⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Saved Roleplays⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ This has been in my unshared projects on my old account for awhile, but in attempt to more quickly gain the scratcher status, I decided to share it here ^^ Image: Peter Frese on Pexels ⠀⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ -- CRP)) The sky was white. Or, at least, that’s what it appeared to be at first glance. Yet among the crowding clouds, a few grasping smudges of blue clawed their way through. The clouds, fearing the sting of these claws, recoiled back in fear. And so that brilliant, brave blue stood strong amongst the expanse of white. Sometimes, the clouds would forget their fear. Sometimes, they’d dart out and reclaim where they once stood. But they would never erase the blue entirely. No, a few stubborn specks always refused to back down. That was how Zenithmuse saw it. A story. A fight. A struggle. Victory. Failure. Fear. Pride. She pieced it together in her mind, stringing her thoughts as she stared up at the endless void above her. Before, she had looked up at the sky and searched for shapes. Before, she had looked down at the trees and admired their colors. Before, she had traced the rocky ground and marveled at its magnificent imperfections. But today, she decided to try something new. To try and look up at that very same sky and see something just a little different. And that fight, that struggle, was what she saw as she sat atop the ledge. -- CRP)) On a particularly warm leaf-bare day, only frost managed to touch the forest’s grassy floors. Although not quite so wondrous as the hills of snow she had seen at the very first snowfall, it was a wonder to see those few snowflakes- or was it ice?- gripping to the stems of the slightly browning grass. Zenithmuse thought of her story of the sky. Of the struggle between the clouds and the blue. Perhaps now would be a good time for try again. To make another story from the wonders of nature. And so she began. /Leaf-bare’s welcome had strengthened the snow, allowing it to rise to power. Overnight, a blizzard had rushed through the land, unseen by the clans. By dawn, the forest was covered in snow. But only a few days later, the snow had weakened. The force of warmth- a terrible, burning, sneering force to the snow that only longed for the cold- had raked the snow like a feline’s claws on her prey. The desperate, yearning snow screamed for the cold to return, for it to right back against this sudden warmth. But it didn’t. Alone, the survivors clung in despair to the grass, having only their fellow victims to rely on./ She wondered how to continue this tragic tale, how to end it with peace, with happiness. But before she could, the sound of another alerted her. The sound, though at first appearing to be another cat, turned out to be nothing but a squirrel unintentionally dropping from a tree on its way to the nearby branch of another. Fearfully, it turned tail and hurried up the tree it came from. Zenithmuse watched this occasion with slight interest and a little humor, but quickly continued on her way through the forest. Perhaps, to end this fable with at least a little more joy, she could speak of the community. Perhaps she could refer the strength those determined flecks of frost shared. /But rely they did. They fought on, despite the pressing knowledge that Death’s paws now reached out to carry them away. No, they weren’t alone. Though each clutching to isolated strands, their minds shared a single thought, and their heart beat with a single drive: to live. Soon, with the strength of unity, their confidence, their tenacity, their faith began to grow. They joined as a whole, taking on the cold in unity. Now, facing it head-on, they knew that never must they do this alone./ The final sentence finished only pawsteps before she entered the camp. Soon, she passed the grieving Tippedantler and arrived with a measly mouse in her jaws at the fresh-kill pile. She placed it down, pleased to have made at least one catch.
-- CRP)) At the north-west border of ThunderClan’s land, just beyond the magnificent Thunder Falls, a collection of sand and waves of salt lay. Snow sprinkled from the sky, blending so seamlessly with the specks of sand. Bordering this grained land, ThunderClan’s lush grass and piles of ferns sat stippled in white as the sky’s many flakes fell upon the forest. Zenithmuse stood just between the border of grass and shore, slowly stepping out farther towards the sea. The sand, suddenly so unlike that blanket of snow, softly filled the gaps between her claws, and the fur at her paws was now unseen among the pouring sand. In her twenty-seven moons of life, she had never thought to wander out to these secluded borders. She wondered how this blanketing land of snow and sand must’ve looked before the first snowfall fell, before the chilled leaf-bare winds swept through the trees and showered the land in snow. She wondered how long must she wait before the cold abated and new-leaf came, allowing a new view of the ocean. But, of course, Zenithmuse would never wish away the snow. It was a stunning thing to the young molly, so soft and pure and peculiarly glacial, so different from anything else she had ever gazed upon. Such wonders it made, from that frozen lake to those snow-touched trees and the way it shone every morning when the sun just began to rise. And then there was here, at the ocean, where those mountainous waves crashed down with a roar among the sand and snow. No, Zenithmuse wouldn’t dream of its departure. Not yet. -- CRP)) Snow. She had heard the word maybe once or twice before, but had never truly understood it until now. The molly had awoken to an expansive wave of snow rushing away as far as she could see. Like rain, specks of white fell from the sky. They drifted and spun to the ground, disappearing as they touched the floor. It was like magic, the way they fell. Zenithmuse stepped forward. “Cold!” the molly yelped, jumping back. She stared down at the print her paw had now made in the stretch of snow, somewhat startled to see it’s dent in that perfectly smooth wave. Curious as a kitten, she took another. And then another. Then faster, in the pace of a trot. A canter. A sprint. A smile flew upon her face, her eyes brightening in fascination, joy, and excitement. She raced through the snow until she dropped down into it, the wave parting with her weight. Soon, the shape of a feline hollowed into the snow. She smiled as those enthralling, magical specks melted on her cinnamon pelt. She laughed as the sun peered through the clouds, shining down on her as if to amplify her joy. She laughed until the clouds enclosed the light. Tarantulahunter. If only he were here to share this moment with her, his excitement surely just as strong as hers. She wondered if, wherever he was, he was watching this ethereal snowfall. She wondered if he, too, smiled as he rested in the snow. But she would never know. Not unless he came back, by some slim chance, if only to tell her of what he had seen. She closed her eyes, melancholic thoughts filling her mind for just a time before, with opened eyes, she headed home. By the time she returned, her thoughts had wandered back to the snow. They were, perhaps, less enthusiastic than before, but no less awed. The molly’s melancholic heart trudged through the snow, her mind even still enlightened by the wonders of the snow as she walked the twisting path of the trees. Swerving in avoidance of a particularly thick tree, she spotted a pelt- one that appeared rather bright against the hills of snow- only pawsteps in front of her. It was Sweetcomb; Hollysmoke’s daughter. Her tongue felt bitter as she looked upon the molly, but not quite so much as it would had she instead been facing Hollysmoke herself. “Hi, Sweetcomb.” Zenithmuse greeted the warrior as their paths drew closer to intersection. -- CRP))Leaf-bare, at first, had been a purely magical thing. It had seemed without imperfections. No, it had been, in Zenithmuse’s eyes, a wondrous thing. The icicles had touched the earth like stars did to sky. The frost sprinkled the grass, hiding the brown of the dying stems. The trees had held dollops of snow, decorating the bare branches beneath. The land has been washed in a sparkling sheet of untouched snow, lit by the dazzling sun. This all remained true, of course, but a new factor had dampened these wonders. Hunting. In this haze of cold, all the prey seemed to have hidden away. Piling in Zenithmuse’s already poor hunting skills, it felt near impossible to catch a single morsel of prey. Even when she did manage to find a creature among the snow, it always managed to escape her paws. So, yeah, definitely not as good as she’d thought. Did she hate leaf-bare, now? Not exactly. In fact, she still very much enjoyed it. Just… a little less than before. Or, sometimes- like just then, as she padded into camp after a failed hunting trip- a /lot/ less.
