No Pressure [Open]

[» Sacrifice]

He was sick of it. Pure and simple; he was sick of it. He was sick of the glares, sick of the glances, sick of the flinching every time someone met his mercury gaze, and sick of the rumors that always seemed to be about him. He had come here to help himself and his family, and in turn, also help these idiotic clan cats. But oh no, as soon as he came into camp, everyone had stared at him. It had been right about then that he had known that this was a bad idea. Even though DuskClan hadn’t been part of the battle with Renegade, they all still judged him. They all still acted as though he was nothing but his father’s messenger, his father’s little spy. How could he ever explain that he hated his father with a vengeance, after what he had done to his mother and siblings. How he was itching to destroy the great tom, how he would if that didn’t mean getting destroyed himself in the process, or having to destroy one of his siblings. Oh, but if he told them that, they wouldn’t think he was telling the truth; they’d think it was nothing but a ruse, a bid to get them to trust him.

Maybe a little trust would be nice. It’d give him a reason to actually want to follow the clans. This treatment though, this was not going to go over all too well. In fact, it was pushing him toward the loners; he’d be there already if he wasn’t afraid that his father would find him. Or one of his father’s little servants would, that was possible. So, he was stuck here, watching as his moons passed in misery. Claws tearing into the earth, the small black and white tom’s tail lashed viciously; he could be as free as he wanted here. There was nobody out here, not in the middle of the night. Just because he hated his father, it didn’t mean he hadn’t inherited a few things. Intelligence, the ability to see what most missed, it was a handy tool when it came to escaping out into the night, when everyone else was asleep. Though, it wasn’t helping the rumors, he bet. Well, then that was just too bad, he was sick of trying to play the perfect little clan cat. He just couldn’t take much more of this; someone or something was going to break sometime. There was just too much pressure.

Taking a deep breath, the tom’s gaze narrowed, and he jumped from the hill he was on, trotting down into the forest. He was a smaller then average cat, the runt of the litter; maybe that was why he couldn’t leave. He knew of safety in numbers, and the thought of not dying was really, really appealing. Maybe he could go elsewhere though, to a place where everyone didn’t glare at him as he passed. But where would that be? CresentClan and PewterClan were off limits; he’d receive even more hate there, so it seemed as though MapleClan would be the best place for him. But would he fit in there? DuskClan was home to all the shadowy cats, all the ones who were supposedly darker than the rest. He had thought that the choice had been correct; that he would if anywhere, be accepted. It seemed as the clans weren’t all forgive you for doing nothing as he had once thought they were. How naïve he had been, thinking he would be able to get along, to interact with the clans. To think he would be able to actually have something similar to a family; one that wasn’t all messed up.

There was suddenly a cracking noise behind him. Whirling, eyes growing wide as he stared out into the darkness, he watched as things went lighter, making out shapes in the darkness. Shapes, but not faces. Not that he could name all the names to the faces, of course.
”Who is it?” In contrast to his bitter and angry expression, Ratfang’s tone was actually light, airy almost. Dangerous. No, not yet, that would come as soon as he found out if they were hostile, or friendly. Friendly, hah! Ok then, forget the last part, and he wasn’t going to think not wishing for his death, because who knows, maybe someone was wishing for his death even in the clan. Maybe a lot of cats, he thought with a mental shrug. Big deal, as long as he was with the clans, they couldn’t touch him. And if they valued their code; they couldn’t kill him either.

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[Marrowbone]

The shape of a cat-- A cat's body-- came closer to the young warrior, gliding on monochrome legs. Its eyes opened, pale and milky and with an ethereal glow, showing that its head blended in with the scenery but was indeed attached. It was obvious that this cat wasn't from DuskClan, and the smell on her fur was similar to that of the Circuits'. Her snout was longer than typical cats, giving a canine-like look to her jet black head that contrasted the rest of her yellow fur, scattered with strange and foreign markings. She was Runereader, a loner that never seemed to appear to anyone for long.
Pale eyes surveying Ratfang, she made no further moves after halting several fox-lengths away from him. He was a cat distressed, alienated, saddened, and likely one that wouldn't admit any of this. And feelings like that tended to make her appear.
"You are troubled, son of Renegade?"
She asked, voice deep and as unusual as her appearance, and her eyes unblinking. Runereader didn't need an introduction to know who he was; the subtle clues of his appearance, scent and feelings were enough to be certain of it. She wasn't a Circuit, but there was certainly something odd about the rune-furred cat.

((Roleplay + Plot development for comic 2-for-1, yaaay. You'll see what I mean eventually.))

[» Sacrifice]

Mercury eyes watched the stranger, wariness flashing deep within their depths, but as the scent of the cat came to him, and as he comprehended that it was not of clan, more so of Circuits, there was a faint relaxation of a sort in the tom. It was not a pure circuit scent; but it wasn’t laced with the rogue as much as it was Circuit. And the lack of Clan cat made him nearly giddy in excitement, though nothing was revealed under his cool gaze. There was something about the she cat that told him she would be able to feel his relief anyway though; something that didn’t bother him all too much. It wasn’t as though it was giving away…crucial secrets or something. Not that he had anything to spill, that would have required him being trusted, and –obviously—he was high on the list of cats to be trusted. Head cocking slightly, Ratfang stared at the other cat for a couple moments, assessing how much of a threat she would be if he happened to have to fight her. Living on the edge had taught him to evaluate possible opponents, and if they showed only the slightest touch of possible hostility, to never take your eyes off of them, or risk a back attack.

But, no, so far, the she cat, Runereader if he had to guess from her markings, hadn’t seemed to be overly hostile. In fact, she was the only one who had seemed even the slightest bit sensible to his mood; how interesting. Everyone else seemed almost as though they were swarming him, seeing how uncomfortable they could get him, how close they could get before he finally snapped and clawed someone’s face off, a sure way to get him booted from the clans as any. Maybe it was a conspiracy. Looking at the odd pelted cat, Ratfang shrugged slightly; a soft movement in the darkness he had hidden himself within. The white of his pelt gave him away; something that he would never really be able to hide. Hiding though, and then attacking, it was a weak way to attack. It was best to face your opponent head on, and with his small size, lull them into thinking he would be an easy one to defeat, it was only then you could really enjoy whipping them into submission, into defeat. Just a little hobby of his, you know.

“I suppose you could say so. I come to the clans, seeking an acceptance, but not quite, and instead, I get treated as though I am nothing more than mere dirt under their paws. Being not only a rogue, but also a son of Renegade, it makes them fear me, see me as evil, as a spy for my father. Show them how much they really know. But, I can’t leave and face the wrath of Renegade for it; he knows not where I have hidden, and I choose to keep it that way. I am, with a lack for a better word, stuck in this place.” Ratfang said softly, voice only laced with his anger, but it wasn’t an angry anger, it was one that was almost as silent as his words, one that would be very hard to pick out of his words. Of course, the other probably would have no problem with it, Ratfang thought absently. There had always been something about the Circuits, and even those who were not full Circuits if that was indeed the case, that seemed to make them have the ability to read behind the words. Or maybe his mind was just fogged up from the lack of sleep; anything was possible after all.

“But what brings you here? It is rare for one to see the cat with the foreign marks on her pelt; though I hear you were with the rogues as a healer in the last battle. Let me correct myself; it is rare for a cat that lives with the clans to see the cat with the marks.” Ratfang’s tone was simple, a shrug really, as though he was simply asking because he didn’t want to dwell too much upon himself; true enough. But, some part of him was also curious. He had avoided naming the other cat, names had power, and he didn’t want to have to deal with that. If she chose to remain anonymous, it was all good with him; after all, that was what he was planning to do really. Not that it wouldn’t be too hard to find his clan name; it was his true name that was a different matter.

[Took me a moment to find what she asked. xD And yay for multitasking!]

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