly but violently, sending bits of rabbit flying from his tufts as he padded towards the pool one more time.
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Post by sil on May 17, 2012 15:35:47 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true] | [atrb=width,350,true][atrb=background,http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g171/Sillvy/Qbg1.png]Quinn was quickly realizing this tom had no qualms about showing his true emotions. She just needed a glimpse at his expression and she could guess how he was feeling. Ismo was so different from her; the she-cat was so used to being guarded, being protective, to hiding behind sarcasm or different personality masks as the situation called for it. She evaded conflict; Ismo was ready to walk right into Clan territory.
She envied his openness.
“I’m glad you like it, wildcat,” she meowed with a short purr. “And I’ll be sure to watch my tongue around your Warrior friends.” Playfully, she ducked the bits Ismo flung. As she passed the tom on her way back to the pool, she very briefly brushed her tail past his nose. Her eyes shone with mischief when she glanced back at him. The hoot of an owl returning to its place of rest interrupted her before she could say more. Quinn gazed at the eastern horizon, where the darkness of night was yielding to a gentle purple at its edges. “We need to get a move on. We’ve still a short while before we run into Clan-protected land.”
Quinn rasped a tongue down her fur to clean it then drank quickly from the spring. Double checking that her new companion was still following her, the Snowshoe turned back into the Creeping Woods toward the four Clans, beckoning with her tabby-striped tail.
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Post by ghostwoodwarrior on May 17, 2012 16:42:34 GMT -5
“If they were my friends you could call me whatever you would like Quinn.” Ismo would have said more but the brush of her tail distracted him, sending a surprising shock down his spine. His fur ruffled for the briefest instant before the feeling passed. He was going to have to be very careful around this she-cat.
As he pondered how best to cope with these odd feelings he sat next to the pool and clawed the last bits of flesh from his tufts, making sure to check even by and above his cheeks. Then he lapped some water from the pool which helped finish the cleansing process. Then he was up and following his guide, both eager to reach their destination and unsure of what now to expect. But whatever met them along this road, he would be ready or adapt. He would also do everything in his power to ensure that Quinn wasn’t harmed; she was doing him a favor as his guide and he would not have her suffer for it. This was his solemn, silent pledge and his resolve was set upon it.
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