Post by slack on Mar 6, 2011 17:20:25 GMT -6
Name Mousewhisker
Age 16 moons old
Gender Intact she-cat
Clan SkyClan
Rank Young warrior
Apprentice None
Love Interest Well…everybody?
Kin
Cedarstripe [Litter brother]
Nightflower [Mother::Deceased]
Tacobell [Father::Missing, NPC]
Description
Mousewhisker’s body is small and compact, much like her brother’s body. However feminine he is, though, she is even more so. Her paws are petite and rounded; her hind paws are slightly larger than her front. Her forelegs are longer than they thick, with her haunches being a little thicker. Her torso, though solid, is noticeably more slender in some areas. Her shoulders are narrow, her chest shallow and trim. To most, her juvenile-like qualities aren’t exactly daunting. Her muscles are smooth and firm, but not always visible beneath her thick fur. Her strength lies in her dexterity, rather than brawn (which she clearly lacks). Her dainty size and quick paws promised agility at a young age. Since apprentice-ship, Mousewhisker has stolen the promise of her natural advantage and ran with it. She’s become quite nimble.
Her pelt is a refined mixture of cinnamon brown whirls and soft, creamy beige. The tabby markings on her face, as well as behind her pert ears, are a significantly richer cinnamon brown color than her other markings. The colors transform into a marbled fusion along her sides, with no apparent regard for pattern.
Her eyes, a light cool green, are usually wide and bright with fervor.
Personality
When it comes to charisma, Mousewhisker is hardly lacking. She’s sociable and bold as all get-out. However, when it comes down to actual depth, the she-cat becomes significantly more complex. Mousewhisker is intelligent—she just doesn’t often show her aptitude. She’d much rather purr and inveigle another feline to solve her dilemma, even if she already knows the solution. Perhaps it’s some sort of power trip? Mousewhisker, herself, isn’t even really sure why she does it. It makes her feel nice inside, the knowledge that somebody is willing to drop what they’re doing to help her. It certainly isn’t a sloth issue, though. She isn’t a lazy warrior. In truth, she tries her hardest to excel at her warrior duties. Mousewhisker is an extremely proud individual when it comes to proving her worth as a warrior. Also, although she hides it, she’s fairly vain. She adores herself and often pauses to admire the work she’s accomplished. Unfortunately, she knows that conceit is a very distasteful attribute and conceals it behind a well-rehearsed humble façade.
In all honesty, almost every good trait that Mousewhisker seems to possess is a carefully constructed guise. Beneath her seamless charade lies a calloused heart. She shares her sibling’s apathy, but outright resents it. She keeps her coldness locked inside, where nobody else can see it. Only when she’s been hurt or wronged does it ever surface. Mousey doesn’t want to be cold on the inside and it makes her ashamed. Combine her humiliation with whatever has been done to hurt her, and Mousewhisker will probably kill.
Although her loyalty to her Clan is unshakeable, the young warrior shows blatant skepticism towards the idea of StarClan. Mousewhisker is a very logical being, relying on her senses to tell her right from wrong. However audacious her typical demeanor is, though, she doesn’t scoff her Clan-mates for their different religious views. In fact, although she’d never admit it aloud, Mousewhisker envies their blind faith.
History
The Clan was flourishing, bolstered by a sudden influx of litters. The weather had been fairly consistent for the past moon—warm and splendid, with a pleasant, much-appreciated breeze. Prey was fat and slow, warmed into a lethargic daze by the green-leaf heat. The air was thick with sounds of nature’s vitality, including a sudden cry of distress. The wail, shadowed closely by another one, reverberated against the packed walls of the nursery. A small black she-cat lie panting against the back wall, her pretty face distorted in blatant agony. Outside, scarcely a fox-length away from the den’s entrance, a large beige tom paced anxiously. Nightflower and Tacobell were expecting their first litter.
In the later day, the two warriors eventually landed themselves with a lucky son painted silver and a petite daughter dyed creamy taupe. The son was called Cedarkit, dubbed for the burgundy stripes spreading across his body. The she-kit, Mousekit. She had been noticeably smaller than the male, but the medicine cat had assured them she was healthy. The warriors were enamored with their newborn kits and raised them as well as could be expected from two fresh parents. For their first few moons of life, the kittens led an average Clan-born life and thrived off of it. However, when the kits were nearing their third moon, it became apparent that their simple family was changing. Their father didn’t come around as often. Their mother’s shoulders sank lower with every day her mate didn’t visit. The kits noticed the sudden change in their once tranquil atmosphere, but couldn’t comprehend it. Before long, their father’s absence and mother’s dejection became ordinary.
A few days after their sixth moon, the kits became apprentices. The sun was high on their special day, illuminating the colorful pelts of Mousepaw’s Clan. When she glanced out across the gathered Clan, her pale green eyes bright with youthful enthusiasm. At her side, she heard her brother chirrup in pleasant surprise. Curious, she followed his luminous gaze to a familiar pale warrior in the crowd. Mousepaw’s eyes glimmered with happiness, but her father’s eyes stayed locked on Cedarpaw, never once alighting upon his daughter. At that moment, the she-cat wilted a little inside. On the outside, she lifted her chin higher and feigned indifference. Her mentor was an experienced older tom, whom she immediately fell in like with. Oh, young girls and their crushes. She didn’t flaunt her attraction to her mentor, though. Instead, she kept her crush secretly stored away inside her mind, not even daring to flirt with him. She was barely out of the nursery! A mature tom like Stagheart wouldn’t find a half-grown she-kit like herself attractive. He wasn’t a nursery-robber. He was respectable…which was one of the reasons Mousepaw found her heart throbbing for him.
Sometime during her third week into training, Mousepaw made a discovery that she found appalling. Stagheart had let her hunt on her own, to gain a feel for how she preferred to hunt. She wasn’t certain, but at times she had a sneaking suspicion that her mentor was watching her hunt. Anyway, as she was scouting the territory, she heard familiar voices nearby. Positive that she was mistaken, Mousepaw followed the racket. She shouldered her way through the undergrowth, concerned because the familiar voices were becoming louder and more unmistakable with every step. She crouched at the edge of the scene, her shoulders sinking and her ears flattening in dismay. Cedarpaw and her father were taking turns practicing a well-known fighting move, claws sheathed and eyes shining. The sight put a heaviness in the pit of her stomach. At that moment, Mousepaw acquired a seed of dislike for her sibling. Her eyes smoldered with hatred towards her father, whom hadn’t looked her way for moons. Stagheart was suddenly, and silently, at her side. He watched the two toms for a moment, his dark amber eyes narrowed in blatant disgust. It was no secret in SkyClan that Taco didn’t acknowledge his daughter’s existence. Without a word, he nosed his apprentice in the other direction, taking her away from the scene.
Mousepaw refused to acknowledge her brother’s presence after that, speaking stiffly when he tried to prompt conversation. She grew closer to her mentor, although he still remained naïve about her attraction. Her training progressed smoothly and friendships began to spark up between other apprentices. All in all, Mousepaw was succeeding in being a normal, healthy apprentice. She often wrestled with her own inner turmoil, but kept her struggles to herself. She was growing into a proud she-cat and sympathy was unwelcome. When her mother announced that she was pregnant again, Mousepaw seemed indifferent. It was as if she had renounced her entire family. In her mind, she was an independent she-cat. However, when her mother’s body turned up blood-spattered and broken, the apprentice’s walls tumbled down around her.
The fact that her father disappeared after the event drove an even deeper spike of abhorrence into the she-cat. Her brother was devastated and, although she detested his presence at first, she comforted her blood-sibling. They didn’t talk about his closeness with their deranged sire, though. For all Mousepaw knew, her brother thought it was a secret. She was keen to keep it that way. They graduated on time, without Mousepaw ever telling her golden mentor about her feelings.
Other
Open me up and you will see
I'm a gallery of broken hearts.
I'm beyond repair, let me be.
And give me back my broken parts.
I just want to be okay.
Roleplay Example
Neh.
