Weather(open)

[Flyingleaf]

(no one's posted here in a while so..)

Flyingleaf trotted to the camp with a vole and a mouse in her mouth. Things were finally looking up for Treeclan with rumors of rats in Deathclan. As she walked she heard a noise in the distance. She looked up and perked her ears. It sounded like a huge stampede of cats. Had deathclan returned to kill them all? Was it just her or was it getting darker? Heart pounding, she dropped the fresh kill and unsheathed her claws. The sound was getting louder...
And Flyingleaf was soaked. It was rain, not an ambush. She groaned, picked up the dead rodents, and streaked into camp and the warriors den. There went her good mood, and her food. She dropped her burden with a splat on the ground. They were disgustingly wet now, and in the muggy weather they'd be rotten by sunset.

"Anyone want a soggy mouse?" she called into the darkening gloom of the warriors den. The rain pounded on the ground as loud as if it was rocks instead of water.

[Jollyberry]

"I'll take one," Bell offered with a pleasant flick of his tail. He wasn't a fan of this place called the 'warrior's den', but there hadn't really been any other place for him to find a roost out of the rain. With contempt he was busy licking at his short fur, tail-tip twitching every now and then to get rid of a droplet of water. He'd expected company from other like-minded felines avoiding the pour, though hadn't been looking forward to it. Treeclan had been quiet and easy to take care of, which bored and pleased him, but still.

He hadn't expected things to get so lazy that Holly would turn into a clan-cat himself. No, scratch that, he knew it was going to happen. He'd never trusted the tom. And to have kits with a queen? The utter fool. He might as well just set up shop and stay. "Who might you be, pretty kitty?"

[Flyingleaf]

Even through the dampness, Flyingleaf could smell the vile scent of deathclan from the dripping cat who had appeared at the den entrance. Her fur would have raised on end if it weren't plastered to her body. She promptly shook it out, hoping some water would get in his eyes, then licked down her chest fur with a cold air.

Pretty kitty? The nerve of him! she thought, although the tone of his voice may have just been a figment of her presently hate-filled imagination. In any other circumstance she would have torn him to shreds, but how strong deathclan really was was unknown to her, and she wasn't going to take a chance. Her throat tightened, as if swallowing her pride required physical action, and she flicked her tail in indication that he could take the mouse.

[Jollyberry]

Bell lowered his head to hide a chuckle. Just because the clan cat's disdain was clear didn't mean his amusement had to be as well. Even so, he accepted the invitation the mouse graciously. Stretching out a small paw he drew the soggy creature closer, gazing at it with a critical eye before sighing in disappointment. "I don't want to say I ate better meals in Deathclan, but this is kind of pathetic," the ginger tuxedo offered.

Lowering his head, he began silently lapping at the wet fur of the mouse, driving the fur backwards in an attempt to dry it. The taste wasn't particularly delightful, but he reasoned it away with the knowledge that it would all end up in his stomach one way or another. In the very least he didn't want to be eating an entirely waterlogged mouse. When it was dried to his satisfaction, Bell raised his head and crossed his front paws neatly.

"Do you have a name, clan cat?"

[Flyingleaf]

Flyingleaf used the tom's comment to fuel her dislike for him, but the truth was, maintaining the stubborn hostility was already a little tiring and she couldn't help but notice he was trying to be friendly(more or less). He began making introductions. What made him think she would want to achieve any level a familiarity with him? He was a member of a kit-kidnapping clan. Nonetheless, she had to remain mature.

"Flyingleaf," she said curtly, then with some difficulty: "and yours?" With that overcome, the calico began intently flicking water of the mole's back with a paw. She wasn't planning to eat it, but give it away to a more worthy cat. It was partially self-punishment for not being at the actual battle with deathclan.

[Jollyberry]

Bell was warring between intentionally hostile and merely his usual, socially inappropriate self. It seemed he'd balanced the two fairly well so far, and he wasn't in Treeclan to make friends. Holly had completely erased the line between peasant and rulers, that meant that more than ever Bell had to keep up his stance. Perhaps dealing with the crabby she-cat could be a step towards that. Holly had failed so he couldn't.

"I'm surprised my name isn't flying around at the top of your clanmate's hit-lists," Bell chuckled. "My name is Bell, if it's of any importance to you."

[Flyingleaf]

Bell? Flyingleaf almost laughed. Wasn't a bell one of those twoleg things that were on collars and made high-pitched noises? She could more easily imagine the name going to a kit than this self centered tom. The she-cat found that the corners of her mouth were curved up slightly. She bent her head over the vole and rubbed at its pelt with increased concentration.

"Maybe I haven't heard your name because it would sound too ridiculous on a hit list," she dared to mutter. She had never made it a habit to tease cats and was strangely satisfied with her clumsy insult.
Finding that she had control over her facial muscles again, Flyingleaf gestured to the mouse and hurriedly said, "You going to eat that?"

[Jollyberry]

Bell's ears twitched, and he raised his head to watch the she-cat who had so quickly bowed her head to her work. So much like a servant bowed its head to the master. Yes, he quite liked that, and would stay by the analogy. If he had to place an educated guess, her sudden interest in the prey was a reaction to his name. It amused her. That conclusion made Bell smile. Only those that didn't know what his name truly meant laughed at it, though since he'd never before spoken with Flyingleaf, perhaps he could turn his head at the error this once. She was after all, a creature of lesser intelligence.

He waited, perhaps for her to bring up the issue of his title, but instead when she spoke she referred to his mouth. "I'm thinking about it," he informed her truthfully, pulling the creature closer. He spent time unsheathing and resheathing his claws, digging them into the mouse then extracting them, for boredoms sake. "I didn't take you for the caring type. Would you be sad if a woeful creature such as myself happened to die from starvation?"

[Flyingleaf]

Flyingleaf watched Bell toy with the dead rodent before him. Hadn't his parents taught him not to play with his food? "No, they probably didn't," she realized with the slightest possible shade of pity.
Looking down at the vole, she saw that it had fared her grooming badly and now only had three quarters of its coat remaining, and it looked rather squished. Perhaps it would be more of an insult than a gift if given to another warrior. The sound of the rain told her that she wouldn't be making up for the wasted food any time soon, nor would she be able to escape this situation. A sigh nearly escaped her, but she held it back. At least he hadn't heard her comment. In hindsight, it probably would have led the conversation onto an uncomfortable path.

Bell's next comment brought forth a monotonic reply of "Oh, I'd be heartbroken." She inadvertently began pondering the effect a death, even that of Bell, would have on her, realizing she had never experienced it before. What if it was a friend?
The calico snapped back to attention. Her mind often wandered, but she couldn't let it now. Trying to cover up her mistake, she bit into the vole. Her nose crinkled unconsciously as the slippery, stale hide met her tongue. Bell was already condescending, with a stupid slip like this he'd be absolutely unbearable. She set her face and gulped, trying not to appear too disturbed.
(How old is Bell supposed to be?)