Post by !Leah on May 9, 2009 11:22:41 GMT -5
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O O C :
Nickname:
leah
Other Characters:
none accepted, but I want to have Cinderdust, Glenpaw, and Brownberry again
B I C :
Name:
Cinderdust.
Age:
32 moons.
Gender:
she-cat.
Clan:
BranchClan.
Rank:
Warrior/Queen
Personality:
Overall, Cinderdust is a gentle she-cat with a level head and thoughtful attitude. Though at times she can appear demure, Cinderdust does not hesitate in voicing her opinions and thoughts on a matter that will affect her Clan. Sensible and composed, you can be sure that Cinderdust is a loyal and devoted deputy that you can trust with your life. If you laugh at her, she will most often respond with a flick of her tail and a practical comment. Around elders and kits, Cinderdust puts her best face forward, a caring and sweet expression. Around the warriors and apprentices, however, this she-cat tends to bring out her witty side. With jokes and smart comments, Cinderdust is popular and well loved in her Clan.
Do not underestimate her sweet face and caring nature. Cinderdust, like many of her family, can have a terribly sharp tongue. If provoked, the she-cat will snap at you as often as she walks away. A smile often covers her insecurities and waves of sadness, and she once suffered with a state of depression after her mother's death.
Cinderdust's true personality comes out most often around her closest friends. Laughing and smiling, she becomes a ray of sunshine that never dies, only lingers on in cat's memories. Bubbly and full of ideas that promise great fun, Cinderdust is a wonderful companion, for life as well as for a rainy afternoon. It can be hard to get on her good side, but once you do, the enjoyable times are very rewarding.
Appearance:
At first glance, Cinderdust may seem to be a mere shadow compared to BranchClan's varying pelts. Her dark ash fur is sleek, and darker speckles run up and down the length of her body. But if you look closer, however, you begin to notice the strong resemblance the she-cat has to her BranchClan ancestors. Strong hind legs and toned muscles stand out against her slender legs and willowy frame, and she carries herself with an air of command. Her long tail sweeps small paws, which fade into slender yet strong legs. Her triangular head is topped by soft folds of velvet, often angled forward to catch any sound of prey or feline. Moving down her face, you note her fine features and strong cheekbones. Her muzzle narrows to a delicate snout, with sleek whiskers and a striking pink nose. And you thought she was pretty before? Wait until you see her strongest feature.
As your gaze drifts upward, you find it fixed on the pale green eyes, which are staring straight at you. Slanted yet wide and curious, their mint depths are swimming with questions and thoughts that only a she-cat can have. The orbs are rimmed with dark fur, casting a mysterious air on her appearane. Blinking, you find your gaze stuck on hers, lured in by the piercing stare of her beautiful eyes.
Tattoo:
Though her ashy fur is nearly completely unmarked of scars, Cinderdust does have one small marking on her slender body. Her tattoo can be found just to the left of the center of her chest, a pale line twisted in the shape of a teardrop. You have to look rather closely, for the similar fur color masks its presence. Still, the she-cat wears it proudly, for it is a mark of her true nature and compassion.
History:
The day Cinderdust was born, the skies shone gold with a hint of blue, no clouds in sight. Her mother, a pretty, plump tabby, was awaiting her kits in the nursery, as the sun filtered through the leafy canopy to the branch floor below. Her father was an old, respected tom, hunting at that moment in the forest. There was no one there to witness the birth, and that was how Goldenbreeze wanted it. She had always been a shy little thing.
Two hours later, two healthy kits lay nestled in their mother's soft fur, one tom and one she-cat. This was Goldenbreeze's first litter, and it was perfect. The queen sighed gently, looking down at the two kits. She would have to name them before Brackenstorm got back, of course. The silly old tom was no good at naming kits. Stipplekit. The tom. And Cinderkit, the she-kit. Perfect.
And from then on, Cinderkit was the light in her mother's eyes. A bouncy little ball of gray fur, her fluffy pelt sticking up in all the wrong directions. She had inherited her father's stormy green eyes, her grandmother's gray pelt. And her mother's sunny outlook on life. She grew up around the bravest warriors, the sweetest queens, the most fun apprentices. And it showed.
When Cinderdust was made a warrior, the Clan knew she deserved it. After fighting in the fox battle and waiting an extra moon so that she could be in a ceremony with her brother, Cinderdust was more than ready to earn her warrior name. And it fit her so perfectly. Cinderdust. Her ashy gray coat gleamed as she accepted her future, her past, her present, all at once.
Cinderdust had always been good friends with her clanmates, after calming down a bit and settling into her new name. The pretty young she-cat was popular around the younger Clan members, and they supported her one hundred percent. Especially Stipplestorm. Cinderdust had always been lucky to have such a devoted and caring older brother.
And she always will be.
Role Play Example:
The mid-day sun beat down on the scene, casting a pallid golden light on the glen. Bird songs floated down from the canopy, piercing the sound of gurgling water as the creek flowed on its way in the underbrush, threading through the closely grown tree-trunks with all the flexibility of a snake. The hawthorn bushes created homes for many of the small woodland animals that resided within the glowing green depths of the forest, which in turn provided a way of survival for the wild cats that hunted them. One such cat was slipping through the undergrowth, her small paws making no more noise than a mouse's would. The sun reflected off of the dusky gold streaks in her light pelt, adding a glowing tint to her lithe body. Her eyes could compete with the sparkling stream; their endless blue depths seemed to swim on for eternity. Amberwing, as she was called by her family and Clan, felt the gnawing in her empty stomach like a direct blow to her head. The Clan must be fed first, she thought, gritting her teeth. She would not succumb to the pangs of hunger that only increased as the scent of fresh vole reached her sharp nose. Her eyes, so acutely trained, immediately fixed on the quivering brown body, noting with satisfaction that her position was perfect: downwind. Slinking closer, Amberwing shifted her weight to her haunches, preparing to spring, prickly thorns hanging perilously over her triangular head. Now!
In a flurry of golden furs and unsheathed claws, the chase took way, consisting of a hunger-driven she cat and a desperate vole, streaking through the undergrowth. With one swift bound, Amberwing shot forward, propelling herself on top of the small mammal, feeling its heart beat rapidly under her paws. In one short bite it was all over. The scent of fresh prey flooded her senses. Perhaps one small nibble...
Pushing that invalid thought from her mind, Amberwing spun around and melted into the shadows, her kill clamped in her jaws. Her business was done there.
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there’s something about the way
the street looks when it’s just rained
there’s a glow off the pavement
[/size][/font][/center]the street looks when it’s just rained
there’s a glow off the pavement
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