Primal Instinct

Elizabeth might just prove herself useful to Bermondsey, for it was she who had notified him first. He knew she didn't like wasting her talents like this, but the she-cat was a good listener. He had to admit that there certainly were uses for her. The warden had assigned her to be his eyes and ears, and the moment he had heard of the conflict between NightClan and SummerClan, he had immediately told her to go out and scout the damn place, just to see what the threats were.

All of this could've been a cold, calm sort of meeting, except they made one mistake the moment they even thought of touching his kits. Surely, he still had doubts about them. He never said he wanted kits, and even now, he had a thousand different contingency plans in place in case they truly did fall to the curse, but as with his family, there was only one rule. Only they could mess with each other; if anyone else dared to try, his paws would be redder than the pelt of his mother's if they did, his heart blacker than their eyes when he was through with them.

He'd deny it if anyone asked like Peter, three times before the rooster's crow, yet it was clear as day that he wasn't the type to just accept anyone into what he considered family, and the fact that his icy demeanor held the faintest of a snarl upon his lips was proof of it by now. Those who had hurt Eshek better pray to the god they had always denied; for they hadn't met him yet but surely they would.

"They're here," he spoke to the nemesis as they stood in wait, their forces already finding their way in the forest, all but sihouettes and gleaming red eyes, shifting ferns and lowly hisses.

The faint twitch of his ear reflected his impatience, already waiting where their little troop was waiting. Surely the tom didn't look like much, far from the regal graces Regulus brought with him, but there was a glint of the madness that lie within, the icy rage that flowed in his veins. He was a cat who feared nothing, who had nothing to lose when it came to what he desired. He had no patience to listen to what this fool of a leader thought she had left to say.

They were an unmitigated risk and had Regulus not been there to stop him, he'd have already eliminated them.

NightClan

Moon, unbeknownst to Sage, was actually doing a perimeter check first. What an interesting territory these Primal Instinct cats have! 

Larkspur glanced warily around the new surroundings, the unfamiliar scents drifting into her nose. It took all of her self-control to keep her face calm and neutral, the last thing she wanted to do was set off Aspenstar that she didn't trust the area. Of course, she didn't trust this mission either, but she was surprised when the leader had offered her a spot. Especially after their... fallout a few nights prior. She was relieved, yet suspicious that she was here, and she couldn't help feeling as though this were a test.

The feminine keeps to the back of the pack, blue eyes searching in case of any attack. Her main priority was Sagebristle. The last thing she wanted was anything to happen to the youngest of the Loyal Guard.

no ! bad audrey!

I DO WHAT I WANT!!!!

Primal Instinct
Bermondsey hated to admit it, but the last couple of days had been a whirlwind. He often prided himself in his lack of emotions, or at least, the control he had over them. Temperance, he would call it the way his father did. It was all about patience, about purpose. One didn't lack drive when they chose not to act; instead, they were simply biding their time to act when the time was right. A trained chef could hear the moment the oil was hot enough to create a perfect sear, and in that way, Bermondsey had taken his words to heart. Patience was a virtue and the fixed neutrality he stood upon held strong like a lighthouse upon rocks.

Still, the moment she had returned to his side, tragedy and fear written upon her face so tearfully, it had stirred a rage within him. Finally the flesh reveals the madness within, no? He had long called any type of attachment as foolishness and here he was, the biggest fool of them all. Even now, he didn’t believe in anything as foolish as love and yet, there was an inexplicable feeling within him, that sought revenge for anyone that touched anything he put claim to. For his convictions, he’d walk on water and throw all else to the currents.

His rage had grown and seeped into the marrow of his bones, he had felt the metallic tang of fear on his tongue for a brief moment, and he swore he'd never let that fear turn into helplessness, never the same helplessness he had felt as a kit, struggling to see his family tear itself apart.

No, that would never come to fruition. He'd die before he allowed it to happen again.

"We're not giving an inch to that witch; she needs to be mitigated,” Bermondsey's voice was cold, leaving no room for argument. It didn't matter that Regulus was the Nemesis, the authority figure. As much respect as the tom had placed upon his name, he was his mother's son, the same mother who had never done well with authority, who rose in place of a vacuum and took what she needed to take, driving the ones in power insane all the same. His blood was prone to violence; his blood boiled for vengeance.

His eyes turned towards Regulus, as if almost challenging his Nemesis to say otherwise. He held loyalty like he held a dog on a leash; tug too hard and he'd simply let that dog run into the streets.

Bermondsey had never regarded Regulus with anything other than a faint wariness and the respect the other tom deserved; as much as he believed it was his birthright to have a purpose within the league, he wasn't his brother. He had consciously made effort to be anything but. Yet right now, in this brief moment, he stared at his Nemesis with such darkness in his eyes one could almost swear that his pupils were pure black, the eyes of a demon. The fact that he could even entertain the notion of listening to this rat of a leader speak, he'd never understand it.

It made them look weak to even entertain something such as a negotiation. Aspenstar could spin webs with the words she dared to utter, making all the assumptions in the world, and yet, she forgot her place. A dirty rat like her belonged in the dumpster, not speaking as if she had any sort of power in this realm of kings and knights.

His ear had twitched irritably at Chelsea's words. His sister always loved picking a fight, even at the worst of times, and while he had dismissed her comment as something glib and simple, it was clear that Eshek had interpreted it differently. The look she had sent him made it all that clear. The challenge, the terror, the defiance. That shared look was enough of a read for him to understand what she was trying to do. Perhaps the clans thought of the league as creatures of the shadows trying to claw their way up from hell, but the demons fell from the heavens because of their pride. For pride, they'd fall and for pride, they'd kill for.

"She's not going anywhere, she belongs here," he spoke in that icy tone, "easy now, do you forget your place? Maybe you should run along and play your childish games back home. We're not your little schoolboy friends, kid." His eyes flickered to their surroundings, to the silhouettes of other cats around them, eyes glowing in the hidden darkness of the forest.

He turned to Chelsea with that sharp look one would share when confronted with a loser. "Seems like the little rats lost their way. The dumpster's back that way, I can't believe they missed the exit."

Regulus E'tan listened to the leader's word and went to speak just when Eshek chimmed in on her thoughts then Bermondsey. The Nemesis waited a few more moments just to be sure everyone got whatever they wanted to say out of the way as to not interrupt him. He didn't look at Eshek when she spoke but definitely turned when the warden pitched in, noting the look in the tom's eyes. Regulus swished his tail over to his right side as he finally had the chance to respond with his decision.

"As it is plainly seen my proxy is stubborn, rash, and quicker to speak than to think, however I knew what she was like when I promoted her. See here is the thing for me: clearly she had taken a good beating and that in itself is a great start to her punishment. She stands here as part of the punishment: to bask in her mistake. To feel that fear, true fear of the possibility of being taken away. To feel that uncertainty of the unknown. She stands here beaten, afraid, embarrassed, and weak. She brought shame to Primal Instinct with her choices...but she stands here still as our member. And she will learn not to do this ever again. You only get one." Now he took a single glance at the she cat to show what he meant before turning back to Aspenstar. "However she is getting what she deserves so I'll have to decline on allowing you to take her away. See I don't know how clan life works but here in Primal Instinct we fight to live everyday. My proxy greatly dislikes me I know and if she had the chance to replace me with the old Nemesis Funk she would in a heartbeat. That is something I know and accept. Eshek is important to Primal Instinct with her assets and skills. Too important to be let go. Unfortunately you'll just have to live with the fact we won't be giving her to you but will be dealing with this issue ourselves. I know if it were reserved you would not relinquish your own for the same demand you are asking of me. You can tell me otherwise but I know enough about you to know that. Now if that is all I like to thank you for this little chat but there is nothing left to discuss." Regulus E'tan got to his paws and stretched as if unperturbed by it all.

Even if the League no longer claimed her among its riches, Chelsea was still an old money legacy that claimed it, hence her reason for inserting herself in higher ranking business than she likely had the clearance to be involved in. She was, after all, her mother's daughter, and Severine did not bow down when the boys tried to do what was rightfully a woman's job. Bermondsey would stand at Regulus's soldier like a good little shoulder but Chelsea wouldn't entertain it. This Aspenstar had the right idea and, were circumstances different and she wasn't posing a threat to someone she was reluctantly choosing to consider family, she would respect her for it. Hell, she still did, a fact that would surely ruffle Bermondsey's sensitive little feathers later when it inevitably came up.

She stepped forward, casting the Nemesis a faintly disappointed glance. If Eshek wished he were Funk, Chelsea wished he were the red queen herself, Severine. "I'd have to say I agree with her," a gleeful mischief snared her voice, revelling in how the Primal Instinct cats' expressions ranged from outrage to disbelief and the NightClanners got their sweet, fleeting victory. It would surely be mitigated by what she said next. "My mother wouldn't have stood for actions such as what Eshek did and, frankly, the only reason my dear brother here would is because he's got a number of higher stakes in it. Five of them, in fact. However, Aspy - can I call you that?" She would anyway, anyone who knew her knew that at least, "- I don't think NightClan is in a position to be making demands, considering your situation. I wouldn't be making threats with my forces halved," she hummed, her own amusement lilting through the facts in a most condescending way.

She's not going anywhere, she belongs here. Eshek let out a messy rush of air, a shaky half-laugh, half-sob of relief. She drooped with it, her head bowing and shoulders sagging, all the tension of terror and uncertainty flooding out of her. Just like that, like she'd never doubted Ber for a moment, she danced backwards and slotted back in place between him and Chelsea - her family. What cards did Aspenstar really have on the table? She would send her little SummerClan soldiers after them, her unwilling converts and flower-specked disciples? If she'd wanted to strike fear into the hearts of them all with her ability to conquer, she should have chosen a Clan a little harder to subjugate than them. Or perhaps she'd send her Loyal Guard, with the ranks padded out by child soldiers with kitten fluff still behind their ears. One medicine cat more devoted to her than he was to his sister; another who was little more than a kit; and what else did she have? An attack dog so bewitched he'd burn himself into an early grave before the year was out. Suddenly, Eshek found herself laughing - a high, surprised chaos of sound borne of pure relief and the sudden certainty, after so much hopelessness and resignation, that they were going to win this. Her boldness flooded back in tenfold, stronger than ever. Her invincibility had been shaken; now, she'd survived that and was untouchable - the League was untouchable.

She laughed at Ber's snarky dismissals. She laughed at Larkspur's dismissal of him, just resisting the urge to needle him in the side because when he was in Soldier Bermondsey mode he might rip her leg off. She only sobered a little when Regulus began to speak, when he spoke of her embarrassment, her weakness, her shame. Her smile fell and faded and she bowed her head, listening as he condemned her crimes and feeling her chest ache with genuine guilt, genuine pain, genuine shame. At any other time she might have disputed it, might have snapped or cackled in his face; but now, two things reigned: her joy at being allowed to stay in the League and her willingness to take this if it ensured it; and her twisted kit-logic, that the League, more than any mother or father, was her parent, and it could scold her if she did wrong.

When he mentioned her desire to replace him with Funk, she raised her head and half-opened her mouth to argue, but she stayed silent. She didn’t want Funk in Regulus’ place, as much as she pretended she did. Even she knew she didn’t, though it had been a treacherous, guilty sort of shock to her. Truthfully, the League felt calmer under Regulus - and calmer was what she wanted now that she was going to bring kits into the world. She wished she could tell him that, tell him she liked him more than he knew and respected him as much as she publicly decried and ridiculed and bad-mouthed him, but she never would. She felt guilty for that, too. But her stubbornness would always outweigh it. So, instead, she hung her head again and stayed quiet, her heart still thudding with joyful relief she didn't want to put a paw wrong to jeopardise - best if she stayed bowed and practically muzzled - and her whole body feeling dizzy with it.

And then Aspenstar was speaking.

Eshek couldn't hold herself back. She let out a loud, shrill, childish sort of laugh and danced forward, frolicking to within an inch of Phantomfox before prancing back again. "Didn't you hear!" she crowed joyfully at the NightClan leader. She sounded like the sort of wild-haired, black-eyed villainess who'd slaughter singers on an opera stage and send sing-song, gloating, poorly-spelled letters about it to Scotland Yard the next day. "Didn't you hear Regulus E'tan! I'm staying here! You drowned with the goldfish a second time and I stay here!" Didn't matter what punishment Regulus devised for her - she'd do it, she'd take it happily. "One day soon we'll send a silver platter to you and then you'll have to put your sugar baby lover's head on it, Aspenstar!" She stayed in front of the leader, giggling through bared teeth, as Chelsea spoke - and when she finished, on Eshek's side as well, the squealing sound she made through her teeth was enough to shatter glass. Laughing, she turned and skipped back to Bermondsey, standing beside him wired and manic and purring like a chainsaw. "What's little NightClan to the power of the League, Aspenstar?" she called, and her voice was a little more sane, a little more cold, a little more dangerous - a little more of a promise that whatever she and her Clan did, they would lose. They would always lose. And then Eshek tittered again, a tremour quivering up her body, unable to contain herself. She was shaking with ecstasy; she was at the pinnacle of the world, of life and death, and nothing, no one, could claw her back down. 

Sagebristle, who was still sitting to the side without speaking- it wasn't her fight, really- had a similar reaction to Moonblight's arrival. Good grief, wasn't he supposed to be back in Nightclan? Her shoulders stiffened, her amber eyes dropping to the ground instead of the oversized tom she was having a hard time not thinking about. As poor as she was at hiding her emotions these days, she hoped none of the cats across from her were overly perceptive of the small Loyal Guard member at the end of the row.