we're all mad here - intro

[Raccoontail]

"Gyahahahhahaa! Get it? Because it's a-oh, you guys are borinnnngggg...fine! Gooooo!"
The group continued forward onto their patrol, leaving the black tabby standing there still chuckling to himself over his own joke because the best critique for one's humor was oneself and he certainly felt he was quite the wordsmith. Raccoontail gave an amused sigh, catching his breath and turning to gaze about the camp for someone else to bother; with his own patrol having been done earlier he could go and hunt but that was hardly fun alone so he wanted to at least have a partner tagging along. The issue was he wanted someone he could have a good time with.
What was the point of not being able to enjoy productivity, he lacked his mother's strict regimin and natural inclination for order and favored a little chaos in his day to spice his meals. It wasn't just enough to go hunt and catch something, he had to have an entire ordeal surrounding it and company. The large tom rolled his shoulders and strolled forward into the depths of the camp, mismatched eyes cheerfully scanning cat after cat as he went for a proper victim to entice into his mischief, maybe they could be convinced to nap in the woods with him. Maybe they could be convinced to join him in glorious conquest toward lofty heights or as the normal cats referred to it as: tree climbing. Just something, someone who didn't look like a stick in the mud.
They looked too stuck-up, they never laughed at his jokes, that one was always busy when he asked, that one was always a little too eager and it rubbed his fur the wrong way. One by one he examined his clanmates: no, no, maybe, no, not you, no, ha-unlikely, no...hm. That one? Perhaps? With a boldness he strut forward, beelining for his would-be accomplice and stopping directly in front of them, his expression briefly serious before he broke into a wide grin that seemed to stretch from ear to ear.
"Why do oak trees hate riddles?" He asked, mischief bright in both grass green and sky blue eyes.

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[TRUFFLEPELT]

Oh, and what a grin! He could not deny hunting was difficult with added conversation, but Trufflepelt's prophecy the night before had involved the pursuit of a squirrel- a clear sign from the stars that today they would catch one. Such certainty graced his strides that he minded not the gradual progress of the patrol, nor the approach of the aforementioned grinning tabby. Twin eyes, curious in their hue of emerald-sapphire, peered crescent-curved with that almighty grin. Trufflepelt could not help the humour that lit his buttercup gaze at the mere demeanour of this tom.

And oh, his question! It seemed one impossible to answer, woven in riddle and rhyme. Though he considered himself well-versed in interpretation, having been StarClan's secret favourite for almost a moon now (for he doubted the medicine cat gained prophecies nightly), there was something... impenetrable about this query. The notion that trees could think- feel- hate- oh, a horrible one! Hatred was a nasty emotion when felt by plant or cat, regardless. Still, he could not deny his curiosity- thus, from his throat leapt perhaps the question that Raccoontail had been wanting. "I am not sure- why?" Rapture lit in his gaze like sunlight, teetering on the edge of reverie. Oh, the possibilities to be imagined... ​

( PENNED BY PIN )​

 

[WOLFWIND]

No– "DON'T DO IT!" Wolfpaw screeches a warning, but it's too late, the old man has already made himself a victim with his question. She gets it– she really does! Raccoontail's questions always sounded, interesting, like some never-before-seen magic, but the answers were always the stupidest fucking thing you'd ever hear. She whines a dramatic noise of mourning as the question is uttered. Doomed, doomed. She pins her ears to her head, nearly covers Trufflepelts for him ( though that would be rude without permission :( ). She almost, almost pre-emptively attacks her uncle, but she would wait... wait for him to deal his final attack. Maybe, just maybe today was the day she would give them the real answer. But she swears... if he says something dumb like 'Because they always get stumped,' she's beating the shit out of him.​

 

[Raccoontail]

You can't stop him. No one can stop him. StarClan itself couldn't stop him-victory would be his!
"YOU'RE TOO SLOW!" His head whips around before he answers the old timer to address the apprentice as she sprints his way, teeth flashing white and a laugh maniacal rising from his throat in a cacaphony of delight. It was too late-TOO LATE. Wolfpaw's desperate cry, her warning, her call to stop what madness was about to unfold had failed entirely; there was no salvation left in sight now, there would be no mercy shown. The moment Trufflepelt asked 'why' his fate had been sealed. The fool. The damned fool. He prayed the next life showed the elder the mercy he would not recieve from the black tabby, for Raccoontail only wanted his own gratification and no one elses-he did not need his joke to succeed. He only needed it to be HEARD.
"Because they always get stumped!" His voice rises into a cackle as his words pierce the air, their meaning heavy and weighted and he is almost at his wits end waiting for the response because nothing was sweeter than the absolute groan of misery that arose from one of his jokes, the earth-shattering sighs that would fall upon him and crush him into the ground; he wanted to taste the despair, see the slow crumbling realization drop faces from polite smiles into silent frowns of disappointment. His was a bloodthirst that could not be quenched.


​

 

[TRUFFLEPELT]

Such eyes- that grin- he was only distracted by noise, the leaping of a blue-grey blur. What grave warning did she spout- for what fate? Had she seen some terrible future, one where the knowledge provided to him by his simple question of why would be his demise?Fascination overwrote his expression, a subtle but noticeable shift, and all of a sudden the senior tom knew not where he was to look. But Raccoontail- he was swift with his decision, swivelling his attention to Wolfpaw, rendering her warning ignorable. And then, then- meadow and sky found him, wildness in his eyes-

Because they always get stumped! And what a raucous cry! He'd never heard a cackle quite so loud, one so sudden and seemingly sourceless; that was, until the realisation that he had been told a joke and not some mystical knowledge settled into his mind, and a pleasant smile found a curve upon his rounded maw. "Ah! Haha," he murmured, amusement written across his features. What had it been that Wolfpaw was so worried about? The bolstering of his ego? "Very clever, Raccoontail! I shall add that one to my repertoire."

He intended not to hold his tongue when it came to praise- no matter who was receiving it.​

( PENNED BY PIN )​