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Post by COCOAFOOT on Sept 13, 2013 14:56:06 GMT -5
a blazing hot heat was roaring in her belly, her teeth clenched together tightly with an audible clack, her claws sheathing and unsheathing like she was tempted to lash out at anyone who so much as glanced at her, with contempt or concern. bitter and spiteful thoughts burned through her mind like a wildfire. and yet. the moment she heard the water dripping rapidly and smelled the sweet fresh water, she closed her eyes and took a deep breathe and stood still like she found her inner peace.
or maybe not.
"i hate my mother!" she bellowed. her voice rang with what seemed to be rage with an underlying sorrow. of course, the source of all her problems would be her mother. nothing quite got to cocoafoot like the big ol' black she-cat. today, bearheart had approached her daughter with a broad grin on her maw and a little tom trailing after her. she couldn't quite place a name on him, she realized, but then again she only gave him one scrutinizing glance before turning to her mom. and after a couple of fair greetings between all three of them, bearheart proceeded to explain that the tiny, wimpy tom behind her was willing to be cocoafoot's mate. 'oh, you'll be so cute together!' 'i can see the kits already.' 'ah, young love'! and that was all it took for the dark brown deputy to storm out of camp in a fit of anger.
great starclan, couldn't her mother just leave her alone? again and again, cocoafoot gently explained (well, more like screamed) to the old she-cat that she did not like toms. she didn't even like kits, really. even if she was planning on having the happy little family that bearheart dreamed of, it would be with a sweet little she-cat that made her heart aflutter. with a huff, cocoafoot slammed herself down on the ground by the trickling water and glared at it like it was all it's fault.
sorry, little stream. cocoafoot thought in apology. poor thing didn't realize what it was getting itself into when it popped up in beachclan territory.
KITTY OF GS |
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Post by » PEEPERPELT on Sept 14, 2013 10:30:11 GMT -5
From the moment she emerged from their little coven by the beach, it was noticeable that something in the air was different; at least to young Peeperpelt. She had only just barely lived through two leaf-bares – and so the sign of changing seasons never failed to amuse her. The sky was lit, the birds were singing their faint Chirrup! Chirrup! but everything was so vastly different. The glare of the Greenleaf sun no longer beat down on her pelt – no, the light filtered through the clouds, allowing the sky to become an off-periwinkle; not signifying the onset of rain, but the onset of Leafbare. From ahead, the first few trees began to drop their orange and yellow hued leaves, a sharp breeze easily herding them towards the territory.
While barely a pawful of cats would consider it a wonderful day on the beach, Peeperpelt didn’t consider it bad by any means. With the crisp breeze bursting pleasant, sharp scents onto the molly’s senses (was that how PineClan smelled? No wonder they seemed so jolly all the time) and the beach in front of her seeming more like a scenic landscape rather than something she traipsed across on the daily, she wondered how any feline would love to stay in camp on a day like this. She knew her acquaintance, Pigpaw, would certainly be curled up in an unknown hole in camp – unless Shrimpstar managed to waddle out to train him. They certainly were quite the pair – yet the brown tabby refused to question their leader’s motives.
She almost felt hesitant to ruin the sanctity of the beach with her own pawsteps – but at the same time, she felt hesitant to return to camp. Her limbs were crying for exercise (something that seemed to be instinctually rare for most of the clan) , and after a moment of hesitation, she rushed off, eager to make her muscles sing. And it was no sooner that she had left than she had approached the trickling stream; their only freshwater source. She guessed that today, while most of her clanmates were busy lazing about in camp, she might as well practice her fishing skills (something that had long since gone into neglect – she had found no use for it ever since she had become a warrior, easily taking from twolegs and scavenging bits and pieces from the fresh-kill pile).
The formula for hunting fish was a mixture of precision, balance, and focus. It wasn’t like playing with twolegs for a bite to eat (which relied on trickery and pleasantries), nor was it like focusing on your everyday hunting crouch (which required stealth and weight). Hunting fish truly was the final frontier of hunting, and while Peeperpelt was an adequate hunter, she knew that learning how to better her accuracy would be an asset, not only to her, but to the clan as a whole. True, the trickling stream wasn’t very large, but it harbored plenty of small fish – hard to catch, but tasty – and she was sure that the clan wouldn’t mind letting her snack on one or two on the way back to camp. She had earned it, right?
She leaned forward after finding a rather tasty looking fish – careful to keep her shadow out of the way – and raised a single paw. One, two, and… “I HATE MY MOTHER!” The brown tabby pricked her ears, interest piqued – and then she remembered the fish. She glanced back, but it was too late. The small thing had apparently heard the rumble as much as she had, and rushed off to join its brothers… if fish even had brothers. Whatever. Curious and a little miffed, the warrior glanced upstream just in time to see the deputy plopping herself angstily in the middle of the stream. Curious, the youthful warrior went to investigate.
Cocoafoot was known for her temper (and for a rocky relationship with her mother), and so Peeperpelt felt a little cautious going in to touch noses with the warrior as she usually did with both friends and acquaintances. She was friendly, yes, but she valued her own skin before her relationships – and so, after following the stream to where the deputy sat sulking, she called, a few pawsteps away (and just far enough away that she wouldn’t be subject to a blow from the deputy’s claws), “Co-Cocoafoot?! Are you alright?”
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Post by COCOAFOOT on Sept 16, 2013 13:38:10 GMT -5
the chocolate she-cat was fantasizing about all the different ways she could kill her mother and not get caught when she heard the rustling of leaves and a rather familiar shout. her head swiveled around so fast that she heard an audible crack and let out a groan at the ache that followed before narrowing her eyes at the cat disturbing her wallowing. she had to have a good wallowing every so often or she just didn't feel right and oh great starclan she heard me scream.
at the sudden realization, a hot blush seeped into her skin under the dark brown fur and her pelt bristled defensively. "peeperpelt," she began, grinding her teeth together as she attempted to keep her voice from cracking, "i am quite fine, thank you very much." she really wasn't even trying to be sarcastic; it just came out of her like second nature. her (boring) father was right. maybe she did need a little help leveling out her temper if she was angry without even attempting to be.
cocoafoot liked to think of herself as just honest. she stated her true emotions quite easily, and it never particularly bothered her when the victim of her harsh words were offended. however her father, brownclaw, seemed to feel a bit differently. he said she was in simplest words, 'a crazy old banshee who wouldn't shut her mouth'. of course, this only made cocoafoot seethe and throw a tantrum right in the middle of camp at the good ol' age of eighteen moons. great starclan, she hated her family. if she were able to kill anyone in the entire world, it would definitely be them. well, besides piggy. the thought of pigpaw's silly grin made her want to knock someone's teeth in.
so stuck in her own thoughts, she completely forgot about peeperpelt's presence until she felt the young warrior's gaze on her tingling skin. defensively, the chocolate deputy whipped her head around to the light brown tabby, her lip curling in a snarl. "what?" she hissed out, her ears flattening against her head. and then she remembered this was probably the sort of thing her dad was talking about when he said banshee, and she attempted to tame her expression, just a bit. letting out an odd cough to clear her throat (or perhaps just make herself look stupider, we don't know), cocoafoot cast a (very, very tiny! very soft! hey, she was trying) glare and meowed out, "what are you doing here?"
KITTY OF GS |
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Post by » PEEPERPELT on Oct 7, 2013 17:54:01 GMT -5
There it was. No matter how expected it was, it still frightened her to see the deputy bristle at her voice. Though BeachClan was easily the kindest of the clans, it was wise of Shrimpstar to choose someone like Cocoapelt to lead the clan beside her. Not only did the feisty female have a way of making others feel intimidated, but someone who was able to fluster others with a single look surely would have a strategic advantage, both in tactical negotiations and other situations.
Ah, yes, there it was – almost as soon as she had spoken, the brown female whipped around and bristled. Though she had internally prepared for something to that extent, it was never something anybody could truly predict, and she took a step back, flattening her ears and bristling a bit defensively as well (more as an instinct derived from fear than anything else). Fixed with a trademark glower, the feline felt like she was a small kitten standing in front of the entirety of StarClan, held accountable for some minor deed. Though she couldn’t do much, she indignantly gazed at the ground beneath her, not sure what else she could do.
Though BeachClan was traditionally the easiest of the four clans to get along with, and originally Peeperpelt had been a little bit upset with Shrimpstar’s choice for deputy, it was clear to see what the leader had been planning. If the entirety of BeachClan was filled with otters, then Cocoapelt was a swan; she looked as sweet and innocent as any of them, but she had a certain edge that few in the clan seemed to possess. A cat like Cocoapelt might be more common in the other clans, but in BeachClan it was a rarity that they had stumbled upon. Cocoapelt surely could use that moody glower to her advantage in both diplomatic relations and in the brink of war. And though Cocoapelt was thoroughly intimidating, Peeperpelt fully respected her, and a small part of herself even wished the deputy liked her a bit more.
“I am quite fine, thank you very much.” Peeperpelt stared at the deputy for a minute. She didn’t sound or look alright – with the rage of fire glowing within her amber eyes and her fur fluffed out even more angrily than normal. What was there to say in this situation? She couldn’t shake her head or reject that answer, lest she be the victim of another withering glare (she was still trying to recover from the last one, forcing her own fur to lay flat from the panic of it all). By the time she answered – “A-ah, alright…”, hesitantly - the deputy had become lost in her own world. She furrowed her brow, cautiously watching the deputy. She wasn’t quite sure how to dismiss herself.
As if on some sort of internal cue, the deputy once again flared up – before some sort of internal choice caused her to calm down. It was a bit too late for that, though; Peeperpelt was, once again, feeling the effects of that trademark glower, and with her fur fluffed up and body trembling, she flattened her ears and took another step back. Ignoring the question, she called out with a trembling voice, “I-I’m sorry!”
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