Post by Alchemist Kitsune on Apr 18, 2024 12:17:13 GMT -5
Grayflame
EmberClan
Deputy - 34 Moons
Massive, long haired silver tabby tom with tufted ears and golden green eyes.
Deputy - 34 Moons
Massive, long haired silver tabby tom with tufted ears and golden green eyes.
He had never approached the younger tom. The newly named deputy had been a warrior when this one had been born, and not having been tasked with training him, they walked different paths in life despite their devotion to their clan. It had always been thus for the silver tabby. Unless forced to interact, he kept his socializing to a minimum. There was no shyness in his reasoning, no humility to it. It was simple logic that dictated the steps he took in that regard. Cats died. It was a fact of life. To burden yourself with caring for those around you seemed far more trouble than it was worth. A way to drive weakness into your heart. And EmberClan had no room for such debilities.
And yet here Grayflame found himself at an impasse. The long furred warrior had always been ambitions. He sought perfection in his daily living. To have others understand his worth, to become undeniably necessary to the clan's existence. To have his presence be synonymous with triumph and the comfort of those that lived there. There was nothing noble about his wishes, however, his mind once more driven by reasoning. He sought survival. Only the strongest survived. The respected were given more leeway. Were less expendable. It was obvious that cats had to die to maintain the status quo. To ensure that they kept their enemies on their toes. As such, it was wiser to be among those the ones with power would see as... less replaceable. Providing a more solid, stable grip on an otherwise chaotic, turbulent way of living.
Yet with this drive had never come the dream to lead. He wasn't naive. There was a reason leaders were given nine lives, and why deputies could very well be many. Strategy of war dictated that removing those on top provided an easier victory. A quicker way to resolve the conflict. Yes, the lives provided power. The very blessing of the stars. The authority to have your words be heeded as divine. And yet at what cost? To never retire. Never see your elder moons? It went against everything that drove the tom, and yet his long lasting rival had seemingly deemed him the only cat available for the task of replacing her in the moment of her death, assuming he somehow managed to stay afloat long enough to outlive her. An imagery that was not well backed by stories of times past.
It changed nothing, of course. He was deputy, and there was little he could do about it now. Other than live with it... for as long as he could. And so he approached. The medicine cat's den. In an attempt to do something he hadn't done since his days of youth. Fraternize. Get to know another. Understand what made them tick. What they required for comfort and sustenance. He knew Singestar well enough by now, their days growing up spent much at each other's throat until a reluctant respect was earned both ways. Hopefully he would be able to skip through the droll stage of animosity this time around and go straight for a more professional, well balanced relationship that would better serve the clan. Old he might not be, but he truly had no time at his age for such kittenish nonsense.
diego [Dogskull]
And yet here Grayflame found himself at an impasse. The long furred warrior had always been ambitions. He sought perfection in his daily living. To have others understand his worth, to become undeniably necessary to the clan's existence. To have his presence be synonymous with triumph and the comfort of those that lived there. There was nothing noble about his wishes, however, his mind once more driven by reasoning. He sought survival. Only the strongest survived. The respected were given more leeway. Were less expendable. It was obvious that cats had to die to maintain the status quo. To ensure that they kept their enemies on their toes. As such, it was wiser to be among those the ones with power would see as... less replaceable. Providing a more solid, stable grip on an otherwise chaotic, turbulent way of living.
Yet with this drive had never come the dream to lead. He wasn't naive. There was a reason leaders were given nine lives, and why deputies could very well be many. Strategy of war dictated that removing those on top provided an easier victory. A quicker way to resolve the conflict. Yes, the lives provided power. The very blessing of the stars. The authority to have your words be heeded as divine. And yet at what cost? To never retire. Never see your elder moons? It went against everything that drove the tom, and yet his long lasting rival had seemingly deemed him the only cat available for the task of replacing her in the moment of her death, assuming he somehow managed to stay afloat long enough to outlive her. An imagery that was not well backed by stories of times past.
It changed nothing, of course. He was deputy, and there was little he could do about it now. Other than live with it... for as long as he could. And so he approached. The medicine cat's den. In an attempt to do something he hadn't done since his days of youth. Fraternize. Get to know another. Understand what made them tick. What they required for comfort and sustenance. He knew Singestar well enough by now, their days growing up spent much at each other's throat until a reluctant respect was earned both ways. Hopefully he would be able to skip through the droll stage of animosity this time around and go straight for a more professional, well balanced relationship that would better serve the clan. Old he might not be, but he truly had no time at his age for such kittenish nonsense.
diego [Dogskull]
