Post by Ki on Aug 22, 2010 21:36:43 GMT -5
Name: Littlefeather
Gender: She-cat
Age: 18 moons
Clan: ShadowClan
Rank: Warrior
Apprentice: Rookpaw
Love Interest: Open
Kin: Brambletail (Father, NPC); Palenose (Mother, NPC);
Yarrowclaw (Brother, NPC); Tigertooth (Brother, NPC); Fogfang (Brother, NPC);
Description: Littlefeather is exactly what you would expect her to be...little. She's only the size of a young apprentice. A very young apprentice. So, to put it bluntly: she's tiny. Or if you want to be polite, petite. She's got thin, slender legs and a long body. Littlefeather is a dark brown tabby, though all sorts of colors admittedly blend in her long and fluffy fur. Her base color is dark brown and her markings are predominantly black. Yet gray and cream and white still manage to sneak into her fur. One of the features she's most known for, however, is her ears. Yes. Her ears. For moons Littlefeather's ears were (and still are) a subject of grief to her. While the rest of her body was small and petite...her ears didn't seem to get the message. They were always abnormally large and pointed. On a larger cat, they might have looked normal. But on Littlefeather they just looked goofy. As a kit and apprentice cats cracked jokes about her unusually tall ears. Now as a warrior, cats still make jokes every now and then. But most know better. All it takes is a sharp look from those dark green eyes to silence people, these days.
Personality: Littlefeather can't really be described in a few simple words. As a kit she had so many forces influencing her and shaping her personality. Her parents, for one, encouraged her to be confident and outgoing. Her brothers, at the same time, inadvertently taught her to be humble and how to get down and dirty. The other she-cats her age also helped her keep in touch with her more feminine side instead of completely becoming one of the toms. The result? Well, Littlefeather is extremely proud of her ShadowClan blood. She's also proud of her own abilities as a warrior. If someone pays her a compliment, she's bound to accept it with a smile and a sincere word of thanks. Yet Littlefeather knows her limits very well. You won't find her pushing herself just to show off. She's smarter than that. If she knows for a fact she can't do something, she'll admit it rather than put her life or another's in jeopardy.
Part of the reason Littlefeather received her name is because of her tender heart. Pride and all other things aside, Littlefeather inherited the tenderness her mother was known for. She rarely goes out of her way to comfort a cat or cheer someone. But should a cat come to her seeking solace, they will be met with gentle words and a comforting nuzzle. Littlefeather carries herself with civility and little more than that. In regular conversation she often comes across as polite but indifferent. Cats that know her well, however, never put much stock in this. Littlefeather rarely acts interested in any conversation, unless it is of dire importance or if the cat she's speaking with is in severe pain, whether it be emotional or physical. This is when Littlefeather's sweet side-the side of her she was named for-becomes most apparent. This does not mean, however, that Littlefeather struts around with a cool sort of air around her unless someone is hurt. There will be points in the day when Littlefeather will entertain a few of the kits or something along those lines.
One of the biggest mistakes you can make with this she-cat is lie to her. Littlefeather hates being lied to. If a falsehood is discovered, it is likely her famous temper will flare up. You will most likely be bombarded with thousands of swears and a thousand ill-wishes. Though it also depends on the magnitude of the lie; she'll be a lot angrier if you lied about a trespasser than if you lied about eating before the queens and elders were fed. ((Though the latter is still a violation of the warrior code and it would be her obligation to give you a lecture for it.)) But lies and this kitty...they don't mix well.
History: Brambletail and Palenose were two simple ShadowClan warriors. Both were exceedingly proud in their own abilities and their Clan, but otherwise they were normal. Shortly after they became mates, they decided to try to give ShadowClan a few more future warriors. A litter of four was expected, and the two couldn't have been happier. When the time came for Palenose to give birth, both parents were rather anxious. Their first kit was a large, pale tabby tom who they dubbed Yarrowkit. Next was a brown tabby tom, just as large as his brother before him. This kit was dubbed Tigerkit. Another large, pale kit came after Tigerkit. He was named Fogkit. And, finally, the next kit...
A she-cat.
A very tiny she-cat.
Palenose could always remember looking upon the tiny little kit and sighing in disappointment. This kit was brown tabby and would have been very pretty. But her size was troublesome. Palenose half-heartedly named her 'Littlekit' and nosed her in next to her much larger, much healthier-looking brothers. It was widely believed that Littlekit would not live to see her apprentice ceremony. But the medicine cat inspected her many times over and dubbed her perfectly fit each time. She was just as healthy as her brothers. Maybe not as large, but still healthy. So Palenose and Brambletail accepted Littlekit into their family.
Once the kits were old enough to play, it became clear that they had no reason to worry about Littlekit. Though she was less than half the size of her brothers, she kept up with them. Whatever Yarrowkit, Tigerkit, and Fogkit did, so did Littlekit. The three brothers accepted their sister gladly. She was willing to go the distance to proved herself to them. Plus she wasn't that bad of a playmate. She was the fastest out of all of them when it came to tag, she was actually alright in playfights, and she never complained about being tired. She was, essentially, one of the boys. Not that her brothers were Littlekit's only playmates. There were a few other she-kits that she could play with, and they seemed to help balance her out in a way.
She and her brothers were all apprenticed together. Littlepaw was given to a she-cat that was known to be rather tough. For the next few moons Littlepaw was constantly working. Her mentor wanted to be perfectly sure that no one would doubt Littlepaw because of size. She also taught Littlepaw the importance of being a proud, ShadowClan she-cat. Littlepaw was constantly told that ShadowClan was always being judged. They needed their cats to hold their heads high and never let the other Clans know what they were truly thinking. Later on, Littlefeather would realize that her mentor also had a key role in shaping her personality.
By the time her warrior ceremony rolled around, Littlepaw was actually apprentice-sized. But she had not grown at all in the past few moons. It was widely believed that she would stay that size for the rest of her life. Littlepaw wasn't discouraged at all. Her mentor had repeatedly told her that the size of a warrior mattered just about as much as their pelt color. Just as they were born together and apparenticed together, Littlepaw shared her warrior ceremony with her brothers. First Yarrowpaw received the name of Yarrowclaw. Next Tigerpaw was given the name Tigertooth. Fogpaw was given the name Fogfang. Finally, finally, it was Littlepaw's turn. She received a much less intimidating name than her brother's: Littlefeather. But she adored her new name.
Ever since, Littlefeather has been serving her Clan to her fullest. Many cats in her Clan have come to understand at least one thing about her: she may be small, but she's got a fighting spirit that is larger than life.
Other: The game.
Roleplay Example: *copies and pastes Owlstar's cause she's lazy as sin*
Relax, they kept telling him. She'll be fine. Don't worry.
How could he not worry?! Owlheart knew that many queens died when it came to kitting. Or perhaps maybe one of the kits would be still-born. Or it would be born sick and weak and would constantly battle for its life. Or the queen would die and the kits would soon follow and he'd be left all alone...Fireflower was so small....so vulnerable...
No.
Owlheart sat down, finally ceasing in his pacing in front of the nursery entrance. He couldn't think that way. It could be ages before the kits were born, and it wouldn't help anything if he stood out there and tortured himself with all of the things that could go wrong. Instead he struggled to focus on happy possibilities. The medicine cat was predicting three kits at the most. How many would be toms and how many would be she-kits, he wondered? What would they look like? What sort of cats would they grow up to be? Hope and curiousity burned inside of him. Perhaps one of his kits would eventually rise to leader and become the hero in stories that cats would tell for centuries. Or perhaps one of them would grow to up to be a great medicine cat. Or, even simpler, a great warrior that would be honored and respected by all cats until their death. Thoughts like these made Owlheart smile. After all, what parent didn't want their children to grow up and lead successful lives?
The medicine cat finally emerged, smiling pleasantly. He told Owlheart that there were two perfectly healthy kits and bid him welcome. In a flash the burly tom was in the nursery and at his mate's side. Fireflower looked tired, but overjoyed at the same time. Her fur was disheveled and her eyes were weary. But Owlheart thought she looked more beautiful than ever. He greeted her with gushing warmth and began to praise her.
"What an excellent job you did!" he mewed kindly. "Look at these little lives you've brought into the world!" For once, Fireflower did not speak. Instead she silently marveled at her own kits, who were suckling hungrily at her belly. One kit, a tom, had fiery red fur much like his mother's. He was already more than twice his sister's size. It became apparent to Owlheart that this tom would become as large as his father once he was grown. The she-kit, however, was as petite and small as her mother. She seemed to posess Owlheart's tabby brown coat, only for some reason her fur seemed a bit lighter than his. For a long time the new parents sat in silence, wondering at these little lives. Owlheart would occasionally lean over and nuzzle his mate or lick her cheek. But this was all the communication that passed between them.
Finally he murmured, "What have you named them?"
"I wanted you here. So we could name them together." Fireflower mewed in response.
In a matter of minutes the tom was dubbed Redkit. The she-kit's name was subject for debate. But, finally, they settled on Fawnkit. After the naming was done the parents were silent once more. Redkit and Fawnkit had long since stopped nursing. They had detached themselves from their mother's belly and were sleeping pressed up against her fur. Finally the sun began to set. And while Owlheart did not want to leave his mate and his kits, he could not sleep in the nursery. But he could always ask to be pardoned from his duties until the kits opened their eyes. Then he could stay in the nursery during the day with his new family.
Before he left, Owlheart nuzzled his mate. "I love you, more than you'll ever know." Next he bent over and licked each of his newborns tenderly. And, for the first time, he bid his children good night.
