joy like a river [open]

[iero]

riverclan ❀ zinnianose ❀ deputy

a gentle breeze tickled at the air, but it was calm and crisp, only the slightest bit chilly as opposed to the heat that scorched the air. warm sunlight beamed down on the blinding white sand that coated the shores of riverclan's river, a contrast only made by the green weeds that crept across the silky sand. each grain crunched underneath a white paw, sticking to fur. it would be groomed out later for sure. zinnianose crossed the sand quickly, closing the distance between her and the water instantaneously as she sprinted towards sweet relief. once the pinkish-orange and white she-cat was in the water, she felt nothing but cold stinging her skin. it was a good sting, though. refreshing.

the deputy of riverclan's typically medium length fur was plastered to her skin, weighed down by the water. it revealed her real frame, curvy and smooth, unlike the squarish appearance that her fluffy fur gave off. she purred, happy to be back in the water. how could any cat not want this? she thought to herself, grinning slightly. the water is so lovely on a hot day like today! those shadowclan, windclan, and thunderclan cats are all insane... well, more for me! the warrior let out a delighted squeal as she pranced through the water, feeling smooth pebbles slide underneath her pads as she bounded up and down the river, where the water was still shallow. underneath the surface, her fur splayed out slightly, moved by the gentle current. she could see little minnows dodging her every move and avoiding even the shadow she cast down into the water. she smiled. the fresh-kill pile is full. i don't need to hunt.

stilling, zinnianose looked back to shore, in the direction of riverclan camp. perhaps i should've asked someone to come with me. it does get boring fast if you don't bring a friend to the river with you! she nagged herself. she then sent her gold gaze to the other side of the river, staring into the ominous, shadow-filled thunderclan territory, thick with trees and bushes and all kinds of undergrowth that she didn't want to tangle herself in. the sunningrocks will be ours again soon, thunderclan, just you wait. she thought bitterly, wrinkling her nose. the last battle had been unsuccessful for riverclan, with thunderclan stealing what belonged to them. they don't need it. they just want to get fat from squirrels and mice.


ooc: /
tag: /

[hymn]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","oneword1"]

[attr="class","fromyou1"]
iero

mistpelt is a pervy asshole sometimes

just one word from you and it's over

[attr="class","itsover"]
Avoiding one's responsibilities came effortlessly when swept up in constant reverie. Mistpelt fancied a slumber in the ferns and bulrush that flanked the rushing river, where the shade concealed him and the aroma of marigold concealed his pungent scent. Snores escaped his snout, but they were drowned by the babbling river water. It was sunhigh, the heat of day, and instead of mingling with RiverClan and sharing tongues, Mistpelt found peace tucked away on the riverside. His worries were washed away like pebbles in the current, rolling downstream with no hope of travelling up to his head again. Every muscle was supple beneath his thick black and silver coat, for no thought or feeling had the strength to tense the sinews. However, he was shaken from his dreams by the sound of a splash and the warm, familiar scent of an old friend...

Dancing through the shallows, Mistpelt watched the she-cat prance with grace. She was the one responsible for ruining his sleep, but she also had the authority to scorn him for sleeping in the first place, so he restrained his complaint. Splashes of water shimmered in her wake, flashing in his yellow eyes like lightning. Shielded by the harsh sun in the shadows, he was able to keep an eye on her as she enjoyed the water, hidden from her golden gaze. When she was freed from the eager eyes of RiverClan, she blossomed into a different flower composed of petals colored tickle pink and leaves glossed with joy. Mistpelt was fond of her, Zinnianose, when she was in this state.

Freezing when she looked back towards camp, Mistpelt lowered his stocky frame into the ground. He preferred to keep the role of a secret audience for now. After watching her bound up and down the river like a joyous fawn, Mistpelt was not keen on disturbing her with his presence. Although their relationship was built upon her being his mentor, he was still a tomcat. He enjoyed admiring her beauty in anonymity; she had a curvaceous figure, and the gleam of her ginger and white fur reminded Mistpelt of nectar on pale flower petals. Still, he chuckled at the thought of her catching him staring in that way. He knew she would have half a mind to gouge his eyes out.

Right now, what seemed to be on her mind lay across the river. ThunderClan. Mistpelt rolled his eyes as Deputy Zinnianose returned. He knew she was bitter of the loss of Sunningrocks. The loss never perturbed Mistpelt any, and he did not lose sleep knowing RiverClan's pride was shattered. Clan politics reminded Mistpelt of a beehive; if one was dumb enough to stir it up, they would surely be stung. He thought it best to let it be and save the sweet honey that was Clan pride to the busy bodies. Zinnianose was one of those busy bodies, according to Mistpelt.

So, he decided to intervene. Slipping out from the marigold bulrush, he smiled warmly in her direction. "Easy there, Zinnianose, if you wrinkle your nose anymore it'll roll up between your eyes." He followed his joke with a purr, standing at the water's edge in all his unkempt glory.

Mistpelt looked like he just rolled out of bed, down a hill, and into a dust pit. His long, thick fur contained scraps of moss and dead leaves, and the silver was mottled with brown. However, he avoided stepping foot into the water, though it licked at his toes, trying to usher him in. Mistpelt was not ashamed of his poor hygiene, he took pride in his unorthodox priorities: sleeping, eating, and annoying Zinnianose. Bathing was not one of them.

Sitting back with a yawn, he continued with his third priority. "Maybe if you stare at them hard enough, they'll hand over that pile of rocks." His banter did not cease, and he gave a deep chuckle, tilting his head back animatedly. "They'll say, 'Oh, Zinnianose, stop glaring at us before you set the whole forest on fire!'" he squealed dramatically, slapping his thick tail on the ground with another laugh. "I mean... I know damn well you can burn holes into a cat's fur with that glare of yours." He pretended to look over his posterior. "In fact, I think I still have a few burns of my own. See! I have fur missing."

ulla

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[iero]

riverclan ❀ zinnianose ❀ deputy

interrupted from her thoughts, zinnianose heard a familiar voice. while she was grateful for company, she wasn't sure how grateful she would be for... this company. the deputy, still standing in the water, half of her legs trapped underneath the surface, zinnianose turned her head from staring into thunderclan territory and let her eyes land upon her former apprentice. mistpelt. her eyes sharpened, fixating on the silver and white tabby tom on the shore. his voice was scratchy in her ears, an irritating song sung by only the chattiest of birds, the kind that woke you in the morning and ended up dead in the fresh-kill pile once you gained a more conscious control over your muscles. her tail flicked, sending droplets of water flying, dancing across the water and sending tiny, irrelevant ripples across the surface. the deputy lifted her head, giving him a cautious glance.

"you'll have a few more missing if you don't watch the way you speak," she said sternly, wading through the water and up to the shore. deciding she'd rather not shake out her pelt just yet and have it sticking up in just about every direction as it did, she simply waltzed across the hot sand, her paws cooled on contact by the water that streamed through her fur, rushing towards the ground by the irresistible pull of gravity. now that she was up closer, zinnianose took a better look at her former apprentice, a distasteful expression making its way across her face. she took note of the moss and twigs that stuck to his fur, like lichen crawling across the surface of rocks and slowly breaking them down. her whiskers twitched, and she appeared as though she were about to make a comment on his lack of tidiness, but no words came out.

"have you come to the river to actually perform your duties, mistpelt?" the deputy spoke with a hint of condescendence, laced with only the purest form of sarcastic surprise. "are you here to mark the border, perhaps? i don't recall putting you on a patrol, but that's a mistake on my part. i should have you mingling with your fellow warriors more often. maybe their responsibility will rub off on you." she let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes. "or maybe you've come to hunt. while your at it, you might as well bathe yourself!" there it was. "your fur is ridiculously dirty, mistpelt. you look as though you haven't given yourself a good grooming in moons."


ooc: /
tag: hymn

[hymn]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","oneword1"]

[attr="class","fromyou1"]

iero

still a pervy asshole

just one word from you and it's over

[attr="class","itsover"]

There it was, the sharp stare that could pierce through a block of ice and reduce it to a puddle with its heat. Mistpelt received Zinnianose's glare without flinching, for he had felt its burn several times before. He had grown immune, if not fond, of her reaction to his purposefully irksome disposition. With a lopsided grin, he watched droplets of water twinkle off her tail and splash into the shallows, startling a collection of minnows. They fled downstream in a hurry, knowing better than to trifle with the she-cat lurking on the riverbed. Mistpelt, however, was not keen on leaving just yet. It had been too long, for Zinnianose was often occupied with her duty to RiverClan, and he, a loathsome sloth, skipped the duties she delegated on behalf of RiverClan. The tides of responsibility were vastly different between the two, and Mistpelt realized the gulf between their position on their Clan had only widened as time passed. Before, she was a loyal warrior. How, a devoted deputy. In contrast, Mistpelt merely changed his name, but sang the same sleepy song. 

"Is that a threat?" Mistpelt asked innocently, blinking his big yellow eyes at Zinnianose. "Great StarClan! You wouldn't threaten your own comrade, would you?" His faux surprise was reflected in the melodramatic expression he assumed. Tossing back his head as if he had received a blow to the cheek, he wailed like a wounded crow. "Someone, help me! Zinnianose is going to singe me with her stare!" 

Laughter followed his words, carrying on to echo throughout the riverside. Nearby herons took to the sky, desiring to escape the raucous bouts of chuckles wracking Mistpelt's broad chest. When he was able to catch his breath after his laughing fit, he noticed the she-cat closing the distance between them. She waded through the water with the grace of a river snake. At first, the proximity made Mistpelt's chest tighten; subconsciously, he expected scorn or disgust to escape her mouth. Instead, Zinnianose looked him over, casting judgment as if she came down from Silverpelt. Mistpelt rolled his eyes, knowing she was nauseated by his appearance. Though he tried not to care about Zinnianose's disgust, he cursed StarClan for bestowing the feeling of shame onto him. However, he would rather have his eyes plucked from his skull than allow Zinnianose to believe he felt even a scrap of embarrassment for his actions. At least then, he would be blind to the look of satisfaction on her face. 

"Duties?" he echoed in surprise. Mistpelt brought his paw up to his chin, trying to appear thoughtful. He knew damn well he did not lift a claw for his Clan yet today, but he was not about to let her know that. "Well, yes, actually. I got them done early today, so I thought I deserved a nap by the water." At the mention of patrols and mingling and all other distasteful talk of duty, Mistpelt wrinkled his nose as if Zinnianose dropped carrion in front of him. With a loud sigh, which mirrored her own in annoyance, he looked across the river and shrugged. "I think you have enough responsibility to rub on behalf of the whole Clan..." 

Oh, yes, there it was. The mention of bathing, tossed into the conversation like a tumbleweed in the wind, left to carry on down the barren land where it would be long forgotten. Mistpelt let the tumbleweed continue to roll, refusing to acknowledge it and allowed silence to settle in between them. Instead of accepting the inevitable bath ahead of him, he focused on the feeling of the sun seeping into his rancid pelt, warming his skin and the dirt caked on top of it, and causing the moss to shrivel further. Licking his chops, he let his eyes lazily roll onto Zinnianose, looking her up and down sluggishly, similar to how a snail would scale up and down a tree trunk. 

"Perhaps I should bathe," he relented at last. The last word hung, daring to bait Zinnianose before he spoke again. "But it would have been more fun if you were to bathe with me." His nonchalance carried into his speech, and he sounded forlorn, if not bored, by the idea of taking a dip alone. There was a playful twinkle in his yellow eyes, which shimmered dully like the new moon on a foggy night. "Had I known you were so eager to assess my appearance, I would have flexed for you." Becoming a peacock, he raised his chest and tightened his muscular legs with a mischievous visage. 

Mistpelt let his frame relax after a few heartbeats passed, and he stared at Zinnianose like an imp. His bushy, unkempt tail swept against the sand, dismissing their conversation. Even if she offer to return to the river water with him, he would not join her. Mistpelt just... did not feel acclimated to the idea of being clean yet. He saw no point in a tidy appearance. He was lofty and whimsical, the two traits doomed him in the game of cat and mouse. She-cats never pined after the joker, they sought kings. Mistpelt was far from royalty, he did not even pass as a knight, but he enjoyed being the jester... even if that cheated him out of having a pretty face beside him at night. There were more fruitful ventures than winning hearts. Daydreaming about the power of nature and the philosophies he harbored of the soul and destiny were far more interesting to him. Still, the image of Zinnianose racing downstream, kicking up a sparkling spindrift in her wake, with a look of sheer delight on her face made his heart murmur about the joys he was missing out on. 

ulla

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