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Altaire blinked as he padded to the edge of the territory. He had performed three different tasks since being promoted. The first was taking charge of the trainees. It had been a short assignment. His second, hunter organization, had been a longer one, but it ended as soon as Solaris was no longer nemisis. Now, he was back to wheeling and dealing with what he was most comfortable with - the loners and rogues. Today would be his first time in the territory since receiving the assignment, and he was ready.
"This will be a half-day mission," he called to the cat that gathered behind him. "We are just looking for intel, at least for now. Stay close."
Edited May 15, 2019 22:43:42 GMT -5 By Deleted
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POSTEDMay 20, 2019 0:56:03 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
"Oh of-course dear, you know me, I never wander." Morgana called behind him, all petty sass delivered with a snarky undertone. Ever since she had found out about Karma she had been particularly prickly with her mate. Though comparably it was not even close to what she herself did with having a litter with another tom just to push Altaire's buttons. If one dug to the core of the issue and managed to make Morgana truly admit why she was being so vicious about it. They would learn that his relationship with Karma reminded her how easily he could walk away from her, their relationship not founded out of love or care for one another but a mutual decision that resorted to them using one another.
She liked to think they had evolved from that but they never really showed traditional care for one another and doubt was an easy seed to sow. Especially with her no longer holding the position of shaman.
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POSTEDMay 20, 2019 20:35:12 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
She hadn't spoken to him since coming from camp. He had almost forgotten that, yes, she had been the first to volunteer to join him. Of course she would, he had thought when she padded up to him. There had been trouble in their paradise lately, even though trouble had seldom been too far from the duo. Perhaps that was what happened when mateship was created not of love but of convinience. Trouble was natural. The trouble had come to a head when she found out about his little Karma. Morgana didn't understand him, didn't understand that the "love" he had for that kitten was the same "love" he had for her: it was all for show. Truthfully, he didn't much care if the kitten lived or died. She was a pawn in a brutal game that he was not ashamed to play. Perhaps, though, he didn't understand her. Perhaps she understood quite well that Karma meant nothing to her, and she found the striking similarity with how Altaire considered the former shaman. Perhaps Morgana had heard about the other she-cats he had wood. Perhaps, then, it was he who had a fundamental misudnerstanding of the situation.
Nonetheless, Altaire was one who didn't like to show the rest of the world that there was trouble. It was his brand, charming and unbothered. He wouldn't let Morgana's temper tantrum disrupt that, at least not in spaces where others might pass by. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't feel like today would be a good first day to start, cherie," he meowed, before flicking her chin with his tail in what others would read as affection. Perhaps, deep within the flick, there was some affection. After all, he hadn't left her in the cold yet, perhaps he had begun to tolerate her as more than just a toy. That seemed improbable, but she had lost the status that had brought him to her, so if he didn't at least sort of enjoy her, what was the point?
"We wouldn't want you to get lost in the big scary world out there." He grinned, before taking his first step out into rogue land. Ah, yes. Freedom.
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POSTEDMay 20, 2019 21:32:08 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
Pulling her head up, away from his tail she watched him through narrowed eyes, and felt a prickling under her skin as his nickname; knowing, knowing he used it with just about any she-cat. Late at night, laying within the new confined walls of the estate on the level Altaire had as his own she considered poisoning the tom. There was a fear of failure though, and the fear of what would happen if she attempted such a drastic thing and failed. For surly she would fail, Morgana was talented in poison but she was not talented in subterfuge and trickery; would not be sly is slipping something into his food and his watchful gaze would probably catch her intentions from a mile away. When she lay in the dark contemplated this situation and eventually exhausted it she would move on to thoughts of leaving.
Of going to perhaps be medicine cat in another clan, surely one of them was looking for a healer. But again, Morgana was not a nice fit to be a clan medicine cat surely;from what she understood they were all soft, something she distinctly was not. So she stayed beside Altaire and watched her kits, put up with his increasingly mocking behavior and gritted her jaw when she felt the overwhelming urge to sink her teeth into him.
"Luckily I have you here to guide me." She returned with a pretty smile, something that looked impossibly wrong across her features. Morgana never used to have to play pretty, she was the leagues shaman. The raven queen, the wicked witch that no one crossed in fear of her retribution. She had needed Altaire simply as a good father to a strong offspring. But now she needed him as so much more; needed his sway as protection, needed his position to assure herself comfort. It tasted bitter on her tongue and she boiled within, only a matter of time under she exploded under the rising heat.
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POSTEDMay 20, 2019 21:53:24 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
Well, she was wrong there. Did he call other females sugarplum? Baby doll? Pudding? A sight for sore eyes? All of these and inevitably more were words that he used to swoon other felines. However, cherie was hers and hers alone. It was strange, to think that he had any part of a moral compass that might suggest to him that he shouldn't call anyone else the "loving" nickname he bestowed on his "mate." Of course, the moral compass didn't suggest to him that maybe he shouldn't use any sort of seduction tricks on any other felines. Morality was not his thing. Still, there was some sort of conviction in the tom's mind, perhaps the only conviction he had, that cherie was unapologetically hers.
Oh, how things had changed between the two of them. He remembered the day she gave birth to kittens that with one look could be determined as Hansel's and not his own. She had done it to remind him that she had power, that she was the one that had brought him to Primal Instinct. Oh, how the tables had turned. Her pretty little throne had been cast form beneath her while he went untouched, no connection to the League that had once been. It was ironic; now, he had the power, and, as any good male did, he used it to his best capacity.
He glanced back at her as she spoke, catching glimpse of her smile. "Well, look at that, cherie! It has been so long since I've seen a smile like that on your face. Be still, my heart." His voice was a purr before he looked back to the road ahead of us. "I had almost wondered if you had forgotten how to smile, my beautiful rose."
Altaire knew that he walked on eggshells. He wondered when she would snap. He pushed her to the edge nearly every time they interacted; Altaire enjoyed the most dangerous of games. One day, he would push her to far. His veiled condescension would not just take her to the brink, but it would lead her off. He delighted in the idea that that day would come eventually. Who would win in a battle of minds, once the minds were settled on destroying the other? It would be quite a show, one that the ringmaster was excited to see.
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POSTEDMay 23, 2019 0:51:16 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
She bit back a biting retort, wanting to tell him she smiled plenty, just not around him. Even though that would be a blatant lie, one he would most likely pick up on. As her mind worked across this she realized it was probably best she had not retorted with her gut instinct. "How can I not smile now Altaire? No responsibility, freedom from the crybabies I was surrounded with before, more time with out beautiful children." As she listed these her voice grew more bitter, sour like a ripe lemon.
Her eye turned away instead of staring at his back, glaring out into the unknown territory around them. Almost hoping they would encounter a fight, though she was not the best physical fighter, maybe pain and bloodshed would fix things. How she didn't know but she wanted hurt; either to hurt others or even experience it herself. She hated how adrift she was, there seemed to be no purpose for her anymore and Altaire only seemed to delight in it. And perhaps she deserved it, she could recognize how he might think that, but she didn't care if she deserved it. She herself found every event in her life recently unacceptable.
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POSTEDMay 23, 2019 19:59:04 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
((Hey, I was told to reply here :) Hope you don't mind))
His steps were light, soft as a baby chick upon the ground below him. It was, indeed, a good time to be out instead of trapped in camp. Exsperavit had felt trapped. Contained. Locked in the area that he perceived as too small, too tight, to hold him. As the first floating voices waved around his ears, he had made a break for it before he could even think. Exsperavit wasn't one for thinking, not anymore. He used to be, he used to be constantly thinking, someone who did nothing other than think and nap and throw hurtful comments towards mother. He could barely remember who he had been before. He had been Exsperavit, of course, that has always been his name, but it was a different Exsperavit than he knew now. That Exsperavit had sleek, silky fur, no problems other than when mother would bring his next snack, nothing to do all day except play with his food or terrorize those he passed. Mother told him he could do whatever he wanted, he was a god. Everyone knew him, knew their savior. He didn't worry about what she had repeatedly said, her dreams of the End. Or the near end. They wouldn't end, she had said, because Exsperavit was here to save them all. He had powers nobody else had. They looked to him, they depended on him. But he couldn't care less. He still couldn't, really. The world's inhabitants meant nothing to him. Worthless specks of dirt, annoying little mosquitoes. If he would not have cared for himself at all, he would let the sun fall. He would let the fires burn. And he would let the floods destroy. But he was important, he couldn't die. He would be their leader, they would look to him for guidance and praise him like the god he is.
Exsperavit had changed. He had changed since the Shed, since mother had disappeared, since he had escaped. He didn't mind the change, the only thing that bothered him were the ghosties. They begged him every day to join them, every single day. But he would not. They wouldn't leave him alone. It wasn't like he could ignore them, either, they always seemed to be near him. Their whispering clouding his ears. They had no right to talk to him like that, he was above them! Idiotic souls.
"Maybe, maybe, maybe, I could start another tunnel here and connect it . . . it with the other ones. Yes, yes, yes." He chatted to himself, thankfully the only sounds in his ears were from the woods. It was silent, but too silent. Silent enough that he had to fill it with his own voice. "The tunnels are not going to be done in time! None of these mortals will help me. They think me mad, but they are the mad ones." He scoffed, his knotted tail bushing up. Exsperavit looked like an odd fellow. With his knotted, dirty gray coat that had patches of fur missing from when he had nibbled it away, wide yellow-green eyes that were always clouded with unknown emotions, and a constantly twitchy frame that did, somehow, give off an egotistical confident aura. "Idiots, they are." He dug his claws into the earth, scrapping up bits of dirt and gravel. His claws hurt and were constantly coated in dirt, but it would be worth it. The tunnels would save them all. Then, after he had pushed the sun back to the sky, he would close them up. Simple plan. A plan the mortals didn't seem to understand.
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POSTEDMay 27, 2019 2:38:38 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
The fervently spoken words and flurry of movements had Morgana turning blue eyes the color of clear ice half melted towards the noise. Head cocking as she listened to the seemingly rushed steps heading in their direction; as if someone had spotted them and was working their way towards them for a confrontation. Taking in the scent though she realized that the one approaching them was from the league, though the direction they approached from in gave enough hint as it was.
She glanced back over her shoulder towards Altaire, wondering if the tom had invited another to join him and they were only just arriving. Her feelings towards a third member to this little patrol were mixed. With another to distract Altaire perhaps she could fade into the background; not quite having the energy to go toe to toe with him in the moment. She found it harder and harder to get up in the mornings and actually leave the estate at all.
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POSTEDMay 27, 2019 7:23:33 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
He moved, quickly, silently, mouse-like, through the territory, slowly and carefully. He was specter-like in the night, crossing from one hole to the other. Exsperavit measured the distance across the league by his tunnels--his work in progress tunnels--which lead to a sharp memory when it came to navigating the territory. He had them everywhere, entrances upon entrances that led to nothing but dead-ends and darkness. They weren't done yet. no they weren't, and they wouldn't be done for a while. Especially since the mortals weren't helping their god as much as they should be. He shook out his head aggressively, so much so that he was lightheaded afterwards, and continued on his way forward. He had thought he heard voices in the distance, but they could just be the ghosties. Either way, he continued. If they were from the league, then they could help him. Yes, yes they could.
He continued until he caught flashes of fur. There, he stopped. He regonized both the tom and the she-cat, though not by name or rank. They just looked . . . familiar. He jumped out of the bushes to greet them, keeping his head high and his knotted tail waving with authority. "Good day, mortals! It is I, Exsperavit, and I request--demand--that you help me dig the tunnels, unless that is, you want the world to perish?" He questioned, keeping a bit to his shaky tone.
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POSTEDMay 27, 2019 15:42:05 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
"Of course, how could I be so foolish? You have been given the life now any she-cat would want. A charming mate, beautiful children, and, above all else, you now get to live an extended vacation." He chuckled slightly. It was a dig at her veiled as a salute to her new life, but truly, what wasn't a dig? Perhaps if she didn't keep up with him so well, one day he would grow tired of such behavior. Until the day that she started to falter, though, Morgana was the single she-cat who offered him any sort of challenge.
"Morgana, lover, please tell me that this is some cruel joke meant to make our journey just that much more interesting?" It was suddenly clear that Altaire had not invited the tom. Perhaps it had been made clear in the moment previous, when the other cat had demanded something of him. You see, cats didn't just demand anything from Altaire, unless they wanted to be smacked around. Of course, he wasn't opposed to having a quick sparring match, but the proxy wanted to give the tom a little bit of a benefit of the doubt. "If if was you, I do have to say, I appreciate the jest." He offered her a nudge, before taking a step forward in the tom's direction. It was a subtle motion, one that put him just in front of Morgana, almost as if he was stepping forward to protect her. But, that would be ridiculous, right? Why would he protect her?
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POSTEDMay 27, 2019 20:41:41 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
As the tom stepped closer, Exsperavit took a step back. Not out of fear, no, out of personal space. “Mortal,” he started, giving his tone a bite, “Get out of my space. You won’t come any closer. You might be a life-sucker, yes, yes, but just know if you try to take my life you’ll be doomed to an inevitable, immediate death.” His tail lashed, and suddenly the itchiness started at the base of his tail. That area, and part of his tail, had been nibbled bare of fur. It was a sudden urge, a need, something to calm him.
“Mortal, or life-sucker, this may look like a joke to you, but I assure you it’s not.” He wound his way around the tom. “Everyone seems to think I am mad, but no, no, I’m not. They are. You are. Ignoring the inevitable end. Ignoring your god, your saviour. It’s written in the depths of the sky, how I will save you all. You choose to ignore it.” He rambled, and rambled, until he lost his train of thought and stopped, staring at the ground in a confused manner. “I said, both of you, help me with my tunnels. They will protect us. You must have at least a little respect for your saviour.” He chided. “Especially you, pretty molly.” He turned in the direction of the She-cat, flicking his tail contentedly. “If not, then maybe one of you can hunt for me, I’m hungry. Yes, yes, somewhat hungry.”
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POSTEDMay 27, 2019 22:54:57 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
Morgana reared her head back at the implication that the tom deserved more respect from her because he would be her savior. "No Altaire, I don't believe I invited our savior to join us. Even I would find this a jest just to cruel to be pulled." She responded dryly, disgust still in her tone as she stared at the raving lunatic across from them. If she was still shaman she would perhaps force feed him death berries, as it seemed he needed to be put out of his misery.
Turning with a curled lip towards the declared Exsperavit she scoffed, "we aren't out here hunting. If you're hungry go find your own food, perhaps you'll fall into a ditch and die ending everyone's suffering they must feel in your presence. I've just met you and I feel the need to bathe."
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POSTEDJun 15, 2019 21:17:20 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
He bared his cracked, yellow teeth at the molly, narrowing his eyes at her. His claws, some of which missing from his constant digging, unsheathed. But he would not use them. "Dirty mortals, yes, yes, I agree you do need to bathe. Cleanse yourself of your sins, your cruelty, and your attitude." He spat. "I'd punish you, little molly, but the universe shall do it for me. The world rests in my sacred paws, the world does my bidding. You will perish along with the others who do not respect me. Fools." He tutted and circled the pair.
"A shame. Such a shame. A pretty molly like you. But, the most beautiful flowers are most often the most deadly." He laughed a hysterical, wheezy laugh. His head jerked, suddenly, to the area just above his tail, already almost completely bald with how much fur he had chew off. He itched, felt the disturbance in his skin, and bit at his fur, not unlike a rabid dog. He straightened himself up, a small relief washing over him.
"And you, sir," He turned to the tom, "You looked like a polite fella, but seems I was wrong. You think me a joke, of course, but I'm no joke. You're the joke. A cruel joke made by the universe, to please me." He chuckled unevenly, but stopped halfway through. "I expect you treat me with respect, greet me with a bow. I am your savior. Your god, your caretaker and the only one you should worship. You'll see one day. That is, if the universe decides that you should live, after all. Yes, yes, the universe is a tricky fella."