Dusk Syndicate Clearing

[The Cannibal]

Originally Posted by woly

"With a healers nose nothing gets by me, as much as I try." but the other tom was right, blood was radiating from their camp at all time whether from fresh kill or prey itself. As a healer the scent of blood was a constant look out, wanting to see if any one needed healing. Most healers couldnt give a damn about who they healed, but Percival did care. Not in a mother type way,bit he just had a giving a nature. He was glad the tom infront of him was okay though, you can never be so sure. At the question of his name, he gave a smile and tried to brush it off,"You are a few of the unquie ones of the bunch, cats will chat about it all they want."

A small seemingly friendly chuckle came out of the tom as he heard what Percival responded with, his head nodding in apparent agreement. "You healers do have quite the profound sense of smell. Better than a good majority of the rest of the Syndicate I would suppose." A faint smile was on his muzzle, a smile faint enough to where it would seem friendly, maybe even amused when in actuality Hannibal felt nothing. He didn't feel friendly towards this tom and he didn't feel amused or even remotely happy, he felt as he always did. But he could fake these emotions so well they truly were believable. What with forty or so moons of living, of course he would be fairly good at faking the things he saw almost every day. All of the cats around him expressed emotions, it was only plausable that he learn how to adapt to daily life around him. But I digress.
"I suppose others would describe me as unique. Ah, no matter as to who was talking of me. I plan to leave within the coming moons anyways. This place is nothing more of an empty husk of what it used to be. There is nothing else for me here and I have grown tired of it. The Syndicate will surely fall to shambles soon anyways." The tip of the tom's tail flicked as he revealed to the healer that he would be leaving. He could have easily left without telling a single cat, but a cat like him gone missing? It would have been noticed. No use hiding the fact, there was no reason in it. There was always a reason behind his secrecy and if there wasn't a reason behind it? Then there was no use in using it.
"Was it busy for you after the battle?" It was a random switch in topic, but Hannibal decided it was time to prob this cats mind. See how they reacted to things, how they thought and how they expressed their emotions. He enjoyed collecting information on cats.

[Cosmo]

Originally Posted by Phoenix Flames

"Yeah.. I guess...", Cyril sighed, bored.

"Hey! If you want, think of something yourself!" she retorted, slightly stricken by his boredom.

[Phoenix Flames]

Originally Posted by Little Bird

"Hey! If you want, think of something yourself!" she retorted, slightly stricken by his boredom.

"I can't.. My boredom won't let me think...", Cyril sighed.

[Cosmo]

Originally Posted by Phoenix Flames

"I can't.. My boredom won't let me think...", Cyril sighed.

"Well that explains a lot!" Nettle purred, rolling her eyes. She raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure you can't think of anything. "

[Phoenix Flames]

Originally Posted by Little Bird

"Well that explains a lot!" Nettle purred, rolling her eyes. She raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure you can't think of anything. "

"Yep. I can't think of anything we could do.", Cyril said, nodding his head.

[Clover]

Originally Posted by Lonestar23

Her words stung, once more. The light tom looked surprised for a moment, and then his ears went backward. He wanted to leave. Run away and leave her there, but... it wasn't in his nature to leave someone in need. He should have been a Healer. What was he doing in the Dusk Syndicate, working as a fighter? That was a long and boring backstory and one that Gavin chose not to reflect on at the moment... just because he needed to get her help. But she was trying to ditch him. Trying to say that she didn't need it, even while he could see that she desperately did. If she didn't get help soon, she would die. And no, he didn't know it would be because of injury - he had no way of knowing quite how severe it was, or if it could result in death.
　
The safest road was always getting help, but she seemed to think she would be tortured or killed if she did. "I'm not a kittypet. And just because I choose to help you doesn't mean I'm soft..." His voice trailed off, realizing that probably was the exact definition of "soft" according to some of the cats here. Perhaps her included. The idea sent chills down Gavin's spine, and the disturbing thought of what if it had been me? flashed through his head.
　
Would Skipper have left him for dead? Dragged him somewhere sheltered, then left him? Or killed him on the spot? Perhaps played with his mind, as he knew cats in the Syndicate enjoyed doing. "Okay, maybe it does. But if I were in your condition, I'd be grateful for the help. I wouldn't be snapping at someone who's trying to help, and I would calm down to think of a solution." It sounded reasonable and logical to him. Then again, Gavin hadn't had as many bad experiences here. He'd been pretty sheltered for a while. It was as though he were choosing not to think about the fact he was surrounded by murderers at all times.
　
"Now will you please let me get you to help?" The tom asked, his voice soft. Once she was safely in the Healers' den, if they ever got there, he could go. Or would he stay? It would totally depend on how she continued to treat him. Because Gavin was not the type of cat to stay around when he wasn't wanted, nor was he one to walk away when others needed help. His urge to make sure Skipper got the help she obviously needed outweighing the urge to get away from being the object of her anger.

She shuddered gently, the cold spring wind stirring her short coat, bringing her fully into the present. Into the fact that Gavin was angry, was maybe going to leave her. And, she couldn't blame him; her own self-image was so low that she barely felt deserving of his saving her. Skipper's sides contracted, not just from the weather, but from a crippling wave of guilt; no one should want to save her, but he did, and she just kept rubbing it into his face that she didn't need it. Her side ached horribly from the broken shards of bone, but it was hardly the injury that stung the most.

Skipper listened to him, though, and didn't cry again; crying would only make her seem weaker. But maybe weaker was what she needed; maybe letting down her guard would help her more. She had mostly been rude to Gavin because he was everything she wasn't, and he seemed stronger for it. How could someone so humble, so kind, so forgiving, be stronger than her? It hadn't fit her worldview, and so she made sense of it the only way she could; by rejecting it and trying to call it an anomaly, a fluke, an error. But deep down, the flame-red tabby knew that he was genuine, and not pretending.

Her chest heaved slightly; her breaths were short from emotion, especially that her view of the world was crashing down around her. Nothing made sense; everything was gone. The assumption that cruelty was strength had been her main tether in life, almost unsurprisingly, but that was gone. The only thing left to anchor her new, budding perception of life was Gavin, the first one to show her kindness in a very, very long time.

With a deep, steadying, yet painful breath, Skipper was readying herself to reply. She would say the only thing that made any sense.

"Yes. I..." She paused. It felt so out of character, so wrong, to admit her fault in viewing things. For once, she had humbled herself. For once, she was like the sandy-white tom in front of her. "I was... I was... Wrong. I guess your... Not weak," Skipper began; the longer she spoke, the more sense the words made. "I was weak." She practically forced it out, a final rejection of what she had thought. "I was weak- and you were strong. Strong enough... Strong enough to put up with such a horrible person as me. I won't change overnight... I won't change in a minute... But can you help me?" she mumbled, the end practically whispered, laced with layers of meaning. She wanted him to help her heal, physically, to close the wounds her fall had caused. But she also wanted him to show her how he thought of others, how they weren't instantly evil, even if it meant losing some of her fieryness, her argumentativeness; it would be worth it to become stronger than she was before.

[graves]

Originally Posted by Duskflight

A small seemingly friendly chuckle came out of the tom as he heard what Percival responded with, his head nodding in apparent agreement. "You healers do have quite the profound sense of smell. Better than a good majority of the rest of the Syndicate I would suppose." A faint smile was on his muzzle, a smile faint enough to where it would seem friendly, maybe even amused when in actuality Hannibal felt nothing. He didn't feel friendly towards this tom and he didn't feel amused or even remotely happy, he felt as he always did. But he could fake these emotions so well they truly were believable. What with forty or so moons of living, of course he would be fairly good at faking the things he saw almost every day. All of the cats around him expressed emotions, it was only plausable that he learn how to adapt to daily life around him. But I digress.
"I suppose others would describe me as unique. Ah, no matter as to who was talking of me. I plan to leave within the coming moons anyways. This place is nothing more of an empty husk of what it used to be. There is nothing else for me here and I have grown tired of it. The Syndicate will surely fall to shambles soon anyways." The tip of the tom's tail flicked as he revealed to the healer that he would be leaving. He could have easily left without telling a single cat, but a cat like him gone missing? It would have been noticed. No use hiding the fact, there was no reason in it. There was always a reason behind his secrecy and if there wasn't a reason behind it? Then there was no use in using it.
"Was it busy for you after the battle?" It was a random switch in topic, but Hannibal decided it was time to prob this cats mind. See how they reacted to things, how they thought and how they expressed their emotions. He enjoyed collecting information on cats.

"Leaving isnt a surprise to me honestly, I might leave myself." The smaller tom confessed. After the battle with Skyclan he honestly could get were the clan was coming from. We wandered on their land repetitively, and for what? To cause trouble? We had perfectly good land with their own borders, there was no reason to rile other clans up. But he was surprised him of all cats would leave. He seemed content with the life around him, but he couldnt help but agree with Han about the shambles of the Syndicates future. He nodded at his question,"Countless were injured, and with such strict rules and not knowing to much as a healer, I couldnt saved everycat. Its a shame.." his voice was softer as he stared at the ground. He wished he knew more, such as the clans med cats. He wished he could just have one visit to them to learn more. he was thirsty for information, wanting to help his group to survive. "Countless died at my paws because I only know so much, if anything.

[meraki]

Originally Posted by Duskflight

An interesting name indeed and one that, surprisingly enough, seemed to suite him perfectly while it was not related to an object or his appearance at all. It is said that his name means "grace of Starclan", but it was unclear why his mother deemed him this name and it wasn't as if she were alive today to give the reasoning behind it. And if it was his father who named him, he wasn't here to give the reasoning either. So the meaning behind his name was lost altogether and the world was simply stuck with Hannibal which, strangely enough seemed to rhyme with cannibal, something that many of the Dusk Syndicate believed that he was. But whether the speculations were true or not was unknown and no cat really wanted to try and find out the truth anyways. They were too scared of what would happen if they did somehow uncover the truth.
Some say that the cats who tried to really figure out Hannibal went missing, never to be heard from again, some cats say that they went utterly insane and others say that they just wind up dead. Another one of the horribly mangled bodies that occasionally show up in the territory of the Syndicate, mangled as if half eaten by a fox or badger. Some bold cats tried to tie Hannibal to the bodies, but nothing ever became of them, cats ignored them and soon enough ended up forgetting about the dead. It was all a mystery, a mystery no one quite wanted to solve, a mystery that no one was really brave enough to solve. And none of it, absolutely none of it phased the tom. He lived life as if nothing ever happened, as if it was just a normal day whether he was being accused of murder or not. And that's the tricky thing with Hannibal. You never know what's the truth and what's a lie, what's really going on with him. That's what made him intriguing to some cats and absolutely terrifying to others. No one really knew what to think of Hannibal.
They just knew his one rule. And that was to not be rude.

She appears to be slightly taken aback by the sign of respect, that friendly face doesn't show it, but her eyes do. Still so young, so much to learn about the ways of deceit and masking of emotions and thoughts. Is she even worth teaching? Eyes remaining friendly, polite even, they continued to stare into the younger cats eyes, searching as subtly as ever. Few could stand that hard gaze of his, they would squirm as if they were an ant beneath a magnifying glass.
Good she's polite. I wouldn't stand an impolite trainee, no no no, it wouldn't work. But she's polite so that won't be a problem. Or rather, she's polite in my presence. I wouldn't want to make an assumption about her behavior as a whole, I don't have enough information for that. But she is indeed polite in my presence. There was a pause in his thoughts. She's attempting to create a fog, a barrier between her eyes and her thoughts. Smart. Perhaps she's even trying to figure me out, smart also. How intriguing for such a young cat.. Perhaps we'll get along. There was the slightest flick of his tail and he seemed to sit up straighter. Whatever it was that he had been thinking about, was no dismissed, removed from his mind until it needed to be brought up later.

"A loner you say? Was it a kit? A young one? An adult? Where they picked for you or did you get to chose them yourself?" There appeared to be curiosity in his voice and his head tilted to further give that feeling of him wanting to know the answer to these questions, but truthfully, he was only interested in the way she responded, just as he had with the first question. Killing doesn't phase her, but that doesn't surprise me. If it did phase her then she wouldn't be a fighter, she'd be a healer. Or perhaps even a hunter. But she doesn't seem overly eager, nor excited about it. Apathetic almost. That's good. And she doesn't appear to hold remorse either, which is also good. This one certainly has potential.
What happened next was to of no surprise by the tom, in fact, he expected it. A question for him. Quid pro quo. She had given him a truthful answer, he was obligated to give her one. Had she tried to fake a response, seemed overly eager about it in order to mask her distaste for killing, then he would have given her an untruthful answer. But she hadn't, so she would get the truth. It was only polite.
"I was born into the Syndicate with four other siblings, however I decided that I wished to take the test anyways. My test was to end the life of a litter of kits. Their mother had bedded with a clan cat, a Riverclan cat to be exact,
and so their spawn was to be terminated." Just as Maple had responded to his question, he had responded in the same tone. It was unclear whether this was acted, or how he truly felt about his answer, but she wouldn't be able to tell, his face and eyes were as blank as a stone. Impossible to read. Just that polite, friendly look that he had worn since they had begun their conversation.
Oh how she wants to figure me out. Unfortunately enough, she's not the only cat. I'll give her little bits now and again but she will never receive the full thing. She doesn't seem deserving of it. His mind thought as he awaited her response.

Having been a clan cat, Maple had come across many oddities within the clans, cats that made her think twice about what sh thought of them. While this didn't happen much, she still was able to understand that not all cats thought the same. And in this case, Hannibal was one of those oddities, just as she and few others were. But Maple hadn't ever come across a cat like this one sitting before her. He knew more than he let on, much more, she could tell. He knew a lot about many cats, not just those within the Dusk Syndicate. Perhaps he knew more of her than she knew of him-that was a definite possibility. Hannibal didn't seem any bit surprised by any of her responses, then again her responses weren't the most surprising or odd. Maple looked int burly into his gaze, with that fake, small, friendly smile pasted on her face, her eyes glittering with what most would call kindness. Hannibal was very good at the game they were playing; he knew how to hide certain thoughts; better than she, truthfully. But Hannibal held valuable information, such as how to hold such a face without any ounce of wavering.
Maple was a very visual learner, and she learned most of what she knew by copying others. Of course, she was a very good listener and knew what to pick out from what they said. Maple smiled kindly as he asked more questions, pointless, useless questions that'd gain him more information about her. Then again, she wasn't entirely sure if he knew these facts already, or if he was trying to pick out bits of information like she was. With both thoughts in mind, Maple decided to speak the truth. Lying was easy, she'd grown good at after moons of practice. Answering his questions in the order they were given, she meowed back in an equally monotone, but slightly bored tone that he bore,
"Yes, indeed it was a loner. It was not a kit, though. Not very young, and no-not an adult either. They were around my age I suppose, if not, a few moons older. I chose this particular cat, for the reason that I like an equal fight. I like to give the victim an ounce or two of hope before I take their life. It's more interesting that way, the look of surprise they wear. Clan cats rely on hope and StarClan to save their pitiful lives. Once you give them that hope, in this case, their obvious age and weight advantage on me, they are just so utterly shocked that they lost. They need to k ow in their dying moments that hope can't do anything but weaken them. It's like a smack of reality, like saying, 'see that? You Clan cats are far to reliant on this idea of hope that it blinds you even in your dying moments.'
See, Hannibal, in absolutely no way do I mean to offend you. But in my eyes, killing a kit, for example, seems a bit cowardly. They have no way to fight back, and really, it doesn't give you that feeling of success that killing a cat with a chance does. Anyone heartless enough can kill a kit, but it takes someone with good fighting skills to kill a bigger cat. Do you see my train of thought here?" Maple meowed. She said all of this truthfully, but didn't express with either her voice or eyes whether or not this made her enthusiastic or sad, happy, mad. "But I will say, that was a rather brave thing you did. Mixing of the clans is truthfully disgusting." Maple added, not including the fact that her mother, a clan cat, had bedded with a Rogue, Maple's unknown father.
But Hannibals answer made her think. He clearly wasn't like most cats, most wounding heartlessly kill a nest of kits if they had a choice of doing nothing. Hannibal clearly wasn't like most, and that game her an ounce of information on him. He didn't seem to feel empathy. She wondered silently what else he didn't feel. Of course, Maple didn't exactly feel empathy like most either. She'd kill a kit without argument, but older cats were her preference. But while Maple was a killer, she didn't kill like most. She liked slow deaths, she liked to soak up the power.
As a kit, if she'd caught a butterfly, she'd rip the wings off one by one, then the legs and antennae. She wouldn't let others see, and if they did, she'd play it off like an accident, and no questions were asked. This escalated to baby birds, then rabbits, frogs, before finally she realised that cats were an option too. Nobody knew what Maple was thinking, not even her adoptive mother. She'd hurt her adoptive siblings in their sleep. Placing fire ants in their nests, telling them to go to a certain pile of rocks where adders lived. But no one ever caught on, as she would threaten her siblings, then paste that smile back on and her secret was never discovered by any of the cats in her clan.

[Cosmo]

Originally Posted by Phoenix Flames

"Yep. I can't think of anything we could do.", Cyril said, nodding his head.

"Sit here." said Nettle absently flicking her tail. "Thats right. We'll sit her and do nothing." It was an awful idea, but he did ask for ideas. It was nothing though. Unless nothing was something. But that was to confusing for Nettle. So she decided to just wait for his answer, however long that was going to be.

[Phoenix Flames]

Originally Posted by Little Bird

"Sit here." said Nettle absently flicking her tail. "Thats right. We'll sit her and do nothing." It was an awful idea, but he did ask for ideas. It was nothing though. Unless nothing was something. But that was to confusing for Nettle. So she decided to just wait for his answer, however long that was going to be.

"Hm.. How about we... How about... How about we go hunting?", Cyril suggested.