Post by T. Corpse on Mar 31, 2011 17:26:34 GMT -6
<---- REDFLOWER
she-cat, 14 moons
RANK: warrior
ALLIANCE: Brookclan
APPEARANCE: A small, slim cinnamon colored she-cat with yellow eyes.
PERSONALITY: Let's be honest. Redflower isn't the friendliest or most likable of cats. She has a mean streak a mile wide and dislikes pretty much everyone, save a few cats. She's quick to anger and quick to jump on other cats and blame them. She's wildly independent and despises any cat who tries to tell her what to do--save for figures such as the leader and deputy--theses cats serve sort of like parents for her; they're desperately needed constants in a world that she's a little afraid of.
Like all mean cats, though, Redflower isn't a bad cat at heart. She's just full of all sorts of doubt and anger and fear that she doesn't know how to deal with. She's embarrassed because she's so small compared to other cats that's she afraid she will be forever mistaken for an apprentice, and because her fighting skills are sub-par she feels she has to make up somehow, and she chooses to do so by being fierce and rude, hoping that it will be mistaken for strength and confidence.
She's a cat who loves her clan and wants to feel at home in it but often doesn't know how. She doesn't have any living kin, that she knows of, and that she never knew who her father was leaves her wounded and empty in a way she's desperate to fill. At the same time, though, Redflower feels guilty for her loneliness--she has never been treated differently from other cats. She was raised, lovingly, by the clan queens and she went through a normal apprenticeship. Why should she feel this way? She hardly understands all of this and it just makes her feel worse.
She's a cat without many friends because she doesn't know how to make or keep them. She's afraid of showing weakness and having her Clanmates feel like she needs to constantly prove something--even though she doesn't.
Redflower's not all bad, though. She's viciously proud of her superior hunting ability and wants to be known as the best hunter in the clan. She's ashamed of her sloppy fighting abilities but allows her pride to overshadow that. She's smart, too, and often thinks of brilliant (if far-fetched) strategies or ideas.
REASON FOR NAME:
"Red" comes from her fur color, "flower" a tip of the hat to her femininity.
FAMILY:
Mother: Dustfang [deceased, greencough]
Father: technically unknown--soon after mating, Dustfang severed all ties with him and refused to share his identity (it was a mean tabby tom called Rockclaw who has since vanished).
Siblings: Only one brother, Burnkit, who died due to a bout of greencough contracted from his mother.
HISTORY: Looking at Redflower's family, you'd think she was some depressed, suffering, lonely cat. That's not really true. Sure, she's lost many family members, but all of them before she was really too young to know it. Her life was fairly average. Her parents were two good, strong warriors who loved their clan, and Redflower grew up in the same fashion.
Her mother, Dustfang, had been a storm of a cat: she was wild and uncontrollable, fierce and willful. Rockclaw, a strong but slightly cruel warrior, was attracted to this and instantly sought her out. Their romance was fast and impulsive, like the two of them. Time had barely passed as Dustfang moved into the Nursery and it wasn't long until she got into a fight with Rockclaw and refused to speak with him again. She told no cat who the father of her kits were, and Rockclaw never to be the father. But he was more hurt than he let on; he loved Dustfang truly, even if he didn't know how to show it. His heartache was so severe that he felt forced to leave BrookClan.
While waiting for her kits to arrive, Dustfang was struck with a particularly bad case of whitecough. It was persistent, but the medicine cat was sure she would heal. But she was not so fortunate--the sickness didn't worsen, but it didn't lift, either. She was still sick when she delivered her kits. Whitecough turned to greencough. The illness passed to both her kits--Burnkit and Redkit--and she soon joined StarClan. Burnkit followed her. It took a while for Redkit to heal but her growth would be stunted for the rest of her life.
Redkit was to small to understand what had happened. There was always a sort of loneliness, though, when she thought of the other queens and their own kits, but she was never treated differently. Her life was fairly average.
She was apprenticed to a smart but quiet tom named Birdeye. He was an amazing mentor and a strong bond grew between them; he became the father figure she never had. He taught her to be the exceptional hunter and taught her to fight decently enough, considering how she never excelled in battle training.
Redflower's warrior ceremony was something she will surely remember for the rest of her life--she wanted to become a full part of the clan and make Birdeye proud. She succeeded. She has only been a warrior for a few moons, and she is still adjusting to that role.
RP EXAMPLE: Her den felt much, much smaller with Narai inside of it.
Venice was a solitary hound. She liked company from time to time, but overall she liked her space. She liked peace and quiet. She was certainly not used to having to share her den with a little pup who somehow or another managed to invoke some sort of motherly instinct in her (because she had no idea what else would drive her to do this). Venice didn't like going to shift her position only to bump up against him. She didn't like the way he seemed to be warming up to her and certainly was not at all fond of the realization that she might be stuck with him for quite a while.
She had really been hoping that this long day would have tired the pup out, but she was clearly wrong--he just seemed to be getting more energetic. Her large ears flicked back and forth, irritably, and she scooted away from him to press against the wall of her den. Venice decided not to look and him as she settled down, curling her front paws underneath her (looking quite feline for a hound). Her mane covered the side of her face closest to Narai.
When he asked another question, Venice snapped back an answer sharply and without a moment's hesitation: "My mother's dead. I don't remember her." The edge in her voice was meant to dissuade him from asking more questions but after a moment she realized what it must look like: it must seem that she was hurting and sad over the death of her mother, that his question had hurt her. Now, she thought, she must look weaker to him, and tried to think quickly of a way to pull him away from such thoughts.
She forced herself to stay calm and took a few breaths. She tried to ignore the closeness of the other hound and how claustrophobic the den was beginning to feel. Quietly and with forced evenness, she said, "Don't think about mothers, now. Do you know how to hunt? What about foraging? Can you identify what's poisonous and what's not?" After a moment or two, she added (this time sounding more sure of herself), "What are you good at? You're going to need to develop some sort of a skill set to help your pack when you're an adult."
PASSWORD: [admin edit]
