Originally Posted by Aleka ☁️ (Post 44773) Moon opened her eyes. "Yes, what is it?" She asked her mate, stumbling out her nest. She padded up to him, leaning against his side.

Originally Posted by Aleka ☁️ (Post 54802) Moon gasped in shock. Eyes closing tightly, she crouched, tears streaming from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks. Sniffing, she straightened back up, her tail low. "Why would she do that..?" She finally managed to whisper, her throat feeling dry as she spoke the words.

Originally Posted by Tiny Moony (Post 91220) ( @Duskflight ) The Oriental layed in the den, his black pelt keeping him hidden from sight. His blue eyes glowing softly against the darkness. He thought over the battles of the clans, and the many who fell at his claws. Many clan-ers of course did, but the one he couldn't get off his mind was Bleddyn. One of his most triumphant kills, yet he was too easy. He wanted to die. So kill me Onyx, I've done my deed... the words rang in his head. Damn cat! He wasn't worthy of being here, or living for that matter. Nonetheless... Onyx took in a breath. He could smell death somewhere near with a hint of living. Hannibal was close by.

The dark tom was laid down comfortably in his own nest, his pelt bare of any form of injury, any form of blood, anything that messed up the smooth, nearly black color of it. He was perfectly clean, as he always was because that was Hannibal.
When you imagined a cat that killed, you imagined a rugged, crazed looking cat that appeared completely unstable, that practically radiated off the feeling of insanity, that often sneered or had some form of evil look on their face.
But that was not Hannibal. Hannibal was clean, polite, sophisticated even, precise in everything he did and very very intelligent.
He had killed plenty of cats in his time in the clans, eaten a few, but there was one that he found intriguing. It was the Thunderclan healers apprentice, he had stood up for that blind mentor of his, it was stupid, completely idiotic sure, but it was very interesting. Why had the tom cared about that blind cat? Wasn't it 'cruel' to even keep him alive? It was intriguing, but now the tom was dead and there wasn't much more thought to put into it. The tom hadn't even fought well, he had the battle abilities of a sick mouse, like a feeble kit.
Flicking his ears, his orange hues focused on Onyx, one of the guards of the Syndicate, not that the title meant anything to Hannibal at all. Onyx, he had gone to the clans as well. The dark tom said nothing, simply stared, watching the oriental with those fiery eyes that almost seemed to capture hell itself in them.