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Post by Deleted on May 31, 2018 23:35:51 GMT -5
 Name DeNiro | Association Rogue | Gender Male | Sexuality Bisexual |
IF IT FEELS GOOD, TASTES GOOD
IT MUST BE MINE
HEROES ALWAYS GET REMEMBERED
BUT YOU KNOW LEGENDS NEVER DIE Darkness. Cold. Frigid cold. Aching bones. Cracking joints. Terror to the last degree. But to continue on? Yes. It had to be done. If he were to stop now, he feared he may freeze in place. His heavy paws already unable to be felt. His eyes glossed over and watery but whenever they would blink, it was an unimaginable pain of sand scraping on glass marbles. Snow weighed down the already light colored pelt and it did no good to try to shake it off. Within minutes, it would have already built back up on his fur.
It hurt. Somewhere deep inside he could feel a tugging that he continued to ignore. It was deep and sharp throughout his body and with each passingg step, he knew that it would only get worse. But alas, he continued to ignore it. Whatever it was, it could wait. Wait until when? Who knew. He sure as hell didn’t. But for some reason, that helped him carry on. For it gave him the slight idea that he would survive. That he could carry on and make it through. Although he was young still, he had walked many lives already. Clan born but truly dark inside his soul, he was a rogue through and through. And that’s exactly what rogues were to do. Survive.
A familiar scent tickled his whiskers that had flattened and froze to his face and without lifting his head to gaze forward, he already knew what it was coming from.
“So, alas we arrive at a crossing yet again. It seems as thought I just can’t shake you. Are you the snow on my pelt that clings to me and saps the warmth and joy from life itself?” His dreary, deep voice held a hiss to it as he spoke and his heavy lidded eyes only lifted for a moment to catch the glimpse of the tom he stood before. “My, my Direstraight. You seem to be a little worse for wear.” He let out a chuckle that turned into a hiss as he began to cough, spitting a clot of rust colored blood from between his jaws. “But then again, with a leafbare like this, I fully imagine that no cats are doing,” he paused and spat another clot out before saying, “or looking better than you are anyways. I know that I am faring to the lesser side of good right now. Although I fear the worst has yet to come.”
His voice slithered through the heavy flakes that fell from above and he looked at the other rogue again. He thought for a moment that maybe, just maybe, he was going insane trying to fight out this winter storm that had been dragging on for over a moon now but then he realized that if anything, he was probably one of the few lucky ones left standing and to try to survive this weather, he most likely had to be insane.
For a sane cat would have given themselves to the devil by now just so they would suffer no longer.
ISHY of THQ & ADOXOGRAPHY |
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Post by Deleted on Jun 1, 2018 15:25:24 GMT -5
| Is it better to be feared or respected is it too much to ask for both? tagged |
Even a thick coat as his would not keep out the dangers of the open wind and cold snow that forever fell on the streets. His paws ached at the constant numb feeling of cold each time he stepped forth to hunt. Ears pricked and on the alert as always due to the snow muffling his senses more than usual. He let out a frustrated growl, nose twitching for any scent, or anything at all. His white paws did little to mark out his path, steps covered again so smoothly it was almost untraceable.
He knew this city to its core, yet this winter, the skies had not been kind. The only decent thing out of this harsh winter was the lacking of the twolegs. Anything else good was a bonus. He kept fed by the rubbish and leftovers left by both human and cat alike; definitely not the most nutritious diet he'd been on. His tabby coat was thick, thankfully and kept some warmth in, however it hung loosely on his thinning frame, as though wearing a coat two sizes too big.
His blue eyes flashed upon the arrival of a newcomer. Not new to him of course. His ears pricked up once more, striding over at a leisurely pace.
"Such poetry, dear boy. Glad to see you haven't lost the perks of humour in these dark days," he purred, the sound lost to the wind as he strode closer. Eyes strained against the harsh white background as he glanced over the other tom.
"Harsh comments from the blood spitter. I'd have to say I look better than you in this case, " he choked on a laugh, his humour pitiful at this time.
He sat briefly beside the other tom, his back end practically numb from the second he sat. His jaws parted, blowing out a breath of warm air before he looked back at the pale tom.
"The only worse yet to come is surviving this dreary winter. I'm ready to go whenever, death may come as he pleases," Direstrait's voice sounded strained yet strong words still echoed in the wind.
"I'd say be glad you got this far, but I'd rather go further. I've heard there's some wee clan cats camping in our city.." His claws flexed into the snow and he bared his teeth in a smirk, purring out his words with a deadly glare.
"Care to join me in taking the lambs to slaughter? Might as well go down fighting."
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Post by Deleted on Jun 4, 2018 9:13:21 GMT -5
Name DeNiro | Association Rogue | Gender Male | Sexuality Bisexual |
IF IT FEELS GOOD, TASTES GOOD
IT MUST BE MINE
HEROES ALWAYS GET REMEMBERED
BUT YOU KNOW LEGENDS NEVER DIE The cream patterned tom smiled slyly as he stared on towards the other rogue that was seated in front of him. Lifting his front left paw, he shook it slowly to try to regain some feeling. There were crimson splatters mixed in with the snow where his paw had been placed and he could feel the cracks in his paw pad where new, warm blood was beginning to collect.
"Blood spitter?" His ears lay back against his skull and he hissed a chuckle out. "I do suppose you are correct. That would be the main reason that I have insisted on keeping my humour wildly inappropriate when given what is happening with the weather's current state. It seems to be one of the only things that has kept me going." His tongue slipped out for a mere second to lick a dribble of blood from his bottom lip and he had the appearance of a slithering reptile for the time being.
His single, sharp blue eye gazed harshly into Direstraight and he hissed out, "Death, her lovely majesty, may not yet have the pleasure of receiving my frozen body until I am good and ready to deliver myself directly to her doorstep. She hath not be worthy of my soulless cocoon of fur until I myself allow her to take it from me." His fur along his shoulders bristled and he bit back words of poets that had come before him. For DeNiro had a sure, steady way with his words and he knew this quite well. He always spoke his mind but for many cats, it was too true and too deep for their naive minds.
But alas, he knew that the rogue tom seated before him fully understood the way he spoke his mind for they had known each other long enough, back when times like this would simply be spat upon by the murderers that had filled their pasts.
DeNiro felt the cold seep into his bones as a harsh wind blew through the alley way that the toms were seated in and his smirk dripped off of his lips and he coughed slightly before spitting a clot out again.
"I do believe that these clan cats are over their heads with their decision to come in to our city territories. Then again, I have heard the saying that what one doesn't know won't hurt them." His smirk was back yet again and this time it grew wider and a glint of something dangerous formed in his beady blue eye. "I do believe, my dear Direstraight, that whoever came up with that saying, had yet to encounter us." ISHY of THQ & ADOXOGRAPHY |
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Post by Deleted on Jun 4, 2018 11:54:06 GMT -5
| Is it better to be feared or respected is it too much to ask for both? tagged |
Direstrait scowled at the tom's appearance, no doubt worsened by the slimy blood trickling from him. He let out a low grumble, flattening his ears.
"You look a wreck, boy. How do you expect to survive if you grovel and spit all the time?" he questioned the other rogue, tail lashing in the snow. He had grown slightly more accustomed to the harsh weather, his thick tabby coat protecting his core.
"Stop whining about your pain and look like a proper warrior of the city, not those grovelling fools of the Clans. Like the ones who run the city, not those who die in it!" Dire spat at him, anger boiling in his veins. Although it was not anger that fueled him; more the fear of losing one of his only companions to the ice that had taken so many from him already. He had been ready to give up, hence his earlier words. He bit back more harsh words, staring down the other tom. He would not lose this one.
He did not cower when the other hissed, only met his stare with an emotion somewhat of relief. He wasn't giving up, thankfully. The dark tabby let out a somewhat broken purr, rolling his shoulders back.
"Such poetry, dear boy. One might have thought you'd join a society had the weather not killed them off."
He let a sly smile creep on to his face at DeNiro's next words, his tail curling in delight.
"Indeed they hadn't, DeNiro." He purred the other tom's name, letting out a deep chuckle and flexing his claws.
"Let's show them how we party," Direstrait growled, blue eyes flashing in the gloom of the ice.
"Any ideas where to start? I know they'll be weak anywhere we hit them, but where's the most fun at?"
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Post by Deleted on Jun 4, 2018 12:40:41 GMT -5
Name DeNiro | Association Rogue | Gender Male | Sexuality Bisexual |
IF IT FEELS GOOD, TASTES GOOD
IT MUST BE MINE
HEROES ALWAYS GET REMEMBERED
BUT YOU KNOW LEGENDS NEVER DIE "Pain? Grovel!?," the tom's voice yowled out the words. "You think I dare pity myself in such a way? No, my dear. I do no such thing. You know yourself that I am better than those clan cats. You know what I have done to those clan cats. You think for one second I would even imagine myself on their level? Fools! Fools, all of them! That is what those felines are!"
A bitter look contorted his face and he scowled a mighty look of defiance about the topic of the clans. DeNiro was better than this. Why did he dare show any sign of weakness? Yes, the weather was getting to his bones, but alas, it could not drip its way into his soul. For he had no soul to let it take. The cold was something he had grown accustomed to inside his pelt so now it was by far time to grow accustomed to the cold outside and surrounding his pelt.
"A society? What a funny thing to say considering the last society I was part of was full of vile murderers." His smirk was full fledged now across his face and his jaws parted to reveal sharp, ivory teeth. "A society of poets would not be able to comprehend the amount of pain and seething that goes into my words. For poets are soft shells of a soul, that which of creatures would perish in this frost. Me? No, us. We are better than those creatures. For out bodies and souls are hardened, shelled out, not full of the same soft hearts that other felines, such as those clan cats carry."
His single blue eye watched Direstraight carefully and he chuckled at the toms words. No longer did he feel the heavy weight of his clotted throat or his dry lungs. He felt a new sense of power ease into his muscles. These two rogues, connected by something far darker and more harsh than the cats of the clans had ever experienced, would raise up the depths of hell's fire into this new frozen wasteland that was once a city that thrived with stray life.
"Oh my dear Direstraight," he purred out, "you have read my mind. I do believe those bitches don't even know what shall be arriving right into their home. Why not start right here? You said that there was rumors of those whores of WindClan living astray in our very own streets? Why not pay them a visit?"
His voice was that of a snake, low and full of elongation of his s's, and his smile held something far darker than happiness.
Let hell be put onto this hallowed earth and fuck those who haven't accepted their sins.
ISHY of THQ & ADOXOGRAPHY |
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Post by Deleted on Jun 4, 2018 13:10:55 GMT -5
| Is it better to be feared or respected is it too much to ask for both? tagged |
The dark tabby flattened his ears, letting out a mild hiss at the tom's yowl.
"Cease your chatter boy, unless you want us hunted by those who are leftover," his eyes flashed with little emotion, some flickers of anger and fear in his blue orbs. His tail lashed with annoyance and he shook the next drops of snow off his shoulders.
His jaws crept open into an awful smirk at the mention of society of murderers, his tail curling with delight. Ah the good old days.
"You speak much boy, but little do I listen. I can't stand poetry, except from the mouth of yours, cruel brethren. And yet you say the most awful things, I do love it," his voice was a deep purr, the smirk lingering before he clambered to his paws.
"Then let us go seek the filth that lingers in our city. Sweep them away into floods of blood. Only then will our hunger be satisfied during this dreadful freeze," he spat the words, shaking once more.
His first pawsteps from his seated position made him shudder, the cold seeping through his pads. Dire flicked a tabby tail towards his companion and he strode away, slinking through the alleyways. He enjoyed the warmth of his coat, yet disliked the colour. He envied the pale colours of DeNiro, almost perfect for sneak attacks in this weather.
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