to the top of the world [open]

[flyaway]

[style=text-align:justify; margin-top:28px; width: 220px; height: 320px; overflow:auto; float:left; margin-left:8px;][style=margin-top:-15px; padding-right:5px;]
Kiteswoop stood over the river. Despite how early it was in the season, the water was eerily calm. Cold winter breath still clung to the air, but it was feeble now. It was only a remnant of weeks long past. He sat, his tail curled around his paws. And as he stared at his own reflection, beautifully cast in the rippling water, he couldn’t help but realize a single irrefutable fact. He was gorgeous. Now he didn’t mean this in an effeminate flouncy sort of way. He wasn’t the sort given to using words like “gorgeous” or “fabulous”. And he would never have assigned either word to his own personage. But in this instance, sitting here on the banks of the river, it was simply so perfect. He was, quite simply, gorgeous. Everything about him was perfect. He had a muscular physique. His fur was smooth, like liquid silk over his bones. The ginger lynx point markings on his face and body stood out starkly against his ivory fur, as if Starclan themselves had painted him in sunshine. And then, of course, there was his manly package. His chest puffed out slightly. It was of impressive size. But he didn’t need to acknowledge that fact. Most of the Riverclan she-cat population had already discovered this fact for themselves.

Kiteswoop found himself smirking into the water, his head held high. He’d just broken off with his latest conquest. And like so many before her, she’d gone out with bitter words and hissed insults. But the anger rolled off of him. He could almost see it around his paws, a pathetic puddle. He held nothing but disdain for the feelings of his scorned lovers. They would recover. They always did. If he had survived, so would they. This particular thought soured his perfect mood. He couldn’t help but think of Starlingflower, of her patched pelt, raven-black like iridescent feathers. He could still see the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. And he still remembered the sight of her, eyes like two pathetic moons, concerned with nothing but her mentor – the moment when Kiteswoop had ceased to mean anything. Something deep inside him twitched, throbbed a dull low beat. But he shoved it away. He’d long since distanced himself from Starlingflower, from her honeyed words and cruel games. He liked to think, at least with himself, the she-cats he toyed with knew the situation – that there was no such thing as permanence in Kiteswoop’s world.

Kiteswoop shook his head quickly, dislodging the image of mooning Starlingflower. The very tip of his tail flicked back and forth, as little by little his self-satisfaction crept back. The smile returned, tugging at his lips. His claws unsheathed, kneading the soft sand and dirt of the river bank. He lifted a single paw, holding it out over the water. His image was perfect, undisturbed. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his paw so a single toe touched the water. Ripples issues forth, warping his own beautiful image. Yet he continued to smile. He didn’t need a river to tell him his worth.

[/style][/style]

[Kin]

starlingflower

we're painted red to fit right in

[atrb=width,300][atrb=border,0,bTable][atrb=cellpadding,10,bTable][atrb=style, text-align:justify;, bTable] Soft laughter filled Starlingflower's ears, feminine and mocking. A pair of she-cats stood together near the entrance to the camp, heads close together and eyes flicking between the black-and-white she-cat and her former mentor. Kestrelfang sat beside the pretty warrior, calmly working his way through a silvery fish. His attention was firmly on his meal, though he and Starlingflower sat together perhaps a bit closer than was seen as proper. Rumors had been floating around about the pair of them since she was an apprentice with stars in her eyes and convinced that her mentor had hung Silverpelt. Her childish crush had melted into an easy sense of camaraderie with the brown tabby, a sort of sibling dynamic emerging between the two. While Starlingflower would still flirt out of habit and drape herself over the older warrior, it was more often to tease him about the latest apprentice with a crush, or a young warrior with some puffed-up romantic dream. Kestrelfang would roll his eyes and grumble good-naturedly, nudging her beneath the chin and rearranging things so that they were curled up together. He could coax an intellectual mood out of her more easily than anyone since Kiteswoop... closing her eyes, Starlingflower drew a breath in deep and expelled it. Kiteswoop. She tried not to think about her kithood best friend, or about his choices. If he felt that chasing after every remotely attractive she-cat in the Clan, then far be it from Starlingflower to get in his way. Kestrelfang laid a paw on the top of her head, pressing it into the ground until her golden eyes flicked up to the muscular tom. "You look like you could use a walk." He smiled gently at her and removed his paw, nudging her until she stood. "Go take one, clear your head." As obedient as if she were an apprentice once more, Starlingflower padded out of camp, pawsteps dragging her toward the river. Her mind retreated from the physical world around her, and sank into contemplation. She mused over the past few moons, and thought of the Clan's apprentices. Briefly, she considered asking for one of her own, then thought better of it. No matter how well she had learned from Kestrelfang, Starlingflower was the last cat an apprentice should learn from. Pausing in her train of thought, the she-cat smirked and flicked it aside. There were far worse cats than she to learn from, and one shoulder-checked her roughly as she passed. The touch was too brief for her to catch the scent of the she-cat, but a faint masculine scent was mixed with it. Starlingflower rolled her eyes and refrained from shaking her head. Honestly. Some she-cats. She may have been a flirt, but the black and white warrior knew well to avoid taking things to an intimate level. It just ended in messes and hurt and risked pregnancy. Her own dalliances were nothing more than a mutual ego-stroke between two cats. Both walked away assured of their own attractiveness and with no future obligations. Yes, she'd learned from her younger moons, no matter what the gossips of the Clan said. Starlingflower knew well and good that giving one's heart to another got it trampled, but that nobody expected a flirt's commitment. To the toms and she-cats of RiverClan, Starlingflower was as the moonlight or the morning dew- beautiful and ethereal, but ultimately something that ghosted from their grip even as they held on, should they try. Nearing the river, a familiar scent was brought to her nose, and Starlingflower stiffened. She sat at the edge of the treeline and curled her tail neatly over her paws. Systematically grooming herself, she waited for the tom to acknowledge her. Should he not, she could easily finish smoothing the fur of her chest and move on as though she weren't keeping track of his every movement out of the corner of one golden eye.

[atrb=width,150][atrb=valign,top]648 words notes: STARLING YOU DINGUS tagged ! kiteswoop

[flyaway]

[style=text-align:justify; margin-top:28px; width: 220px; height: 320px; overflow:auto; float:left; margin-left:8px;][style=margin-top:-15px; padding-right:5px;]
He truly didn’t have some perverse sexual drive. It wasn’t that he was some psycho, obsessed with a female’s figure – or even the feeling of love. These meant next to nothing. They were pleasant, yes, but not his center of attention. Rather, it was something so pure – so simple – that it was almost imbecilic. It was none of the things many so callously assumed without second thought. As sad as it was, it was not out of some roundabout affection for the she-cats either, or females in general. Unless it concerned Basilpaw, Kiteswoop had never been the most affectionate of toms. Simply put, Kiteswoop pursued them out of grief – a twisted sort of boredom even. His time with them, the time it took to lure them in, their brief trysts – they were something to concentrate on. They were something to wind his thoughts around, a distraction pure and simple. The brief time they spent together, trading playful words, was a moment Kiteswoop wasn’t alone. He wasn’t alone with his memories of Starlingflower, wasn’t alone with his concerns for Basilpaw. He wasn’t alone with the realization that his singular friendship had centered on betrayal and one-sided affection. So he wanted a moment of peace, wanted to obliterate the reality of how things were, was that really so bad?

And whether they knew it or not, the she-cats were a sort of therapy for Kiteswoop. His trysts, his sexual advances and conquers, they were so short lived. They all acquiesced entirely too quickly. Kiteswoop was careful, yes. He had no desire to end up like his father – father to kittens, the mother of whom entirely rejected him. Hell, he didn’t want any kids of his own, not for a while. And he didn’t want a Starlingflower situation hanging over his head. What he wanted was a distraction, stimulus, anything at all. And his various lovers gave him everything. They rejected him, time and time again. They gave him reason to keep coming back. They gave him something to think about at night, as the hours ticked by. It was a sort of game, ironically of cat and mouse. It drove him insane, yes. It made him want to sink his claws into something – something living – just to get his frustration out. But it gave him something else to concentrate on. A moment puzzling around her words, skirting around what was hidden between the lines, was a moment spent in precious innocence.

Kiteswoop had truthfully been with more females than he could count – and not all of them within Riverclan. The majority of the available – youthful and beautiful – she-cats of Riverclan had fallen under him at least once. Exempt from this list were one or two – Morningsnow, Littlesong, Starlingflower. He hadn’t dared approach Morningsnow, pregnancy wasn’t interesting to him and he didn’t doubt her ability to claw his ears. Plus now she had herself a hord of rambunctious little things, none of which he wanted to be involved with. Littlesong was only barely a warrior. And though he considered any fellow adult fair game, his appetite only went so far. Like he’d always mandated, he wasn’t a deviant. Littlesong didn’t allure him, not the way others did.

And Starlingflower, beautiful untouchable Starlingflower. His features contorted slightly. No matter how much time had passed, how his anger grew, he couldn’t un-see her beauty, her perfection. He smoothed over his features. His pleasant afternoon at the river’s edge had quickly turned bitter. He stood, turning back towards the direction of camp. And, as if summoned by his thoughts, Starlingflower sat in his path. He froze for a moment, surprise, anger and loneliness flashed across his eyes, though was gone in an instant. He raised his head, his ears flicking back. He forced himself to lower his head, a thin attempt at polite conversation. “Starlingflower, I hadn’t expected the pleasure of your company.” Yet even as he spoke the words, even as he attempted to remind himself of her betrayal, he couldn’t help but yearn for her, for her touch and light tinkling laugh.

[/style][/style]