Post by » Sacrifice on Jan 16, 2009 19:12:06 GMT -5
A dark form was just visible as the darkness started to grow light, only the bright eyes indicating who, and what he was. There were several names for this cat, some well known, a few unknown to all but the ones who gave them to him. If anything, there was a darkness that was differant from all in this onyx pelted tom. Once maybe, when times had been oh so familiar to him, everything just a routine, there could have been some saving him from the darkness. Not the darkness like Renegade, the darkness of a soul. But now. Now that light at the end of the tunnel was too far to reach, and only got further away as the days rolled on. The only thing that changed was the tom himself. There was a new air around him, and fresh scars criss crossed over his pure black pelt, an statment of what he had done, and was not afraid to do. There was no reason to fear him, unless you angered him that was. That didn't happen often, although that didn't mean he liked you. This tom didn't like anyone really. Not anymore.
Zane. That was the most common name he was known by, and the only real name he had ever kept with him. It was who he was, and it fitted the anti-social yet powerful tom. Strong muscles rippled through his pelt as he shifted out of the sun's blinding glare as it momentarily sparked off the gold in his eyes. A hardness was in them, reflecting only what you felt. A mask of steel, hardened by love and loss. Once there had been one who had broken through it. That was a long time ago though, and the past healed what he had felt. At least, on the outside. A cold heart helped him do what he did, and no remorse was a great thing in this life. Renegade had taken over PewterClan. That much the onyx tom had predicted, upon having listen to plans unseen in the shadows. The 'warriors' as they called themselves, hadn't even put up a good fight to the rogues, and easily had been beating. And then with that 'leader' of theirs running, that had made only for more chaos with the cats who seemed to set that they could only follow that cat. Only the few that had stayed showed they had the roots to live on their own.
One would wonder what side this tom is on. He spoke with that 'leader' and obviously made plans. Yet, it was obvious in the hard expression in his eyes even as he had watched the clan cats flee, that he felt nothing for them. It was the same for the rogues, he felt nothing for them either. It was not his job in order to help them, aside from when he was needed. There was a reason they had all broken off from Clans. They didn't need a leader. They just needed to live life as they thought. That was something he was more then happy to help them with. It was rare, if it even happened, to see another cat around Zane for more then a couple moments. Maybe it was the cold manner, or the cold gaze that seemed to drive them off. Respect though, that much was clear from most cats. After all, what was one if you didn't have respect? The scars were not for looks. There was only one goal this cold onyx tom had, one that he would get, or die trying to get. There was no stopping him now, and there was no other way he would be differed from this path which he felt was right for him. Maybe he would meet his end, but why fear death? No. He had fought too many times to even fear the very thought of it. Maybe it was a blessing to some, and many feared it, but Zane felt the same to death as he felt about everything else; he didn't care. If death was to take him, well then that would happen. If not, then it wouldn't. There was no need to agonize over what could happen, when there was only two options for him. Win, or die. So simple to see.
Without a sound, the tom turned from the light, blending in with the inky shadows cast by the ledges in the rock, and seemed to just fade away. Only his great golden orbs were what showed him as being there. And even that was just if you payed attention. The shadows were a friend to all who chose to use them. Zane was well practice with this, and the only indication he had been there, were the oval pawprints that were slightly scuffed in the loose dirt on the ledge. Settling back into the shadows, Zane watched.
Zane. That was the most common name he was known by, and the only real name he had ever kept with him. It was who he was, and it fitted the anti-social yet powerful tom. Strong muscles rippled through his pelt as he shifted out of the sun's blinding glare as it momentarily sparked off the gold in his eyes. A hardness was in them, reflecting only what you felt. A mask of steel, hardened by love and loss. Once there had been one who had broken through it. That was a long time ago though, and the past healed what he had felt. At least, on the outside. A cold heart helped him do what he did, and no remorse was a great thing in this life. Renegade had taken over PewterClan. That much the onyx tom had predicted, upon having listen to plans unseen in the shadows. The 'warriors' as they called themselves, hadn't even put up a good fight to the rogues, and easily had been beating. And then with that 'leader' of theirs running, that had made only for more chaos with the cats who seemed to set that they could only follow that cat. Only the few that had stayed showed they had the roots to live on their own.
One would wonder what side this tom is on. He spoke with that 'leader' and obviously made plans. Yet, it was obvious in the hard expression in his eyes even as he had watched the clan cats flee, that he felt nothing for them. It was the same for the rogues, he felt nothing for them either. It was not his job in order to help them, aside from when he was needed. There was a reason they had all broken off from Clans. They didn't need a leader. They just needed to live life as they thought. That was something he was more then happy to help them with. It was rare, if it even happened, to see another cat around Zane for more then a couple moments. Maybe it was the cold manner, or the cold gaze that seemed to drive them off. Respect though, that much was clear from most cats. After all, what was one if you didn't have respect? The scars were not for looks. There was only one goal this cold onyx tom had, one that he would get, or die trying to get. There was no stopping him now, and there was no other way he would be differed from this path which he felt was right for him. Maybe he would meet his end, but why fear death? No. He had fought too many times to even fear the very thought of it. Maybe it was a blessing to some, and many feared it, but Zane felt the same to death as he felt about everything else; he didn't care. If death was to take him, well then that would happen. If not, then it wouldn't. There was no need to agonize over what could happen, when there was only two options for him. Win, or die. So simple to see.
Without a sound, the tom turned from the light, blending in with the inky shadows cast by the ledges in the rock, and seemed to just fade away. Only his great golden orbs were what showed him as being there. And even that was just if you payed attention. The shadows were a friend to all who chose to use them. Zane was well practice with this, and the only indication he had been there, were the oval pawprints that were slightly scuffed in the loose dirt on the ledge. Settling back into the shadows, Zane watched.
