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My Condolences (Liontooth)
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Post by rockjaw on Jun 21, 2015 12:32:47 GMT -5
It had been nearly a moon since Rockjaw and Alaine were welcomed into the Skyclan camp. The induction had been tedious due to the distrust directed at his young companion. In the end, Mothstar had allowed the former Kittypet to stay. This pleased Rockjaw, for soon Alaine would have a proper warrior name.
Yet in his short time with the reduced Skyclan, he still could not determine who all had not returned. There were so many faces that were no longer present. Among them were his nephews. Where were Boulder and Dusk? Grim certainty filled his stomach. Though he had not asked for confirmation on the missing faces, he had felt their fate.
The greatest change of all had been Liontooth's behavior. Behind his amber eyes lay only hate, anger, and distrust. Rockjaw had not been able to speak with his brother at length, and it even seemed like the large cat had been avoiding him. Tonight, Rockjaw decided that he no longer wished to be avoided.
Green eyes approach Liontooth, a coat of silver fur alight with the setting sun. Rockjaw prowls closer, his stare intent on the shape of his littermate's head.
"Liontooth," he calls to the fellow warrior in a deep, rich voice that held such characteristic purpose, "the kill pile is low, let us go out again."
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Post by liontooth on Jun 23, 2015 18:13:46 GMT -5
Liontooth had accepted Rockjaw’s death long ago. His sooty-furred brother had never made it out of Skyclan’s former campsite when the fires raged through, much like their other siblings had perished. The anger inside of him festered over the moons as his losses increased, but truthfully—Rockjaw’s death had never been the hardest to cope with for Liontooth. Though he had always gotten along with his brother, he found himself feeling almost insulted that of all of the cats Starclan could had sent back to him, they gave him a sibling.
As much as he cared for his family, none would ever measure up to his mate and their kits.
And perhaps that was why Starclan hadn’t relinquished their hold on their spirits.
For a moon, Liontooth had skulked about with his pelt constantly prickling, his moods, which had been remarkably positive as of late, shattered and gloomy once again. Clenching his jaw, the thick muscled brute rolled from his nest and stalked down the slope towards the mouth of the den, only to feel Rockjaw’s presence edging closer. When his brother spoke, Liontooth’s paws slowed to a halt, and his eyes flicked over Rockjaw’s form.
There was no warmth inside of them. No gratitude or love for his presence. Only a bitter anger that seeped out from the marrow of his bones.
”You were never skilled with hunting—neither was I.” the buff furred tabby tom furrowed his brow, and very slowly, his ears began to fold back.
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Post by rockjaw on Jun 23, 2015 22:35:08 GMT -5
”You were never skilled with hunting—neither was I.”
Rockjaw's steps slow, and he a meter away from his brother. He could feel Liontooth's anger, and it was overwhelming. This was not the tom that he grew up with. Appalled, Rockjaw's ears flatten behind his head. A moment passes before Rockjaw composes himself and he braces against his brother's stare.
"A lot of time has passed, and my skill has only waned.." Rockjaw trails off. Suddenly, he was not so sure that he wanted to speak to his brother. His sibling's anger was not just directed at him, it was an ingrained thing that squirmed in his brain like a worm. He wonders if his brother would hear him out at this moment. With a deep breath, he lowers his tail towards his ankles.
"Liontooth, I wish to express my condolences for," Rockjaw blinks, thinking for a moment, "for your mate, Silvertooth. And for your kits, Boulderface and Duskpaw. I mourn their loss." The large gray tom shifts his green eyes away from his brother's stare, he could no more bear it than fire.
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Post by liontooth on Jun 24, 2015 10:24:41 GMT -5
His ears remained pinned back against his skull, and the fur along the brawny cat’s spine stood on end, making his tail bristle and lash back and forth. Having become a rather hot-tempered cat, the concealment of his fury was not something that Liontooth could demonstrate skilled with. At his brothers next words, the lighter furred of the two arched his neck high, rising to his paws and allowing his spine to follow suit.
”You mourn their loss?” Liontooth spat, whiskers pulled forward and quivering with barely restrained aggression, ”You who return fat and sleek of coat with your kittypet toy—“ his forepaws began to inch forward towards his brother, talon-like claws slipping free from their sheaths in quite the obvious threat.
”You’ve no right to mourn them. It wasn’t you who carried their starved bodies from the woods. You didn’t bury their corpses.” Liontooth raged. Not trusting himself if he remained in the situation, the senior warrior abruptly turned on his paws, stalking a few fox lengths away from his brother, angry grumbles freely flowing from his maw in a stream of NrrrhrrnnNnm’s and Nnrrorrrl’s.
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Post by rockjaw on Jun 24, 2015 13:12:56 GMT -5
Rockjaw remains steady under Liontooth's fury, though he shifts his weight in case he is forced to defend himself. It was true, he had returned with a certain roundness and sleekness that made him stand out from the other cats. He was beginning to feel ashamed that he had given in to the offered luxury afforded by Alaine's Two Leg.
"I do," he replies with sincerety. He did mourn their loss, even if he was not present to witness their demise. He had been too busy escaping with his life intact. Rockjaw did not know how to react to his brother's fury. He understood that Liontooth was angry, but this was beyond his understanding.
He watches as his brother stalks away. What could he say to extinguish such a fiery rage? Rockjaw does not follow Liontooth, deciding to give him space rather than push him with conversation. Slowly, the large gray cat lowers himself to his haunches to watch his enraged sibling.
"What can I say to you, Brother? Are you not relieved that someone survived? I regret that it is not Silvertooth in my place, but can you not cast aside your anger to welcome your brother?" Rockjaw's tail curls around his legs as he watches his brother, hoping that the other tom does not choose to attack him.
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Post by liontooth on Jun 24, 2015 19:10:18 GMT -5
Little throbbing pulses of red began to grow at the edge of his vision, and Liontooth dipped his chin towards his chest to try and stave off the splitting headache that he knew would be fast approaching if he didn’t find some sort of outlet for his rage. His coarse fur bristles as his sooty colored brother speaks once more, and strangely enough, for a moment, the bitter tom was silent. He wasn’t happy. He knew he should have been—he knew that many others in the clan had been more than pleased to welcome Rockjaw back into the fold, but for Liontooth… The grizzled tom curls his upper lip back as he pushed the thoughts back down where they belonged, and he turned his head just enough to look over his shoulder at Rockjaw.
”My brothers died long ago in the woods. Whoever you are and whatever you’ve returned as, it isn’t the same,” Liontooth snarled. In truth, it was Liontooth that had changed, and not for the better. Yellowed fangs remained bared as the muscled tom cat slowly turned away once again, beginning to pad off towards the entrance of the camp. He couldn’t stand to remain in it any longer—he needed to find something, anything to take his mind off of the turmoil inside of himself. He didn’t want to think about what truly bothered him. It was always so much easier to cast the blame on another force—something that he could defeat and tear from his life easily.
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Post by rockjaw on Jun 26, 2015 17:09:50 GMT -5
”My brothers died long ago in the woods. Whoever you are and whatever you’ve returned as, it isn’t the same,” Lionfang’s snarl disturbed more than the calm of the fading light. Rockjaw’s eyes widen with indignation, and he lunged to his paws to lope after Liontooth.
Fortunately, Rockjaw had managed to compose himself by the time he reached his brother. “You are wrong. It is you that is not the same. You are so angry now,” Rockjaw swallowed an anxious yowl, “you used to be simply hardened and reserved, as your training taught you. You have a harshness in your gaze, like a dog’s tooth.”
The large smoky tom circled around towards his brother’s front to address him. “Whatever you think, I can assure you that I am your brother. I survived that fire, and I am here now. I am still your brother, and nothing can take that away,” Rockjaw tensed under the inevitable rebuke that was to come, “not fire, not time, not Two Legs.”
Rockjaw barely managed to resist the compelling need to lash his tail, a mistake that would have been damning. His brother’s fury seemed to be inescapable. He felt unprepared for such volatile vitriol.
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Post by liontooth on Jun 30, 2015 21:27:05 GMT -5
The deep, red pulses that crept in from the edges of his vision were almost blinding at this point, and the more that Rockjaw spoke to him, the more it only seemed to provoke the other brute. Bristling furiously, the lighter furred of the two kept trying to make his way around his littermate so that he could leave the clan’s camp—but when Rockjaw positioned himself in front of Liontooth, the ginger furred tom halted, staring steadily at him with an eerie sort of stillness. All the while, the beginnings of an angry growl rumbled in the back of his throat, accusing eyes staring out past Rockjaw; not even settling on him.
And when the other tom finished speaking—it seemed as though something snapped inside of Liontooth. Abruptly, his eyes focused on the darker furred cat, and Liontooth lunged forward, swiping his forepaws at Rockjaw’s face and shoulders, claws extended. With too much of his weight behind the movement, the senior warrior can’t stop himself as he follows through.
The remaining bit of his sanity forces him to gnash his teeth rather than try and sink them into his brother’s flesh. He hated him in that moment. He hated him like he hated everything else, and it made it so much easier knowing that Rockjaw might meet his end (again). Without a word in response, the volatile male surged past him and out through the cave’s entrance, slipping away into their new territory to lose himself inside of it.
Liontooth has left the scene and can no longer be interacted with (post leaving den entrance, anything prior is ok, assume he ignores it and keeps going).
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Post by rockjaw on Jul 4, 2015 15:58:08 GMT -5
Rockjaw was taken completely off guard by his brother’s sudden violence, and was unable to resist the keen claws that hooked into his skin with audible pops. He made no effort to retaliate, instead choosing to suffer the pain in silence as his tail lashed behind him. Rockjaw stiffened as Liontooth prowled past him in the direction of the camp.
For several moments, Rockjaw remained stunned. His brother had just attacked him in a moment of unbridled violence, and it had disturbed him on a deep level. The brother he knew would never have attacked him. Still, the other tom was still his littermate. A bond between littermates was unbreakable.
The senior warrior returned to the camp feeling thoughtful. His reflexes were not what they used to be, and he needed to sharpen his hunting skills. In order to learn his new brother, he thought, he would pursue perfection of his skills in order to gain his attention. Rockjaw headed to the warrior’s den with his pained winces concealed.
Rockjaw groomed his wounds, resigned to the fact that his brother would ignore him for the rest of the night. As he curled himself around Alaine, a bargain reached after he declined her offer to clean his wounds, he planned his next opportunity to interact with Liontooth.
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