Game Introduction

How To Play

The news came to her in whispers. Funny things, whispers, weren't they. They seemed so soft and gentle; brittle, even. Not there to hurt anyone, not there to claw you across the face with a crushing blow to the heart. Like butterflies' wings-- dainty and delicate. Fae should have known that it would be her who was the brittle one. The hurt came to her in ripples. Funny things, ripples, weren't they. They seemed so patient and quiet; lazy, even. Not there to rush over and gape, not there to streak across the forest. Like summer's breeze-- lackidaisical and in no hurry to reach you. She should have known they would reach her eventually. And soon enough, they did. And everything came crashing down around her until fae was buried up to her eyes. Her beautiful amber eyes, capable of seeing so many more colors than the world held. An oddity for sure, but some called it magical. Or some would have called it magical, had they still been around. Had they still been the steady, loyal cat fae knew them as, there until the very end with unwavering support and optimism. Well, she thought with a bitter laugh which held no warmth and didn't quite reach those eyes of faers, this must be the end, then. For Bunnyblitz was gone. There, fae had said it. Wasn't something supposed to change now? Wasn't she supposed to be over it? All faer life, she had drifted from one thought to another, never quite settling; once you got faer attention, she would already be lost in the next daydream. It was a peaceful existence, a simple one. Existence, though, tended to have a habit of forcing one's attention upon something. It had done so before, so many moons ago, with a certain dark-colored tabby. She still kept the fabric mouse, tattered but plump, tucked safely in faer nest. By now she still felt a twinge of sadness whenever faer eyes laid upon it, but she knew that the tabby was gone, and would have wanted her to move on. Bunnyblitz's disappearance (this was what she called it; the other word, was too harsh just then) was too recent for that. Everywhere she looked, he was there-- in the wind which opened faer eyes to the world, in the birds chirping their positive messages, even in the very dirt beneath faer feet. A leader had passed, but lived on in all of them. That was, after all, what a good leader did. The idea came to her then: Couldn't she leave? If all fae ever saw was a reminder of her father, couldn't she run away from it all? Somewhere the hurt would never find her, somewhere fae could deal with it all without having peace forced upon faer. If only there was somewhere like that. If only. But wasn't there? Just a stroll away, there lay a world so different it was nearly underwater. But it would be rare to find water in WindClan. This was it. This was the solution. Away from everything fae'd grown so fond of, into a land not quite her own, but still dear to faer heart. Where no one would know of her father's disappearance, where fae would be able to recover until she felt a little less brittle. Then, and only then, fae would return. A haven, one could call it. She left on whispers. Funny things, whispers, for they can allude to the presence of one no longer there. Like ghosts-- never knowing if you'll see them again. Only time would tell if the brittle one would rise again.