Post by ♥Picasso on Sept 10, 2012 11:05:43 GMT
It's time to vote for the winners of the Theme Competition! Thank you to everyone who sent me their stories/artwork. Please do not vote for yourself (:[/size]
Entry #1
Winter in this town was almost as cold as the summer back home. Cole pushed through the snowdrifts, down an abandoned street, eyes cautious. It was nighttime, but the snow somehow seemed to glow. It made enough light to see by.
He stopped, listened to a noise in the distance, sniffed the air. He waited and caught sight of a cat racing across the street, managing somehow to run on top of the snow. Cole paused, ears pricked, shifted his weight. Cats were good. Cats could be eaten. He took off after the small feline, leaping over the drifts. His run took him along the other animal's tracks, through a doorway, and into a pitch-black building.
The wolf stopped and panted, his breath rising from his lips. The cat was here..he could smell the creature somewhere. He sat in front of the door, bones aching. Not as young as he used to be.
"My friend, where are you? I won't hurt you."
He spoke in a sing-song sort of voice. The wind blew suddenly outside, sharply. Cole turned just as the door to the building slammed shut behind him. That was..well, that was bad luck. Hopefully there was another way out of here. He could, hmm, break one of the windows, or..
His stomach rumbled. Cole cursed to himself and turned his attention back to the cat in the dark building. Food first, then he'd get out of this place.
"Come out, little cat.."
"I do like a man that tells you right out what he's after."
Cole pricked his ears, sniffed the air, peered into the darkness. The voice was feminine-sounding, cold-sounding. He was vaguely reminded of someone he'd known a while ago, a long time ago. No names or faces came to him when he thought on it more, but it might have been his father.
"Don't you?" The voice came from somewhere in the back of the building, where it was impossible for Cole to find. Maybe if he kept the animal talking he might pinpoint the source..
"I don't trust a man who doesn't. Or won't."
He took a step forward, peering at the darkness, trying to think of a response.
"What's your name?" he said finally, all his attention focused on trying to find the response.
"You don't know?" The tone of voice never really changed. It was somewhat disconcerting. "That's too bad. Your name is Cole Forginsson, a wolf, once of Tempest Pack, once of Russia, now a thief. And a murderer, I would think."
Cole thought about how to reply to this. He sat down, scratched a flea, and laughed sharply.
"My name's Kveld, cat."
"Yes, very likely," said the voice.
"And I know nothing about Russia."
"Of course not."
"Even if I was a wolf named Cole Forginsson, once of Russia, and a thief and murderer, what would you know about these things?"
"Absolutely nothing, of course." The voice took on an irritable tone, which at least signified that the owner was a real creature and not some kind of golem or ghost or something. "Nothing at all. What is it you want? Canines aren't my preferred customer, but since you're trapped here I might as well make an exception."
He snarled to himself. Or maybe his stomach did it for him. Rough winter, this one, and this the first creature he'd seen in days, and it had the gall to sit here and talk like it knew something about him..
"I want to know who you are," he snapped after a moment. There was a pause.
"You don't need to know my name. I trade in information, Mr. Kveld."
"I can't eat information."
"Too bad, then."
He turned sharply, giving up on eating the other animal, and shoved into the door. It didn't budge. Opened the other way, Cole assumed. The wolf paced back and forth, frustrated, then plopped down on the ground.
He really did hate cats. Especially, he hated this cat and its smug little voice.
"You aren't," he said suddenly, "Connected with a cat named Rumor, are you?"
The voice laughed. Cole hated Rumor. Unfortunately, there weren't alot of animals in this city that didn't know who that chatty little scuzzball was. Fucking cats. Cats.
"Fine, information seller." Cole's mind jumped into another thought suddenly. "Whoever you are. I'll make you a deal. You want information? Fine. Three questions from you to me and then you show me the way out. I assume you know where that is."
"Oh, most assuredly," the voice replied. It sounded amused. "Here are the terms, Mr. Kveld. Refuse to answer, and I'll let you starve to death here. Lie, and of course the same thing will happen."
He stared up angrily.
"You lie to me, cat, and I'll eat you before I fall down and let myself die."
"If you can."
"I will. As a beast that appreciates the truth, I'm sure you understand."
"I will ask the first question," the voice said, apparently choosing to ignore his last statement. It continued hurriedly, cutting off the arguments Cole was about to make.
"Tell me, Mr. Kveld. Who are you, really?"
The wolf stared venemously into the darkness. Who the hell was this, anyway? He should probably have expected this question. It still made him angry.
"As you said," he managed finally, in a sort of strangled growl. "Cole Forginsson, from Russia. From Tempest Pack."
"Really, sir? I thought we had a deal here."
Confusion flickered in his eyes for a second. What more did this animal want? A list of everyone he'd killed? Was this some way to get a confession from him? For who, though? Some distant relative of his, left alive from the old country? Some dead relative, maybe. Some jury who wanted to hear his case before they passed judgement? The wolf had often wondered about those rumors of heaven he'd heard about..
Very well. Fine, fine.
"A murderer," he replied. "A thief. What else? A kinslayer, a bastard son, a traitor. Is getting old a crime? I've done that too, I suppose. Maybe I could have avoided that." He hummed slightly to himself. "What do you call it when you kill your own mate, again?"
"Domestic violence," the invisible cat replied smoothly.
"Yes, that. I'm one of those, too." He stopped again. "That's the list, I suppose. Happy with it?"
"No," the voice replied. "But I think I know the answer anyway."
"And what is that, then?"
"Well," it said thoughtfully. "You're not a liar, at least. I do like a man who tells you right out what he's after..."
"Ask your next damn question," he interrupted. For someone who supposedly wasn't Rumor, this cat sure had a habit of drifting off into Rumor-style gibberish..
"Fair enough, Mr. Forginsson. What do you fear?"
He felt like he was being grilled by his old war-teacher. Or his crazy seer mother. Actually, this whole thing was like one of those damn fairytales. Next thing Cole knew, he'd be reciting a poem about his own life before he died.
Fear? Cole wasn't afraid of anything. Or he was afraid of everything. Same thing. After all, fight or flight was a survival instinct, and you didn't worry about surviving encounters with things you weren't afraid of. And what was fear anyway? An emotional response to life?
"Ghosts, fire, lightning, war, peace, ice, warmth, the desert, the tundra, the sea.." He rattled off the list. "Let's just sum it all up. I'm afraid of dying, cat, just like everyone is."
After all, why would someone fight an enemy or run away from them or..drink, or eat, except they wanted to stay alive? And you could say you didn't fear death or what happened afterwards, but anyone who did was a liar, else they'd let the next Tempest dog or Iris cat tear their throat out without lifting a claw in defense..
"A simple answer." The voice sounded like its owner was thinking things over. "I suppose that's true of everyone, but at least we don't have any delusions of grandeur here."
"Some of us don't, I guess," Cole muttered. The cat didn't bother to respond.
"What's next, then?" One of more of these little inquiries and Cole could leave. Supposing he hadn't died, of course. Maybe he'd walk out the door into the street. Maybe he'd stroll into a pit of fire and darkness. Who knew?
"Tell me this, then. Something must be keeping you alive, since you're so afraid of death. Many people, I imagine, want to kill you."
"And? Get on with it."
"I won't ask you what it is you live for. I know the answer to that already."
"Oh?" Cole pricked an ear sarcastically. He himself wasn't sure about that, so he wasn't sure why this cat would know.
"Revenge, Mr. Forginsson, which is in essence hatred. What is it you hate so much?"
This, at least, was simple.
"Everything," he said immediately. "Like anyone. What is hate? It's like love. I thought I was in love once, or twice maybe. Three times, even. I thought I had companions, and brothers that I loved, cat. Of course they're all dead now. Then I thought I loved having someone else to talk to."
He paused for a second, mostly to think.
"And?" The cat's voice was very quiet, in the dark.
"Turns out I just hated being alone."
It was quiet for a minute. He caught a glimmer in the darkness, like an eye.
"I'll show you the way out."
Entry #2
Click here for the entry
Entry #3[/size]
(just to clarify before you read, this is just a story, and no powerplaying took place here)[/blockquote]
[atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true] | [atrb=background,http://i963.photobucket.com/albums/ae113/gimble2355/table1middle.jpg] [scrolly:h(310),w(199),sy] The alleyway was dark, dingy in some ways. Rubbish, the relics from the time of the humans, was littered everywhere, strewn across the small paved path by the wind and weather, decomposing slowly. Rather ironic that the place the humans lived in had become such a neglected city during their reign on earth. Couldn't they at least keep it clean? It was as if they hated the very planet they lived on, wanted to make it pay for past injustices. Like they wanted to crush it beneath their boot, assert their dominance over the very thing that had given them life. Amongst the tattered remains of the buildings, alleys and roads, nature had taken over, causing the very image of human power to crumble into nothingness. No matter how much they hated nature and how much they thought they dominated it, it was she, Mother Nature, that had the final word in the end. Ironic. A shadow slipped across the alley. To some, it could have seemed as only a flicker of movement. Quick and silent, it was gone as soon as it appeared. It was actually a feline, who's knowledge of concealment was great enough to make her appear as something of an urban legend. Black Widow, the spy of many colours and many faces. The ebony cat almost smiled at the thought. One could say that she actually quite liked the shroud of mystery that surrounded her. With her job, who could hate it? It was rather because of that job that her name was feared and loathed by the powerful and the famous in the city. She could be anyone, literally. If you believed the tales of the south of the city, she was a lovely ginger creature. In the west, she was pearly white, ghostly, capable of slipping like a phantom into any building. And yet, to the east, they talked of a creature of a silver tabby. Who to believe? That was for them to decide. Today, the obsidian feline didn't actually have a job to do, which was rare. She had a whole night to herself, to prowl in the moonlight and hear the gossip going around town. Her silent, quick pawsteps led her to towards a gathering place used by dogs and cats alike. There was a handy aeration system she could use to listen in without anyone seeing her. Suddenly, she became aware of a presence, some lengths behind her. The she-cat didn't let any sign filter through that she had noticed the creature tailing her. Her mind was already screening the possibilities of hiding places in the nearby area. Instead of turning right into another alleyway as she was supposed to, the cat turned left, slipping through an ajar door and settling herself on the sill of a broken window. The creature tailing her turned the corner, unaware of her ploy. It was a dog, who's figure was familiar. Violent emotions poured through her. There was embarrassment, gratitude, but also hate. She pounced onto the asphalt behind the dog, folding her hind limbs underneath her. ”Hello Hawkeye,” The spy looked at the male, her fearsome yellow eyes betraying none of the sentiments that assailed her. This was the dog that had saved her life. He had let her go, when the guards of the Lexis Tribe had wanted to kill her for almost assassinating their leader, Streiter. The she-cat had then wanted to finish the job, but he had been waiting for her, to talk her out of it. His words had made more of an impression on her that she had led him to believe. It was the first time she had met him after that. A small part of her was grateful towards him, but a larger, more important part was spitefully angry that she had had to be saved by him. To the point where she didn't actually know if she liked him or hated him. For yes, she loathed the fact that he had shown her mercy, held rancour at the fact that he had managed to affect her with his words, resented the way he was so understanding. Why did he have to be so virtuous? Why did he have to understand her so much, to the point where he didn't expect her to show gratitude? Why was he so god damn better than her? The thoughts raged inside her head, swelling her heart with violent emotions that she couldn't hope to deal with. She detached herself from them, pushing them away. Emotions were a weakness. ”Why were you following me?” |
She looked at him, taking in the soft tone in his voice. Why was he acting like this? Why was he so friendly? She was an assassin, a spy. Hell! She almost killed his leader! Why did he let her go in the first place? The questions burned at her tongue, eager to be asked. No, she must be cold. Like Peter told her to be. She must be strong. She swallowed back the questions. Her eyes went cold and fierce once more. Hawkeye sighed, noting the change in her demeanour. But he wouldn't give up on the fact that she could use her talent for good. In a way, what she had done with the crime ring was a good action, even though she had killed. ”You know, dismantling that crime ring was actually a good thing. Think of all the cats and dogs who will sleep easy tonight, knowing that the food they have is safe?” he said, his voice still soft. She gave a small smile, a smile of ice. ”I only did it because that was my job,”[/color] she said. The canine gave a sigh, shaking his head. ”Yes, I know,” he said, his tone held a hint of defeat. That sent a certain smugness coursing through the female's veins, something that she didn't let leak through. ”But still.”
Despite what she let him see, his words were affecting her. Just like when he had talked her out of killing Streiter. Did he have that effect on everyone? Or was it just her? In that case, why her? This canine made so many questions well up inside her. There, another reason why she hated him. It seemed like there were a ton of reasons why she should loath him, yet, some part of her refused to. It was so incredibly frustrating, and angering at the same time. But. . . Why had he let her go? This time, the question couldn't stay silenced. She needed to know. ”Why did you let me go?”[/color] she asked, speaking quickly. Her eyes dropped to her paws for a second, before gazing back into those of Hawkeye. He was looking to the side, thinking of how to answer that question. Inside Black, her emotions swelled; embarrassment, anger, gratitude. All fighting in a whirlwind of sentiments, menacing to tear her apart. But the curiosity was killing her. Why didn't he just let her die? ”You could be a good person, you know,” he answered simply, looking into her yellow eyes.
She said nothing, digesting the words, looking at her paws. She had red in her ledger, she knew that. But she didn't really care. Yet his words had hit her hard. Why was that? He looked up at the moon, which was beginning to rise. ”I have to go,” he said, his tone soft. She said nothing, her eyes emotionless. He turned around and padded into the night, and she just sat, watching him being swallowed by the darkness. And still, she didn't know whether she felt gratitude or hatred towards him. . .[/justify]
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words; 1471
muse; 9/10
tags; --
notes; I tried to make it as sentimental as possible, in the measure that this is Black Widow xD
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Entry #4
Click here for the entry
Have fun voting! Remember, the theme was hate.[/blockquote]
