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The Apostles is a warrior cats roleplay based in northern Wisconsin. On Lake Superior, the wild cats have made the Apostle Islands their home. It is on these islands - Rocky Island and South Twin Island - that the clan and tribe cats have lived in a peace and harmony that ebbs and flows with the tide.
But as the tides turn, so does the truce that binds them to one another; and as the water raises, a darkness follows, an evil that will end in bloodshed and violence.
[attr="class","sbox"]Monarchmask, as he had promised, was seated amid the southern cliffs of LichenClan territory. Exactly one moon after the Gathering. The moon hung high in the sky, turning him all shades of silver and slate, and it would cloak them, he hoped, as they met here as planned. He paced, tail low to the ground. What if turns out to be too mousey and chickened out ? What then, he wondered, would become of his night ? He had either two options. To wait the night out in the cliffside with the sick hope that Dandelionbite might show his face or go home. Slink back into his nest where he was certain he would a certain someone would be waiting for him.
A night out in the woods was indefinitely the more preferable choice. He paused and thought about it some more. Perchwhisker and her obscured, burning gaze. Monarchmask shivered. The preferable choice by far.
The tortie turned, moving to make another loose circle and no sooner than he’d turned his back did he hear distinctive footfalls and the sound of rippling reeds and fronds being shouldered past roughly. Monarchmask turned abruptly, fur raised. It must be him, no LichenClanner would be out at this time, stomping like that!
And so it was, Dandelionbite, parting the ferns and looking aglow under the starlit sky. Monarchmask could not help the way his eyes traced the other tom’s form, drinking up that unearthly shimmer.
“Hey,” He started, moving closer. “Watch it, don’t get your scent anywhere.” he jerked his head towards the ferns the other tom was stepping through. “Except on me.” Monarchmask winked wickedly. “You’re more than welcome to get your scent on me.”
Dandelionbite felt a cautious thrill pulsing into his paw pads as he carelessly trudged through the undergrowth, knowing by this point in his journey the only cat that would be hearing him would be the exact cat he was looking for. His mind was not holding attention to his paws anyway, focused on the mental image of a certain leaf-fall palette. Those damn orange and black colors had been burned into his mind for too long now, those colors now staining both his first battle and now will be his most recent. But it still felt strange, sparring with the same cat that embarrassed him.
But at the same time, he felt like he had no choice. He was a loner in his Clan. His mother was his only grace, but she was busy as a senior warrior. Mallowfrost also slipped into his mind, but ever since he last talked to her, she seemed as if she lived in her own mind instead of the waking world. It was impossible to keep her attention, let alone slink to a low enough level to ask for help. He knew if any cat had the lowest amount of respect for him possible, it was probably her.
And yet, with Monarchmask, despite his embarrassing history with him, he didn't feel lower than him or judged. And he wasn't sure why.
Speaking of, as Dandelionbite cornered their promised meeting spot, Monarchmask's pelt shifted into view without even scenting him first. Just as vivid as they were in his memory, those contrasting hues stood out even through reeds and darkness, the full moon's silver sheen tinging every hair on the LichenClan warrior's pelt. Dandelionbite was blunt as he pushed himself into view, ignoring the warnings he was greeted with as he stood before the enemy tom. This was it. They were here. His heart began to race. This was his chance to score a win. But before he could even unsheathe his claws, Monarchmask continued talking, distracting him with that damn, familiar heat that the tom encouraged out of his cheeks.
But this time, he wasn't embarrassed by it. No, it fueled an aggressive dominance in him. A need to feel a secure control. And as dangerous eyes lit, piercing Monarchmask with an intensity of a hungry fox, he prowled closer. He wanted Monarchmask under his paws, whether he won or not. A thrill entered his spine with the whirling confusion of lust and bloodlust sparking an eager but swift launch. Dandelionbite prematurely began their battle with a dive for the tom's shoulders, attempting to throw him down for a pin as he shoved hot breaths into his ear. "Don't worry. I'll have you drowning in it." He growled. "You're mine."
Monarchmask found himself quickly with his back flush to the ground, pinned by two sturdy, large paws which rested on his shoulders. He was taken aback, heat rushing to his face and the tips of his ears. The air had been knocked from him but even with that he felt a shock ripple through him. Was it the brute force of which Dandelionbite had pummeled him down ? Or perhaps…was it the heat of the moment that had fueled the tom to play into his flirtations at last ? He was stunned for a moment, forced to reckon with those two considerations and then with his own feelings on which he wished the answer to be. Had this been how that ThistleClanner had felt ? This rush of confusion, the bubbling of lust that followed it ? What exactly did he have to say for himself, that the only thought he could conjure in his mind after the RedwoodClan tom had uttered- no, growled those wanton words, was that of what might Wildclaw do if he bore witness to such an illicit scene ? If Monarchmask dared to return to camp reeking of the tom’s scent, what might his childhood best friend say ? The thoughts whirled in him so vividly and vampishly, he nearly forgot the purpose of this meeting, the very reason why Dandelionbite stooped over him at all.
This was not a one-night at the border, but a fight and silently he cursed himself for giving into such a fantasy so easily. Control yourself! He grit his teeth and forced his eyes elsewhere, anywhere, just nowhere near the burning ambers which sought to entrap him. Then, he pulled his hindlegs up and reared them up into the vulnerable stomach that Dandelionbite had left open in his conquesting.
Dandelionbite stared. He had expected some sort of devilish retort, or clever word play, but instead, only silence welcomed the air. His brows tensed, waiting, wondering if time had just slowed in the momentum of his fire and tricked him into thinking Monarchmask wasn't responding. But he stared. And stared. He wasn't responding. And Dandelionbite smiled. He had never won a battle in his life. He had never achieved satisfaction in his life. Never known the graces of true achievement. Of true self-worth. He had been gluttonous of all the things that didn't matter, and thus never experienced the fine dining of living.
And he was living now.
There was not a single care in the pulse of his muscles as he used his turn in their battle not to throw a revengeful blow to that beautifully arrogant mottled face, or to flee from morbidly painful kicks to his stomach. Instead, he only braced himself, choosing to keep his now vulnerable position over the LichenClan warrior. For, this was no battle to win anymore for Dandelionbite. The purest form of gratification had already been experienced in his domination over the mental game. A mental game that he knew full well Monarchmask was an expert at playing.
Dandelionbite bit his lip before challenging, "You really gonna look away from me?" The fire in his eyes only grew more intense, more feral, as he dared Monarchmask to connected gazes with him, words hot on the tom's cheek. Then, he growled deeply, command in his voice, "Look at me."
Heat flared and pulsed under his pelt and Monarchmask felt it was fire that could drew any other to a pale, weak ember in comparison. Any other border moonlit fling had faded to static and white noise in his mind the same night it happened, it was a thing- an illicit and daring and wondrously treacherous thing- and then it was not. That was how it went. Usually.
But this ? This, he felt, was the start of something much more.
The tom hovering and looming above him wore a face which bore a grin that stretched wide and wild, like a fox, like a dog, like anything with enough teeth and tenacity to pose a threat. To be stunned to a silence that was not punctuated with snarky comments was a rare thing for even, but here his opponent had found it so effortlessly. His kicks seemed not to faze Dandelionbite. In fact, the golden-pelted tom took them in stride, doubling down and gritting his teeth. It was dazzling, truly. A fire so bright, Monarchmask had to look away. Until…that fire sent forth a siren call to do just that.
Dandelionbite’s words were so fierce and deep and powerful that Monarchmask’s eyes snapped up and connected with his. This was a dance, a rhythm and yet here he was, surrendering ? He could not.
He let their eyes meet and burn and then he broke the silence and stillness with a swift swinging of his head. The crown of his head connecting with the jaw of the RedwoodClan cat with a loud crack.
Dandelionbite's breathing slowed in immense satisfaction as Monarchmask obeyed his orders in such an intense manner he almost felt as if he had been knocked unconscious and had dived into a personal fantasy divulging in power. As if, he were given lives from the stars above, been pronounced as Dandelionbite, and now held the control of an entire army of cats that had of course included the tom before him.
Oh, it definitely included him. For it wasn't just revenge that fueled him. It was Monarchmask's graces, his mystery, his obstinacy, his core. Or, at least, he thought he was currently seeing the flash of the tom's core. If this sudden display of submissiveness was only a one time thing, he would be sorely disappointed. Dandelionbite couldn't quite peg what had thrust him into this wild passion, but he knew the trigger. And before Monarchmask, he had only been teased, been under the mercy of tantalizing paws. Now, he felt another cat under his mercy, and nothing felt more right.
Until, a flash of white blinded his vision, followed by stars.
Dazed, he was finally sent stumbling backward, losing his position of dominance over Monarchmask. It wasn't until his eyes cleared that he even realized what had happened, a sharp throb of pain trembling his skull in the recollection of his sight. Shaking his head dogishly, Dandelionbite hissed in annoyance, absolutely furious at both the horrible pain in his head, and the sudden ruining of the moment. He turned on Monarchmask furiously, but found himself wordless, reality hitting him that this was the entire purpose of their meeting. To beat each other up. If he said anything, he would be confessing to losing focus of their goal. And for what? What did he want to do?
Suddenly flushed, he hesitated, before lunging again at Monarchmask, aiming for his shoulder. In a flurry of excitement, he felt fur under his claws. I haven't missed once so far! But the rush of his success was overshadowed by the rush that followed, his hit weakening as his eyes connected with the tortoiseshell's. His stare intensified as his hit resonated in the rival warrior's skin, time slowing to a stop as a white hot desire rose into his chest and out from his lungs, he wanted Monarchmask under him again. He growled, "You sure you don't want to go back to obeying me?"
For a moment, Dandelionbite stood above him, proud and glittering and arrogant, and then in the next moment he was stumbling backwards, knocked from his glorious light by the crass and blunt slam of bone cracking unto bone. How simply Monarchmask had done it, as though it were the same as flicking his tail tip, to snatch back that moment of unfiltered pride from the RedwoodClan tom’s jaws. It was too tempting given how evident Dandelionbite’s desire for that rush had been. He had shown it too clearly and the taste was too sweet not to savor.
And savor it he did. Monarchmask lapped up the dazed and blinded look, the way a sneer had twisted downwards, unexpectedly, into a frown. The golden tom started and then paused, like he had come onto something of a realization much grander and profound in that half-second, and then he looked embarrassed. His face flushed peachy and he looked dumbfounded. Monarchmask could not place a name to the feeling he was recognizing on the other. Perhaps the surprise in relishing in the touch of another tom ?
Dandelionbite loomed over him, teeth flashing, as he goaded the tortie. Monarchmask laughed a low and dry laugh. This really is his first time, huh ? He loosely sent another hindleg forth to trip up the other as he dared to come close again. Yet, he remained on his back, looking smugly upwards as if he were comfortable there. “Sure. But you forget,” Another cheeky laugh punctuated his words. “You have to earn that.”
“So why don’t you come on and make me ?” attack; kick atk roll; 15 dmg roll; 6 hp; 57/65
As Dandelionbite prowled toward his prey like a wild dog, head still pulsing from a headache now reigning his head from their skull to skull collision, he stopped mid step forward. He stared at Monarchmask before him, not intimidated nor defensive. There was, of course, an excitement to his play. But as his amber gaze trailed over him, it was obvious that this spar had devolved entirely into a game.
This was just a game of hearts to him. And had that always been his goal, to pull Dandelionbite's passion from blood to lust? Could this night just be a plan for a one time fling? Would Monarchmask even want to meet him again if he had fallen for his graces? Did he even care about this fight? Or, worse, was he letting him win?
Dandelionbite started to question himself again, and more seriously, his reality. He felt all the momentum fall. And for a moment, he stopped, and just stared at the LichenClan warrior. Whether he was afraid of losing Monarchmask's company, embarrassed by his own feelings, or frustrated by another battle he couldn't be proud of, Dandelionbite knew he just wanted to go home and lick his wounds. Impulsively, his emotions exploded through his teeth. "I don't want to turn this into a one night fling," he growled before straightening up to leave. "So are you going to take me seriously next time?"There will be a next time, right...?
The golden one came forth, face freckled with exhilaration and anticipation and the kind of excitement found only in canines. He stood before him, dappled in weak light and fur flayed out from all the action. Monarchmask’s gaze caught to half-lazy, half-delicate canter that abruptly ended midway. For lack of any of his silvered words, Dandelionbite looked positively beautiful in the moment. Glittering and gleaming and near-divine, the dappled tom was eager to feel the weight of those boyish, brutish paws looming over him once more. He wanted to hear the husking, teasing words caress the sensitive inner part of his ear and feel the bright, fickle amber stare pull him into a trance which captivated not just his playboy heart.
But yet, the other paused. His brow arched. “Tired already ?” Monarchmask taunted, tail flicking in lax motions. “And here I thought we’d go for at least another three rounds…” Another tantalizing, coy remark was already forming on his tongue when Dandelionbite suddenly burst with emotion, his demeanor quieting almost. “A one night fling ?” The tortoiseshell echoed. “What kind of tom do you take me for ?” He erupted with laughter. “Oh no, no no. You’ve got it all wrong.”
Monarchmask moved fluidly until he stood inches from Dandelionbite’s maw, limbs stretching to meet the RedwoodClanner’s gaze. “Next time, we’ll meet somewhere more private, where I’ll show you how serious I can be.”
