Post by Navy on Jun 12, 2007 11:02:28 GMT -5
Name: Misty [Sweet Light Caught in Mist]
Gender: Female
Age: 6 moons
Tribe: Tribe of Booming Thunder
Position: Prey Hunter To-be
Gender: Female
Age: 6 moons
Tribe: Tribe of Booming Thunder
Position: Prey Hunter To-be
Picture:
X O
First Glance:
A small dark grey she-cat with gentle yellow eyes.
Description:
She is built very lithe; small for her age and slender. Her legs are long for her own body, but she is pretty much a short little thing compared to most. You wouldn't really expect much harm to come from her fragile paws, and you would be right on there; she never uses her claws for any bad. Actually, she refuses to use her claws at all unless she's in severe danger. But that might not be completely her gentle nature, but her insecurity of herself. She has a small fluffy which is a little longer than a average bobtail.
The smooth, sleek fur atop her back is almost pure black, but just not quite. The lower her fur is, the lighter the hue it seems to become. As far down as her paws they become a silvery hue, speckled white. The lighter rings around her chest are not white or silver, but a tawny hue. Her large eyes are a yellow shade with an orange tint.
Personality:
She likes to remain quiet, and often prefers her solitude to company, but she isn't anywhere near being a hermit. She'll cat with her friends, and maybe if you're lucky she'll open up to you a bit. She doesn't mind being told what to do as much as some do, but when the cat is younger then her and trying to order her around she may get a little agitated. In normal circumstances she's a calm and surreal she-cat, but there's one thing that makes her the most nervous; fighting. She hates anything about it, even play fighting. She doesn't like to settle thing by battling, and sometimes she'll even speak back to Stonetellers about it.
History:
She was born in a tiny litter of two; her and her sister. It was her mother's first litter, and the young rogue was too anxious to sit still all the time to take care of her kits. So the kittens quickly became malnourished, slowly starving since they were rarely given any milk. The confused mother abandoned the kit as it died from starvation, and basically ran from her distress as she realized she wouldn't be able to save the other one herself; she didn't have the milk. She stumbled into another cat's territory, and was met up by a patrol, who luckily was understanding enough to take the kit in, and allow it to nurse on queen if it survived. The mother, however, was immediately kicked out. They couldn't trust a rogue.
The kit did survive, but barely, and grew up weaker because of it. Her coat was much different than the longer haired, tricolor kittens. But no one really treated her any differently because of it; in fact, she knew her foster mother as her real mother. She had never realized she came from a rouge she-cat, and as of now doesn't. All she knows is there was something funny about her, but it's probably too late to figure it out.
IC:
(taken from another RPG)
The rain splattering against the young tabby's fur had caused it to spike up in places, and her mournful yowls and wide eyes made her look like one desperate cat. She doubted anyone was around any more, after all, why would they be out in the rain?
Unless they had been stranded out like her, but who knew if they would even answer her calls? She blinked, and her calls began to fade away just as a voice called out to her. Hope brightened her eyes immediately, seeing the kind she-cat not far from her. She shut her eyes as she felt jaws tightening around her scruff, pulling her small body from the muck. She shivered, able to see that her legs were covered thoroughly in mud. This was going to take awhile to clean off.
Her gaze drifted to her rescuer; blinking as the cat spoke to her own more. Slightly humbled by the fact this cat had saved her from possibly deadly circumstances, she simply nodded, her eyes still round balls. Her attention was drawn to the oncoming male; only noticing him once the she-cat had. Her ears twitched as she heard his one word, suddenly wishing she was alone again. Maybe the female knowing this had happened wasn't so bad, but the young male... He would probably hold this against her in a second. At least it wasn't the leader here, seeing her like this; that would have been as humiliating as it got.
Her sorrowful look grasped the she-cat as she greeted the young tom, and then turned again to Loosepaw. "I think I have a few thorns.. but other than that, I'm just muddy," she mumbled quietly, trying to speak too low for the male called Chickenpaw to hear. She pulled herself up higher, realizing the rain must be making her look pretty skimpy and tiny. Her expression grew defiant once the male spoke once more, her fur pricking up slightly as he mentioned her being a 'damsel in distress'. Her ears were drawn back as she let out a small hiss, her tail lashing back and forth as she felt anger pump through her. "Oh, you could easily be in my place right now.." she muttered bitterly, staring toward the ground.
X O
First Glance:
A small dark grey she-cat with gentle yellow eyes.
Description:
She is built very lithe; small for her age and slender. Her legs are long for her own body, but she is pretty much a short little thing compared to most. You wouldn't really expect much harm to come from her fragile paws, and you would be right on there; she never uses her claws for any bad. Actually, she refuses to use her claws at all unless she's in severe danger. But that might not be completely her gentle nature, but her insecurity of herself. She has a small fluffy which is a little longer than a average bobtail.
The smooth, sleek fur atop her back is almost pure black, but just not quite. The lower her fur is, the lighter the hue it seems to become. As far down as her paws they become a silvery hue, speckled white. The lighter rings around her chest are not white or silver, but a tawny hue. Her large eyes are a yellow shade with an orange tint.
Personality:
She likes to remain quiet, and often prefers her solitude to company, but she isn't anywhere near being a hermit. She'll cat with her friends, and maybe if you're lucky she'll open up to you a bit. She doesn't mind being told what to do as much as some do, but when the cat is younger then her and trying to order her around she may get a little agitated. In normal circumstances she's a calm and surreal she-cat, but there's one thing that makes her the most nervous; fighting. She hates anything about it, even play fighting. She doesn't like to settle thing by battling, and sometimes she'll even speak back to Stonetellers about it.
History:
She was born in a tiny litter of two; her and her sister. It was her mother's first litter, and the young rogue was too anxious to sit still all the time to take care of her kits. So the kittens quickly became malnourished, slowly starving since they were rarely given any milk. The confused mother abandoned the kit as it died from starvation, and basically ran from her distress as she realized she wouldn't be able to save the other one herself; she didn't have the milk. She stumbled into another cat's territory, and was met up by a patrol, who luckily was understanding enough to take the kit in, and allow it to nurse on queen if it survived. The mother, however, was immediately kicked out. They couldn't trust a rogue.
The kit did survive, but barely, and grew up weaker because of it. Her coat was much different than the longer haired, tricolor kittens. But no one really treated her any differently because of it; in fact, she knew her foster mother as her real mother. She had never realized she came from a rouge she-cat, and as of now doesn't. All she knows is there was something funny about her, but it's probably too late to figure it out.
IC:
(taken from another RPG)
The rain splattering against the young tabby's fur had caused it to spike up in places, and her mournful yowls and wide eyes made her look like one desperate cat. She doubted anyone was around any more, after all, why would they be out in the rain?
Unless they had been stranded out like her, but who knew if they would even answer her calls? She blinked, and her calls began to fade away just as a voice called out to her. Hope brightened her eyes immediately, seeing the kind she-cat not far from her. She shut her eyes as she felt jaws tightening around her scruff, pulling her small body from the muck. She shivered, able to see that her legs were covered thoroughly in mud. This was going to take awhile to clean off.
Her gaze drifted to her rescuer; blinking as the cat spoke to her own more. Slightly humbled by the fact this cat had saved her from possibly deadly circumstances, she simply nodded, her eyes still round balls. Her attention was drawn to the oncoming male; only noticing him once the she-cat had. Her ears twitched as she heard his one word, suddenly wishing she was alone again. Maybe the female knowing this had happened wasn't so bad, but the young male... He would probably hold this against her in a second. At least it wasn't the leader here, seeing her like this; that would have been as humiliating as it got.
Her sorrowful look grasped the she-cat as she greeted the young tom, and then turned again to Loosepaw. "I think I have a few thorns.. but other than that, I'm just muddy," she mumbled quietly, trying to speak too low for the male called Chickenpaw to hear. She pulled herself up higher, realizing the rain must be making her look pretty skimpy and tiny. Her expression grew defiant once the male spoke once more, her fur pricking up slightly as he mentioned her being a 'damsel in distress'. Her ears were drawn back as she let out a small hiss, her tail lashing back and forth as she felt anger pump through her. "Oh, you could easily be in my place right now.." she muttered bitterly, staring toward the ground.
We'll make sure to reserve it though. 
