Say what now?

[smokey]

"Well then. This is a rather dreary place, isn't it?"

The whisper, (he hadn't meant for his voice to come out so small, but at the sight of the territory Smokey couldn't help but drop his vocals a notch or four) came from a small, lanky cat; clad head to toe with scraggly, damp fur. Blotches of white, specks of different monochromatic tones flecked throughout his pelt, but he was indeed, true to his name, grey. A puff of white fur fell from the under of his muzzle and down to his underbelly - though after a day or more of walking it looked slightly... brown in colour.

"Now... where might this place be, exactly?" Settling down on tired hunches, the cat's golden eyes gave the land a once over. It wasn't very... appealing, to say the least, but Smokey was a city cat; one that had been traveling for many days with little to no food. Anywhere looked better than nothing. There didn't seem to be any cats around, but if this kitty-cat knew one thing about these lands, the felines around here could pop up without warning at any given moment.

'Well, it's a good as place as any, I suppose...' The nights were getting colder recently, and the long stalks of dead, withered grass looked as inviting as any for sleep. 'I suppose if I'm not wanted, someone will come and chase me out. 'Till then... he flopped down, closing his eyes.

Poor kitty was asleep within minutes.

[Kestrel]

Power. Grace.

Beautiful things can be dangerous, too, in case you haven't heard. Gone are the times when such things meant purity; now beauty was hollow. It was a lie. An empty promise. A deluded cat runs to the light that beauty casts, hoping to quench their thirst, but they learn that it is only a mirage...and the truth tastes bitter.
So many cats have gone away with that sour taste in their mouths. What seems real is, up close, only a sad parody of what it was, what it seemed to be.

Miss Murder was beautiful; that much was obvious. Perfection showed in each of the lines on her face, and with each step, each ripple of fur, twitch of ear, wave of tail. The only feature on her finely-made face that chipped the perfection there was her eyes; they were blue, and a mindless, empty hunger raged in them. The light of a thousand cold winters lived in those eyes. The sight of a thousand slaughtered cats haunted their depths, pierced through the beauty that was truely only skin-deep.
Inside, she was a twisted knot of darkness; an infected thing, rotting from the inside out. She lusted for only two things: blood and perfection. She killed for both, without bias. She hated all that was weak and ugly; the pathetic, needy beings of the world met only death on her cruel claws.

She was the slightest whisper of pawsteps on the cool earth; the barest clink of almost-sheathed claws; the soft sigh of breath. The Rogue Meadow was wreathed in winter fog, ghostly, eerie. Miss Murder, who had once been known as Zu Krepieren Für, stole through the mist with the grace of her mother, her plush Snowshoe fur hiding the power that was her father's name; her birthright.

There was a cat in the meadows, a lost one. The sight of it put a cunning smile on Miss Murder's striking face.
She stepped from the quiet folds of mist, allowed the rift she caused to seal up behind her.

Her smile became more prominent. It was deceiving.

Her voice rasped out, sudden in the silence.
"Es ist blöde zu schläfst in solch übersichtlich Örter , Liebe."

|ooc| To those without a translator on hand, here's a rough translation:
1) "It is not wise to sleep in such open places, love."

[smokey]

The approach hadn't been heard; but then again he hadn't exactly been listening for such things, had he? Ears swiveled, catching the voice of what was an unmistakably beautiful cat; the way she carried herself and spoke with such... absence. Smokey didn't even need to open his eyes to tell.

But open them he did, and when his gold-mixed green eyes fell upon her he was slightly surprised, for the feline before him was not just pretty and so far beyound beautiful, not gorgeous but drop dead. Frightfully pretty. And the itty bitty city cat could say that with truth; for fear struck him almost at once. He was not weak by all means - tiny, yes... tired and weary... well, yes, currently. But weak was not something the lanky tabby cat even acknowledged the definition of.

Still, though... her smile. Was it just him, or was it more... ruthlessly fake, than anything else?

Up upon his hunches once more, Smokey allowed his tail to curl neatly over white mitted paws before even thinking coherently. "Well... no. I suppose it isn't." And then, as if to stupefy, "...oh, sorry. Are you... can you understand me, then?" German? Was that what she had used? The languages from the city, far far from here; they all blended together and Smokey couldn't particularly care less about their names. He could understand the she-cat fine, although there was no way he would dig back into the depths of his mind to translate his own words.

"I must say, Miss. You're giving off a slightly... Murderous intent."

(ooc: yeeei... sorry. XD I've never roleplayed with a kitty who speaks another language. Is there anyway I should go about the language barrier? o.o)

[murder]

Miss Murder padded around the unfamilliar tom in a semicircle. He looked weak. He might be, of course; that was the only reason she had not yet struck. Some strong cats looked weak, and so Miss Murder stayed her paw.

Her smile faded, but it remained just wide enough to show one perfect white fang, sharp as a razor.

"Ach ja, yes, I understand you just fine," she meowed, her voice rasping, but somehow sleek. She spoke slowly, and her accent, while definitely present, was subtle.

She took another sliding step, her tail curling and uncurling behind her.
Her blue eyes flashed, and it seemed that she was fairly amused.

"Sie haben es zum teil richtig, Liebe. You understand German?" Her question was more innocent, merely curious.

A slightly more devious note slid into her voice as she continued, "The name is Miss Murder, love."

|ooc| Translations:
1) Oh yes
2) You have it partly right, love.

Language barrier? However you want, I suppose.

[smokey]

A slow smirk spread across the tom's maw. Miss Murder, eh? Well... that would explain it rather well.

"That's a slightly... frightening name." A pause, and then, "Smokey." He supposed his name must've sounded meek and without-meaning next to hers. Then again; Smokey suppose he himself must appear meek and without meaning to her; it had been days since he last ate properly and the tom couldn't care less about the state of his pelt. There was the slightest of flicks from the tip of his tail. Too bad.

"Aa, I can understand most of it. You pick things up when you live around humans twenty-four/seven." Giving the she-cat a once-over, the tom raised an eyebrow. She was clearly foreign, but... "I'm sorry, Miss, but... are you from around here? You don't see many a cat speaking a foreign tongue." And her accent; sounded rather seductive, didn't it? The smirk that had long since left returned, the smallest curl of the corner of the gray cat's mouth. "I must say, you speak it rather elegantly, too."

He may as well at least try and make friends while he was here.

[murder]

Miss Murder was an odd cat. She killed often, and enjoyed the act tremendously, but there were some cats she just passed by.

This Smoky's words were flattering, and Miss Murder's vain side enjoyed hearing them.
So far, she had no desire to kill him. That could change in a heartbeat.

With the faintest of satisfied smirks, Miss Murder purred, "German in my native language. I was born down the river, in a human city, but my parents were from Germany. We are äußern katzen, show cats. Purebred Snowshoe."

She flicked her tail, seemingly dissmivively, but it was obvious she took great pride in her looks and family lines.

[smokey]

Purebred? How did the dangerously beautiful she-cat manage living in the forest lands keep herself... well, so well-kept? Furthermore; what was she doing talking to a manage mixed tabby like Smokey himself? The tom let out a purr of amusement. Some cats would go great distances from their personal opinions to get a mild laugh, he supposed.

"Well, Miss Murder... I am honoured that you have graced a filthy cat like myself with your presence." He returned the smirk with one of his own once more, although he knew his tone held nothing but shear curiosity. Smokey was not a aggressive cat by nature - he could back out of a fight in ways that most cats wouldn't even think of. That, combined with his fear-radar often got him out of any even slightly sticky situation.

Unfortunately, at times like these (times he couldn't exactly explain; for every hair on his mangy little pelt was telling him to run from the mere murderous intent of this she-cat) he choose to ignore his hyped feline instinct and go with common sense. Or stupidity. Whatever.

Pulling himself to his paws he took cautious steps towards Miss Murder, careful not to get too close and extremely careful not to get a speck of dirt onto her well-groomed pelt. "Hm. Now that you've risen me from my well-deserved rest... do you have any proposition on what I should do?" His words were still gentle, only the slightest hint of sarcastic intent lining them. "I've no home, you see... it's rather lonely and... boring out here."

[murder]

Miss Murder cut her eyes at Smoky, and there was arrogance in her amusement, as well as something condescending.
"Keep on breathing, love," she purred, her voice both hoarse and velvety.

The fur along her shoulders rose slightly as he moved forward.
No one gave you permission to step closer, mixedbreed, was the message in her blue eyes.

She continued to speak anyway, however. "Fight. If you can't fight, drown yourself, because you are worthless. But if you can fight...then maybe you can win respect in this ruthless place."
She padded around Smoky in a graceful circle, her head tilted, a faint grin on her face that was both pleasent and scary.

[smokey]

Smokey raised an eyebrow at the look the she-cat gave him. He stopped walking, holding her gaze steady.

I never asked for any permission, now did I?

"Mm, well... I'm not really the fighting sort, you see." His gentle gaze followed Miss Murder's steps, sifting through her comment and bypassing what any other cat may have taken as an insult. "Not very fond of water, either. Drowning wouldn't be a very enjoyable thing." He paused, trying to think about how to go about this. After all, he had left the city to get away from all the fighting that ensued.

"I'm looking for something... quiet." Slowly, the words fell from his maw, each very carefully. "Are you saying that a pretty little kitty like yourself wants nothing more than to fight?" He sat down once more, watching as the she-cat padded gracefully around him. "Surely there's more to life than death, Miss."

[murder]

This one was weak.
Miss Murder was not yet sure, but her opinion was becoming more and more solid with each passing moment.

She smiled slyly, beautiful like a snake can be: dangerously.
"Life and death are one in the same, love," she meowed. "There are links connecting them, you see, that not everyone knows about."
She stopped pacing, one paw in the air, her head tilted wryly. "In such a world where life and death walk to closely, how can you not feel the need to fight it?"

Her paw fell, and all the amusement dropped from her flawless face. "Kampf ist nicht alle ICH wollt zu ausführen , Liebe. But that matters nothing. If you want peace, I suggest you join a Clan."

|ooc| Translations:
1) Fighting is not all I want to do, love.
It is a rough translation...the translator was having issues. o.o

I was toying with the idea of Miss Murder deciding to kill him, maybe, and being chased away by one of my more pleasent characters, who I have only played once.

[smokey]

"Peace is not something that can ever be achieved, Miss." Smokey flicked his tail, staring blankly back at the she-cat's unamused face. "All I seek is content. I've lived in a place far more dangerous than here." His eyes narrowed but in such a small fraction that one couldn't be sure if they had done it at all. "I've faced cats far more dangerous than yourself. But, I'll take peace over murder any day." He stood then, taking a pace or so backwards and turning his gaze to face away from Miss Murder, the land beyond and the placement of such "clans" becoming of far greater interest than the she-cat.

"Clan it is, then. I'll take me leave." He cast his jade eyes upon Miss Murder once more before turning completely stalking away. "I'm sure we'll meet again, though," he paused in his steps, long enough to turn his head back towards the other feline, "stay alive until then, okay?" A smirk, and then gone, stalking out of the territory and towards what would hopfully be a more welcoming place of stay.

(ooc: Sorrrrry that took so long. I've been sick, and I still am. I kinda just wanted to end this thread incase I disappear on anyone again. ^^