the stars were always brighter [o]

[rowanstreak - *]

His bedding felt hard, cold, and uncomfortable. The plush moss scratched ruthlessly at his pelt with the ferocity of an angered badger. Vigor tickled at his pads, urging the bronzed tom back to the waking world once more. His sleep had been empty, filled with dreams of nothing but solid black. Any day, he'd prefer the usual, meaningless dreams of hunting mice and scaling mountains while meeting their great TigerClan ancestors. A wistful sigh left Rowanstreak as he stood, back arching as the feline stretched and unsheathed his claws. His long legs had come into contact with one of his denmates and he muttered a quiet, "S'cuse me," although he was unsure if he had prodded them awake or not. Either way, he left his moss scattered across the den floor from countless heartbeats of twitching, fidgeting, and rolling in his unfullfilling slumber.

The cat's brown head peeked from the den as he made his escape from the bundle of sleeping cats. The moon hung heavily overhead, casting its eerie glow over camp which reflected from his pelt in shimmers of silver. He suppressed a shiver, the chilled late night leaf-fall sting clinging to him. And what better way to rid himself of the cold? To get moving. Maybe he could burn off the extra energy too. Rowanstreak knew that his nighttime escapade would cause him to be a tired wreck at sunrise, but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind and out of camp he went.

His tanned paws led him across the leaf littered territory, to nowhere in particular. His sense of adventure urged him on while common sense kept him away from the other Clan borders. The upcoming leaf-bare often led to accusations of prey theft and in no way did Rowanstreak want to have any part in that nonsense. After what felt quickly fleeting moments, the lake began to come into view. Had he really walked that far? The moon cast a glow over the body of water as it had camp, though the view here was more serene - undisturbed. Glancing about, Rowanstreak hopped atop a jutting rock near the lake's edge, staring across. His head was held high, paws planted firmly beneath him. He vaguely remembered kit-games of pretending to be leader and claiming territories and pebbles as his own. Nothing could shake him from his spot, overlooking the night in all its glory. Nothing could possibly uproot him but the promise of sleep. "I, Rowanstreak of ThunderClan, deem the night and this rock mine." Nothing could-

His ears twitched and eyes widened. Pawsteps. Was someone around? Had someone heard him? Playing so childishly and by himself at that? "Who's there?" Rowanstreak's crooked tail lashed behind him as he looked over his shoulder, balance momentarily shifted. The tom wiggled on the slick surface of the rock before his paws slipped and he half-fell, half-leapt down onto the wet banking of the lake. His mitts splashed water up, dabbling his pelt and the other cat if they were close enough.

Hot under his fur, Rowanstreak whipped around to face his approacher. "Do you get a thrill out of startling unsuspecting warriors?" His voice was gruff, lips turned downward into a look of displeasure, though the soft glimmer in his eyes hinted that he wasn't nearly upset as he seemed. Just... mildly embarrassed.

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[Swanfrost]

With a lick of her lips and the twitch of her ear, Swanfrost did not even toss a glance over her shoulder at the WindClan tom she was leaving behind. Well, it was more of a mutual parting, since neither had really been going for anything more than a fleeting, passionate night, and that’s what happened, so the tom eater was satisfied for the time being. As the gorgeous tabby was wandering along the border, moving deeper into ThunderClan territory, she pondered her family, surprisingly enough to her. Her parents wanted her to be perfect. Did she ever meet their standards? How well did she hide what she did? Well enough that not everyone knew, that was for sure, at least in her mind. Nobody did seem to know about her silly, emotionless trysts in the night. She was just considered one of those cats, the kind that couldn’t sleep as much as some others, which was perhaps a good thing. Often, it meant that she was thought to do extra hunting or something (ha!), which was a fantastic cover up for how little she actually did around and for ThunderClan. If her parents had survived longer, if they were still alive, would they be proud? If they knew what she was really about, no, probably not. They were such sticklers for the image, the very idea of being a warrior, that she knew they would never accept what she was doing as anything that would help her on her path to Silverpelt. StarClan would not take those who constantly break the warrior code, she was told. But it was just harmless fun. What was so bad about it? What significance did the warrior code really hold, anyway?

To the shallow, selfish Swanfrost, none. The warrior code meant nothing to her, StarClan meant nothing to her, “duty” meant nothing to her. With a twitch of her perfect pink nose, the beautiful pale tabby stopped short and stared. It seemed that her paws were taking her ever closer to the lake, for some inexplicable reason. Why would she return to the place of one of her greatest sins, of where she watched her elderly former mentor drown while they were “out hunting” as “old friends”? There was nothing remotely favorable or pleasurable about the lake in Swanfrost’s mind. Even she was occasionally wrought by guilt, but not often. Passing by the lake sometimes invoked pain within her, and if there was anything Swanfrost loathed, it was pain. Pain, the opposite of pleasure, induced by avoidable things. Keep away from close emotional contact, and all will be well. There was always, too, the guilt of the kits she killed in her belly. What would they have been like? Seriously messed up, that’s what they would have been. Nobody else knew, though. It was early enough that the medicine cat might not even have been able to tell.

It appeared, though, to Swanfrost that there was somebody out by the lake acting as a kit might. She approached slightly, her fur glistening and practically shimmering in the moonlight, her very being the paragon of an incarnation of the moon at its most graceful. It smelled of ThunderClan, and Swanfrost had just been with a WindClan tom, anyway. Turning to leave, she heard the cat cry out, and her ears twitched. It was Rowanstreak, a tomcat who was six moons older than she: a new apprentice at her birth. And she still reeked of WindClan. In her mind, she cursed quite loudly, but her vocal voice remained silent. Before the brown tom turned, Swanfrost dropped and rolled on the ground, then hopped up and shook herself off to send shreds of grass into the air where they remained, suspended, for a few heartbeats before being whisked away.

Hoping that this would be enough, but suspecting it was not, Swanfrost did the only thing that would be socially acceptable. She had to approach him with a sweet smile and a curious gaze, placing the heavy mask of perfection upon herself. The mostly-white she-cat had a reputation, and she had to keep it polished and sparkly clean or else… well, she wouldn’t be very happy, and that was her goal in life: positive experiences. Emotions, she had decided, were far too overrated. “Rowanstreak? What are you doing here?” she called over to him, not even caring to wonder why he appeared embarrassed. Her voice held all of the interest one would expect, though. Padding closer, she tilted her graceful head and added, “At this time of night?” And what was even better was that she had a perfect excuse for her stench, should he ask. Perfect excuse.

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[rowanstreak - *]

WindClan. His short fur bristled, the hair on the nape of his neck standing straight. Rowanstreak's once pleasant demeanor shifted at that moment. The wind had come to a break, so the scent from the border couldn't be drifting in his direction. That only meant one thing... a trespasser. The tom had braced himself for a confrontation, his paws itching to burst into motion and pin down the border crossing, rabbit-bellied cat until...

"Swanfrost?" Her name echoed from his tongue as soon as she had spoke his. His fur began to lie flat, claws sheathing as he released the tense grip his paws had held flat on the ground. The pretty she-cat continued to approach him and Rowanstreak shook his head briefly, shaking away the riled anticipation he had gathered from her sudden and unexpected arrival. "Couldn't sleep," It was a short, honest reply that he hoped would be enough to soothe the gorgeous warrior's curiosity. "I could be asking you the same thing... late night patrolling? You've got WindClan stink on you." He guessed, breaking his green eyes away from her striking blue gaze. She wouldn't get offended, would she? He had only been speaking the truth. His social awkwardness began to come into full swing as the moon continued to light their surroundings.

Rowanstreak grazed his wet paw on the moist grass as he stepped away from the sandy shoreline, tail gingerly tapping against Swanfrost's pale colored side, suggesting that she come along. Rarely had he conversed casually with the young warrior, considering that she had only been a kit when he started training as an apprentice. Hunting and border patrols with Swanfrost had been quiet and quick, as Rowanstreak was keen on getting the job done so that he could spend the rest of his time relaxing and attending to some of the lesser duties. "The night is still young, Swanfrost," His voice was low as he looked back at her from the corner of his eye, the hinting of a small, nervous grin forming at his maw, "Let's say we watch him grow old? Roam until the sun peaks?"

Already, he began to prepare himself for her rejection of his invitation. What reason would she have to stay in his company, anyway? Perhaps she wanted to go back to camp and rest, take the sleep that would come willingly to her as it ran from him.

ooc: thanks for joining! self-conscious rowanstreak should so crush on the confident swanfrost.

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[Swanfrost]

[bg=d9e9ec][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true] Swanfrost watched the older tomcat as he spoke and noted his apparent discomfort. She wasn’t exactly in the mood, especially since this was a ThunderClan cat to whom she was speaking (and she was at the site of a virtual murder she committed). Around this tom, the beautiful she-cat cared about her spotless reputation. Emberdust and Frostbird worked hard to make their single remaining kit fantastic, at least in the eyes of the Clan, and the spoiled girl was going to keep it that way. With a soft smile, she replied, “I was out hunting, and I know, but at least it isn’t ShadowClan, right? That smell would take moons to leave.” She grinned to Rowanstreak at her mild joke, then continued, “No, I was just chasing a rabbit and it ran across the border and I… well, it’s embarrassing, but I sort of stumbled and fell. I’m okay and all, but I let it go. Since it had passed the border, I didn’t think it was right to kill it.”

[/color] With a slight shrug, she bobbed her head faintly, showing the brown-furred warrior that it was simply in her nature to follow the warrior code perfectly. If only that were the truth.

Knowing that he was bound to notice the perfection of her pelt, she glanced down at herself and licked her chest, then meowed, “I tried to clean off the smell when I crossed back over, but I guess it didn’t work so well… but at least it got my fur clean?”[/color] Her eyes sparkled when she returned her gaze to him. He tapped his tail on her side, and she followed along, as he had beckoned. Rowanstreak wasn’t nearly in as powerful a position as Wildstar, but he was still attractive to her. Still, if she was going to risk emotions and attachment to anything other than herself, then shouldn’t it be to a tom worthwhile, whose name would be remembered for ages to come? Then again, she could see which was a more gullible and reliable sap, the one who would be least observant regarding her constant passionate trysts with other-Clanners. The manipulative she-cat wasn’t sure which one was just so yet, but there were always ways to find out, and it wasn’t as if she had any other form of entertainment in her life.

Swanfrost watched Rowanstreak as he fumbled poetically (her interpretation of his words), her blue eyes gentle and compassionate. From kithood on, nobody had ever called out Swanfrosts’s lying simply because she was just too good. It was one of very few things that she could actually do well, one of three things in which she actually put effort. “I’d love to roam with you, Rowanstreak,”[/color] she mewed, her eyes wide and bright, her lips sliding back to form a grin. Within a heartbeat, she decided not to add anything else and that that was just good enough. Anything more might have seemed far too fake for his tastes, and ThunderClan was the most precarious Clan of them all for Swanfrost, who didn’t care about what cats in any other thought of her. She could always deny RiverClan lies, WindClan rumors, and ShadowClan insults, but anything from ThunderClan had to have at least a shadow of truth, since it was her own Clan, after all.
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OOC: No prob! 8D I can totally see Swan just crushing poor Rowan’s heart<3 Or maybe more will happennnn, who knooooows? xD (Swanfrost is totally unpredictable for me plot-wise ’cause I’m pretty much open to anything and everything. >_> <_<

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[rowanstreak - *]

He couldn't help but to let out a quiet chuckle. He had to admit, that he would rather the scent of WindClan over ShadowClan. The mucky pine scented, lizard eating cats had weak noses or strong bellies to stomach the smell. Then again, they probably said the same thing about ThunderClan. Rowanstreak's ears pricked, the tip of his left ear flicking in interest as she mentioned chasing a rabbit. "You'd have to be quite fast to keep up with one," Rowanstreak admitted, having been lucky enough just one time in the past to hunt a rabbit who had snared itself in bramble during its escape. "I didn't take you as one to have it in you." The tom said afterward with a small nod, glad that she had chosen to respect the boundaries and prey. They weren't that hard-pressed for kill right now go chasing it clear across into the other territories.

As she mentioned the cleaning of her pelt, Rowanstreak's eyes roamed over her coat. He had knew that she was pretty before, with her faded, yet intricate markings and slender body. Not only that, but from what he knew of her, what he heard from among the Clan, Swanfrost was born to be elegant, poised, a perfectly strong she-cat warrior. Thus far, she had made the cut. The heat returned under his fur again and his paws kneaded at the ground uncomfortably with the thoughts. "Right... b-beautiful as always, Swanfrost." His voice choked out and Rowanstreak let it roll of his shoulders like rainwater. Surely, she had heard it before and there definitely was nothing wrong with complimenting a fellow Clanmate. She deserved it, after all.

Genuinely surprised that Swanfrost was willing to walk the territory with him, Rowanstreak paced his steps so that he was beside her, looking down at both their feet to match their pawsteps. Here he was, with a fellow warrior, and he was absolutely stuck on what to speak about. A fleeting glance was sent in her direction until finally, he picked up a lead for conversation, "Nights like these were made for walking. Its a shame that we're usually sleep during them." He seemed caught in his own wandering thoughts, before putting on a weary smile. Seem approachable, Rowanstreak, he mentally guided himself. Just be yourself. She's not going to hurt you.

Walking the lakeside, he looked over at the water as it drifted up to land, waving back and forth with the tide. "Can you swim?" He grazed a paw in the water which washed up, this time, purposely, splashing a bit in her direction. "Not scared of the water, are you?" Well, he couldn't swim, but maybe she could?

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[Swanfrost]

[bg=d9e9ec][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true] Swanfrost flattened her ears slightly and watched the tom as he commented on the speed one would require for rabbit chasing. “Well, I guess I wasn’t quite fast enough… so at least I’m not a WindClanner, right?” she meowed somewhat jokingly, her eyes bright and innocent with the perfect smidgen of embarrassment. There was nothing that was meant to be seductive in her manner at that time, especially since Rowanstreak was a ThunderClanner, but there was something about the brown warrior’s mannerisms that make a little light click on in Swanfrost’s mind. If there was anything the she-cat could it, it was read and manipulate cats. Other than that, she was at a loss for pretty much everything. It was not as if she led an unfulfilled life, though. Well, maybe in some sense it was, but it left the shallow she-cat perfectly content, and that was fulfillment enough for her. There was no thought in her mind of spirituality or true love or friendship or relationships or politics or the warrior code or anything. Those were for other cats who cared, in her opinion. Rowanstreak had complimented her, and so Swanfrost replied with the appropriate amount of adorable embarrassment and gratitude, as though she had never before heard those words. Those words were her lifeblood: some cats prayed to StarClan, Swanfrost got a cat to tell her how absolutely gorgeous she was. “Oh… th-thank you, Rowanstreak,”

[/color] she mumbled, being sure to stumble at just the right moment. It was so perfectly natural-sounding, too, and she silently lauded herself on how real it had come out. Some cats aimed for the perfect hunting leap, but Swanfrost, no, Swanfrost aimed for the normal and mediocre as a sign of sheer perfection in the arts of manipulation. “You, too. Or, uh, wait, no, I meant… I meant, um… you know what I meant, right?”[/color] Swanfrost smiled at the brown tom. Ah, if only he were from a different Clan. Most cats would think otherwise, would be grateful that he was in their Clan if they were attracted to him, but no, Swanfrost was quite the opposite.

Following along behind him, the pale tabby made herself focus rather than think about other silly things such as whether or not she needed to raid the medicine cat den as she had done a while back. Rowanstreak appeared to be lost in thought, pondering something. Or something. He was probably a lot deeper than she, probably thinking about the meaning of life or some mouse-dung for which she cared not at all. With a flick of her cream-ish tail tip, she noted that they had gotten very close to the lake. “I see what you mean, Rowanstreak. Maybe Wildstar can have a special little section of the Clan just for night stuff,”[/color] she mewed, grinning at him cheerfully. Whatever the heck that meant.

Swanfrost’s azure eyes washed over the gleaming surface of the lake. If she were at all worse at hiding her emotions, Rowanstreak might have been able to pick up that she did not like this area. However, Swanfrost was brilliantly able. So what, Nettlenose died in this area. It actually affected the selfish tabby a lot less than it would affect most other cats, even the very selfish ones, because she hadn’t cared for his life at all. That’s what she didn’t help save him. That, and she couldn’t swim. Glancing at the brown tom beside her, she smiled and replied, “I can’t swim, but I’m not afraid of water, at least. Are you?”[/color] She reacted as any cat would when slapped with water – she flinched slightly, but she added a giggle onto that. Being the exemplar of flawlessness, she dipped her elegant pale paw into the water and aimed a small amount in his direction, too.
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[rowanstreak - *]

He read her expression, picking up the traces of embarrassment after he had mentioned her quickness. The lighthearted tone was easily discerned in her voice and Rowanstreak couldn't help but to relax slightly. It seemed that he was doing fine in communicating with her... she didn't seem uninterested or bored. That gave him some flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, she'd be willing to hang with him some other time.

The mumbled thanks that came after with his compliment was unexpected. Had no cat told her that before? As she stumbled over her words, much like a kit would a wind-blown leaf, he listened intently, ears perked. Her reply had caught him off guard and his olive green eyes lowered towards the ground and his tongue swooped over his chest, hoping that it would distract both himself and Swanfrost from his unsteady movements. "I know what you mean," He murmured softly after another quick lick, making sure to keep his pace even with hers. "Not often that I hear things like that, but thank you anyway." Rowanstreak looked at her, meeting her gaze before shaking his head airily. Swanfrost truly was something. She seemed almost too precious, but it was adorable, tempting, and it drew Rowanstreak even further towards her. As if he knew that he had prove his worth to her, to show her that he wasn't just 'some tom', he was a warrior! He could defend her and the Cl-

"What's gotten into you!?"

He had to remind himself that they were walking alongside the lakeside. Her voice had returned him to reality and it took him a while to regain focus, her words finally ticking slowly in his mind. "That's actually a good idea. When I was training, I remember wanting to learn certain skills at night. Every battle or hunt won't be in the light of day," Her cheerfulness seemed contagious. Rowanstreak couldn't help but to chuckle quietly, affected by the she-cat's liveliness. Perhaps he needed to let loose even more, stop talking so much about training and the Clan, and just let her see what he could truly be, away from the watching eye of other cats and their opinions. The idea almost frightened him, but the thought of friendship was too warm to resist.

The gentle spray of water that had been tossed in her direction brought a flinch from the pale she-cat and the brown tom grinned almost mischievously. He feinted pawing more of the cool liquid in her direction, though paused as she asked her question. "No, it doesn't scare me, but I'm not bold enough to-"

Water had been whisked at him, droplets splattering over his whiskers and some even across his nose. He sneezed and shook his head, raising a damp paw to wipe at his maw. The wet touch only made it worse, darkening his fur as he made his face even more moist than what it was before. "What wonderful aim you have, Swanfrost." The warrior inquired gruffly, deciding that he probably looked silly with a partially wet face, dripping whiskers and soaked paws.

In retaliation, he feinted as if he was going to splash more water at her, but just as his paw was coming back down, he reached with the opposite limb in an attempt to cuff her behind the ear.

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