Post by xspontaneous on Jan 18, 2009 13:43:45 GMT -8
N a m e:Her name is the very sweetness of Meadowlight. It fits her, and if one can believe that people are fated by there names, her mother picked out the lightest, nicest one she could find, and was rewarded with the lovely daughter that grew to be so very sweet.
G e n d e r: For all of her feminity and innocence, her gender is undoutable. If it would not go agaisnt the ways of the clan, she wouldn't even want to muss herself up. Sometimes she still doesn't want to, but those urges she fights. For the good of the clan.
A g e: The child is just out of her apprenticeship, at 13 moons. Her previous life has been careful, and safe. And she'll do whatever she can to keep that happiness around her. Because without it, her world would absolutely crumble.
C l a n: She resides in Otherclan.
R a n k: She's a warrior, the title that she earned, and holds dear to her gentle heart. Though she's never fought in a battle, faced death with only her Starclan-given weapons, but the girl knows she stay loyal if it should come to that.
I m a g e: i82.photobucket.com/albums/j257/SPKittens/Other%20Cat%20Pictures/fadfafdafdasfasdfasfasfdasfas.png
F a m i l y: She was born the only kit of a single mother. It was unusual, for one to be born alone, and perhaps something had gone wrong. Her mother died shortly after, for no known reason. But Meadow was adopted by another mother, and has never known true death, and with no living family, should not know it for some time. Not to say that she doesn't care for the rest of the clan, but nothing will happen to devastate her. Perhaps it was some simple subconcious about feeling pain so young that made her sweet and good. Nonetheless, no direct bloodlines trace her in the clan.
M a t e: Meadow is still a child, practically! No man has captured her heart. Of course there were kithood crushes, but those faded. She can barely even remember them. Eventually, someone, she knows, hopes, will take after her, but as of yet, no one has. But she wants children so dearly that she will make it happen. Every night she waits until the day she becomes a queen.
K i t s: Oh how she longs for children of her own to gaze into her eyes with absolute adoration. To be responsible, care for another life. Nurture it and make it whole and good and loyal. And to see them grow and there achievements. Everything about children she so adores. And one day, one day, it will happen for her. Just not... yet.
C o m p a n i o n . I m a g e: - -
C o m p a n i o n:
- -
Q u i c k . P h y s i c a l:
A mainly white cat with brown striped patches along her face and back, with gorgeous, innocent grey-green eyes.
F u l l . P h y s i c a l:
Her stomach, chest, legs, and neck, are a lovely creamy-white tone, as innocent and pure as she it. But along her face, back and tail, a brown, grey mixture taints the fur. It's striped, like that of a tabbies, but bounces from color to color in the fashion of a calico. Meadow's fur is medium long, more shaggy than that of most normal warriors, but not of enough lenght to get tangled and matted and ripped in branches. Her fur shines from the careful upkeep and grooming that she so often does on a lazy afternoon.
Her body is petite and light, and though she is fully-grown, is about the size of a 8-month old's. For all of her hard work, very little muscle has developed around her body, giving her a lean, frail look about her. The girl has a pointier face, eyes closer together, large, and olive shaped. Adding to her kit-like appearence are her large ears. None of this, however makes her look awkward or hideous, but instead cute and childlike.
Meadowlight's eyes are light and full of hope and joy and innocence. They are of a green hue, turning greyish in the bright light, and fading to yellow/brown on the sides. Her eyes always, always show her emotion, rather she is happy or upset. She seems impossible of hiding anything through them.
P e r s o n a l i t y:
She is so very sweet, her happiness is practically contagious. It's the childlike, innocent essence about it. For being raised by another, there was very little cruelty, maturity lessons her child. Her adoptive mother was kinder to her her, because she pitied poor Meadowlight, who had no family. But, nonetheless, the girl cares so much for others in her honest, unsuspicious way that other people just want to be kind back. It isn't, though, as though she is perfect. No, not at all.
Her innoncence, her childlike demeanor leads to certain fallbacks, for though she swears up and down that she'll be loyal, somewhere, her wiser subconcious warns her that she would never, ever be able to kill someone else. Or even wound them. Yet there is not a lie in her soul when she admits that she would go to battle. She doesn't realize what danger she will face. Doesn't even realize that her own sweetness will hurt her in the long run.
There seems to be a sense drawing her away from the bad, horrible sights that most face. Thus far she has seen nothing terrible, nothing horrible enough to reach out and rip her happiness from her. But one day it will happen, and for all of her gentleness now, there is not a doubt that it will crush her. It's just a matter of how she will heal.
H i s t o r y:
There was nothing terrible about her life to tell, no true and honest reason to attach a story to her. Her entire life has been hope and sweetness and chances of luck that she has avoided being hurt.
O v e r a l l:
The girl is the very definition of sweetness. Her small, childlike frame is covered with a mixture of brown, grey, and white fur. Her green-grey eyes have never seen anything horrible, anything bad. And for as long as possible, her subconcious will prevent it.
S a m p l e:
Here's one from when I was in my peak, it was pretty amazing (which means, don't expect it to be like this):
He allowed his paws to stretch slowly across the clan's lands. It made it fur shudder darkly. He wanted to stop, to sleep, but the stupid clan cat would probably have some sort of coneption and try to kill him as he slept. The thought of this just about made him snort. It'd probably be some apprentice they'd send out, and then, oh Starclan help them, the young thing would wake him up for it to be a fair battle. Or, perhaps, even better, they'd send a group out to get him, watching him closely. Try to use there words first. And if any of these cats ever tried something like that, on him, Iain would rip them to shreds, leaving there limbs out. Take them to another territory. Let there bones rest and rot up in a tree until they fell down on a poor, unsuspecting healer. Iain, his thoughts mocked him, you have been driven to idiocy. Stop, rest. Remember what happened last time you were over exhausted? Iain did. It had been bloody and terrible, and when he awoke, after obviousally passing out, he was found in a small group of bodies. Theymust have attacked him.
Shaking his head he yawned. Now that Rave was dead, he had been bored, dulled. The serious darkness, evil had been continually pushed out by attempts of amusment, small tries for sarcasm, humour in his head. Black, dark humour, no less, but still different. It concerned him, really, they fact that he was trying to put a comical spin on things, it was unintentional, really. Did it mean that he was going insane? That he could no longer control all parts of his mind. This he didn't like much, the thought of no longer being able to really control his wills and needs. And murders, he added, unhappily to himself, though not for the fact that most would. It would perhaps, take less pleasure out of it, out of seeing the blood, if he lost his mind. Would he know anything, or would it be all so out there that he would have no thoughts?
And for that matter, he supposed that if he was really losing it, he wouldn't know. Or would he? Perhaps he was too rational, about himself at least. He had to stay intact, alive. He had to be the new Rave. Why on earth did he kill him? Without the leader the rogue group, the assasins were somewhat disbanded. They layed lazily around there dirty camp, those who stayed anyway. Unlike him, he'd left. Maybe for awhile, maybe for good. In hope, that possibly another would take over, be the one that really told the cats what to do. And, concerningly, Iain had no problem with that, in fact, it rather pleased him. He wasn't in this for the power, for the respect. He was in it too be feared, and to see the blood.
But today, he was out to find his daughter. The whelp had ran off and left him, some time ago. He'd followed her scent loosely, already decided that if he found her, layed his sight on her, she would be dead, so dead. Stupid, weak thing. She probably wanted to be good. Probably came here to join a clan and find a mateand have kits. It sicked him. Any kits she had, with her mothering would be worthless. Unlike the ones in the rogue camp. Some of them had potential, the ones that didn't were killed. That was most of them, unfortunately. Oh, it wasn't when the were first born, of course, but when they grew older, when they could talk.Most of them were so happy, unlike him. Unlike he was.
He missed his mother too, really. She was the one who raised him to be so dark. She knew of his fate. And how he would be able to bring back the art of darkness. It was dying, more and more, as cats congregated too each other, having there thoughts washed out itno light nights. Soon, he feared, he wouldbe last of them, the last one to get pleasure out of killing, out of making other cats be in pain. And when he died, it would be over, so over. His body left todecompose in the ground. Would the world be at peace then. Or did it really matter, did he really matter all as much as he thought he did. Probably not.A few would feel happier when he died, when he was no longer there to catch them, to murder them, but most would go on unknowing.
And that is why he needed kits to carry on his legacy. They had to be rebellious though, at least his daughter. He knew how she hated him, how she hadalways wanted to escape. Despite what she assumed, he wasn't stupid, a mindless killing spree waiting to happen. He notice things about other cats. Iaincould have friends, good social skills if he wanted. He did not, though. Iain loved living alone, by himself. But he needed an heir, one to follow him. His kits were too weak, though. So he supposed he should get rid of them. His son would be harder, to find, of course. They'd never even met.
Now his paws had led him to a clearing, in the middle of the lands. Briars stuck to his fur from the moor he had crossed, and slowly, he dug one out with his teeth, one of his chest. It had gotten buried into his skin, and as blood flowed down when he removed it. Iain showed no intentions of licking himself off. Why should he? Soon enough it would rain, or he would be forced to a ford a river and his pelt would be clean, a clean canvas for new blood to flow on.
Then he heard the voices, and from where he sat in the shadows, he could see them, the moonligth cast down upon them. A terrible grin came acrosshis face, hearing that, the words that they spoke. Fools, they were. Not only in the merging of territories, where the could be attacked by anyone, buthile they were not alone. Carefully he paused, before emerge, long enough to remove the other two briars. More blood.
So when he stood stretching his legs, he was quite a sight to see, fresh blood running down himself, some starting to dry on his beige colored fur. It made no difference to him, soon, hopefully there would be more. And not his own. Taking care of this all, closing up his mistakes, before he could really start to live again. His consience would stop nagging him about bringing so much neutraility into the world. Neutrals didn't care enough to do anything, so it would be fine if both of them died right here.
Iain wondered how soon they would be found, once they were dead. More often than not it took awhile, and more than one he had run past the skeletons of those that he had murdered. It made me angry, for some reason, that someone he wasting time on murdering no one cared enough to bury. He'd stomp on there bones until they were all crushed, crunched into peices, to be taken by birds to secure there nest. It was liked he had killed them twice.
Slowly he strode out into the clearing. And then he did something foolish. Iain spoke, the words gliding of his toungue, giving off the element of surprise that he had possessed. "You are all fools. In the middle of a clearing, unprotected. Silly little cats. Do you recognize me, loves?" And then he made his second mistake. Waiting, for them to respond. It was the curiosity that made me wait, kept them from having his blood all over his paws. His eyes bore into the girl first. Then his son, the one he had left, the one he had avoided. And that is where his eyes rested.
A soft smirk feel on his face. This would be interesting, fun, to watch really. In the moonlight, in this small clearing. A little family renunion, how fun, how delightful.For him anyway. Faintly, he wondered what would have happened if he took the male, so long ago. Left the female to fend for herself with her mother. Perhaps it would be different. Maybe he would have a legacy to follow him. Something to soothe him on his deathh bed. But now he'd just have to wait until something else came along, another kit. Yes. He would wait forever if he had to, if it would keep the world from turning soft.
C o d e . P h r a s e: Starlit Sorrows.
OOC//: I hope I did this right. If I fell you can laugh at me. -.-[/font]
