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Post by Miss Midnight|| on Jan 6, 2009 20:01:11 GMT -5
Phobia Phobia growled dismissively, lashing his tail. I don’t even remember the cats he killed; I just know they meant something back then. The only reason anything dawned on me was that he killed my wretch of a mother, who I guess I- he paused and his mouth worked to form the right word, loved. He spat out as if it were a curse. The idea of being attached to a living creature disgusted him; they would all die eventually so there was absolutely no point in adoring anything or anyone, He narrowed his eyes at Shadow and sported his crooked grin of yellowed fangs. You seem awful obsessed with that theory though, that the past be locked in with a key… or whatever you just said. Phobia said gruffly. He wasn’t very good in the metaphor department. The breeze blew downwind and he inhaled deeply, sucking in the stale scents of his father’s blood. That cat was going to die no matter what it took.
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Post by //Cindy// l u n a on Jan 6, 2009 20:38:57 GMT -5
Shadow listened without a single emotion lighting is midnight face. He felt to pity for the insane loner who seemed to have become his friend. No, Phobia did not need Shadow's sympathy. Not that he'd get it even if he begged - the black tom wasn't one for feeling sorry. Everyone got what they got, and if they couldn't deal it was no one's fault but their own. So the black rogue waited for the tortoiseshell to move on from the topic of sadness. Of weakness. You seem awful obsessed with that theory though. Shadow wouldn't exactly use that word - obsessed. Obsessed signified an emotional attachment, which Shadow most certainly did not have. He believed in his explanation of the world with all his mind, but not with his heart.
But why explain all that? What good would it do? It wasn't important anyway. Shadow grinned. He was enjoying himself, bantering with Phobia. "And I'm content, aren't I?"
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Post by Miss Midnight|| on Jan 10, 2009 17:17:22 GMT -5
Phobia The tortoiseshell snorted. Probably. He agreed and seated himself lazily down on the blood-spattered ground. The tip of his tail flickered excessively and he looked a little bored, but was still up for chatting. Hell if I know though, you never tell me anything. Phobia growled. To him Shadow was like a rock. A moving, breathing, talking rock. Rocks didn’t have emotions and neither did the extremely uncaring Shadow. Since rocks didn’t talk at all, a talking rock wouldn’t talk that much, so Shadow fit the definition near-perfectly. Phobia cackled inwardly, thinking of how the rock of a cat was one difficult shell to crack, and how many before him most likely got frustrated with Shadow not having a reaction to anything. ‘Kind of stupid though. You can’t run away from your past. He returned to the topic, amber gaze settling on some kind of bug making it’s way slowly across the clearing.
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Post by //Cindy// l u n a on Jan 10, 2009 19:16:39 GMT -5
"Hell if I know though, you never tell me anything."
Shadow's ears flicked at the statement. Phobia was behaving differently today than Shadow had noticed before, and it came close to surprising the emotionless tom. That's what Shadow got for expecting something - expectations were just predictions based on past events, and because of that Shadow almost never used them. He was vaguely interested in his reaction to the statement, and actually curious about the words themselves. They were true, there was no denying that. Shadow never told anyone anything unless it was pressingly important. As if to hold up Phobia's point, Shadow remained silent and waited for the cat to speak again. His curiosity was evident in his eyes - just because Shadow almost never had emotions didn't mean that he tried to suppress them when the came to him.
Phobia spoke again, a moment later. "Kind of stupid though. You can’t run away from your past," the tortoiseshell stated. And Shadow fully agreed. How could he not? Running away from the past would just make it follow you - engaging it in anyway, even to run from it, made it impossible to escape. So although Shadow saw the truth behind Phobia's words, he didn't see how they applied to Shadow. Shadow didn't run, and the past made no effort the chase him. It all worked - he ignored it, and it ignored him. "I agree. I would never try." Shadow said, not bothering to explain. If Phobia wanted to know more, he would ask.
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Post by Miss Midnight|| on Jan 12, 2009 7:44:49 GMT -5
Phobia Ooh, he breathed, his eyes still tracking the insect inching through the dirt. He was thoroughly dissatisfied with the other’s initial silence to his first statement and then the reply to his next statement. Though, he was half glad the dark-eyed loner didn't tell him anything, he really didn't care about anyone's problems or what they had to say. Phobia’s lip curled up a little and twitched over his sharp canines. Well, then I guess your past is scared o’ you or somethin’. ‘Cause it certainly doesn’t seem to bother you. The tortoiseshell theorized sarcastically. He knew Shadow’s past had to mess with his head in some way that drove the midnight-furred cat to keep it locked up tight. He lifted his gaze to stare at the quiet tomcat, amber eyes glowing. Shadow was quite the character, which was funny considering he was a rock.
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Post by //Cindy// l u n a on Jan 13, 2009 18:14:16 GMT -5
Shadow was interested in the conversation he was having. For most cats, this wouldn't be a noteworthy development. But it was a very new experience for Shadow. He rarely cared for talking - it was boring unless insults were being thrown. He was fine with insulting others. And even having short and to-the-point conversations in which information was exchanged wasn't terrible. Shadow rarely needed the information, though, and because of that he didn't care. But right now he wanted to talk for talking's sake, a feeling that was as rare to him as love.
"Well, I am quite terrifying. It must be the eyes." Shadow laughed, because he knew that while his soulless orbs and their ebony gaze terrified some shaky cats, Phobia's crazed amber pools attracted much more fear.
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Post by Miss Midnight|| on Jun 15, 2009 6:49:47 GMT -5
OOC: Took me long neough. x_____x
Phobia Phobia laughed throatily and gave his dark-furred companion one of his crooked grins. Absolutely petrifying. He concured, looking straight into those coal-black depths with his own amber. No emotion, which, in all honesty, bothered him. Where was his anger, his pain, his joy, his confusion? Maybe the twin coals still burned sometimes, that's something he'd like to see. Perhaps when Shadow was in the heat of battle his eyes would blaze, lightened with the rush of his own adrenaline. Phobia would never see that, even if they fought, he wouldn't remember expressions. He never did, not even when he killed did he savor the terrified faces he devoured in the end. The certain lust he got when he murdered made him blind, so that he tore through flesh and sinew without hesitation. It was his high, he liked it even if he was hardly conscious of what he was doing. The tortoiseshell was a killing machine, he was raised that way. In a sense his father created him. What are we? The tom growled,shoulders flexing beneath his tousled pelt. He certainly didn't know, did they have a name for heartless felines? Probably not, cats like that didn't deserve to be labeled, named. Phobia suited him, but he had never really had a name, he had never really existed. He was, in essence, every kit's worst nightmare. Something that preyed on cats, but still could live amongst them without being noticed. Phobia let out a sniff and his ears went back. A walking nightmare is what he was, and he wasn't ashamed at all. He had such a power over the whole forest. What couldn't he do? If he really desired it, he could devour every living thing that inhabited the woodland. A sort of excitement flared in his chest, something he hadn't felt before. Was it... desire? Reigning over the entire forest didn't sound like such a bad idea. Control; he kind of liked the sound of it.
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