Post by Deleted on Jan 31, 2017 18:33:54 GMT -5
Name: Patchfur
Age: 33 moons
Gender: She-cat
Clan: NightClan
Rank: Warrior
Picture:
Description: Patchfur is a small cat, with a petite frame and light build. She moves with a silent grace that simultaneously portrays a feeling of grace and fragility, like she would blow away in too-high a wind. Her fur's base coat is a pure white, with bright patches of ginger fur overlaying it on the right side of her head, over her flanks, and on her tail and paws. Her nose is a soft pink, and her eyes are mismatched, with the right eye being light blue and the left eye being a soft hazel. She looks friendly and approachable, with a warm smile often touching her features.
Description Summary: Small and fragile-looking white she-cat with ginger patches and odd-coloured eyes, medium-length fur, and a pink nose.
Personality: Patchfur is one of the warmest and friendliest cats you could ever hope to meet, with a kind expression on her face and a soft and sympathetic nature. She tends to be extremely forgiving and accommodating, gracing even the nastiest members of her clan with her time, empathy, and attention. Ever since she was a kit she has been very sensitive to others, believing that everyone has some light in them if you were only to give them the space to express it. She feels the pain of others like a thorn in her side, and never shies from sensitively shoving her nose in other cats' business.
Some often view her as naive and unintelligent because of her blind faith in fox-hearts, or judge her to be of bad character for it, but her mind is far sharper than she would ever let her tongue become. She comes across as a bit useless as a warrior, loathing the very idea of harming another cat and being so slight of frame that she seems to shake in the slightest breeze. She loves kits, elders, baby birds, mice, and essentially any creature or cat that seems to need nurturing. Half the cause of her size is her distaste of hunting or eating other living things, but she knows full well there isn't anything else she could eat, being a cat, and painstakingly eats what she knows she needs.
Despite her slightly sparse diet, she eats enough to be fit to bursting with energy, and is fierce when it comes to defending someone or something that she's taken a nurturing instinct to, though she will still keep to words rather than a clawed paw. If she had been born at another time perhaps, she might have taken to the calling of medicine, but she was never quite in the right circumstances. She is very open about her emotions, and won't shy from deep and personal conversations.
History: Patchkit was born a week premature in the depths of winter, setting her out for poor growth from the very outset. She was a sickly kit, suffering from frequent upper respiratory tract infections that had her nose constantly running and interfered with her suckling. She was in and out of the medicine den like a yo-yo and drove her parents into a frenzy of worry. They were elderly for their first kit, and while her mother loved her dearly in her own right, she was desperately worried that she might not be able to conceive again if Patchkit were to take a turn for the worst. The young kitten grew up as a constant centre of attention, always the object of concern and care, and managed to pull through her youth and into apprenticeship.
As Patchpaw, her troubles truly began. She hated training with a passion, since everything was to do with violence and/or killing something, and her mentor wasn't very sympathetic to her distaste of it all. She wouldn't fight back in battle practice, and tried to adopt half the prey she was forced to attack. It was at around this time that both her parents fell ill. Between helping to care for them and being berated by her mentor, Patchpaw became depressive and sullen, putting on a bright face just for her parents, but tipped over the edge when they both passed away one night, curled around each other in the medicine den. She forsook her training, confining herself to the apprentices' den and treating anycat who tried to budge her with uncharacteristic venom.
It was her mentor Sootfang who got to her in the end, he took a softer tone and just lay in the entrance to the apprentices' den and talked to Patchpaw. They didn't have to talk about anything in particular, from the weather to religion, history to the behaviour of mice, but gradually they warmed to each other despite their rocky start. It took a long time, but eventually Patchpaw felt ready to go outside again, then outside of camp, then to restart her training. It meant that she was late to become a warrior, but she did it in her own time and when she felt ready for it. She was forever grateful to Sootfang for helping her through such a dark period in her life, and took it as a sign to herself that she should never judge a cat by how she first saw them.
As a warrior, Patchfur puts forward a bright and cheery front, but doesn't mean it as a mask. If any cat asks her about her past she is happy to talk about it, though she can't promise any lack of tears at being reminded of it. She wears her heart on her sleeve and thinks that talking things out and being open about how you feel is deeply important.
Other: Deeply wants kits of her own
Age: 33 moons
Gender: She-cat
Clan: NightClan
Rank: Warrior
Picture:
Description: Patchfur is a small cat, with a petite frame and light build. She moves with a silent grace that simultaneously portrays a feeling of grace and fragility, like she would blow away in too-high a wind. Her fur's base coat is a pure white, with bright patches of ginger fur overlaying it on the right side of her head, over her flanks, and on her tail and paws. Her nose is a soft pink, and her eyes are mismatched, with the right eye being light blue and the left eye being a soft hazel. She looks friendly and approachable, with a warm smile often touching her features.
Description Summary: Small and fragile-looking white she-cat with ginger patches and odd-coloured eyes, medium-length fur, and a pink nose.
Personality: Patchfur is one of the warmest and friendliest cats you could ever hope to meet, with a kind expression on her face and a soft and sympathetic nature. She tends to be extremely forgiving and accommodating, gracing even the nastiest members of her clan with her time, empathy, and attention. Ever since she was a kit she has been very sensitive to others, believing that everyone has some light in them if you were only to give them the space to express it. She feels the pain of others like a thorn in her side, and never shies from sensitively shoving her nose in other cats' business.
Some often view her as naive and unintelligent because of her blind faith in fox-hearts, or judge her to be of bad character for it, but her mind is far sharper than she would ever let her tongue become. She comes across as a bit useless as a warrior, loathing the very idea of harming another cat and being so slight of frame that she seems to shake in the slightest breeze. She loves kits, elders, baby birds, mice, and essentially any creature or cat that seems to need nurturing. Half the cause of her size is her distaste of hunting or eating other living things, but she knows full well there isn't anything else she could eat, being a cat, and painstakingly eats what she knows she needs.
Despite her slightly sparse diet, she eats enough to be fit to bursting with energy, and is fierce when it comes to defending someone or something that she's taken a nurturing instinct to, though she will still keep to words rather than a clawed paw. If she had been born at another time perhaps, she might have taken to the calling of medicine, but she was never quite in the right circumstances. She is very open about her emotions, and won't shy from deep and personal conversations.
History: Patchkit was born a week premature in the depths of winter, setting her out for poor growth from the very outset. She was a sickly kit, suffering from frequent upper respiratory tract infections that had her nose constantly running and interfered with her suckling. She was in and out of the medicine den like a yo-yo and drove her parents into a frenzy of worry. They were elderly for their first kit, and while her mother loved her dearly in her own right, she was desperately worried that she might not be able to conceive again if Patchkit were to take a turn for the worst. The young kitten grew up as a constant centre of attention, always the object of concern and care, and managed to pull through her youth and into apprenticeship.
As Patchpaw, her troubles truly began. She hated training with a passion, since everything was to do with violence and/or killing something, and her mentor wasn't very sympathetic to her distaste of it all. She wouldn't fight back in battle practice, and tried to adopt half the prey she was forced to attack. It was at around this time that both her parents fell ill. Between helping to care for them and being berated by her mentor, Patchpaw became depressive and sullen, putting on a bright face just for her parents, but tipped over the edge when they both passed away one night, curled around each other in the medicine den. She forsook her training, confining herself to the apprentices' den and treating anycat who tried to budge her with uncharacteristic venom.
It was her mentor Sootfang who got to her in the end, he took a softer tone and just lay in the entrance to the apprentices' den and talked to Patchpaw. They didn't have to talk about anything in particular, from the weather to religion, history to the behaviour of mice, but gradually they warmed to each other despite their rocky start. It took a long time, but eventually Patchpaw felt ready to go outside again, then outside of camp, then to restart her training. It meant that she was late to become a warrior, but she did it in her own time and when she felt ready for it. She was forever grateful to Sootfang for helping her through such a dark period in her life, and took it as a sign to herself that she should never judge a cat by how she first saw them.
As a warrior, Patchfur puts forward a bright and cheery front, but doesn't mean it as a mask. If any cat asks her about her past she is happy to talk about it, though she can't promise any lack of tears at being reminded of it. She wears her heart on her sleeve and thinks that talking things out and being open about how you feel is deeply important.
Other: Deeply wants kits of her own