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He had heard of the other cat before. Elizabeth, his new assassin. He had to breathe a sigh of relief; after having met Agamede, he had been apprehensive to say the least. The other she-cat...well, she kind of scared him, even more now when she was sleeping with Regulus. Now that had been a surprise; even now he was pretending he had never seen that. Nope. Not true. He hadn't seen a single thing out there. Nope. Never.
Now he had to meet his own assassin too. He suddenly stopped in his tracks, a look of terror flashing across his eyes. There was no way Regulus expected him to...well, have the same relationship with his assassin as they did right? He didn't want kits. He didn't want any more family to have to tend to, to have to fear, to have to see go mad with the curse his family had been given.
His jaw stiffening at the thought, he barely noticed the she-cat's presence.
Elizabeth watched the tom squirm for a moment, wondering what perverse thoughts dogged this strange tom they called their Warden, whom she was sworn to protect.
He didn’t look like much if she was being honest. His shoulders were slight, his haunches slim and compact, his muscles stringy. It was immediately clear that he wasn’t going to strike fear into his enemies by appearance alone, this cat that would one day command the league.
Funnily enough, despite the pawful of moons she’d spent as an Assassin in training, and now the few she’d spent as an Assassin ascended, she’d never actually seen him up close. She simply wasn’t around long enough to have. Elizabeth spent most of her time exploring the city, meeting its denizens, and making a name for herself. So up to this point, her only view of him had been in passing, and at a distance. She’d heard from the grapevine that he was the child of a former great Nemesis. And while the small grey fuzz he was at a distance hadn’t been enough to make an impression, that had tickled her curiosity.
But at the first close sight of him, she wasn’t impressed.
But then again, who was she to judge? She herself wasn’t the largest cat; Bermondsey was more than a head taller than her. Her own paws could even be described as dainty, despite the long claws they hid. And her legs were less than middling length, with more lithe muscles than thick power there. She relied on her speed and her cleverness to make her kills, more than brute strength and toughness. And what’d it matter who his father had been? She’d given up on affording ‘bloodlines’ any consideration a long time ago. In any event, looks were often deceiving. Rhiannon had reminded her of that, many midnights ago. So to understand the one they called Bermondsey, she’d actually have to speak to the cat.
“Pleasant evening, Warden,” she simpered mildly, to catch his attention. Her voice was elegantly polite. “I’m Elizabeth. Your sworn protector.” She offered the smallest of smiles, and then a terse bow of her head as a show of respect.
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Post by achromatic on Sept 2, 2021 18:47:03 GMT -5
He didn't really know what to think of her. She seemed unassuming, and the way her voice carried itself was polite, almost as if she carried herself differently for his sake. Despite the moons he had been at the league, he still was...unfamiliar with most of the cats. The city had a way of making them strangers to each other, in a different way than he was raised. When he was a kit growing up in the ruins of their old territory, he felt just as strange to the world as he did now, but that was his mother's doing, keeping her kits away from the commoners lest they got ideas like his sister Safiya, and once she was gone, replaced by the tyrant he called a brother, no one approached him anymore.
That sort of separation had been forced upon him, and he had never grown up as anything other than an outsider, learning how to pick up on other cats and their signals, their intentions and their thoughts from the simple way they looked at him. He had learned to distrust everyone, to never make friends for they would betray you as easily as family did. Perhaps he had listened too intently to his parents, because now when he was tasked with an assassin, one he should be trusting with his own life, he couldn't find it within him to do so.
No, he only ever trusted himself. Those whom he could even consider trusting could easily be counted on one paw.
"Elizabeth, no?" he asked quietly, his green eyes flitting across her as if studying her like an insect caught in a cage, his blank expression not revealing the wariness he felt in meeting someone new, someone whom he knew nothing of, both intentions-wise nor what Regulus wanted out of this, "sworn protector, huh?"
He scoffed, as if finding this whole situation both amusing and unsettling at the same time. "Did you choose to do this? Do they make you...I don't know, prove that you'll willingly kill and die for me?"
“Make me?” some faux confusion inflected in her voice, her best attempt at something more innocent, less cynical.
Alas, it didn’t suit her well. A heartbeat followed, her shoulders slacked into a relaxation, and a passive smile touched her lips, almost smirking. “This job beats the prison, I suppose.” It was an admission. If the gloves were off and truth laid to bare, she’d play ball.
Still, they did make an odd pairing. “As for my assignment to you, in particular? Agamede’s the senior Assassin, so she naturally protects the Nemesis. And if word around town is to be believed… The Nemesis is more than happy to have her close at hand... for… other reasons.” Her mew lacked the suggestive slur she reserved for friends and associates, but she couldn’t keep the amused glint from her sapphire eyes.
Her tone was as hard as the blue jewel as she continued, “You have no need to worry about my loyalties, Warden. I see my tasks through to the end. You won’t die as long as you’re in my protection.” She’d spill her own blood for his sake because it was natural. Because it was her role – her place in the world.
It was the first perch in the great ladder of the league that she felt content in. There was a freedom that came with being an assassin – that is, unless Bermondsey went and got himself killed. Then the claws would be turned on her.
“But that shouldn’t be a worry. You seemed to have been getting on… relatively well without me.” Bermondsey didn’t get into petty quarrels, from what she’d heard. He was a lover, not a fighter, apparently. The biggest risk was the one she couldn’t necessary control – the cats he associated himself with. They excelled at leaving him indisposed, if the rumors of the romp in the abandoned two-leg nest were true. "Just as long as you... watch what you eat better, you'll live."
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Post by achromatic on Sept 14, 2021 11:43:05 GMT -5
He had to admit, Elizabeth had done her research. He'd almost be impressed if his standards were a little lower, but surely, that should've been expected. A cat as an assassin would've done their best to know the cat they're subject to now, and frankly, if it wasn't for Eshek dragging him into things like this, he'd be curious to what she did learn of him.
However, she must've been lucky to know all the rumours, because the moment she spoke of Agamede, his nose wrinkled at the memory of finding the two of them canoodling, of all things, and gods, that was not a sight he wanted to see in his mind again. It must be amusing for Elizabeth to know this, but gods, he had short-circuited the moment the two of them had been caught, and eugh, the thought that Regulus might expect the same of the two made him grimace; it was like being set up on a blind date except he wasn't sure whether they'd murder him or eat him alive.
"I'm sure," he grumbled, not outright dismissing her claims but speaking in a tone that meant she had to prove it first. He'd never believe that any cat was willing to spill their own blood for his sake; he'd be delusional to think that he wielded that sort of power right now. His eyes flickered to her once more at the snide comment. It seemed like that stupid proxy had ruined the careful reputation he had tried to build.
Nonetheless, he'd never let that appear as something that bothered him. "I suppose you can be my poison tester then," he mused, "better get started on all of that. On the bright side, you're the first to pick, on the downside you might die. Fair trade-off don't you think?" It was sarcastic in that dry sort of way he often spoke.
His eyes were still narrowed, pupils in slits. "So Elizabeth, were you born here or did you come from elsewhere? What drew you to this league, or...perhaps drew you into staying here?" He sounded like he was interviewing her for a position she already had.
Elizabeth brow arched incredulously as the same thought flitted through her mind – he was either interviewing her for a job she already had or choosing the most stilted way to get to know her better, despite his guarded demeanor. How adorable. But it was hard to guess what his intentions were.
The mention of poison inspired memories of those elder tree leaves that Rhiannon had showed her. That was rather unsettling – she decided she wouldn’t cover that episode as she told her life story. So, she’d just start at the beginning: “I came here from elsewhere, like most league cats. You were a lot of castaways and degenerates, I knew, from the moment I stumbled on you. Maybe that’s why I stayed.” Her smile was temperate. “Bird of a feather flock together. As the saying goes.”
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Post by achromatic on Sept 19, 2021 13:04:39 GMT -5
His lips twisted into a sneer at the mention of castaways. Degenerates? Was that all they were now? Clearly, her words struck a chord; wrong answer, a voice might've said if he was the one to voice his own opinions, but alas, his eyes were cold as he circled her once more. "We're not a charity, if that's what you think Primal Instinct is," he replied, his voice sounded neutral but there was a dangerous tone to it, "if you wish to move forward from your post, you'd do well to understand that."
Though Bermondsey had vowed to never be his parents, it was as the saying goes. Perhaps life wasn't dictated by something like destiny, and perhaps the crossroads weren't as defined as one thought, but the road to hell was paved with good intentions and a path taken meant the wheel was always going to be in the groove of the road.
"Primal Instinct used to be more than this 'survival of the fittest' thing; we were cats who understood the true meaning of survival, how we had to fight tooth and claw for it, how it wasn't enough to just react to what the world threw at us; we had to take control, that leaving an enemy alive meant securing one's death at their paws. We had an empire, and we could be feared in this forest too. There's no point in an existence without a goal to work towards. We're not just a bunch of strays, you'll do best if you banish that thought from your mind, Elizabeth."
“I meant it as a term of endearment more than anything like that,” she responded in a mild tone. Her blue eyes languidly followed him as he slipped from view on one side and reappeared on her other. Otherwise, she was totally still.
She’d seen the dredges of this city, the brutes who clawed each other to pieces at the bottom while the leaders sat in their ivory towers. She’d spent moons cleaning up its trash in the Crypt. The dichotomy of her heritage vs his did not escape her.
“I’m a stray. There’s no shame in admitting what you are. Wasn’t that a founding ideal of the league? To become greater than the sum of our parts?” Bermondsey certainly had the speechy wax-idealistic part of leadership down, she had to give him that. ‘Not enough to react to the enemy – taking control.’ It was enough to even stir her dark spirit.
But that skill was mandatory, wasn’t it? He was a prince after all – born at the top of the heap. For all she knew he was groomed for leadership; it was expected of him. And now on the door of his inheritance, the prince was realizing his parents’ kingdom wasn’t all that he dreamed. The league was half-starved in a city that seemed ready to evict them. Their empire of old was dust.
And she was a stray, an orphan with no legacy and no place in the world. Look how high she’d risen. And on her way up she’d seen the ugly parts of the city, shrouded by clouds when you looked down from the ivory tower.
“Primal Instinct is just about the opposite of a charity,” she laughed. “That’s why I like it.”
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Post by achromatic on Sept 23, 2021 17:57:42 GMT -5
He didn't feel the same way. After all, Elizabeth had gotten one thing right. He had been born at the top of the heap, high-flying adored. His parents had expected greatness, yet not as much as they had expected of their firstborns. For someone who was supposed to be on top of the world, the view was like a fog that had rolled over the mountains, obscuring all that lay beneath, until the path he had been following disappeared from view. Really, it was almost a bit of a shame that he had reached all of this at a young age, while he was still young and spry, because perhaps a different cat would've been satisfied with all this, all that he had become, but...he wasn't. Was it boredom? Was it disappointment? Bermondsey didn't know.
He wasn't about to confront that with a stranger he barely knew. "–then isn't it ironic that we're barely scraping the bottom of the barrel right now?" he pointed out, his green eyes narrowed, "we should be an empire and yet we're both here, aren't we? Part of a group that's barely surviving? What's the point of a role to play if we're not using it to further our own means?"
His green eyes were fixated on her. "You must be proud of yourself, no?" his words were imploring, soft despite their cutting edge, "stray cat, the underdog who clawed their way to the top, biding your time until either one of us, Regulus or I, meet our messy end so that you'll be one step higher once again, no? Perhaps I would've thought you were the idealist, the kind who had seen the messy world and thought themselves powerful enough to truly change it, but no idealist pledges their life to a cat who could care less for their wellbeing. Your loyalty is to yourself, isn't it? The thought that one day, all those who looked down upon you, who mocked and spat on you will regret it all when you become the cat on top..."
Bermondsey's whiskers twitched. "You should be careful, even that tower's built on sand. Learn from my mother; even the cats you hold dearest can turn on you in a split of a second." The words had another meaning too, both as a piece of advice and as a warning. Bermondsey didn't trust others.
“Since honesty is on the menu today, I would be remiss to say it didn’t bring me some pleasure,” she purred lightly, like it was a sensual secret. “We all think we’re special, no? You see the deaf, dumb, dull, vicious blind fools, and your ego craves nothing more than to wedge distance between you. And when the world obliges, and raises you high with one title or another, you feel validated. Which is foolish in itself. If I was truly better, it wouldn’t mean anything to me, no? But sometimes I can’t resist the base pleasure in ignorance. In sticking it another cat’s face; I won.” She smiled as her tail twisted eagerly behind her.
“I don’t envy you though, conveniently placed under the weight of all those… expectations. How can you rise high when you’re just making up the ground Mom and Dad already plotted for you? You’re breaking-even, in the best case.” Her own parents were too dead to stick it to, but she’d renounced their claim on her long ago. It must be hard for him to ignore the specter of a throne that his mother had sat just a few years ago. “Does their legacy haunt you, Warden?”
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Post by achromatic on Oct 6, 2021 10:32:38 GMT -5
Her honesty he could respect at least. Crawling up from the sewers like a rat deserved its respect all the same and after all, none of them would've existed without having to claw their way here somehow. Still, it seemed as this cat was rather indulgent in the bits of gossip that floated around. Surely she did her research upon him, and he was starting to get a rather...interesting picture of her. Ears more than eyes, and a slyness in her tone that made it seem like she could sneak into any location with the information he needed.
Fitting, really, for an assassin. He always found it amusing how good she-cats could be in this role; they had something about them that seemed to make a tom want to talk. Elizabeth wouldn't disappoint.
"You'd make good eyes and ears around the league," he spoke, glossing over her questions that were meant to make him feel vulnerable. There was one thing, after all, that she had missed. His parents had never given the second litter any ground to stand upon. They were far too gone and far too dead by the time he had reached any sort of age to truly understand all of it. His family had been there one day, and not in another, and he had been left behind to figure out what to do, with nieces and nephews that were older than him and the skin upon his back.
"Perhaps we'll talk about business then. You should easily be able to prove yourself somehow, no? If you can bring me news about the clans, and about the league that is useful to me and something I haven't heard of before...something that I can use, I'll consider you fit for this job. It should be especially easy for you; from what I hear, there's plenty going on with the clans and their little...infighting. Your first mission is to tell me exactly what's going on and to analyse the threat."
Elizabeth grew more placid as Bermondsey diverted the conversation to work. Finally, they were of a like mind; “I’m pleased you recognize where her talents lie, Warden,” she smiled mildly.
Her tendency to indulge in gossip hadn’t been a consequence of her promotion, or even a cause of it. She was a fighter first, she told herself, and that’s why Regulus had lifted her from the mass of adders and cage brawlers that populated the league. It wasn’t because anyone found her trustworthy in particular – she hadn’t known any of the cats within the upper rank of the league; she had no connections to speak of. She would’ve never characterized herself as a gossip – but alas, it’s what’s she was becoming known for. That label ruffled her the wrong way – it wasn’t her fault cats spilt their guts to her.
Her brows rose in interest as the Warden spoke on. She’d caught words of the developments in the forest clans. The news had been sparse, but apparently one superior clan had conquered a weaker. She didn’t see anything wrong in that, or why it should concern Primal Instinct at all – unless there was a security risk. But her source had been unreliable, and Bermondsey appeared to know much more about the situation than she did.
She suddenly realized that if this was going to work, and if she was going to prove the sincerity of her duty and earn his trust, he had to open his mind to her.
“Anything we should be worried about?” She prompted curiously. “If you let me in on your plans, I’ll know what to look for in my scouting.” She was hesitant – no, nauseated – to return to the forest. But if that was her assignment, she’d do it without complaint. Welcome to the big leagues, Elizabeth.
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Post by achromatic on Oct 10, 2021 8:48:26 GMT -5
He tilted his head at her comment, the wry smile echoed by his own features. The tom could tell that despite her expression, she wasn't exactly pleased with the type of missions he was sending her on, but he needed to see what she was worth before he trusted her with anything after all. "Just treat this as a training session," he mused with a smirk, "you complete this and I'll...graduate you to a better one, hm?"
There was more than just one reason he was intrigued. He was a control freak and needed to have the upper hand, that was true, and any news of the forest contributed to how he planned his next move, making sure that the league was on the right side of the war, that was also true, but the clans that he had heard about...they were the two places he had left Safiya's kits. NightClan and SummerClan. He wasn't sure what to think of this; they should've been old enough to know by now, to survive and to understand...
He still couldn't help but wonder. "I want you to look out for...those in charge. The subjugated cats who act our and rebel, but also those in power who carry out their leader's work, and those who disagree. It's easier for us to know the strife between the two if we ever wish to make our move, no?"
There was still a lack of trust on his part, and he left the names of those he looked out for out of his words; if he had the right hunch, Evenie would never sit still, and well...he wasn't so sure about the boy, but it wasn't he who was in danger.
“Hmm…” Elizabeth considered, her tail at play again, swishing back and forth. In the grand picture, it was an exciting prospect – Primal Instinct thinking outwardly again, taking control of their destiny as Bermondsey had opined about earlier. Her imagination grew ravenous for a moment, thinking about what trouble they could stir, land they could grab, prey they could plunder. But the ashen assassin was too level-headed to allow the impression to do more than glance off her disposition. She needed to know more about what she stood to face. Truly, she was the type of cat that weighed the risks as much as the rewards these days.
“What can you tell me about the situation? Who are the players? The winners, the losers? And their goals? Surely your informants are better than mine.” She was rather good at extracting information, a real straddler of the grape vine, but in truth most of what she knew came from dusty road-worn rogues that wandered too far into league territory. She was amazed by what she could discover when she refrained from driving them off at first sight. But such dodgy sources brought even dodgier information.
Provoking an empire(which is what it was at this point) with the might and aggression to overrun another clan seemed foolhardy, she mulled. But sometimes it took bold action to gain any sort of trust in this world. She presumed the warden wouldn’t have any qualms about losing his freshly unboxed assassin if thing went sideways – but then again, she could prove quite useful if they didn’t.
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Post by achromatic on Oct 15, 2021 18:39:35 GMT -5
He flicked his ear once, as if contemplating whether to tell her exactly who he'd look out for or to let her figure it out herself. Of course, if he truly wanted her to figure it out on her own, he'd let her decide what she thought was important, but alas, he was an impatient cat. She'd learn to discern this soon enough, he supposed, and well, if he wanted her to do a good job, he had to put in that effort all the same.
"SummerClan and NightClan...I always assumed they were allies if I'm to be honest," he spoke. After all, Howlingheart had spoken once, of his brother who had left and settled in the latter. "I don't know what happened to the SummerClan leader but they seemed indisposed, and Aspenstar...well let's just say she doesn't seem like a pleasant cat from what I hear." Then again, Eshek had only mentioned something about knowing the cat's brother, some medicine cat or something here and there who seemed to have a grudge on their sister. He wasn't quite so sure.
"All I know is that there was a scuffle, and I believe they've put their own cat in charge of SummerClan. I haven't heard much else, but I assume their leaders, cats in charge certainly have something to do with it. NightClan cats have a guard that stays close to their leader I believe, a sort of secret...guard that only listens to her. I'd pay attention to them and that medicine cat of theirs perhaps. For SummerClan...I wonder what's happened to the family of their former leader, and I suppose you should look for the rebels, anyone who stirs the pot."
He was a cat who liked to know the cards on the table before playing the game.
“Hmm, so something’s happened to the Summerclan leader and this Nightclan leader’s taken advantage of the opening,” Elizabeth summarized with a nod. “Those Summerclanners aren’t going to be very happy about that. I’ve been told they’re soft flower-pickers, but also that their hedonism was equally rivaled by their fierce pride. I assume it’s only a matter of time before they rally around a new leader and drive them out.” Her sapphire eyes were glazed over in rumination, and it was clear she was thinking-out-loud more than anything. “That’ll be a bloody mess when it comes about.” The Nightclanners would fight hard if this leader was as ‘unpleasant’ and ambitious as she sounded, but she doubted they could keep a hold on their new colony while splitting their forces in two.
The mention of a secret guard made her ear flick with interest. That sounded much alike to what she and Agamede did – certainly these cats would be the most skilled and aggressive if she was found out, and the ones to be wary of. She wasn’t traditionally interested in the movements of Medicine Cats and families of disposed leaders, but she’d investigate it all the same. There was a chance the Medicine Cat would be the daring kind, and lead this ‘rebellion’ as the spiritual leader of the subjugated. She knew how easily swayed the clan cats could be by talk of Starclan and ancestors.
Her eyes focused back on him, sharp as ice. “It’ll be done, Warden. Is there anything else I should know before I leave?” She couldn’t possibly guess Bermondsey had family in the clans, as far away as they were. All she'd ever heard about him was his vaunted Primal Instinct heritage.
Elizabeth nodded and climbed to her paws. It wasn't long before her grey coat faded into the blackness of the trees, though questions on what she'd discover still hovered in the air.
