Black Magic [tallblack]

[:c a i:]

b l a c k f e a t h e r . d a r k f l o w e r
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"...he's arrogant, conceited and imbecilic."

[/color] Blackfeather drawled, leaning back casually as she eyed her sister from across the den. Darkflower flicked her flecked tail impatiently and fixed Blackfeather with a sceptical look.

"Please. What problem do you really have with him? He's not half-Clan, he's not from loner stock, he's a good warrior and he's not a pathetic wimp. You should like him, by all estimations." [/color] Darkflower replied in her cool, liquid voice. Blackfeather snorted in response, running her tongue over her sleek black fur to smooth it back as she met her sister's glass green gaze with her own.

"He might not be a half-Clan abomination, but he's still vile."[/color] She said carelessly, raising one slim foreleg to groom her face. "With all those ridiculous views about StarClan, Darkflower, it's a wonder they've not decided to smite him in his sleep."[/color]

Darkflower gave a slightly derisive laugh. "As if you have been StarClan's greatest disciple, sister." She said wryly. Blackfeather turned her head to meet Darkflower's eye with a wicked grin, almost lighting up at the mention of her own questionable devotion to the venerable StarClan.

"Oh, well, you have a point there, my dear sister." she conceded with a dangerous chuckle, an almost malevolent gleam in her eye. "But the point still stands. Tallstorm is from decent ShadowClan blood, and yet somehow they still produced a prize idiot! Fancy that."

"And if you had to get stuck in a cave with either Tallstorm or..."[/color] Darkflower paused to think. "...Batheart, who would you choose?"[/color] she said, smirking as Blackfeather gave a dramatic groan.

"Ugh, what a revolting proposition. The lecherous half-Clan buffoon or the arrogant fox-heart."[/color] Blackfeather snorted cruelly, rolling over to lie on her back. "I choose neither; I'd end up murdering either one of them."[/color] she answered indifferently, staring up at the roof with large, slanted green eyes. Darkflower rolled her eyes from across the den.

"Cop out."[/color] she said. Blackfeather smiled enigmatically in response. "I'm on patrol, I'll see you later."[/color] Darkflower said vaguely as she padded silently from the den, leaving Blackfeather to her thoughts.
[/blockquote]

[spike]

Apprentices. How many times did he have to suffer the training for one good moment? He shook his fur out, trying to soothe his tired body. But no luck, it only felt like he wiped the dust off his paws and was to return to something else. He glanced in the direction of the prey and decided against it. He was hungry but not that hungry. Besides, Dapplepaw could take some of it to the queens instead. Tallstorm felt proud in his little apprentice. So dashing and strong already. Ha! He must’ve been the best mentor in all of ShadowClan! The time would come soon enough when Dapplepaw would rightfully earn her name. His smug look was full of admiration as he turned to trot for the den.

A long day only meant good work. For a cat as pure as him, it was only right in the end to be such a hard-working tom. ShadowClan was his life, his soul, his blood. They’d get nothing less. Still, in his aging moons, no longer of a youthful twenty or so when the term “young warrior” still clung to him, perhaps he should be preparing for other things. Preparing for another step in life, that is. A she-cat, dare he say it? Thinking of the pure ones though, it made Tallstorm somewhat disgusted to even bother thinking of that idea. They were vile little creatures in personality, none of them truly suited for him. How sadly near impossible it was to have good, clean blood with a reasonable tongue on them rather than thorn sharp like…

Like that mousebrained Blackfeather.

Oh, her voice rubbed his fur the wrong way. It was something that made him think of a snake hissing in his ear, a crow cawing from high above, the rats snickering in the carrionplace. Oh, the thought of it made his blood grow warm. Perhaps not just warm, but white hot. She was a hotheaded one in comparison to some more obedient she-cats, like Dapplepaw. His tongue flashed across his trembling whiskers as Tallstorm thought about it. He despised Blackfeather and yet their fights gave him more adrenaline than any race for prey. No, there was something about her that was very different and he liked it as much as he hated it.

No matter, he’d get his rest and try to put it off for another day, these wretched little thoughts of his. The tom ducked slightly as he slid into the den only to pause when Tallstorm saw the black she-cat stretched out on her nest. ’Oh joy, the ravens curse me yet again, don’t they?’

[/color] Usually he wasn’t so spiteful as to stir the pond and all its muck, but thinking about the heated arguments that drove his mind mad, he couldn’t even help himself as he walked to lay down where Darkflower had been only moments before.

”Have you been sleeping the day away?”[/color] he sneered, half jokingly, half not so. Blue eyes flashed with wickedness as he turned a couple times, paws kneading at the soft material before he laid down rather heavily on the nest. He rested his great head on his long forelegs, dancing stare on her. By StarClan, she was always a, dare he say, sexy cat in a way. Didn’t mean he wanted to forgo their bickering for one day. ”Or perhaps trying to dream of that silly half-clanner, what’s his name…. Batdung? Oh, wait, yes, Batheart. You should really get a better hobby, Blackfeather.”[/color] Ah, the life of Tallstorm. What a pleasant one to live, wasn’t it?[/blockquote][/justify]

[:c a i:]

After her sister left, Blackfeather remained lying carelessly on her back, eyes half-closed in thought as she reflected on the conversation she'd just had. Why exactly Tallstorm made her blood boil and her paws itch to unsheathe her claws was somewhat unclear to her, since Darkflower was right: by all right and reason she ought to like him, or at least approve of his ideals. Her grudges were against those of impure blood or of weak character, neither of which could really be associated with Tallstorm, and he appeared to share her beliefs on the wrongness of mixing blood.

But he was still absolutely insufferable.

It irked her even more that in some twisted way she'd come to... not exactly enjoy their vicious spats, but at least get extremely... fired up when they were happening. Tallstorm's bitter tongue was a match for her own venomous wordplay, and that was something she only usually found with her kin. The difference was, Tallstorm filled her with ire merely by being within ten foxlengths of her. And typically, the fates decided that her solitude should be unpleasantly interrupted by the arrival of he who infuriated her most.

At the sound of Tallstorm's voice - she'd know that grating tone anywhere - she let out a long sigh. "Oh dear, Tallstorm, you must be desperate for company to come here and get me all on my own."

[/b] she rolled over, making sure to exaggerate the movement, showing off lean limbs and sleek fur as she turned unflinching green eyes on him. Serve him right for invading her personal space. If he wanted a fight, he would get one, and she would most certainly be playing dirty.

"But then, since it's you-"[/color] she flicked her gaze disdainfully across the length of his body, her brow wrinkling in afforded disgust. "It's not really surprising that you're struggling for company, is it?"[/color] She smiled coldly and moved so she was within inches of the big tom, eyes narrowing challengingly. She circled him slowly, as if she were hunting him, her voice low. "And as for Batheart, perhaps you would be more suited to him. At least then there'd be no chance of the pair of you producing any more half-witted kits."[/color] she snorted derisively and abruptly turned away, flinging a cold look over her shoulder, if only to hide the crackling anger that was building.

Oh, she hated how he could set her blood boiling just by making inane remarks like that. She was mistress of her own emotions to every other cat; she could detach herself from anything and commit crimes that no StarClan-fearing cat would dare utter. But when it came to the most certainly damned Tallstorm, she fizzled with hot anger and could never resist sniping back at him with a vicious retort. He was intolerable, and she was a twisted sort of cat who kept coming back for more. What a strange masochistic sadist she was.

But then, she thought with a sardonic smile, she already knew that. [/blockquote]

[spike]

Feisty, yes, that was one word to use for Blackfeather. The tom kept his eyes latched onto everything she did, from her long movements of the legs, one that got a small growl from him in appreciation and disdain, to the green gaze that made his own blue eyes flicker for just a second. He was undaunted by her but very much knowledgeable to see she was not going to take it easy on him. And that was how Tallstorm liked his girls. Her words were sharp and stabbed him repeatedly where it mattered most, finding her presence to only exaggerate the way her words were claws down his spine.

And by StarClan he was actually smirking back at her despite the comments. If he wasn’t so interested in this infectious she-cat, he might’ve clawed her ears off at this point. But no matter, this was fun. He had been needing a good laugh as it was. ’My, she makes it hard to resist just laughing.’ The tom flicked his ears some at the idea of him and Batheart. Well, the only reason he wasn’t growling was because the idea of digging his nails into that tom, even if it was somewhat wrong in a sense, would’ve been a pleasure.

”My dear, don’t you know any better?” was the replying sneer. He lifted his head, paws crossing neatly in front of him as he angled his majestic head in her direction. She was a burning magnificent piece of art and he wanted nothing more than to win and watch it topple for once. His long tail lashed as he let his toothy grin break through. ”Me producing kits needs fine quality, one that surely you would know dearly of.” He made an exaggerated show of eyeing her body, up and down once before letting sapphires meet emeralds again.

”Somebody… strong of will and heart, pure of blood too. Beautiful with good potential to make kits. Because my kits shall be beautiful. A mother for them that will keep them on the right track, not falling off the beaten end of things.” He purred and rested his head again, seemingly dismissing her despite his words. Then he smirked to himself, saying loud enough for her to hear. ”Hm. Perhaps your sister fits that, for I sure know no other that matches.” He didn’t have an eye for Darkflower, honestly, but he liked pitting her out there for Blackfeather to hear. It made him oh so nice and warm inside.

[:c a i:]

Talking with Tallstorm was like walking over hot coals while eating the most succulent mouse in the world. It was simultaneously a deeply unpleasant experience and undeniably appealing; something she half wanted never to repeat and half wanted never to stop. It made little sense, really, but Blackfeather made it a point not to think too hard about it. Tallstorm wasn't worth that much emotional investment. There were, she imagined, no other cats in the Clan who had a spiny relationship quite like theirs; no one else who met only to spit poison and glower at one another.

What a shame such a... delectable frame had to be wasted on a cat whose head was so inflated that it was a marvel he stood up at all.

She had to admit it threw her slightly when he started listing traits he found admirable. Surely he wasn't trying it on with her now, after all their bickering? She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, and rolled them expressively when the real intention of the foul tom's words came out. At the mention of her sister, Blackfeather's pelt bristled and she gave a disgusted snort, though a scornful smile slid across her features as she turned to look at Tallstorm, condescension creeping into every part of her. "That is, I believe, the first time I have ever heard you talk any sense, Tallstorm. My sister is beautiful and she will have fine kits."

[/color] she paused, smiling a false smile as she twirled her tail almost seductively, approaching the tom once again. She leaned in, her face just inches from his as her green eyes narrowed sharply.

"Unfortunately for you, she is also clever, which means she wouldn't look twice at an imbecile like you. Any kits of hers will most certainly be the kits of a tom in possession of a backbone and a full set of manners. And perhaps a face that somebody other than a mother could love. That, I'm afraid, rules you out quite successfully."[/color] she spat the words out venomously, the intensity between them cranking up as she faced Tallstorm off, her stance very much the opposite of submissive.

Nobody used her sister against her and lived.

[/blockquote]

[spike]

She was the only one that could cause such anger to spew forth from him in such words. How could a she-cat like her, pure of blood and strong in mentality, turn out to be the most indescribably awful cat in existence? The tom’s tail curled up some, pondering her with each move she made. She might never have more than her warriorhood ahead of her due to her intense gaze or fiery, passionate, yet acidic speech. Tallstorm could only ever be amused with her, feeling the dance in his paws when the fight was ensued beyond reason. Bringing up her sister obviously caused another jolt to rock their conversation.

She turned back to him, speaking only with a more passionate cause. When she stepped closer to him, so close he could smell the scent off her pelt, he found himself resisting the urge to tremble with delight. Everything about her was mindboggling and addictive. Her snarky retorts, however, upbraiding him and belittling the brute caused the smirk to turn into a disapproving scowl. That had hit home with Tallstorm when she mentioned he was an imbecile and lacked the qualities for a proper mate. He flashed his tongue out to lick across his shaking whiskers, watching her stand and snarl in his face.

The lynx point cat closed his eyes, calmly sitting up so he could scratch behind his ear, refusing to answer for a moment. She was getting better and better with each fight, and he was not going to lose to her. ’I have never really wanted to win before. Just with her. It’s a shame I know she’s more worthy of her claws than anything else about her.’ When he finished, he laid back down, calmly turning molten blue eyes onto her, narrowed though his face showed no sign of being bothered by her words. ”Good thing I wasn’t ever interested in your sister them, huh?” he growled slightly, keeping his stare right on her.

He could tell Blackfeather was angry. Oh so very angry. He did not show like he was willing to bend though, as strong, or as stupid, as her. ”So, taking her out of the equation, what about you?”

[/color] That smirk returned, a fang clear in his grin as he flashed it at her. He wasn’t interested in her either, but the rise it got was worth saying anything at all. ”How would you feel being trapped to the nursery to have my kits, hm? Or perhaps Batheart’s would suffice, the half-Clan monster. Either way, you run out of choices for good mates. Perhaps it will come down to me. Make you suffer with that sad knowledge, isn’t it? Even I find myself gagging on the idea.”[/color] Tallstorm made a motion of yawning, as if he was bored by whatever they had been talking about. ”But the internal clock is ticking and soon perhaps I might just have to make you.”[/color]

Tallstorm never pondered his words when he said them. Never gave them a second thought. He just said whatever he thought would make Blackfeather’s fur stiffen and snarl ring. He loved having both of those.[/blockquote][/justify]

[:c a i:]

Blackfeather smiled a viciously triumphant smile. One point to me, wouldn't you say? she thought smugly.

She knew she had cut right through to what little heart Tallstorm possessed with her sharp remark, and it pleased her immeasurably to see the faint quiver of anger unsettle the fine pale fur of the cat she had come to quite ferociously despise. Oh yes, he tried to hide it, and she knew immediately that he was determined not to let her feel as if she had hit her mark, but too bad for him - she felt it anyway. She knew it. Served him right for raising beautiful, clever Darkflower's name when he wasn't even good enough to speak of pathetic, estranged Brightpool. She felt the flood of adrenaline as her defiant glare met his. There it was: the bloodlust and the thrill of slicing away at Tallstorm's defences, locked in a battle where tooth and claw were replaced with every vicious word they could manage. A war, really, with innumerable battles for as long as they both lived.

Again with the kits,

[/color] she thought sourly, triumph fading and the hair on her neck stiffening in ire, though she was even more wound up than she let on. He was just making a lucky guess in stumbling across the subject that was particularly frustrating for her, but it was inevitably a sore point. He didn't know it, but she was always, always under pressure from her family, her father, to hurry up and bear well-bred kits to serve ShadowClan, just as all the best she-cats in her family were. If she wasn't careful, she was going to end up like her cousin Nightfur and get kits in her belly by a tom her father had selected for her. Not that, of course, any tom would make it within five fox lengths of her without her permission, but it was still unnerving for Blackfeather to consider that she was already six moons older than her mother was when she'd had her first litter.

If my father chose a tom for me it is highly likely he would fall upon Tallstorm.

The thought flashed through Blackfeather's mind before she could stop it and it evoked a strange, unharmonious sensation in Blackfeather. On the one hand, it absolutely chilled her to the core, picturing herself being touched by Tallstorm, held down by him and then made to have his kits. For a moment her glass green eyes locked onto Tallstorm's blue, the expression in them briefly unsettled. But then on the other hand there was also heat, because some baser part of herself couldn't help but eye up the fine, powerful limbs and the massive build and the perfectly sculpted jaw and smirk to think of possessing and being possessed by all that. To have the fruit of all the undeniable power that was his and hers.

But that thought was only for the tiniest of moments, and she was quickly back to her flippant, ferocious self. Eyes defiant, head high, every asset kicked into high gear. Seduction and sniping replies, hand in hand. Blackfeather waited until Tallstorm had stopped his foolish talk, a careless silence stretching out. She smiled. "Fantasising, are we?"[/color] she whispered, leaning in close "...Wishing you could wile those lonely nights away with a cat like me? Is that what you think about when I'm not around? Dreaming that you could have me in your nest..." [/color] she laughed, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

"I bet you've never had a she-cat like me. You don't know what it's like to really play,"[/color] she was so close now that her scent would be inescapable, almost as if she were marking Tallstorm with it. "I can have any tom I want,"[/color] she told him scornfully, "Why would I ever settle for a fool like you? Willing toms are easier to find than prey in greenleaf, but you won't ever have anyone like me."[/color]

A pause.

Is this desire?

[/blockquote][[Whoa, that got kinda long. And I never knew Blackfeather was so sexual xD;;]][/size]

[spike]

Hearing her all flustered and in a rage was taunting to the senses. Her scent was all around him and her heat was more than just her fiery tongue. The large white tom wanted so badly to dig his claws across her belly and then wrap her up in his own warmth. She caused him to feel both sides of this rage and this awe. This was what a true ShadowClan warrior was. Wiling to fight and eager to stand up for oneself was what a warrior of this Clan should be. Blackfeather had it all and he wanted it all. Perhaps one day he could, but for now the jokes were good enough.
Her quiet yet intense words made him strain to listen in and yet want to wince away from the way she made him sound like the one at wrong. She was amazing in a way that drew the worst out in him. He stared down at her in silence, stiffened by the fact that she closed in on him. Every time his eyes met hers, not straying to observe her luscious body, he would find himself feeling anger and then lust, and then something that was like respect. Tallstorm never moved an inch, minus his tail lashing to and fro in small, delicate circles. She was getting to him, as much as he didn’t want to admit it.

Then she was so close he could her breath on him, smell her intoxicating scent all around him. Tallstorm despised her remarks yet found himself growing only more intrigued with her. So close, so far. So much his, but never at all. He nearly wanted to spite her and demand to her father of making him her mate. But no. That would be a shame to claim her. It had to be done in battle, in ferocity. When she was her closest, all he had to do was lean forward slowly, muzzle barely away from her ear but enough to brush his warm breath all across her flesh, whispering only one thing to the she-cat he so wanted. “Do you want me, Blackfeather?”

[:c a i:]

It was a moment in which the answer to his question might have swayed into the realms of being yes. One moment, with his muzzle at her ear and her fur prickling at the closeness, and Blackfeather felt her eyelids flicker, her mouth preparing to hiss back her seductive reply. She teetered on the brink.

And then the glass-green of her eyes widened, her heavy-lidded glare swinging up to look at him full in the face; the familiar, oh so hated face. And that one look was like plunging an icy spear straight through the fire that had been kindling within her, freezing her from the inside out.

The haze in the green dissipated immediately, the cold, sharp edge returning. Scorn streamed across her expression, snuffing out the lust that had taken up residence there in a heartbeat. It was quite a feat of Blackfeather's that she could rid herself of all outward emotion so fast, and she met the ice blue stare without tremor, without so much as a waver. Her eyes hardened, fixed on his, unblinking.

"In. Your. Dreams."

[/color] she spat, the fine features of her face twisting in contempt and mustered hatred. "For that is the only place where a fool like you gets to have someone like me. What makes you think I would ever submit to you? I know the kind of cat you take. Fragile, weak, easy. As if I would ever be that. "[/color] she hissed, low and deadly. The walls were back up, the vicious spikes that kept her in her aura of ferocity, danger and dislike. She derided that moment of weakness that had made her even consider him. She laughed at the thought of being his. She looked at him with such dislike that a lesser cat would probably crumple under the savageness of her gaze.

But deep down she knew Tallstorm was no such cat. [/blockquote]