//Land of Grey

[drizzle]

Truly, if Boneland had for some reason needed a new name, Diabola was certain she would have given it the calling Land of Grey. This part of the island was dead to life, and that was exactly what made it so fascinating.
The little brown she-cat's tail brushed the ground, sweeping up dust, as she trotted along, occasionally leaping over skeletons of the unlucky creatures that'd been there before her.

Diabola had hunted; not for Yasha, obviously, she would do that when she felt like it and if she felt like it. No, she'd hunted for herself, and had also tried to get as close as possible to one of the invaders' groups, to see if she could gather information.
The she-cat was impatient. How much longer was the Alpha going to wait before ordering an attack? Diabola's claws were positively itching to tear some silly Clan cat to shreds.
"Dead, dead, dead!" she sang, startling a bird who'd been picking at the remains of some kind of canine. "Dead, dead, all dead!"

The Clanners had gotten everywhere. The forest, the river, the beach. They were like those things, what were they called, those insects that scurried about on the ground, black and heavy and crunchy when stepped on...beetles, they were like beetles, they were everywhere, but not for long.....
"Alpha will lead us, and Yasha will attack, and the Clans will be killed," Diabola went on in a sing-song voice, snarling at the word 'killed'. "Alpha will lead us, and Yasha will win!"

[&&.where's the F I R E (?)]

[/b]
Mind if Camisado joins in? And, speaking of - he helps lead wars (like a lieutenant!) - Diabola sounds vicious - would you like her to be a "general" or something? So, when there is a war, you can bark meow commands! (haha)

ic//
Violet eyes poured over the dusty area. He heard the voice of a fellow Yasha – Diabola. He smiled and swished his tail in thick air. Gently, almost femininely, he stepped over drying bones so he could begin a better conversation with his “pal”.

”Diabola,” he meowed with oh-so-unnoticeably upturned lips. “best of greetings to you.” His eyes melted into a softer lavender shade as he spoke. But, as elegantly as the younger cat spoke, small talk was never his thing. Now, be it caterwauling orders to the militia or confirming plans with the Alphas, then sure, this kid’s got the words. But small talk? Ha. Using “Camisado” and “small talk” in the same sentence would be a crime. (Forget that I just did.)

He looks to the sky as he waits for her to reply, if she does. Because, if she does, then Cami will have to think of more to say, but secretly, this little tiger would love for her to reply, because… well, he is an odd character inside and out. As his purple orbs meet the blue (or grey on this day) sky, they clash in a war of monotone and monotone meets red and blue saturation and begs for a showdown. But, to change the course of his imaginary battle, he closes his eyes, not yet prepared for a war, and waits for feline vocals to burst this impeccable silence he’s bestowed on himself. [/ul]

[drizzle]

//ooc: Oh yes. Diabola loves giving orders. *slavers*

//ic:

Diabola was taken by surprise, and her dark eyes were wide as she fixed them on the tom she knew so well by sight. Everybody in Yasha knew Camisado: so young, yet so talented. He was younger than Diabola, and the knowledge made her prickle with envy. She couldn't stand people who were better than her, and the knowledge that Camisado had lived less, but gained more experience and fame, wasn't exactly easy to digest.
Still, he was one of those few for whom Diabola had some respect, so her words were not aggressive nor scornful.
"Camisado," she meowed. "I didn't expect to meet anyone out here."
Equal, Diabola decided; Camisado was her equal. Though he was exceptionally clever and had those particular eyes everybody spoke so much about, he was not purebred like Diabola, and that marked him as a commoner. Many Yasha were commoners. It all came down to having clean or dirty blood: Diabola's mother always said that. Clean or dirty.
Diabola was clean. Camisado was dirty.
"Are you here for any particular reason?" Diabola demanded, her tone bordering insolence. She always sounded cheeky, whoever she talked to: the exceptions were the Alphas.

[&&.where's the F I R E (?)]

[/b] woo! xD

ic//
Camisado's eyes flicker open at the sound of her voice. He smiles to himself again as he thinks up an answer for her question. It was a matter of math and anotomy, conversations were. Each response had to build off the question and end with something incomplete to keep it alive. So, his mind races to something he remembered hearing from an old traveler.

"Reason? Is there reason for anything anymore? Since those..." He wrinkles his nose as he thought of what he hated most. "those others came, everything is going downhill. I'm not even sure why I'm here today, among a million things I could be doing, I'm wandering as if I'm lost in the place I know so well." He stops there, in fear of overcompensating the question. His pupils swim in the pool of violet like young minnows under the waterfall as his nerves shatter and he finally comes up with a suitable answer.

"I'm thinking of what could be done."[/ul]