Post by Deleted on Feb 6, 2019 2:11:41 GMT -5
Name: Grousefeather
Age: 84 moons
Gender: She-cat
Clan:Rainclan Loner
Rank: Loner
Picture:
Description:
Grousefeather is a small, short furred, mouse brown she-cat with black Bengal markings and one yellow-green eye. Her stature is thin and wiry, old age making her look small and frail. Despite her age, the senior she-cat's stride is confident and stealthy. She has many small scars all over her body, though a large slash across her flank is one of her more eye-catching injuries. Her Bengal markings were once very distinct and admirable though have long since faded. Grousefeather's pelt was far more dull than it had been many moons ago, her beauty succumbing to her hard life in the mountains. She is missing her right eye, a patch of tabby fur where another yellow-green orb should have been, though it hardly bothers her anymore.
Description Summary:
Grousefeather is a small, short furred, mouse brown she-cat with black Bengal markings and one yellow-green eye.
Personality:
Grousefeather has a relatively good handle on her emotions, though with age has become quite moody. It is obvious where Egg got her sass and confidence from, this brown Bengal elder having a limitless supply of spirit and attitude. Grousefeather is vocal like her granddaughter, always voicing her opinions, though unlike Egg, compassion is one of her weaker traits. Her disregard for other's emotions is laughable sometimes with the right cats, though sensitive folk beware.
She wishes no ill on anyone, but truth spills from this she-cat like a waterfall, and for those not prepared for her cringe-worthy honesty, it can be horrifying. She is emotionally harsh, though most of what she says should be taken with a grain of salt. There is wisdom behind her reasoning, but criticisms flow freely.
Grousefeather, despite her age, is a relatively active and excitable elder. She is too adventurous, often running off with Egg on quests in which her body has trouble keeping up, though her imagination keeps pushing her through life. She often harbors a negative outlook when left to mull by herself, though Egg tends to keep her lighthearted, pushing her to try new things and accomplish her goals despite the circumstances.
Grousefeather is drawn to positivity and adventure more-so in her old age, though like most elders, the realization that she isn't as capable as she used to be hasn't quite come to light. Her memory is fantastic, and she is quite a good, creative story-teller, but contrary to her intensely truthful nature, she doesn't hesitate to white-lie a little if it means keeping herself and those she loves safe.
History:
Grousefeather was born in the era of Hollowstar's reign. Her and her sister were well loved by their mother, raised as disciplined and cultured youth. Their father was distant, and later became known that he hadn't wanted to be involved with his mate or kits. He had his eyes set for deputyship, and then if everything went as planned, leadership of Rainclan. Grousefeather had admired him from afar, feeling a stir in her heart as she watched and followed his example. Her apprenticeship was full of adventures with her sister, though their expeditions always managed to go unnoticed, or unpunished. Hollowstar had died, yielding leadership to Deadstar about halfway through her training, though the transition was smooth and the clan lived on. Grousefeather has many stories of her youth, and the bond she had with her sister was unbreakable. To Grousefeather's distaste, towards the end of her apprenticeship, her sister grew close to a tom, one not quite to Grousefeather's liking. He had reminded her of her father, though she brushed it off.
Whoever her sister fell in love with was none of her business.
Both sisters received their warrior names in good time, and at 15 moons old, the two she-cats sat vigil their first night as warriors. Very soon after, Grousefeather's sister had announced that she was going to be having kits, and when Grousefeather was 17 moons old, not only did she receive her first apprentice, but her sister had kitted two healthy toms by the names of Adderkit and Black-kit. Around the same time, Grousefeather had fallen for an older Rainclan tom, though that quickly fell flat. Grousefeather loved her sister's sons, though her father had been acting quite odd as of late. In the next moon, Grousefeather went from having the perfect life to becoming an outcast.
Her father had taken Black-kit out of the nursery one night and Grousefeather had followed him, suspicion fueling her pawsteps. There was hardly time to blink. Her father had walked to the middle of the river and dropped the kit in. Grousefeather had rushed in, just in time, to rescue the kit against her father's will, and promptly returned the kit back to camp. The medicine cat doted on him, and rightly so, before returning him to his mother. Grousefeather's father pulled her aside that night and had threatened to kill her sister and her sister's sons if she told anyone, though the she-cat's suspected his sick and twisted mind was planning it anyways. She waited until the right moment, when he was alone, pouncing on him and giving him a clean, mortal injury, though he had grown vicious in his last moments and gouged Grousefeather's right eye out as he bled, eventually crumpling to the ground in a pool of crimson.
Unfortunately, her current apprentice had stalked her, just as she had stalked her father, and witnessed the whole ordeal.
There was no question in her mind whether or not to exterminate the witness. She had been caught, and it was time to fess up, though she knew she had no grounds to argue. The clan had seen her father as a good warrior, perhaps even deputy and leader material. She had no way to prove what he had said to her, or prove that he had tried to drown Black-kit.
Who would have benefited from murdering a kit?
That was were his evilness had become unbelievable to the clan. She was automatically deemed a murderer, and rightly so, though it hurt her most when her entire family had turned their backs after hearing her justifications. Rainclan had looked at her surely the way she had looked at her father when she saw him drowning Black-kit, and after being patched up by Cherryrose, Grousefeather was escorted to the border in silence at 18 moons old.
Grousefeather was exiled from Rainclan, though at the time was pregnant with her first litter, unknown to the clan and the Rainclan tom she had nested with. In the floods that had killed Deadstar, Grousefeather had miraculously found a small den in the mountains to make her own, though the struggle was not only adjusting to the rugged terrain, but also adjusting to her injury.
About a moon into her exile, she had kitted a healthy, petite she-cat. The new queen was shocked, and also grateful, to have birthed only one kit. Even one small kit was enough for her to be overjoyed, and Grousefeather put every ounce of her heart and soul into raising the she-cat into a fine hunter and fighter, training her like a true mountain warrior.
Grousefeather couldn't have been happier when her daughter announced that she was going to be having kits, and when Egg and Vireo entered the world, the elder had new purpose. She took a strong liking to Egg, an adventurous, optimistic, and outgoing kit after Grousefeather's own heart. She loved them both very much, though oftentimes Egg and her would go off into the mountains on some imagined journey.
Egg made her feel young again.
Vireo was a good tom, and often gravitated to his mother. Grousefeather was proud at how well and respectable he was growing up, and perhaps that was what led her away from her daughter and grandchildren.
The thought that they didn't need her anymore had instilled in Grousefeather assurance that maybe she could see the rivers of Rainclan once again.
Roleplay Example:
Other: Song is These Days by Rudimental.
Age: 84 moons
Gender: She-cat
Clan:
Rank: Loner
Picture:
Description:
Grousefeather is a small, short furred, mouse brown she-cat with black Bengal markings and one yellow-green eye. Her stature is thin and wiry, old age making her look small and frail. Despite her age, the senior she-cat's stride is confident and stealthy. She has many small scars all over her body, though a large slash across her flank is one of her more eye-catching injuries. Her Bengal markings were once very distinct and admirable though have long since faded. Grousefeather's pelt was far more dull than it had been many moons ago, her beauty succumbing to her hard life in the mountains. She is missing her right eye, a patch of tabby fur where another yellow-green orb should have been, though it hardly bothers her anymore.
Description Summary:
Grousefeather is a small, short furred, mouse brown she-cat with black Bengal markings and one yellow-green eye.
Personality:
Grousefeather has a relatively good handle on her emotions, though with age has become quite moody. It is obvious where Egg got her sass and confidence from, this brown Bengal elder having a limitless supply of spirit and attitude. Grousefeather is vocal like her granddaughter, always voicing her opinions, though unlike Egg, compassion is one of her weaker traits. Her disregard for other's emotions is laughable sometimes with the right cats, though sensitive folk beware.
She wishes no ill on anyone, but truth spills from this she-cat like a waterfall, and for those not prepared for her cringe-worthy honesty, it can be horrifying. She is emotionally harsh, though most of what she says should be taken with a grain of salt. There is wisdom behind her reasoning, but criticisms flow freely.
Grousefeather, despite her age, is a relatively active and excitable elder. She is too adventurous, often running off with Egg on quests in which her body has trouble keeping up, though her imagination keeps pushing her through life. She often harbors a negative outlook when left to mull by herself, though Egg tends to keep her lighthearted, pushing her to try new things and accomplish her goals despite the circumstances.
Grousefeather is drawn to positivity and adventure more-so in her old age, though like most elders, the realization that she isn't as capable as she used to be hasn't quite come to light. Her memory is fantastic, and she is quite a good, creative story-teller, but contrary to her intensely truthful nature, she doesn't hesitate to white-lie a little if it means keeping herself and those she loves safe.
History:
Grousefeather was born in the era of Hollowstar's reign. Her and her sister were well loved by their mother, raised as disciplined and cultured youth. Their father was distant, and later became known that he hadn't wanted to be involved with his mate or kits. He had his eyes set for deputyship, and then if everything went as planned, leadership of Rainclan. Grousefeather had admired him from afar, feeling a stir in her heart as she watched and followed his example. Her apprenticeship was full of adventures with her sister, though their expeditions always managed to go unnoticed, or unpunished. Hollowstar had died, yielding leadership to Deadstar about halfway through her training, though the transition was smooth and the clan lived on. Grousefeather has many stories of her youth, and the bond she had with her sister was unbreakable. To Grousefeather's distaste, towards the end of her apprenticeship, her sister grew close to a tom, one not quite to Grousefeather's liking. He had reminded her of her father, though she brushed it off.
Whoever her sister fell in love with was none of her business.
Both sisters received their warrior names in good time, and at 15 moons old, the two she-cats sat vigil their first night as warriors. Very soon after, Grousefeather's sister had announced that she was going to be having kits, and when Grousefeather was 17 moons old, not only did she receive her first apprentice, but her sister had kitted two healthy toms by the names of Adderkit and Black-kit. Around the same time, Grousefeather had fallen for an older Rainclan tom, though that quickly fell flat. Grousefeather loved her sister's sons, though her father had been acting quite odd as of late. In the next moon, Grousefeather went from having the perfect life to becoming an outcast.
Her father had taken Black-kit out of the nursery one night and Grousefeather had followed him, suspicion fueling her pawsteps. There was hardly time to blink. Her father had walked to the middle of the river and dropped the kit in. Grousefeather had rushed in, just in time, to rescue the kit against her father's will, and promptly returned the kit back to camp. The medicine cat doted on him, and rightly so, before returning him to his mother. Grousefeather's father pulled her aside that night and had threatened to kill her sister and her sister's sons if she told anyone, though the she-cat's suspected his sick and twisted mind was planning it anyways. She waited until the right moment, when he was alone, pouncing on him and giving him a clean, mortal injury, though he had grown vicious in his last moments and gouged Grousefeather's right eye out as he bled, eventually crumpling to the ground in a pool of crimson.
Unfortunately, her current apprentice had stalked her, just as she had stalked her father, and witnessed the whole ordeal.
There was no question in her mind whether or not to exterminate the witness. She had been caught, and it was time to fess up, though she knew she had no grounds to argue. The clan had seen her father as a good warrior, perhaps even deputy and leader material. She had no way to prove what he had said to her, or prove that he had tried to drown Black-kit.
Who would have benefited from murdering a kit?
That was were his evilness had become unbelievable to the clan. She was automatically deemed a murderer, and rightly so, though it hurt her most when her entire family had turned their backs after hearing her justifications. Rainclan had looked at her surely the way she had looked at her father when she saw him drowning Black-kit, and after being patched up by Cherryrose, Grousefeather was escorted to the border in silence at 18 moons old.
Grousefeather was exiled from Rainclan, though at the time was pregnant with her first litter, unknown to the clan and the Rainclan tom she had nested with. In the floods that had killed Deadstar, Grousefeather had miraculously found a small den in the mountains to make her own, though the struggle was not only adjusting to the rugged terrain, but also adjusting to her injury.
About a moon into her exile, she had kitted a healthy, petite she-cat. The new queen was shocked, and also grateful, to have birthed only one kit. Even one small kit was enough for her to be overjoyed, and Grousefeather put every ounce of her heart and soul into raising the she-cat into a fine hunter and fighter, training her like a true mountain warrior.
Grousefeather couldn't have been happier when her daughter announced that she was going to be having kits, and when Egg and Vireo entered the world, the elder had new purpose. She took a strong liking to Egg, an adventurous, optimistic, and outgoing kit after Grousefeather's own heart. She loved them both very much, though oftentimes Egg and her would go off into the mountains on some imagined journey.
Egg made her feel young again.
Vireo was a good tom, and often gravitated to his mother. Grousefeather was proud at how well and respectable he was growing up, and perhaps that was what led her away from her daughter and grandchildren.
The thought that they didn't need her anymore had instilled in Grousefeather assurance that maybe she could see the rivers of Rainclan once again.
Roleplay Example:
LONER | 84 MOONS
"I can't believe she named you Egg."
Grousefeather grumbled, her granddaughter bouncing after her. The mousy colored elder had tried to slip away peacefully, leaving her daughter and her grand-kits safe in the mountains, though Egg had stalked her nonetheless and insisted that she escorted her to Rainclan herself. It runs in the family. Grousefeather thought sardonically, ground frozen and rough on the old she-cat's paws. The cold made her body ache, and Egg's chatter made her head spin.
"Can't you just hold your tongue for once?" Grousefeather snapped, tail flicking in irritation. "She should have named you Chatterkit. We need to find you a new name. Egg is just...embarrassing."
"Great, a new name!" Egg exclaimed, blue eyes twinkling with excitement.
Perhaps it was a little unjust to get so mad at Egg for being a ray of sunshine, but the dark tabby she-cat wasn't prepared to have a travel companion. An escort, as Egg so confidently mentioned. She really would be a good warrior, if she could temper her talking with patience. Grousefeather mused. The elder stopped in her tracks, hearing a loud rustling behind her. The wind was not in her favor.
Whipping around, she noticed a deer munching on some forest shrubs and let out a sigh of relief.
"Why are you so jumpy?" Egg mentioned cautiously, voice sounding softly behind Grousefeather. "You're never this nervous in the mountains."
"Just turn around and keep walking." Grousefeather barked.
Turn. Why did that remind her of something? Perhaps a story long ago, maybe something a mountain cat had mentioned. Turn. Turn. Tern? Wasn't that a northern bird, tundra white with a dark crown and nape? The clans wouldn't have known about it, but now that she thought about it, didn't she meet a traveler long ago who knew a lot about birds? He was a little odd, but I guess Egg and him have that in common. Grousefeather pondered for a few moments before deciding. That would be a good name for her granddaughter.
"Alright." The elder mumbled quietly, before piping up a bit louder. "If anyone asks your name, I'll drown you personally if you say Egg. Your new name is Ternpaw."
"Ternpaw? Is it because I turn around a lot, or maybe because I can turn things into something better, or maybe because I turn-"
"No, no, no," The elder sighed. "A tern is a bird in the far north with white feathers. Even for as talkative as you are, you're as beautiful and graceful as a bird, and your pelt is light colored, just like a tern's feathers." Egg...no, Ternpaw didn't need to know that she'd never seen one before. A bird is a bird: dainty, refined, and...chatty.
"How far north have you been mémé? Do you have more stories you haven't been telling us?" Ternpaw squinted accusingly, playful as always.
"Er, well, there was one season I followed the stars with the sun setting to my left and rising to my right. I walked for what felt like moons." She paused, mind racing for a conclusion. What did world to the north look like? "Snow had begun settling on the ground all around me, and I didn't stop until the world was completely white with not a tree in sight. It was so empty and cold, but I did meet this odd cat who had made a den in the snow. He was quite kind, and offered me some prey. He had caught what he had called a Tern, and the next day I saw a flock flying up above. They were lovely birds in an empty world." Grousefeather smirked. "They tasted pretty good too..." She snapped her jaws at her granddaughter mischievously. Ternpaw bounced out of the way, then leaned towards Grousefeather, cuffing her grandmother's ear's playfully. "I couldn't wait to get back to the mountains though." The old, aching she-cat finished, snapping back to reality.
She was finally going back home, but would Rainclan take her in? Did everyone know her story, Grousefeather forever condemned from the clans, or had they forgotten all about her?
"You're a really good story-teller." Ternpaw started, tail flicking her grandparent's back amiably. It wasn't long before she began babbling again, though her voice was always light-hearted and kind. It always had been. What a sweet kit. Grousefeather thought, a rush of warmth making her paws prickle. I just hope the clan cats don't destroy her spirit. Perhaps Ternpaw was more persistent than Grousefeather thought, though the brown tabby she-cat couldn't help but be protective over her daughter's kit.
The two loners made their way through the valley without strife, the footing and slope much easier than the mountains. It was very cold, but despite the weather, love and purrs kept them both cozy.
COME BACK TO THESE DAYS
Grousefeather
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Tags: xxx
Notes: xxx
Other: Song is These Days by Rudimental.