Quote:
Originally Posted by Slash-GNR
@Empress Of Evil
A she-cat lay in the brush. Her short, spotted pelt shivering as a long, cold breeze hit her long, powerful body. The female let out a hiss as she curled up closer to the bush she lay beneath. She had been watching this cat in the clearing for a bit. Her yellowish- green orbs watching his every move. It was a habit of hers to "stalk" other felines. Leopard didn't like to use the word "stalk" per say because stalking was used for prey, and this tom was not her prey. She just liked to observe other cats. She learned from them. If he or she made a mistake, then Leopard would reflect upon her sightings if she ever encountered a similar situation. The leopard pelted fighter densed her muscles up as she stepped one small paw out from under the bush. She then followed up with her other small paw.
Once the female was out of the undergrowth, she circled around a large oak tree. Leopard poked her head out from the other side of the tree as her medium- large eyes watched the male intently. He was nothing special. This cat was just a normal, everyday male. The she-cat didn't really care for toms. She saw them as all the same. They wanted heirs. They all wanted heirs to carry on their legacy that they had failed to leave before they died. She smirked at these thoughts as she flicked her tail tip and continued to slither behind the tree trunk.
Leopard wiggled her nose as to see if she could pick up a scent. she caught to many scents at once form the other rats, that were really cats in the clearing. She really wasn't a mean cat, but she tended to "insult", well more like give nicknames to the other felines in her group. The female let out a low growl, barely heard with a normal cat's ears. "Not good," she muttered, "Not good," she whispered again. She tended to repeat words or phrases that caught her attention. She licked her lips as she showed her sharp fangs.
Leopard refocused her hues on the tom as she sat down now next to the tree. She tilted her head at him wondering if he would care to meet her. Most cats didn't want to talk to her due to her weird and strange behavior. However, the other cats seemed to accept psychopaths, but not her. She learned to block out the feelings she used to feel of being rejected. She had observed and learned. She had learned to not feel what she didn't want to. |
Sparta parted his jaws to give a big yawn. He looked around, boredom in his eyes. Nothing ever seemed to interest him. The Dusk Syndicate was just boring. Not much had happened that sparked any excitement in him. The only fun thing he did was train with his trainer Calixto. Sparta had no feelings towards pretty much every cat in the Syndicate and very few had managed to earn his respect. Calixto was one of those lucky cats who had.
Sparta lay on the dusty floor, his back legs stretched out whilst he lay on his side, his chin resting on his paws. His pale yellow eyes trailed to the Commander's Den, an image of Halite popping into his mind. Getting a new commander and co-commander was one of the few things that were interesting. In his opinion, Halite appeared weak. Of course, Sparta had never exchanged a single word with the commander, but Sparta was one to judge by using whatever he could. The tom often spotted Boreas looking around the clearing with a defiant glare. Sparta viewed Boreas as a strong cat, she didn't look like one to let others boss her around, neither did Halite, but Boreas just had this aura around her.
Of course though, Sparta found himself as the only perfect cat in the Syndicate. Everyone else seemed to have a flaw that didn't make them completely Syndicate like. Sparta obviously had many flaws too, but he didn't see it that way. If you told him he was wrong, he would claw your ears off for sure, despite being quite a peaceful cat.
Growing up without knowing who his real father was, Sparta had become cold and untrusting. Being a longer within the Syndicate, he stood for himself, no one else. For his littermates and mother, he made an exception. He would never admit it and always made sure to not let it show, but he watched out for his family. They were the only thing he had left. He may not have any particular feelings towards them. No. He didn't love them. But he just always felt this strange feeling where he felt like it was his duty to protect them. Sparta had no one he looked up to. He had once or twice found himself dreaming about finding his father, little did he know that his father was dead. The most of an idol he had was Calixto. Calixto was one of the few cats he didn't find idiotic.
Sparta raised his head and lifted one of his paws, grooming the grit out of it. Sparta stopped suddenly, and slowly placed his paw down. Someone was watching him. He could sense it. His pale yellow gaze turned into a glare, a scary one in fact and he turned his head around slowly to face the direction he predicted the stare was coming from. No emotion filled his eyes, being a pyschopath, he didn't normally show any emotions unless he was mimicking them. He spotted a she-cat standing behind a tree and watching him strangely. Sparta rolled his eyes and turned his head back.