Username: solstice roses!
Clan: Jovial!
Would you like to be entered into the supernova raffle? yes!
Quest Number: 3
Response: Here
Word Count: 1,362







Hana wrote:"Thank you all for your replies!! I'll have your prizes figured out soon!"
The current round has ended.
Hana wrote:"Wait wait wait, I have more questions, don't leave yet!"
A new round has begun!
QUEST #1
Draw or write about a time a cat disagreed with leader
You may only write and/or draw your response to this prompt.
QUEST #2
Draw a cat who has some unusual interests
You may only draw your response to this prompt.
QUEST #3
Write about the legacy your character wishes to leave behind after they pass!
You may only write your response to this prompt.

Umber leaves dangle limply from stiff branches, swaying precariously in the tepid wind. Nothing more than a soft breath of air sends lifeless foliage cascading down onto the forest floor. Littering the surface in hues of ochre and rust, contrasting starkly against the early whispers of a white winter. A loud crunch sounds sending a flurry of wings fluttering into the sky, a flock of shrouded figures scattering into the clouds.
"I've said it once and I will say it again. I cannot allow you to go on this journey, it is a death sentence," a stern voice follows the startling crunch, sounding strained and exasperated.
A second voice replies in a pleading tone, "Anyara, I have no choice. I need to go. The safety of our kin and my daughter are dependent on this!"
Hissing erupts from a third voice, sounding more anxious than angry, "So to protect our daughter you're just going to leave?" Frenzied disbelief weighs upon each syllable, the molly's voice trembling in fear.
"Listen to reason, Osprey. You won't survive this journey... How do you think your family will survive should you not make it back?" the Anyara meows, turning her sunset gaze onto the cinnamon-colored tom. Strands of fur curl against her cheek, quivering in the passing breeze. The authoritative she-cat sticks out within their small group, her purple pelt appearing unnatural against the forest visage.
The other molly nods in agreement, her yellow-green eyes brimming with emotion as she peers imploringly at her mate, "How will I survive, Osprey?" Her words are drenched with anguish, a preemptive mourning of a love she could lose so easily. "I can't lose you... I can't lose anyone else," she asserts, setting a cream-colored paw before her in an attempt to draw closer.
"You won't lose me, Elowen. I've done this journey before," the tom meows firmly, taking a tentative step backwards from his approaching mate. The she-cat flinches from his movement, drawing in a sharp, pained hiss, but the tom continues, "I have to do this. Please understand." One green eye stares between the two mollies with a steely sincerity.
The Anyara shakes her head once more, shouldering past the tremoring molly to get closer to her subject, "You didn't do this journey alone before, remember?" She begins, tension pulling her voice taut as she speaks, "Crescent was there too. And he never returning... Do you truly wish to hurt Elowen and your family as Crescent did his?"
Now Osprey flinches, the fortitude of his gaze wavering at the mention of his dear friends. The Anyara was right, Osprey didn't go on that journey alone, yet he certainly returned home alone. Left with a gaping wound in his heart from where his companion had once occupied. From the torment of watching him die. "This is different," the words tumble from him in a troubled murmur, brows furrowing as memories flood behind his eye.
"Oh, Osprey..." Elowen whispers as she steps forward against, running her muzzle against his cheek. The cinnamon tom closes his eye, taking a moment to inhale her sweet, familiar scent. He allows himself a moment of weakness- to melt into her embrace. Shedding the worries and nightmares keeping him awake each and every night. The promise of calamity threatening the Blessed and his family. The future fate has planned for him and his daughter.
"Even still," the tom sighs deeply, drawing himself away from his mate once more. Any more time spent pressed into her fur may result in him changing his mind. "I must go. Crescent knew the risks when he left, knew what he would be leaving behind, but he still went. He didn't cower from his destiny, he embraced it. And I will do the same." Confidence and reassurance rushes through him, bolts of electricity within his veins only further hardening his resolve.
A distressed sob sounds from nearby, yet he refuses to look knowing all too well the face Elowen must be making at this moment. Instead, he stares at the Anyara, imploring her to listen to him. To understand. "I hear you, Osprey. I truly do," the leader holds his gaze, only wavering for a moment to flash a sympathetic look at the troubled she-cat. "As your Anyara... I simply cannot allow you to go on this journey-" The cinnamon tom parts his jaws to protest as she lifts her paw in the air, ordering silence. "However.. as myself, as Plumeria. Well, all I can say is to follow your heart. Don't make this decision lightly. You have Elowen and your children to consider. But I have known you for many seasons and I know you wouldn't be this stubborn if it wasn't important."
Gratitude floods the tom's face as he bows his head down, "Thank you, Anyara-"
"Plumeria," she corrects. "You should thank Plumeria, not the Anyara," the she-cat offers a playful wink, hoping to aid in lightening the tension amidst the trio.
A smile spreads upon his cinnamon complexion, "Thank you, Plumeria. I promise, this is more important than any of us could possibly imagine."
A solemn gaze washes over the shrouded field, sorrow pooling along depths of violet. Scattered threads of moonlight weave between the gathered husks. Their fur shimmering beneath the moon- a field of snow-touched fur. Swirling green eyes stare up at the commanding presence standing before them, waiting in silent anticipation. The burly tom spreads their lips apart in a maniacal grin, a pair of pointed fangs glinting threateningly. "Thank you for gathering tonight," the voice booms, carrying over the gathering.
A sense of foreboding ripples through the silver tom, turning his somber attention to the assertive tom towering before him. They both know very well that the audience before them had no other choice than to come. To meet within this hidden field buried deep within the accursed Starless Grove. A hexed territory where not even rogues dared wander, as even they fear existing without the protection of the gods.
"I have great plans for you all, my brood," the sturdy tom continues.
Brood, the word replays within the onlooker's mind. A treacherously deafening sound rattling within his skull, sending a fresh surge of nausea. While some could consider the cats a proper 'brood' (on an improper technicality), it certainly existed as nothing of the sort. As Castor, the self-proclaimed Harbinger of Perpetuality, puts it 'they were rebirthed with his powers, born as his children'. Yet, a child of Castor is no coveted title.
"Tonight, under the hallowed crescent, we unite as one! Tonight, Kaos as our witness, we will reborn anew! Tonight, we become chaos!" As if under command, a cacophony of eager yowls erupt from the throng of felines. Pairs of pointed fangs glimmer beneath the moonlight, piercing through night's obscurity. From parted jaws, an unnaturally luminous green can be revealed; flesh of tongue stained in this sickly shade, lashing into the sky through piercing screeches.
The sight is sickening, driving the silver tom to take an unsteady step back. Claws slide in and out in a soothing fashion, the tom's desperate attempt to regain control of his emotions. Contrarily could result in incurring his brother's wrath, so he knew he needed to reclaim restraint and return to his position. You are nothing but the offering, an acquainted voice murmurs silently, forcing compliance to pierce through the pelt of fear. Compelling him to return to his former position just behind the Brother of Kaos.
As the shrilling yowls wane into an eerie silence, the haughty tom lets out a singular howl of his own. Sinisterly chilling, shattering against the psyche of all who surround. Suffocating any internal voices until all that can be heard is him. All that can be thought is him. All that matters is his him.
"Come now, brother. They will build the camp while we prepare the sacrifice," his brother's ruthless tone snaps the silver cat out of that mesmerized state. Instead, drawing his attention to the brown tom passing by him. Head held high, muscles rippling beneath battle-thickened skin.
"Understood, Rebirther," the tom musters, hurrying to catch up with the larger brother. With a heaving chest, he manages to get in a steady pace behind Castor, noting how effortless it is for him to stride ahead. "Um, Brother, if I may ask..." the words drag off his tongue, stuck by a molasses of unease.
"Spit it out, Mavros," the growling response sends the fur along his spine tingling, a chilly breeze weaving through untamed fur.
With a quick lick on his chest, he then continues, "What kind of.. legacy, do you want to leave? .. You know, like, different from our father. Or even Ka-" A sharp hiss sends him reeling, ears flattening against his head as fear overcomes him.
Venomous violet eyes stare down at him, vicious ire lapping at the cowering tom like hungry flames. "Never, ever.... say His name ." Absolute terror courses through his impure veins, a testament to the corruption of an Offering. Bent to the Harbinger's will, all he can do is nod in agreement. Vow to never utter His name. To carve the very name out of my mind. "Good, good," he nods, turning once more to face nearing borders. "Now... what was that question you asked, again?"
Mavros gulps down the dread threatening to choke him, managing a wavering response, "What kind of legacy- do you want to leave?"
"Hmmm," the tom murmurs, as though nothing out of the ordinary occurred in the prior moment. As if things suddenly snapped back into normality- feigned blissfulness. "Well, can't you see, Mavros?" he begins, taking an effortless leap onto a nearby stump. Dark paws land firmly on the bark, sinking fatal claws into its wooden skin. "There will be no legacy because I will never leave at all! For all perpetuality, I will be a living 'legacy'!" Confidence booms from the brown tom, lethal claws tearing relentlessly into the wood, shredding it until it could be fit for bedding.
"Harbinger of Perpetuality! All who do not acquiesce to me shall become immortalized as a Puppet of Perpetuality! That shall be my legacy."



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