Post by wadevvilson on Dec 16, 2017 3:52:42 GMT -5
He was bored, as evidenced by the fact that he was repeatedly running his claws through Bearclaw's curly shoulder fur. It was about the only part of the tomcat that he could reach right now. Well, with his forepaws, at least. Both the siblings seemed tired (Hawktalon was draped across his chest and snoring softly, speaking of the elderly medicine cat), so Duncan had no intentions of riling either of them up. Besides, it was bitterly cold outside. That was evident by the fact that the entire Clan was currently packed into the warriors' den like sardines, there was barely room for any cat to stretch their legs without stepping on someone else's tail. The last time renovations had been done was years ago, and even with the added space it was somehow stifling. Good luck getting your space back if you so happened to leave to go and stretch your legs for a moment, everyone was aggressively crowding towards the middle of the den.
On a completely different line of thought, it had taken a lot of yelling to get to this point with both Hawktalon and Bearclaw. His ears were still ringing on some level. But, the two seemed to have reconciled their differences, or at least decided to put their problems aside for the sake of trying to make this ungodly mess work. Hawktalon didn't fully trust their brother again, and Duncan knew that as well as anyone, but they were cautiously giving Bearclaw another chance. They still cared about him, as much as they tried to pretend that they didn't. Anyone close to them and perceptive enough could discern that, if not through a display of words than the occasional longing glances across RapidClan's camp (among other things). Duncan was glad for that. Sure, there were some flare-ups, but few things in life were perfect. The arguments were lessening by this point, in addition. It had been a few months by now, he believed; it was all too easy to lose track of time nowadays.
The Chausie mix carefully wriggled out from underneath Hawktalon and turned to lay on his belly; his back was painfully stiff and the more sensitive flesh of his undercarriage was getting cold even with the added warmth of dozens of cats' body heat. He supposed that he should be glad that the Clan currently had no young kits. Though, most RapidClan cats were too old to bear kittens without potential complications now, so that went without saying. Speaking of kittens, he wondered how his grandchildren were doing. He hadn't seen any of Prozan's litter in a while (but the cat herself was still lingering, which was a great comfort to him. Though it was a bit strange); the kids didn't even come to Gatherings. Duncan suspected that was Rockstar's fault, no doubt. But just because the two adults didn't particularly like each other didn't mean that the ghost tabby had to punish small children. Small children who did nothing wrong in the first place, to boot. He entertained the idea of forcing his way onto DawnClan's territory only briefly before deciding that it was way too cold for any sane individual to be running around outside. The litter was probably asleep, seeing as there wasn't much else to do when you happened to be stuck inside all day...or maybe it was just him and his old brain thinking that. Either way, for once he was too tired to consider a prospective fight with Rockstar. Better to save energy and go to see his grandchildren another day. His bad leg was throbbing now, anyway, so he doubted he could walk all that far today. Would be like driving spikes into one's own body with every step; simply agonizing. Duncan had a moment of longing for the comfort of a few poppy seeds, then half-heartedly chastised himself. There was a reason he had an opium addiction, and there was a reason he'd been barred from his mate's herb stash for...well, a long time. There was more than a small amount of gaps in his memory by this point. He was trying his best to be sober now, at the very least.
He could use a nap, he supposed. Not much else to do at the moment. The tomcat glanced around the den with half-lidded eyes, spotting the pale tabby form of Featherstar prowling around at the other side of it. She narrowed her eyes at him, then lay down, curling in a ball at Ravenspots's side and tucking her tail over her nose. Seemed as though she was making full usage of her time stuck inside. Most of RapidClan was dozing away, as well. So, he'd nap. Or at least try to. The nightmares had become less frequent, but even then it wasn't guaranteed that he wouldn't wake up drenched in sweat, his heart hammering in his chest so loudly that he could barely concentrate long enough to form a coherent thought. He often dreamt out vivid fantasies, things that would leave him begging for sweet release in the morning (even if things had happened not long prior. He usually was pulled from sleep by the realization that he'd clearly been aroused at some point during the night, which was dangerous considering he was still fertile at his advanced age and he shared a nest with several cats now. With just about any other person, he wouldn't care in the least, but sometimes there were matters to be taken care of). After years of the same things, Duncan much preferred the times where he didn't dream; or, if he did, he didn't remember it in the least and wasn't left with a lingering feeling of some sort. The wildcat mix yawned, and hoped that it wouldn't snow. It was already enough of a pain to do anything when it was this cold outside, extraneous weather conditions not withstanding.
Duncan turned his head as his son walked into the den, welcoming the sudden current of heat that came with the light-pelted tomcat's arrival. Benjamin caught his father's eye, then nodded, settling down by Mori. He hadn't talked to that particular child in a while; neither Benjamin nor his sire were terribly social types, and they tended to stay out of each other's way. But, Duncan still thought that he should make more of an effort to seek the blue warrior out. Out of all the kittens that had been fathered by the dark tortoiseshell, there weren't many left alive. At least, not in RapidClan. Duncan knew for a fact that there were some running around out there beyond the lands of these Clans, but he hadn't met very many of them. He probably wouldn't get the chance to, either, considering that he rarely strayed far from RapidClan's camp nowadays. It just wasn't really worth the effort, and they were probably better off never knowing him in the first place than having to deal with the fact that he hadn't been around for the majority of their lives and was now all of a sudden showing his face. Best not to make things complicated. He soon brushed those thoughts away; no point dwelling on them.
Besides, he was distracted by the sudden rumbling of his stomach. He'd gained a little bit of weight recently; the vertebrae of his spine were not as easily felt underneath his coat now, nor was the jagged outline of his pelvis as visible as it used to be. Of course, the usual suspects were still concerned about Duncan's overall health, but Bearclaw no longer winced in discomfort (and, Duncan was sure, more than a little bit of worry) when he mounted the dark tortoiseshell, so that was an improvement. Duncan's ribs still stuck out, but that could have been easily explained by the fact that his mother's body had been structured much the same way. And Mosstail had been perfectly healthy. Then again, Mosstail also hadn't been battling against an eating disorder for years on end. Hawktalon still watched him with as critical an eye as the bird they were named for, and in his opinion, they had every right to judge. Duncan lay there for a few minutes more pondering this, then made a move to get up.
He limped unsteadily outside, and scowled as he picked through the dwindling heap of prey; nothing left but some frostbitten mouthfuls of flesh that were so disfigured by weather that it was hard for even him to discern any particular scent, and he might as well completely forget about trying to identify a carcass by sight. At this stage in the cold season, it was literally impossible. Everything had blended into mush which, if you closed your eyes and imagined, faintly tasted of something. He wasn't exactly sure what. Eventually, he decided he'd just give up and head back inside. Besides, even if he found anything remotely edible, it would be far too difficult for him to chew. Breaking a tooth or two would not be ideal, considering that he'd already lost a few of his back ones to various circumstances.
Duncan shook himself out in an attempt to lessen the stiffness of his limbs, and for a moment the billowing fur cloaking his body parted, revealing several nasty scars. With little fanfare, he meandered towards the long-empty apprentices' den, squatted as best he could given the old injury to his lower half, and urinated before heading back to the rest of the clowder. It was going to be a long day, that was for sure. Several days, probably.
On a completely different line of thought, it had taken a lot of yelling to get to this point with both Hawktalon and Bearclaw. His ears were still ringing on some level. But, the two seemed to have reconciled their differences, or at least decided to put their problems aside for the sake of trying to make this ungodly mess work. Hawktalon didn't fully trust their brother again, and Duncan knew that as well as anyone, but they were cautiously giving Bearclaw another chance. They still cared about him, as much as they tried to pretend that they didn't. Anyone close to them and perceptive enough could discern that, if not through a display of words than the occasional longing glances across RapidClan's camp (among other things). Duncan was glad for that. Sure, there were some flare-ups, but few things in life were perfect. The arguments were lessening by this point, in addition. It had been a few months by now, he believed; it was all too easy to lose track of time nowadays.
The Chausie mix carefully wriggled out from underneath Hawktalon and turned to lay on his belly; his back was painfully stiff and the more sensitive flesh of his undercarriage was getting cold even with the added warmth of dozens of cats' body heat. He supposed that he should be glad that the Clan currently had no young kits. Though, most RapidClan cats were too old to bear kittens without potential complications now, so that went without saying. Speaking of kittens, he wondered how his grandchildren were doing. He hadn't seen any of Prozan's litter in a while (but the cat herself was still lingering, which was a great comfort to him. Though it was a bit strange); the kids didn't even come to Gatherings. Duncan suspected that was Rockstar's fault, no doubt. But just because the two adults didn't particularly like each other didn't mean that the ghost tabby had to punish small children. Small children who did nothing wrong in the first place, to boot. He entertained the idea of forcing his way onto DawnClan's territory only briefly before deciding that it was way too cold for any sane individual to be running around outside. The litter was probably asleep, seeing as there wasn't much else to do when you happened to be stuck inside all day...or maybe it was just him and his old brain thinking that. Either way, for once he was too tired to consider a prospective fight with Rockstar. Better to save energy and go to see his grandchildren another day. His bad leg was throbbing now, anyway, so he doubted he could walk all that far today. Would be like driving spikes into one's own body with every step; simply agonizing. Duncan had a moment of longing for the comfort of a few poppy seeds, then half-heartedly chastised himself. There was a reason he had an opium addiction, and there was a reason he'd been barred from his mate's herb stash for...well, a long time. There was more than a small amount of gaps in his memory by this point. He was trying his best to be sober now, at the very least.
He could use a nap, he supposed. Not much else to do at the moment. The tomcat glanced around the den with half-lidded eyes, spotting the pale tabby form of Featherstar prowling around at the other side of it. She narrowed her eyes at him, then lay down, curling in a ball at Ravenspots's side and tucking her tail over her nose. Seemed as though she was making full usage of her time stuck inside. Most of RapidClan was dozing away, as well. So, he'd nap. Or at least try to. The nightmares had become less frequent, but even then it wasn't guaranteed that he wouldn't wake up drenched in sweat, his heart hammering in his chest so loudly that he could barely concentrate long enough to form a coherent thought. He often dreamt out vivid fantasies, things that would leave him begging for sweet release in the morning (even if things had happened not long prior. He usually was pulled from sleep by the realization that he'd clearly been aroused at some point during the night, which was dangerous considering he was still fertile at his advanced age and he shared a nest with several cats now. With just about any other person, he wouldn't care in the least, but sometimes there were matters to be taken care of). After years of the same things, Duncan much preferred the times where he didn't dream; or, if he did, he didn't remember it in the least and wasn't left with a lingering feeling of some sort. The wildcat mix yawned, and hoped that it wouldn't snow. It was already enough of a pain to do anything when it was this cold outside, extraneous weather conditions not withstanding.
Duncan turned his head as his son walked into the den, welcoming the sudden current of heat that came with the light-pelted tomcat's arrival. Benjamin caught his father's eye, then nodded, settling down by Mori. He hadn't talked to that particular child in a while; neither Benjamin nor his sire were terribly social types, and they tended to stay out of each other's way. But, Duncan still thought that he should make more of an effort to seek the blue warrior out. Out of all the kittens that had been fathered by the dark tortoiseshell, there weren't many left alive. At least, not in RapidClan. Duncan knew for a fact that there were some running around out there beyond the lands of these Clans, but he hadn't met very many of them. He probably wouldn't get the chance to, either, considering that he rarely strayed far from RapidClan's camp nowadays. It just wasn't really worth the effort, and they were probably better off never knowing him in the first place than having to deal with the fact that he hadn't been around for the majority of their lives and was now all of a sudden showing his face. Best not to make things complicated. He soon brushed those thoughts away; no point dwelling on them.
Besides, he was distracted by the sudden rumbling of his stomach. He'd gained a little bit of weight recently; the vertebrae of his spine were not as easily felt underneath his coat now, nor was the jagged outline of his pelvis as visible as it used to be. Of course, the usual suspects were still concerned about Duncan's overall health, but Bearclaw no longer winced in discomfort (and, Duncan was sure, more than a little bit of worry) when he mounted the dark tortoiseshell, so that was an improvement. Duncan's ribs still stuck out, but that could have been easily explained by the fact that his mother's body had been structured much the same way. And Mosstail had been perfectly healthy. Then again, Mosstail also hadn't been battling against an eating disorder for years on end. Hawktalon still watched him with as critical an eye as the bird they were named for, and in his opinion, they had every right to judge. Duncan lay there for a few minutes more pondering this, then made a move to get up.
He limped unsteadily outside, and scowled as he picked through the dwindling heap of prey; nothing left but some frostbitten mouthfuls of flesh that were so disfigured by weather that it was hard for even him to discern any particular scent, and he might as well completely forget about trying to identify a carcass by sight. At this stage in the cold season, it was literally impossible. Everything had blended into mush which, if you closed your eyes and imagined, faintly tasted of something. He wasn't exactly sure what. Eventually, he decided he'd just give up and head back inside. Besides, even if he found anything remotely edible, it would be far too difficult for him to chew. Breaking a tooth or two would not be ideal, considering that he'd already lost a few of his back ones to various circumstances.
Duncan shook himself out in an attempt to lessen the stiffness of his limbs, and for a moment the billowing fur cloaking his body parted, revealing several nasty scars. With little fanfare, he meandered towards the long-empty apprentices' den, squatted as best he could given the old injury to his lower half, and urinated before heading back to the rest of the clowder. It was going to be a long day, that was for sure. Several days, probably.