Post by Wolfstar on Oct 21, 2007 17:12:41 GMT -5
Name: Whispersong
Gender: She-cat
Clan: HiddenClan
Rank: Warrior
Age: 37 Moons
Short Description: A blue-gray she-cat with white paws, underbelly, and muzzle
Appearance:
Whispersong is a pretty small cat. She looks like she would be an older apprentice, and not yet a warrior. Her short legs are the cause of this, but they don't make her look lopsided or deformed. The rest of her body fits in perfectly well with her legs. Her paws, for one, are very small. Kit paws, as some cats say. Her head is round, and about the size of a large apple. The tail of this she-cat is somewhat smaller than most cats, but you couldn't call it 'half' or a 'stub'. Her eyes, however, are big and brown. They make her look like a kitten giving you the 'puppy dog' eyes. Or, the 'kitty cat' eyes to make it sound cat-like. Her body is about the size of a football. Whispersong's figure altogether is about 7 inches across, and about 9 inches.. never mind. A little bigger than your average lunch box with legs I guess is a close calculation.
So you say you want to know what color this cat is? I was coming that. Whispersong's small body is colored blue-gray. Close to a Russian Blue color, think of Bluestar. The area around her nose and mouth is white. Running down from her muzzle, the white spreads to her neck and underbelly, ending at the tip of her tail, which makes the tip white as well. Down the back, or the inside of her back legs is white also, going all the way down to her small paws. Her front paws are white, making it identical to her back. Her big eyes are a light shade of brown. Almost amber, but a little too dark to be. Light brown. And her nose is a light shade of pink. Whispersong's fur is about an inch and a half long. It gets only a bit longer during the winter, making in about an inch and three quarters if that makes sense. It is pretty thick however, keeping her warm in even the coldest snow.
Whispersong has unusually blue-like claws. They look more like white or silver, but if you got close enough to look without her slashing your face, you could see that they have a blue tint. Light, light silver blue tipped with black. They are always sharp, as this cat likes to be fully prepared and able to be an opponent at any time necessary. Her teeth are white and sharp as most cats' are. Her muscles are pretty small, and she one of the last cats you think of at the word 'muscular'. Unlike Falconclaw, she looks sleek and smooth more than a strong fighting cat.
Personality:
You've been told what Whispersong's appearance is. But, how does she act? Is she ambitious? Talkative? Outgoing? Silent and jumpy? Well, the last choice was the right answer. This small blue-gray she-cat has a 'hidden' personality. She is often jumpy and skittish. And keeps to herself most of the time. She normally sits alone at gatherings, or close to a good HiddenClan friend. Friends are things she doesn't have many of, sending us back to her overall act. Whispersong doesn't talk much, only when on a patrol, when she's having a good day, or when she's close to a close friend. She often talks in motions, or you can just tell what she means of feels. Every movement. Every sound. Every rustle in the wind makes her jump. She always looks behind her every step she takes. She is almost always shaking. Its is something you can't see, but you can feel it if you touched her.
Whispersong often sleeps in the farthest corner of the HiddenClan warriors den, in one of the biggest piles of moss she can find. She almost never sleeps softly, that is when she can get to sleep. Every noise stirs her. Every repositioning warrior makes her open one eye and glance around the den in a nervous way. Then she closes her eye again and goes back to 'sleep'. Only once in a while does she ever have a good dream, or have a good night's sleep, or nap. Her dreams are constantly filled with battles, raids, cold winters with no fresh-kill. The sky is always gray in her eyes, its always raining, although every things dry. (And no, she's not colorblind) If there was such thing as an emo cat, she'd be close to it. 'Close' being as she doesn't hate the world, she's scared of it.
This blue-gray she-cat isn't always sad. Sometimes she is partially happy, but with a thin cloud hanging over her. You can tell when this happens when she volunteers for patrols, to hunt, and her eyes are sparkling, almost breaking through the darkness in her mind. When she replies to something you have said with enthusiasm is when she is having a very good day, which rarely happens. Her ears are often lowered, and her eyes are half closed. This is probably because she had a restless night and couldn't get to sleep at all. She never walks with pride. Never in strides. Whispersong normally walks with her tail down, and head bent a little. Only sometimes she is perky, and thats mostly only when she had a good dream and a good night's rest. Whispersong highly deserves the roll of a HiddenClan cat due to her hidden personality.
History:
How did Whispersong come into this world? How did she become so... hidden? Well, it all started when her mother, Dewdrop met her father, Jingle. Jingle was once a kittypet, and got the name Jingle from a few twoleg kits who called him a 'her'. He ran away soon after he met a rogue name Shorty. He lived with the tabby for many moons before setting paw into the forest. There he met her. A beautiful black she-cat with stunning green eyes. If he had ever seen a AshClan cat, he would have known how dull she was compared to them. But to him, she was the best. He met her, learned her name, Dewdrop, and found out about the Clans. He said good-bye to Shorty and went to live with her. Somehow, he got into the Clan and Dewdrop had kits. They named them; Possumkit, Lichenkit, and the last, the runt, Whisperkit.
The three kits had many adventures as kits. Lichenkit normally played with the apprentices, whenever one wasn't doing any duties at the moment. So Possumkit and Whisperkit were with each other most of the time. They snook out of camp once, getting sprayed by a skunk. It took about a moon to get rid of the stench, and about a moon more to be apprentices. Possumkit, however, died of whitecough one moon before their apprentice ceremony, and Lichenkit and Whisperkit became Whisperpaw and Lichenpaw. With the death of her best friend and sister at a young age, that was the start of Whisperpaw's personality. Lichenpaw, again, was mostly with his fellow apprentices, leaving Whisperpaw alone without Possumkit to be with. Why didn't she play with the apprentices, you may ask. Or with the kits even? No one knows. Not even herself. Whisperpaw just instinctively stayed by herself. During these moons, both her parents dies from different things.
Soon she became a warrior, Whispersong. And her brother, Lichenfur. Here she spent a little more time with one cat, Coldfoot. He became the friend Possumkit once was. They hunted together, fought side-by-side, and gave each other company.Although Coldfoot had many more friends She finally thought that hole was filled in. She thought she had found.. was it really? Did she really think she found love? Yes. And she had. Coldfoot and Whispersong fell in love, but during one battle, Coldfoot was killed by a badger. To Whispersong, it felt as if someone had taken a shovel and dug into the hole once more, leaving it even bigger and deeper than before. Although she had only have two friends, and four deaths, she had given up. She covered up the massive hole inside of her and a cloud developed over her. Whenever something else happened, lightning struck down from the cloud and dug into the hole a little more until she was almost completely empty. And thats how she's left today. Empty. Lonely. And broken. Will anything ever fill up her massive, and enlarged hole?
RP Sample:
A light gray cat sat on a rock staring up at the sky. The stars shone down at her and shone in her eyes. But her eyes did not sparkle at the beautiful night sky. The full moon did not occur to her as beautiful. She stared unblinkingly at the stars without a care in the world. She was thinking. Thinking of Coldfoot, the silvery tabby tom who had won her heart many moons ago. She could still remember his blue eyes, and the way they sparkled when he was with her. She remember how her broken heart had once leaped with joy at the sight of him. But during one fateful battle with badgers he had been killed. Slaughtered. Badgers would have been Whispersong's worst enemy, but she had been shaken too much to blame anyone for it. She, for some reason, blamed herself. Not for his death, but for believing that she could fall in love, have kits, and live happily. For believing that true love for her was real. That was what hurt her the most. She still loved him, but she never mentioned it. She always thought about him however, and winced whenever his name came up. Especially because most cats cast a glance at her when they said it.
She finally took her eyes off the stars and looked down at her small white paws. What had happened to her? She was quite, alone, scared even. Scared of what? Of falling in love again and it being ripped away. Afraid of finding a friend and they disappear just like that. Her tail was curled around her paws, the white tip was flicking for no apparent reason except thought. She tried thinking of something other than Coldfoot. Like the fact that tomorrow was the gathering. Or that fresh-kill was running great this Newleaf. But the silver tabby tom always appeared in each of her scenes. He appeared as a leader at the gathering, and he scared away her mouse while she was 'hunting'. Coldfoot's smile made her melt with sadness. A small, rare tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the ground beside her paws. She never cried, unless she was unable to keep him out of her thoughts. It was times like this that gave her the strength to meet new cats. But whenever she actually got back to camp, everyone was with their friends and going hunting, nuzzling, and talking about something unknown to her. And she went back to her corner in the warriors den to curl up.
Another cat showed up in her gathering thought. A small, long-haired gray she-kit. Possumkit. She missed her almost as much as Coldfoot. She longed for the days when they played alone. Even the time they got sprayed by that black and white animal no cat in the Clan had ever seen in person before. Only one elder, Cinderfur, had seen one dead on the side of the Thunderpath once. He said it had mixed with the stench of the thunderpath, making the most unbearable smell. But he had died a long time ago, being the oldest elder when she had heard the story. Another tear began to fall, this time landing on her paw. She didn't even bother to shake them off as they poured down. She just let them be. Almost every time even one got squeezed out, she shook it off and her mind filled with thoughts of anger toward whatever had happened that day that made her even more sad, if anything. The blue-gray she-cat, tinted with silver from the moon, just sat there, crying staring up at the full white circle in the sky.
OOC: If cats can cry... I don't know. I'm done! How'd I do this time?
Gender: She-cat
Clan: HiddenClan
Rank: Warrior
Age: 37 Moons
Short Description: A blue-gray she-cat with white paws, underbelly, and muzzle
Appearance:
Whispersong is a pretty small cat. She looks like she would be an older apprentice, and not yet a warrior. Her short legs are the cause of this, but they don't make her look lopsided or deformed. The rest of her body fits in perfectly well with her legs. Her paws, for one, are very small. Kit paws, as some cats say. Her head is round, and about the size of a large apple. The tail of this she-cat is somewhat smaller than most cats, but you couldn't call it 'half' or a 'stub'. Her eyes, however, are big and brown. They make her look like a kitten giving you the 'puppy dog' eyes. Or, the 'kitty cat' eyes to make it sound cat-like. Her body is about the size of a football. Whispersong's figure altogether is about 7 inches across, and about 9 inches.. never mind. A little bigger than your average lunch box with legs I guess is a close calculation.
So you say you want to know what color this cat is? I was coming that. Whispersong's small body is colored blue-gray. Close to a Russian Blue color, think of Bluestar. The area around her nose and mouth is white. Running down from her muzzle, the white spreads to her neck and underbelly, ending at the tip of her tail, which makes the tip white as well. Down the back, or the inside of her back legs is white also, going all the way down to her small paws. Her front paws are white, making it identical to her back. Her big eyes are a light shade of brown. Almost amber, but a little too dark to be. Light brown. And her nose is a light shade of pink. Whispersong's fur is about an inch and a half long. It gets only a bit longer during the winter, making in about an inch and three quarters if that makes sense. It is pretty thick however, keeping her warm in even the coldest snow.
Whispersong has unusually blue-like claws. They look more like white or silver, but if you got close enough to look without her slashing your face, you could see that they have a blue tint. Light, light silver blue tipped with black. They are always sharp, as this cat likes to be fully prepared and able to be an opponent at any time necessary. Her teeth are white and sharp as most cats' are. Her muscles are pretty small, and she one of the last cats you think of at the word 'muscular'. Unlike Falconclaw, she looks sleek and smooth more than a strong fighting cat.
Personality:
You've been told what Whispersong's appearance is. But, how does she act? Is she ambitious? Talkative? Outgoing? Silent and jumpy? Well, the last choice was the right answer. This small blue-gray she-cat has a 'hidden' personality. She is often jumpy and skittish. And keeps to herself most of the time. She normally sits alone at gatherings, or close to a good HiddenClan friend. Friends are things she doesn't have many of, sending us back to her overall act. Whispersong doesn't talk much, only when on a patrol, when she's having a good day, or when she's close to a close friend. She often talks in motions, or you can just tell what she means of feels. Every movement. Every sound. Every rustle in the wind makes her jump. She always looks behind her every step she takes. She is almost always shaking. Its is something you can't see, but you can feel it if you touched her.
Whispersong often sleeps in the farthest corner of the HiddenClan warriors den, in one of the biggest piles of moss she can find. She almost never sleeps softly, that is when she can get to sleep. Every noise stirs her. Every repositioning warrior makes her open one eye and glance around the den in a nervous way. Then she closes her eye again and goes back to 'sleep'. Only once in a while does she ever have a good dream, or have a good night's sleep, or nap. Her dreams are constantly filled with battles, raids, cold winters with no fresh-kill. The sky is always gray in her eyes, its always raining, although every things dry. (And no, she's not colorblind) If there was such thing as an emo cat, she'd be close to it. 'Close' being as she doesn't hate the world, she's scared of it.
This blue-gray she-cat isn't always sad. Sometimes she is partially happy, but with a thin cloud hanging over her. You can tell when this happens when she volunteers for patrols, to hunt, and her eyes are sparkling, almost breaking through the darkness in her mind. When she replies to something you have said with enthusiasm is when she is having a very good day, which rarely happens. Her ears are often lowered, and her eyes are half closed. This is probably because she had a restless night and couldn't get to sleep at all. She never walks with pride. Never in strides. Whispersong normally walks with her tail down, and head bent a little. Only sometimes she is perky, and thats mostly only when she had a good dream and a good night's rest. Whispersong highly deserves the roll of a HiddenClan cat due to her hidden personality.
History:
How did Whispersong come into this world? How did she become so... hidden? Well, it all started when her mother, Dewdrop met her father, Jingle. Jingle was once a kittypet, and got the name Jingle from a few twoleg kits who called him a 'her'. He ran away soon after he met a rogue name Shorty. He lived with the tabby for many moons before setting paw into the forest. There he met her. A beautiful black she-cat with stunning green eyes. If he had ever seen a AshClan cat, he would have known how dull she was compared to them. But to him, she was the best. He met her, learned her name, Dewdrop, and found out about the Clans. He said good-bye to Shorty and went to live with her. Somehow, he got into the Clan and Dewdrop had kits. They named them; Possumkit, Lichenkit, and the last, the runt, Whisperkit.
The three kits had many adventures as kits. Lichenkit normally played with the apprentices, whenever one wasn't doing any duties at the moment. So Possumkit and Whisperkit were with each other most of the time. They snook out of camp once, getting sprayed by a skunk. It took about a moon to get rid of the stench, and about a moon more to be apprentices. Possumkit, however, died of whitecough one moon before their apprentice ceremony, and Lichenkit and Whisperkit became Whisperpaw and Lichenpaw. With the death of her best friend and sister at a young age, that was the start of Whisperpaw's personality. Lichenpaw, again, was mostly with his fellow apprentices, leaving Whisperpaw alone without Possumkit to be with. Why didn't she play with the apprentices, you may ask. Or with the kits even? No one knows. Not even herself. Whisperpaw just instinctively stayed by herself. During these moons, both her parents dies from different things.
Soon she became a warrior, Whispersong. And her brother, Lichenfur. Here she spent a little more time with one cat, Coldfoot. He became the friend Possumkit once was. They hunted together, fought side-by-side, and gave each other company.
RP Sample:
A light gray cat sat on a rock staring up at the sky. The stars shone down at her and shone in her eyes. But her eyes did not sparkle at the beautiful night sky. The full moon did not occur to her as beautiful. She stared unblinkingly at the stars without a care in the world. She was thinking. Thinking of Coldfoot, the silvery tabby tom who had won her heart many moons ago. She could still remember his blue eyes, and the way they sparkled when he was with her. She remember how her broken heart had once leaped with joy at the sight of him. But during one fateful battle with badgers he had been killed. Slaughtered. Badgers would have been Whispersong's worst enemy, but she had been shaken too much to blame anyone for it. She, for some reason, blamed herself. Not for his death, but for believing that she could fall in love, have kits, and live happily. For believing that true love for her was real. That was what hurt her the most. She still loved him, but she never mentioned it. She always thought about him however, and winced whenever his name came up. Especially because most cats cast a glance at her when they said it.
She finally took her eyes off the stars and looked down at her small white paws. What had happened to her? She was quite, alone, scared even. Scared of what? Of falling in love again and it being ripped away. Afraid of finding a friend and they disappear just like that. Her tail was curled around her paws, the white tip was flicking for no apparent reason except thought. She tried thinking of something other than Coldfoot. Like the fact that tomorrow was the gathering. Or that fresh-kill was running great this Newleaf. But the silver tabby tom always appeared in each of her scenes. He appeared as a leader at the gathering, and he scared away her mouse while she was 'hunting'. Coldfoot's smile made her melt with sadness. A small, rare tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the ground beside her paws. She never cried, unless she was unable to keep him out of her thoughts. It was times like this that gave her the strength to meet new cats. But whenever she actually got back to camp, everyone was with their friends and going hunting, nuzzling, and talking about something unknown to her. And she went back to her corner in the warriors den to curl up.
Another cat showed up in her gathering thought. A small, long-haired gray she-kit. Possumkit. She missed her almost as much as Coldfoot. She longed for the days when they played alone. Even the time they got sprayed by that black and white animal no cat in the Clan had ever seen in person before. Only one elder, Cinderfur, had seen one dead on the side of the Thunderpath once. He said it had mixed with the stench of the thunderpath, making the most unbearable smell. But he had died a long time ago, being the oldest elder when she had heard the story. Another tear began to fall, this time landing on her paw. She didn't even bother to shake them off as they poured down. She just let them be. Almost every time even one got squeezed out, she shook it off and her mind filled with thoughts of anger toward whatever had happened that day that made her even more sad, if anything. The blue-gray she-cat, tinted with silver from the moon, just sat there, crying staring up at the full white circle in the sky.
OOC: If cats can cry... I don't know. I'm done! How'd I do this time?
