Can you fathom the hatred? (Open to all)

[Ferry]

                                                                                                

He was always looking for something, something to please that everlasting hatred inside his chest.

But nothing was to be found.

He was searching for something, if anything at all would come forward and take this place, this hatred in his chest, the hatred in his miscolored eyes, anything to finally please him.

But nothing was to be found.

How could a cat contain so much hatred, and live every day like this, like he lived, how he lived, hating everything, with a scary, burning pit in his chest, something so frightening, nothing could fathom it? He had no solace, he did not have a deep pit of sadness that needed to be cured. He needed something else... Something that might change his view on these horrible creatures... These creatures he was forced to live amongst, the ones he never liked, not since they 'stole' him.

But nothing was to be found.

The tom couldn't speak to them, he couldn't look at them with his salmon and black gaze, for if he looked at them, the hate would grow stronger. Some cats even sought a conception that his pelt had originally been a silky, snow white, they needed reassurance, they sought the conception that it had been more white than the snow that lay over the barren landscape of Winter, and had grown darker as his hatred grew. Although, this wasn't true, they just needed an escape, something to fill their pitiful minds with a reassurance to their own stupidity. Sadly, this conception wasn't true, and it never would be. Perhaps they'd find something that would fill their mind from their own stupidity, from their own hatred, something they'd be able to fathom, fathom the malice.

But nothing was currently found.

Maybe, if he hadn't been raised the way he had been, he'd be nicer, he wouldn't be the way he is now, he would be able to tolerate the cats, the felidae he lived amongst. But the misanthropy prevented him from doing this, he sought his own reassurance, that it was simply a dream, and that felidae couldn't be this stupid. He knew it was a lie, he was too smart to trick himself into something like that, so, none was to be found.

No reassurance from the world.

Maybe, one day, it won't be so bad. He reminded himself of that every day, thinking things would get better, thinking something might change, might be able to change his mind about the world. Nothing had came forth like that, not even SilentClan, who seemed, almost, as harsh as him. Not another feline had came forward to change his mind, none at all. He was beginning to no longer seek out reassurance, how could he? He couldn't even stand the creatures, so how could the tom seek out reassurance amongst anything, or anyone? He hated his leader, he hated the Medicine Cats, StarClan was some distant fairy tale that the cats had made up to escape their own little reality, for their own concept, just like how his heart had swelled with hatred, and it had turned a snowy pelt dark and gray.

Malicefathom was not a kind soul.

As the tom sat in his nest, grumbling to himself with hatred, he would watch each cat pass him with a burning gaze of miscolored eyes, a salmon, and a black. They would watch intently, never to leave the felidae who passed, they didn't want to rest on something else, they wanted to try and find their own reasoning for the stupidity the cats held, to find something of their own. There was still a bit of reassurance he wanted, something to settle him, he believed it was solace, maybe, just once, that he had sought. But he realized, he held no sadness in his gaze, just malice, unfathomable malice, and he wanted all cats to know that.

Every last one of them.

[Pebsi]

Sleep... One of the things all cats needed. Some more then others. Without sleep, there were many different unpleasent symptoms. Some being aggrivation, anger. Some cats barely needed any sleep at all... They were like the large owls of the night, staying up and exploring the territory, or perhaps enjoying starpelt; The scenery provided by Starclan themselves. Some say they can see their passed kin up in the starry night sky... But most believe it to be a mouse-brained myth started by the elderly. Speaking of the elderly... There were quite alot of cats in Whisperclan who resembled the negative qualities the elders contained. One of those cats being Jinxshade...

The worst she-cat you could ever meet.

Being known as one of the grumpiest, Jinxshade preferred the shadows. The dark depths of the trees that could hide anyone if they knew how to properly. This black she-cat just so happened to be one of those cats. Not only did her pelt match the shadows dark shade, but she was an expert of disguise. A hunter in the night, a lurker in the shadows. She was known by many of these names by her clan mates, and her enemies. But did she care? You bet your tail she didn't. Jinxshade didn't care about anything. The clan, kits, the elderly. She didn't care. That's just who she was. Unless you knew her very well, your face was just another among millions. Falconheart was one of the only cats Jinxshade would ever consider speaking with. Why you may ask? Well thats because he was kind, caring, loving. He was brave and courageous. He would do anything for her. But there was something above all that made the biggest difference against all other toms.

Falconheart was her brother.

A set of deep, expressionless emerald green eyes flickered open due to the rustling of her clanmates paws. They were more like a waste of space in her mind however. A bright beautiful glow of the sunlight appeared in the she-cats view reflecting off her eye lids beautifully. But Jinxshade didn't think very fondly of the sunlight... In fact, she hated it deeply. Letting out a loud hiss of discust, the she-cat curled her small body in to a tighter ball. She then shifted her back towards the sun, hiding her sensitive eyes. Her eyes were used to the shadows, the pure and utter darkness. Not this bright happy sunlight.  

[xXBadgerXx]

I've never heard s i l e n c e quite this l o u d

Boredom. It rushed around in every pint of blood she had. Why had StarClan deprived her of fun? Few of the warriors were in camp. They had whispered like the wind softly blows the leaves on trees to each other. What could be that important? The clan had left Malicefathom and Jinxshade behind. No shock there. The least she could do was bother one of them. It was always fun to see warriors over-react. Padding silently towards the den, she heard the wind whistling through the trees and rocks. She shook her head, then padded on gingerly. 

Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

She twisted her head around. Maybe it would be more fun to find Jinxshade. She knew she would be really grumpy since the sun was so bright today. She snuffled, trotted in a large circle, then went in the other direction, looking for any shade

He was just too hateful.

Only after a bird flew away did he realize how loud he was padding on the few leaves left from Leaf-fall. Side stepping to avoid the leaves, he sniffed most trees. Jinxshade was always so stealthy. Maybe Malicefathom would have been more fun to annoy. Even if he was so cold and awkward. And those eyes...those eyes...he couldn't even think about them. So ugly.

But didn't the best things come out of seeking and waiting?

He padded on, ignoring the sound he made when cracking the twigs. Elder-like Jinxshade would probably know of his presence already, right? It's not like he could ever hide his scent. He heaved, and plodded on to another tree. An oak this time, of course.


[282 words; 1525 characters; Ferry Pebsi]

[Ferry]

                                                                                                
(Your post is confusing, Badger, sob. Word count: 656 words, 3503 characters.)

Drip, drip, drip.

What is that noise?

The tom sought out answers from himself, not knowing what that awful sound in the air was, as it pelted against his ears, and he, a hateful creature, also hated this sound. It was disrupting him, him and his thoughts, the thoughts he wanted to think of, to think about the cats that all surronded around him, how much he disliked them, how much they disliked him. How some even sought solace amongst another clanmate because of him. He didn't do this though, he didn't seek a refugee from his hatred, he didn't seek comfort, not at all.

Malicefathom didn't want solace from his hatred.

It was plain and simple, there was nothing to stop the malice in his chest, it was almost a melancholy overtaking... Without the sadness.

See, Malicefathom only had a few emotions that ever went over him.

When he looked up, into the sky, whether he be in a cavern, hole, den, outside, it didn't matter, if he looked up, fear would wash over him, this was one of the lesser emotions, so it practically didn't exist. As it was often seen, Malicefathom, the tom, also had no apparent emotions of 'love' or 'happiness, and this had been true his entire life. Ever since he was born, he had fought with his siblings over the milk, he had nipped at their ears, he had never encouraged a grin upon his face, how could he? This world was so twisted... So dark... So messed up...

Like him.

The male had emotions of malice, misanthropy, anger, and annoyance. Those were the only feelings he had within his body, those four, and nothing more, it was much more dangerous when they were all combined together, although, most of the time.

They were.

So, as the tom sat there, dwindling in his four emotions, he would watch as a kitten passed by his paws, and he would lift them slightly in agitation, as if the long distance between them would make him become as stupid as she was, he did not want that. Most cats knew this already, Malicefathom was intelligent. How else could he bend every other cat to his own will? Whenever he wanted to bend them to his own will, he would, he could do it.

And do it he did.

When he felt tempted to twist someone from their innocent little lives into a hate filled, rage infested cat like himself he'd do it. It wasn't hard to him, although, he preffered not to, if there were too many of cats like him running about it'd be no fun for him, he'd have nothing to laugh at, nothing to hate, and then he'd become more easy-going and relaxed, he wouldn't be able to stay alert at all times. Some cats even enjoyed his misanthropic styles, he did as well.

Since he hated every last flea bag.

Oh, now he recognized the dripping.

Rain.

He thought this to himself, he hated the rain, as it began to drip, drip, drip on the ground he lived, the male twitched one of his dark ears. His fur beginning to rise along his coat, although, it soon laid flat, as he stared after the kitten who was now being ushered towards the nursery by its mother. The mother cast a glance towards him.

What a wrong move.

The female's fur lifted, he could see it, as the fur along her spine raised at his awkwardness, the dark demon, sitting there in his nest, in the corner, amongst the shadows. Theo nly thing evident and clearly distinguishable was his eyes, or, eye, his one eye. The salmon eye, it shown brightly, it shown clearly, it was nothing like his pure pecious eye, it was easily recognizable, easily seeable.

And it made fur crawl and claws unsheathe.

[Pebsi]

{ Badger, Jinxshade is in the warriors den, In the corner ^^ Also on my mobile so bear with the length and prettiness}

So much hatrid, so much anger. Those emotions were flying around the warriors den, it's source being a Tom who's eyes were as deadly as the dark forest itself. Who's emotions were pure evil, pure hatrid. Pure anger. Why the Tom was like this? No body knew. Even Jinxshade knew better then to cross paths with this tom. Unfriendly wasn't nearly a strong enough word to describe Malifcethorn. Jinxshade was known for her unfriendliness, her constant mood swings. The clan rarely saw her even, such bold words for cats who didn't even know her.

Such arrogant mouse-brains.

She-cats were known to be warm, fuzzy, kind and caring. But Jinxshade however thought that was a load of foxdung. Complete and utter foxdung. This she-cat was cold, moody and most of all anti-social. All cats did their best to avoid her, and she was 100% ok with that. Out of the shadows of the warrior den, Jinxshade's sharp emerald eyes watched Malifcethorn with intent. She enjoyed cat watching, this Tom being on the top of her list. Why was he so full of anger, so full of hatrid? She was determined to figure it out, even if it was just who he was.

She would get to the bottom of this.