Post by gemini on Oct 20, 2023 15:32:39 GMT
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[attr="class","adrie-lyric1"]Can you see me now?
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[attr="class","adrie-lyric2"]'Cause I was born to rule.
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[attr="class","inner-finally"]Bullwasp's crania were overflowing with numerous thoughts, overwhelmed by the circumstances of the surrounding Clans. He slipped away from camp on his own, deciding to do a solo patrol in the meantime. He needed fresh air, afar from his clanmates. Not only that, but he was desperate to make a difference in his unwarranted ways. Bullwasp couldn't excuse his crania from wandering about the recent conversation with his son, Ramhorn. Bullwasp reminisced momentarily, curious about how things would come together and, especially with, being the newly appointed deputy. The Deputy's chest tightened as though it was constricting his heart from allowing oxygen; attempting to breathe had only caught in his chest, rendering a soft cough of discomfort. It was as if the words were trapped in his throat, unable to rise and flee his mandible. He trekked toward the creek that flowed through OrchidClan, enjoying the harmony of birds and water cascading to the lake surrounding Cindersnap Glade.
Bullwasp wasn't necessarily ignored but instead utilized in commanding his prized child, Ramhorn, who was a bit larger than himself. Power. Everything was power in Bisonstorm's visage, a scoff escaping his maw at the thought; he found it pathetic, but then again, it was engraved in him to refuse softness, as much as he desired to be more vulnerable. Bullwasp couldn't help but wonder what the other Clan's lives were like; was it as atrocious as his life in OrchidClan where his past felt invisible? Bisonstorm got away with everything so far in his life, and how? Bullwasp despised the fact that he couldn't simply fall in love. It felt forced. It was disappointing, and he wished he could love his mate, Morningbreath, but it wasn't in his heart to do so. Bullwasp's heart desired something else but couldn't put a paw on it; why couldn't he love his mate?
When Bullwasp heard a hawk's reverberating call, his concentration snapped toward it, his current thoughts shattering in the void of his brain. A crooked, although genuine, smile tugged at his mouth. "Such lovely vocals." He commented lightly, attempting to release the tension within him. Bullwasp didn't want the Clan to hate him; his family did, and that was enough. The Deputy's reputation wasn't the finest regarding overall affability, but he was admirable when accomplishing tasks and achieving personal goals. "I love the crisp, clean air of Leaf-Fall." He admitted, going only a little further into depth. He wasn't a fan of talking about himself, nor his emotions and thoughts, so he did it in his lone time, where no one could judge. Bullwasp's auditories perked and alerted, hearing the sound of a twig snap—a fatal mistake. "I'd show yourself now; fortunately, I'm not an enemy, although it's the season to watch for fallen, dead sticks." He was only teasing; and the sticks had just begun to fall, and the leaves were starting to change colors. "Or were you curious as to what I was doing?" He inquired, cranium tilted as he settled back upon his haunches comfortably.
Bullwasp wasn't necessarily ignored but instead utilized in commanding his prized child, Ramhorn, who was a bit larger than himself. Power. Everything was power in Bisonstorm's visage, a scoff escaping his maw at the thought; he found it pathetic, but then again, it was engraved in him to refuse softness, as much as he desired to be more vulnerable. Bullwasp couldn't help but wonder what the other Clan's lives were like; was it as atrocious as his life in OrchidClan where his past felt invisible? Bisonstorm got away with everything so far in his life, and how? Bullwasp despised the fact that he couldn't simply fall in love. It felt forced. It was disappointing, and he wished he could love his mate, Morningbreath, but it wasn't in his heart to do so. Bullwasp's heart desired something else but couldn't put a paw on it; why couldn't he love his mate?
When Bullwasp heard a hawk's reverberating call, his concentration snapped toward it, his current thoughts shattering in the void of his brain. A crooked, although genuine, smile tugged at his mouth. "Such lovely vocals." He commented lightly, attempting to release the tension within him. Bullwasp didn't want the Clan to hate him; his family did, and that was enough. The Deputy's reputation wasn't the finest regarding overall affability, but he was admirable when accomplishing tasks and achieving personal goals. "I love the crisp, clean air of Leaf-Fall." He admitted, going only a little further into depth. He wasn't a fan of talking about himself, nor his emotions and thoughts, so he did it in his lone time, where no one could judge. Bullwasp's auditories perked and alerted, hearing the sound of a twig snap—a fatal mistake. "I'd show yourself now; fortunately, I'm not an enemy, although it's the season to watch for fallen, dead sticks." He was only teasing; and the sticks had just begun to fall, and the leaves were starting to change colors. "Or were you curious as to what I was doing?" He inquired, cranium tilted as he settled back upon his haunches comfortably.
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KAY OF PIXEL PERFECT
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