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Post by captain on Sept 28, 2016 21:49:56 GMT
name mottledkit mottledpaw mottledcloud.
mottled to mark or diversify with spots or blotches of a different color or shade.
gender she-cat.
age thirty-eight moons.
clan riverclan.
position medicine cat.
quick description
pretty tortoiseshell she-cat with pale green eyes.
appearance
small. scarred. short fur - deep ginger and ebony; one white paw. pale green eyes. walks with a limp.
most cats happen to be beautiful - there's just something stunning about the bones and colors, the fur and little details that make felines so unique. because of this the scale of ugly to beautiful is skewed; dogs and badgers are ugly, and beautiful is average. beyond that is starstruck, living without need for breath, stars glittering in your pelt. with warriors, too, the lines are blurred even more; whilst in twolegs scars are ugly, hideous things, with warriors they are a sign of survival, of a war won, and the average warrior normally has quite a few. let it be clear, then, that mottledcloud is completely average.
she got her physique from her biological mother; a structure that has been bred into the riverclan cats for generations. like spottedclaw - and most others of her clan - she is small and lithe, streamlined but not all that quick. her expressive face is thin, with big eyes deep-set in their sockets and a short muzzle full of sharp, slightly yellowed teeth. her ears, small and triangular, sit atop her head proudly, dismissing arguments with a mere flick. her shoulders, like her hips, are thin; her legs, long and narrow, are crisscrossed with scattered scars, tiny and minuscule and not worth notice. her paws are dainty and fragile-looking, though armed with dangerous claws, and hold up perfectly fine as weapons of persuasion. her rear left leg always appears to be stiff and painful, a reminder of an event she was too young to remember; this gives her a heavy, limping gait, hindering her from hunting anything besides apprentices and dead rabbits. thin, subtle muscles lie under her fur, underdeveloped compared to the rest of her clan's, and cause her to tire easily when she's forced to 'run' or attempt the impossible feat known as swimming.
her fur, short and and bristly, adorns her frame in soft, messy spikes, almost never laying flat. it's a vast canvas, colored like the night sky, supernovas bursting out onto her galaxy; dominantly black, but cut and laced prettily with splotches of ginger and sand, golden hues of brown hiding between the two warring colors. amber flames lick across her cheeks, leaping down to slice into her legs in almost perfect stripes. a flurry of snow covers her crippled paw, a twisted beacon of hope on her dusk-esque pelt. her eyes - a clear, pale green - are a stark contrast to her fur, expressive and piercing, and almost like glass.
sometimes she still pretends she got her eyes from her mama.
personality
once, mottledcloud met an apprentice at a gathering. she was young, fresh from the nursery and excited; a windlan cat that had yet to experience war. so, she had said, following a long conversation between mottledcloud and a riverclan warrior, are you like, an elder? didja hurt your leg in a battle?!
mottledcloud had merely looked at the apprentice as if she were an idiot. no. i'm a medicine cat.
but i thought medicine cats were supposed to be nice!
mottledcloud has never been a cuddly cat towards others. her parents, sure; her brother, definitely. but other cats are an untouchable aspect - to love another, to get too close, would be taboo. a friendly, gentle brush of pelt would be fine; she can even tolerate a young one reaching out to her for comfort. toms, though, are nothing but trouble; amorous, deviant things - taboo and undesirable.
this isn't to say that she isn't amicable - but her personality is, in a way, like her fur: bristly. sure, the underfur may be downy and soft, but the guardhairs are permanently coarse. that being said, mottledcloud isn't always the easiest to get along with - she tends to be impatient and brutal with her words, blunt to the point of almost being cruel. she doesn't dance around subjects, she charges headfirst and makes sure she's heard. sometimes, she says, they need a little abuse to keep themselves safe.
she holds her compassion in, expressing it not through words but by rough actions; her love is tough, but tender in her heart. she's been known to cuff more than one patient over the ears for being reckless; apprentices, too, are often targets for those tiny paws. once angry or irritated - as she is prone to become in a simple heartbeat - her actions take on a whole new edge: her voice becomes sharper, the sarcasm like dripping like venom from her tongue; unlike when she's 'playing' she doesn't physically lash out, finding it in poor taste. physical altercations, she believes, are for the weak of mind.
mottledcloud has a soft side, too. this is the side that her parents saw, that her dear brother sees in private - when she is more playful, softer spoken; quiet and pensive. kittens, too, see this side - she loves to play with them, to observe them, finding them sweet and innocent. once in a while she finds a friend that's close enough to show this side to - though these instances come slowly, always leaving her on her toes.
she never knows when one might sweep her off her feet.
history
maternal,
x mother spottedclaw; stormfang's mate.
pretty tortoiseshell she-cat with pale green eyes.
x uncle lightheart; silverleaf's mate.
small brown tabby tom with pale green eyes.
x aunt silverleaf; lightheart's ashcloud's mate.
pretty silver tabby she-cat with green eyes.
x cousins all unnamed.
three stillborn kittens; silverleaf and lightheart's.
paternal,
x father stormfang; spottedclaw's mate.
gray tabby tom with blue eyes.
x aunt ashcloud; silverleaf's mate.
dark gray she-cat with amber eyes.
siblings,
o brother bearpaw.
large brown tabby tom with pale green eyes.
→ her parents were young when she was born. she couldn't remember ever having a father - though at one time, she did; then, another. all she remembered was having her mothers.
spottedclaw was an apprentice when she realized she was pregnant by her favorite play-thing. it wasn't long after her warrior ceremony that she gave birth to a single kit, its leg broken and mangled. she rested there, oblivious to the other she-cat, who had planned to get pregnant a month following her, whimpering in pain as her kits came much too soon. three were born - none survived.
spottedclaw's brother - silverleaf's mate - lightheart, took the lifeless kittens to be buried while silverleaf gazed at the mottled kitten at spottedclaw's belly in anguish. the kit, she mewed, give her to me, now.
spottedclaw gave her a haughty glance before passing the wailing, thrashing kitten over and padding out into the camp. the medicine cat appeared moments later - perhaps spottedclaw had sent her - and bound the kitten's leg to the best of her abilities.
she'll probably never be a warrior. it will hurt her, too. her voice was steady.
i know.
→ the first thing mottledkit was ever aware of was the pain of her crippled, mangled leg. mama, she asked once, at the simple age of three moons, what happened?
the silver tabby she-cat had turned her gaze to her kit, confused. many things have happened, mottledkit. what do you me - her attention was caught by the way the kit was walking, her weight shifting awkwardly as she limped with her head bent back, examining the appendage. oh. well... when you were born, it was ah - difficult, you were turn -
turned?
i - i mean - go see the medicine cat.
mottledkit hesitated for a moment before exiting the nursery, silverleaf trailing behind her to sit at the entrance. across the camp she could see spottedclaw and stormfang.
lightheart had long since gone.
→ mottledkit, at five moons old, didn't see herself as odd. quirky, perhaps; different, certainly - but never odd. it didn't occur to her that two she-cats couldn't have kittens; to her, they were her mothers, and as far as she was concerned she was their spawn. it didn't matter that silverleaf's pelt was silver tabby, ashcloud's a dark gray, and her own spotted and splash - a smattering of ginger and black, with just one lame white paw. if she looked closely, she could see herself in them - silverleaf had eyes of a pale green, like her own; ashcloud's, however, were a deep amber. still, mottledkit saw some of her mother, too - facial expressions, emotions, personality.
as far as she was concerned, she was theirs, and she'd prove her worth to the other tortoiseshell in the clan that always looked at her with a mix of pity and something unidentifiable.
oh, yes, she'd show her.
→ you aren't really our kitten.
the words had cut her like a hound's teeth that morning at six moons old - a mere week after beginning her medicine cat apprenticeship. she didn't understand why - for two weeks she had been practically stalking the medicine cat, trying to learn everything she could, even before she was officially an apprentice - as she already understood the finer details to pregnancies and kittens. i already know that, a pause, a wondering moment, mama. who gave birth to me, then?
the two older she-cats glanced at each other uneasily. well, mottledpaw, ashcloud finally began.
the apprentice had never experienced such a strong feeling of hate before that.
→ the training was, she soon realized, slow. at ten moons old she had finished the required hunting and fighting training (as well as such a damaged cat could); had attended many medicine cat meetings and a gathering. she had helped deliver kittens - i hope she loves you all, she would pray, even when one little one didn't make it - and had healed the sick. she was growing tired, physically and mentally exhausted; her leg never let up, always seizing her in an ever-growing fit. her current patient didn't help, either.
spottedclaw was lying in a bed of moss, her chest rattling with every breath she took. an epidemic had broken out among the clan - greencough. nothing too serious, if the cats would do as they were told and stop spreading it.
spottedclaw had spread it to another warrior - ashcloud had muttered during a midnight romp, under her breath during the tom's death ceremony - after sneaking away. thus she was under forced supervision, lying there miserable and complaining while an equally miserable mottledpaw watched over her, because apparently her mentor didn't trust her enough to go and get catmint.
mottledpaw couldn't bring herself to be blinded by rage, not like she once was - a whole three moons prior. once she had hated the she-cat, blaming her for driving lightheart from her mama, for silverleaf's lost kittens and ashcloud's lost brother - but she just wanted to get away from the she-cat, finding her repulsive and abhorrent; spottedclaw, she thought, is a lost child.
a cough turned her head, her heart dropping.
mama.
→ time seemed to fly by. one moment silverleaf was there, warm and lively; the next she wasn't, lying stiff and cold in the center of camp, everything that had made her silverleaf vanished forever. mottledpaw saw no reasoning to it - she had treated her mother with the devotion and obsession that she had been shown as a kit - and yet still the she-cat had died. her mentor tried to comfort her, ashcloud even slept in her nest to try to ease the pain - mottledpaw, however, had already determined that good cats die young while the irresponsible ones are free to roam and romp and they please.
spottedclaw had recovered just fine in the moons following the epidemic, moving on like the rest of the clan. mottledpaw, it seemed, was the only one stuck in an endless replay of silverleaf's last moments, dramatic images playing in her dreams, disrupting her mind with chaos and the old, burning hatred.
→ learning to let go, she realized, was hard. at twenty moons she was still the 'apprentice', working hard under her mentor, a new name complimenting her new struggle. mottledcloud, she had mewed to herself as she laid in her cold nest, in the chilly den, on the night of her ceremony. she had taken comfort in the name, finding it oddly fitting.
she found a lot of things odd.
in her free time - as much as she ever had - she observed spottedclaw from across the camp. do you know me? she'd think as she watched her interact with stormfang, i am the byproduct - you couldn't care less. why keep on? it, to her, was an odd question that she'd never find an answer to.
→ she was thirty moons old when spottedclaw died, an event that she only remembers because it also marked the day of her brother's arrival. the kit was big even then; once more she found herself praying as she took him from his mother's cold belly and handed him to another queen. she, as his last remaining kin - stormfang having been picked up by twolegs - named him bearkit for his brown tabby pelt, beautifully flowing over his large frame.
as the moons slowly passed and slipped away, mottledcloud grew. her mother retired to the elders' den as her eyesight started failing; every day, after playing with him, she'd take bearkit to visit ashcloud. together they'd listen to stories, cuddling and reveling in the feeling of brotherhood, rivalry irrelevant to them. she, in a way, raised him the way she felt was best.
he would never know about spottedclaw.
→ she was young when her mentor passed away, only thirty-two moons. the responsibility of healing the clan, alone, finally fell to her shoulders, weighing on her like a boulder. for weeks she'd make harried trips to gather herbs, hoping that everyone would be alright in her absence; upon returning she'd breath a sigh of relief before bustling back to the den, separating and stacking, preparing for the worst.
the worst, it seems, only comes once in a blue moon.
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Post by Minteh Freshness on Sept 28, 2016 23:59:39 GMT
Accepted! She is well thought out. I love her backstory, very original. I was confused on how everyone in her family was related to one another at first, but I figured it out in the end. Welcome to US. I can't wait to roleplay with her.
And yes, it's best to tag all three of us so if one reads the app over but can't accept it right then, another can always be there to accept it.
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