what cannot be said shall be wept [closed]

A dark webbing of veins slipped across the pale afternoon sky; barren, listless branches of old, soul-consuming trees snaking across the patched space of the canopy with all the luster of the final death-throes of a miserable creature. The ​secondary clinging to life in the face of insurmountable obstacles, an instinctual clinging to the pulse of livelihood despite the continually mounting pressures of snow and ice that fell from the sky in an endless ceremonial. It was bitterly freezing, though Achelois had never known any other gracing of season, and she had grown thrice accustomed to the gnawing fangs of both the cold and the ensuing hunger of such lean times.

The sprawling connection of the wilting forest creeping out before her in steadily made rivulets was entirely unfamiliar, her listless and prioritized roaming bringing her to lands that were woefully unfamiliar- the sharp stench of thoroughly marked borders the singular indicator that such pitiful, stark grounds were actually inhabited by a group of some caliber. Forging ahead, and brushing beyond the invisible marker meant to spare all those who held no blood-tie to the old forest, the sharp jut of Achelois' tight ribcage was subjected to the frigid embrace of a deep snowbank; the stiflingly quiet forest set aflame with the faint clinking of partially frozen undergrowth being abruptly jarred by her sudden movements.

Her own home was certainly a far-cry from the forest in terms of visual aesthetics, but it was marginally easier to navigate than floundering through thorns and snow like this.

The member 'Seer' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Invasion Dice' :

Stoatfur caught sight of the young she-cat after a few moments. It was the slight flickering of the backdrop, hidden behind snow-covered foliage that had long-since died. Eyes trained to seek out prey like a hardened warrior such as he were always searching for even the faintest flicker. Unfortunately for his waning strength and rumbling stomach, this was not a meal but rather another intruder. They seemed to come in droves now. The other two had been just as young and over-confident as this one. He wanted to drive them away and leave wounds that would teach them to stray into other territories.

The noisiness of her otherwise stealthy arrival caused his ear to twitch. She didn't seem aggressive, nor was their any prey nearby that he could see she might be in pursuit of. Stoatfur's eyes narrowed as he leaped through the snow and quickly made himself known. He blocked her path, stretching as high as his unimposing frame would go, and fixed her with a quizzical glare, "You know, I don't often mark the borders for fun. They are supposed to mean something."

Sodden flurries were launched skywards, erratic drifting upon the stiflingly chilly horizon tracing remnants of partially visible veins; a secondary entrance oh so unlike her own in deliberate forging through the mounting banks of snow, skilled movements graced with the presence of familiarity. A marbled face, a twin dark mirroring of the own unsightly blotches that crept across the soft cresting of her features, was promptly staring down at her, gaunt and unimpressed. Though such a nominal reaction was quite favorable for Achelois, who preferred to keep the pristine points of her ears intact and wholly scar-free, she still swung wide in the sudden wake appearance of her newfound companion, preferring distance and safety in the reliant offering of a thick tree trunk.

Curved ribs slotting tightly against worn grooves of ancient bark, the young molly wreathed around the frost-bitten clutches of her newfound physical barrier, soft face just barely visible as she made to peek around at the curious spectacle of Stoatfur. Pale gaze, wide and reflectant of the drifting snowfall curling across the still air in the aftermath of their sudden movements, remained fixed upon the Deputy; curious and wary at the task of determining whether all the stories of the Clans were truthful. Bone-chewers, cruelty and misjudgment the only shared commonality between the odd collective of groups.

"Borders only matter to those who arbiter," Achelois peeped out, cautious cheer tight on her heavy tongue, "must I play by the rules of a game I do not participate in?" Whiskers prickling and bristling against the rough stimuli of frost-kissed wood grinding against the side of her face, the young molly seemed carved of stone when it came to the feat of reducing the distance between herself and the ThunderClanner. "Besides, what does it matter if I'm here, if I do not intend to cause trouble?"

He took a few steps closer, never moving his his gaze from her pelt, "It's often those who don't go looking for trouble that find themselves in it. The chances only increase when you step into a world that is not your own, contrary to what you might think." She had a curious mannerism for a rogue, seemingly not quick to jump into the battle and perhaps true to her word that she had not come for trouble. But Stoatfur was not a forgiving guardian of the border, he was not prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt in this, or any other circumstance. The strange cat seemed rather young, much like the others he had chased away recently and likely just as inclined to hold the circumstances that lead her here close to her pelt.

"You've already done harm to my clan just by passing those boundaries, and without even so much as intent? I could give you a purpose or chase you away. Catch something to pay back your infraction and I'll let you go." Admittedly, he was curious, perhaps more so than he should have been. The words were light, joking in nature, dripping with sarcasm. But with how often this seemed to be, why not have some fun with it. Stoatfur narrowed his eyes and waited for a response, prepared to pounce should she misstep. Even if he was going to play with his enemies, there wasn't room for a slip up.

The watery air was set alight with the faintest hiss of a damp splitting, silky ice webbing out across unperturbed snow breaking faintly under the softest movements; downy tufts of snow sent whirling skywards as Achelois suddenly ducked entirely behind the safety of her designed tree. Stoatfur's imploring delegations were left null for a secondary heartbeat, only mild shifting heard behind the welcoming embrace of the ancient tree, before her head resurfaced on the opposite rounding of bark, pale gaze shaded with a touch of interest in the stranger's words. "I see you are quite uninformed of the ways of the world," there was a faint dusting of mischief evident in her words, posturing a bit more confident now that the likelihood of imminent attack seemed less and less plausible, "don't you know it's all one great sky? We share the sky we were born under, should we not share the same home?"

The wayward Deputy's secondary stringing of inquiries made Achelois' nose scrunch, momentarily caught off guard by the implication that her fruitless wandering steps had somehow brought ill-fate upon others. Certainly the Clans were strange, often unlikable at best- but she failed to see what terrible harm her presence had inflicted. "Already done harm? I did not know I came bringing pestilence, or perhaps even famine as well- it feels very rude that others have let me walk around, unknowing of the tragedy I must certainly bring." Weight pitching forward so that her disheveled shape was more visible to Stoatfur, the faintest inklings of a feline smile were visible upon the rounded curve of her cheeks, shy and friendly. "I would be glad to help, seeing as you certainly need it. You're lackluster at mannerisms and seem to have an awful amount of grey fur for your age, but I suppose I shouldn't refuse a request for aid, hm?"

As she pulled back, behind the tree, his teeth clenched and he strained forward for every sound. This rogue wouldn't get away from him, unless it was the sight of her tail streaming out behind her as she retreated. But she quickly appeared once more and he stopped in his pursuits. Stoatfur snorted softly, an indignant sound, as she suggested there were things he did not know. Perhaps beyond this forest, in the greater scheme of things, but here, no, this was his sanctuary. Tail tip twitching slightly in even mixtures of annoyances and curiosity. Once she posed the question of the endless pelt that made up their skies, he laughed sharply.

"Once you touch the skies, then you can claim them as you own."

His eyes then narrowed into slits; she was mocking him. Stoatfur shook out his coat and unsheathed his claws ever so slightly, more in agitation than threat. But as the smile crossed her maw, the deputy realized that in the most impossible way, this unusual cat was being friendly with him. It was her final words, that offered a mixture of acceptance of his sarcastic proposal and another moment of teasing. What was wrong with this cat? Flicking an ear, he meowed, "Unless you carry death or hunger in your paws, that's not a concern, but it starts a path that could. The more cats comfortable enough to cross your borders, the greater the threat."

It felt pointless to explain, but he wasn't entirely sure of what else to do. Stoatfur straightened up decisively, "Off you go then, over the borders. Find something and bring it back. I trust you'll pay back your debt." He didn't but shooing her away was the simplest course of action. The little deputy wasn't going to spend his day sitting in the territory and playing games with a curious rogue, even if she had captured his attention for a moment or two.

The stranger's laugh was abrasive; coarse and roughened by the outright certainty of comfort in all things knowing. Yes, the watery remnants of Achelois' remembrance was tainted by the sticky undercurlings of amusement at the older tom's disbelieving humor, Clan cats were quite certainly stupid- there could be no mistaking in such. Limited sense of world lending only the ability to see in black and white, one dimensional and shallow. She hardly understood the parameters of the invisible conflict Stoatfur seemed dead-set on outlining, torrential floodgates evidently lurking upon the rise of every known horizon. "You seem awfully reliant on the thought of controlling what cannot be known," Stepping free of the carefully proctored shelter of the tree-trunk, Achelois rightfully possessed the sense not to push past the obvious invitation to leave with her ears not shredded to bloodied tatters.

"Fear not," The soft hiss of downy snow breaking under her weight, steps tediously retraced in the winding direction from which they originally came, "I'm sure we'll be seeing one-another shortly. I have the feeling that we'll be the fastest of friends!"