Post by buffy on Nov 22, 2011 19:19:12 GMT -6
Name: Brindlepaw
Age: 9 Moons
Gender: Female
Clan: WindClan
Rank: Apprentice
Mentor: Heehee
Love Interest: Heehee
Kin: Stripedheart ; Father ; Deceased
Streamtail ; Mother ; NPC
Description: Brindlepaw is a WindClan cat, and mostly that’s what her build suggests. She’s slightly awkwardly built, being too thin and a fraction too long. Most WindClan cats tend to be wiry as well, but she has taken the build to an extreme, almost becoming a caricature of what a WindClan cat should be. Of course, the overlong legs do help to run faster, but they also bring out the fact that she has barely any muscle and next to no fat.
What Brindlepaw lacks in a lush body she makes up for with her face. She has bright, round yellow eyes and around the pupils a soft forest green spreads like a flame. Her face is well proportioned and sweet, and the three different colours of her calico-tortoiseshell pelt blend together. Her pelt is a mishmash of orange, white and black and would take forever to explain specifically, in detail. It’s hard to trace where one colour starts and another begins because they swirl around her body. The only part of her fur that is a solid colour is her belly, which is a soft, snowy white.
Personality: Born with no siblings, Brindlepaw always felt as a kit that the nursery was too quiet and that she needed to make her own noise. As a kit, the perennially skinny little tortoiseshell was absolutely out of control. She screamed, she wrestled with every moving thing, and she bothered grumpy queens who tried to nap. Her soft-spoken mother’s threats and demands never reached her kit’s ears, and unfortunately her mother lacked the firmness that was necessary to discipline her rambunctious daughter. Because of this, Brindlekit became accustomed to the feeling of being in control and expects it wherever she goes.
There was only ever one cat that could calm down Brindlekit was her father, Stripedheart. But since he left when Brindlekit was only two moons old, whatever discipline she was used to getting were forgotten. She could barely remember him; in fact, the only thing she could recall was the deep tenor of his voice and how safe it made her feel. He was strict, but he brought a steadiness into the young kit’s life that her harried and flighty mother never could. But after he left, she had nobody. Because she wasn’t old enough to recognize what a real, strong tom was like, Brindlepaw now feels that she needs to strive for tom cat’s affections. Flirty and, to a degree, needy, Brindlepaw pines for attention – not love, attention form the opposite sex to make up for what she didn’t have growing up. It’s unhealthy, of course, but she doesn’t know what else to do. She’ll flirt with any tom that moves, regardless of how old or young they are, though she has never felt true attachment to any.
History: His voice was so nice. In the haze of a young kit’s mind, she could remember it; the deep, shifting tones and the low murmur. That always stopped her cries – something her mother’s panicky voice only worsened. Her mother, Silvertail, had been a mother several times over, but every litter of hers had consisted of at least two kits. She never had a single kit, especially one as stubborn and wild as Brindlekit, and as a result, she had no idea how to deal with her. Brindlekit was barely two moons old when he left. He was dead – the only tom who ever cared about her, dead. Her mother had several mates, and felt no more than the standard grief for Stripedheart. Brindlekit was too young to understand that her father had been hit on the thunderpath, but she did know that he was gone and she would never hear his voice again.
So, Brindlekit grew wilder. There was nothing to calm her down or control her anymore, and she had full run of the nursery. Her mother did love her daughter - she was constantly worrying about Brindlekit’s failure to gain weight. The medicine cat did examine her, but said she presented no illnesses, and as she got older should begin to fill out. But Brindlekit didn’t. When she was six moons old and ready to become an apprentice, Brindlekit had grown taller but not wider. The awkward-bodied apprentice was written off by other apprentices as weak, but on her very first night she asserted her dominance in the apprentice den. True, the other cats were stronger, smarter and more skilled than she, but Brindlepaw had something they didn’t – a head as hard as a rock. She refused to move from a nest that was not her own, though eventually with the nights she moved to the nests of several different toms. None of them made her swoon or her heart patter, but they were toms and they seemed to like her. What she presented to them, anyways. Because around them, she wasn’t wild Brindlepaw. She was sweet, scared Brindlepaw, playing up every opportunity to make herself desirable. The she cats hated her and the toms liked her, and so Brindlepaw began to find where she belonged in the apprentices’ hierarchy.
Brindlepaw’s mentor was a serious she cat named Robinfoot. She had been assigned to Brindlepaw because she had corrected several rebellious apprentices and made them into fine warriors. But Brindlepaw was exhausting. She never listened, and always stopped to flirt with toms in the middle of training sessions. No punishments worked – send her to the elder den and she’ll flirt there, send her to the nursery and she’ll flirt there. It was out of control. The only punishment Robinfoot could think of was making her apprentice go out on her very own to hunt, though she felt it was an inadequate reprimand.
When Brindlepaw had just turned nine moons, her mentor was struck very suddenly with a very serious, unknown illness. In two days, Robinfoot was gone and once again, Brindlepaw was mentorless. Of course, she had never had any attatchment to her grumpy mentor, but she did feel a slight pang that Robinfoot’s last apprentice, her last duty to the Clan, had failed because of her.
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