![⋆ -- fALLEN __ [s t a r] Avatar](http://i41.tinypic.com/fx576c.jpg)
Post by ⋆ -- fALLEN __ [s t a r] on Apr 16, 2009 20:06:52 GMT -5
[/color]there's no combination of words
i could put on the back of a postcard
no song that i could sing but i can try for your heart, [/b][/color][/font][/center]OOC:
[nickname] : skye, falleh, skyluff, etc.
[other characters] : Fallenstar, Moonkit, Lightfall and Grasspaw (all unmade)
: n/a
our dreams, and they are made out of real things
like a shoebox of photographs
with sepia-toned loving
BIC:
[name] -- Airpaw
[age] -- eight.point.two moons
[gender] -- tom
[clan] -- RootClan
[rank] -- Apprentice
love is the answer, at least
for most of the questions in my heart
[/color][/font][/center]for most of the questions in my heart
[personality] --
To describe this particular tom would both prove to be a challenge and be surprisingly easy as well; for, despite the glow behind his bright blue orbs, there lies an underlying meaning that few cats have managed to successfully decipher. There aren't many cats who are willing to look under the surface of the seemingly "shallow" tom and there is even less of a number of cats who aren't scared to find the shell of a tom - a cat that has been hurt too many times to count, has heart that has bled and suffered more times than most adult warriors do on a regularly basis - that they're bound to find.
Bouncy, happy, excited: that's the first and foremost image that the the honey-hued tom is often associated with for Airpaw is nothing but a young child at heart. Always eager to do anything, you'll probably find Airpaw scuffling with himself if he's bored enough to do it. This young tom often appears to have a short attention span, easily mesmerized by a fluttering butterfly or a shiny speck of light, but in truth, he only entertains himself with such trivial objects to please the others around him, although it does bring a sort of light to his heart that he enjoys as well.
The cream-furred apprentice is just one of those cats who are just unpredictable and there is no way to sum up how he acts with simple words. Often spontaneous and reckless, no cat really knows - or probably will ever know - how his calculated mind works. Perhaps is is because of his craving for attention - the attention that his family never came him - but on occasion, he is prone to shout out at other cats without much of a good reason; young Airpaw isn't afraid to fight for what he believes in and he defends it with a blazing rage that goes beyond StarClan's own. In the eyes of some older cats, the honey-hued tom may seem like an annoyance, due to his "chatterbox-like" nature. In other words, this particular young cat is very much of a social butterfly and not afraid to go up at talk to cats he doesn't know. With cats of higher ranks, however, the shyer nature of this tom comes out and most times, his blue (incredibly blue) eyes often end up staring down at his paws.
Don't get the wrong impression, though. Airpaw, although it may seem otherwise, is a very intelligent tom-cat. Just sometimes he thinks too fast, and not enough, so it doesn't show. He has the ability to learn things quickly, and has the skill to learn them well, just on most occasions he doesn't take the time to think -- if he waits to long, then the other cat will be burdened, he says; to be burdened is to feel pain and no cat, he says, will face pain at his expense.
In order to hide the anguish that often suffocating his already weak heart, this particular tom settled the matter by appearing as if he was as adventurous and bold as those around him; for instance, while it appeared Airpaw didn't have much respect for his elders, he actually harbored an awe for them and their stories, often listening in when tiny kits would prance around the den, giggling. The elders hadn't liked him from the day he was born so they'd certainly claw his ears off if he stepped inside; however, easedropping without them knowing was virtually harmless!
In order to make his facade believable, Airpaw also would spring off without a word and loved to go on his own little escapades no matter how many times he was told off. 'That kit is better off locked away, ' they would say when he came dancing into camp with a small vole in his jaws, looking so proudly as if StarClan had deemed him something special. He smiled despite the way his heart clenched; couldn't anyone accept him? ' Why can't he learn?', the gossip had sprung like wildfire and many cats thought he was adopted - judging from the way he acted as compared to the blood of the cats that flowed through his veins.
A bundle of energy is what Airpaw is, always trying to prove himself and running around camp like there's no tomorrow. Diligent and steady, he makes sure to do his work the best he can. The cobalt-eyed apprentice is loyal, more than anything, to the cats he values and cares about. He says, 'Who cares what ___star says!' if he finds out a friend of his is in trouble, out of the clan or not. The words of someone he cares about outranks even those of StarClan.
Optimistic: another word, besides adorable and innocent, that many cats of his clan that often describe him as is optimistic. To cats inside clan he's a little bundle of joy that lights up the clan, although outside of the clan he may get strangely defensive. Within his own clan, however, Airpaw has a continuously happy-go-lucky outlook towards life.
In nearly every situation, the tom-cat manages to find the better side of it and always keeps a positive attitude about, never mind if it should require any sort of seriousness. He thinks, and probably will continue to think throughout his life, that every being should live life happily; it doesn't matter if it's breaking the warrior code or not. He is throughly convinced that no matter the obstacle, it is possible to overcome it by believing in oneself - even if they have to seek the skills of others to do so.
Fiercely independent, he has an odd soft spot for kits and would more than gladly, when he becomes a warrior, take one of them for an apprentice. Perhaps it is his urge to make friends, or even something more - perhaps he even would like to have kits of his own one day. Soft spoken and thoughtful around them, cats often find him watching the youngest members of RootClan scuttle in the center of camp with an odd, dazed look coming into his eyes.
Happy, optimistic, blissful, Airpaw tries to be a live-in-the-moment kind of cat.
[appearance] --
If you asked any she-cat in RootClan, Airpaw would be quite adorable and cute. Any tom would probably just say he's good-looking, which is true. With plush fur, undeveloped bones and a small frame, he looks no older than a kit. That's true, in a way.
Well, to be completely honest, Airpaw is around eight moons: he's not really a kit anymore, but many think he is. With a well proportioned face, bright blue eyes, and a wide grin, he's the object of affection for many she-cats.
To start off, Airpaw has radiant eyes. Rich in luster, color and feeling his eyes are the one feature of him that would probably warrant any special attention. The young cat is well-liked by many, but is rather ordinary when compared to other cats like Fallenstar or Duskwave. However he isn't a eyesore by any means and is, in fact, very cute.
Another thing about his eyes, you'll notice if you look close enough, is that his eyes are different then most. Starting out as a gleaming cerulean, it swirls into a flaming indigo. Plus one of his eyes are a bright, glimmering indigo while as the other appears to be a slightly glazed, pale cerulean blue.
When angered his eyes tend to sparkle a fierce quartz and darken to a belligerent cyan in rage, arguments, or battle. Because young Airpaw is often excited and bouncy, as well as being a very young cat of his age, those two wide pools of his are often mirthful and light up to a joyful aquamarine. However on those rare times when he's bored, tired, or exhausted, his eyes lose their spark - dulling to a tame shade of azure.
The honey-hued tabby feline isn't dumb, or ignorant compared to many cats his age. Actually if faced with certain situations, he has the ability to be wiser beyond his years. Look at his stance in that single instance, and staring into his gentle, serene indigo pools, any cat can easily realize how hard his life must have been. However, no cat will ever be able to comprehend the horror and hardships - the amount of pain he must've gone through - in his younger years.
Although he may not look it, under his plush fur and small frame, Airpaw is a very strong cat. Muscles ripple beneath his thin frame, claws sliding out from his small ivory paws, and sharp ivories hidden beneath his honey-kissed muzzle, Airpaw makes for a deadly feline in battle.
Gentle tuffs of golden-brown can be seen atop his lean shoulders, as the same honey-hued fur that covers the rest of his body shaping his long, lanky legs that are much too large. Often as a kitten, he could be seen running and stumbling around the nursery, landing in a face plant. But now he's grown slightly more into himself, his longs lean - although still lanky, but strong. Not completly though, and you'll notice that - seeing him fall often.
Most of his coat, painted with a slight layer of ivory as the sun hits it, gleams brilliantly as if a million diamonds are bouncing of it. There is one exception, however, and it is the roof of his nose, adorning a harsh, almost burnt orange color. It seems that he fell into the ground too many times and that has left a mark. The same color lines his ears, although the sun shade is much more natural.
The center of his chests blankets a gentle moon-washed color, and the fur there seems longer, as if protecting his most delicate spot. Hints of silver and red can be seen if the light hits it right, but most of the time it is covered with dirt - because like most tom-cats, Airpaw doesn't really care for cleanliness, just playing around. Although the white-haired tufts of fur that cover his fur, is covered with a light brown layer - his sun-kissed fur is ridden of any sorts of brambles, dirts or anything at all, he couldn't look cleaner if he had soaked in water. The reason? His fur remains short, and thick, making it virtually impossible for anything unwanted to stay, it slides off his fur like magic.
Maybe, one day, when's he's older and has grown out of his small frame, he'll be the sort of eyecatcher, charming tom-cat that finds she-cats trailing after him. In any case, this tom is truly a magnificent feline.
[tattoo] -- n/a
mmmm, It's always better when we're together
yeah we'll look at the stars and we're together
[history] --
It's very simple, I tell my sad story and people weep.[/i][/b]
&&. Parentage
The white flakes sprinkled down upon the earth, spreading on what but a blanket of ivory across the entire plain. A single star glimmered in the midst of the oblivion skies, the moon's own light fading before it. Someone would almost be able to hear the long forgotten words of StarClan breathed softly in the ears of its decedents,
" Remember that nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.
Don't lose ever lose faith in yourself, or the ones you love. "
Once upon a time there were two cats very deeply in love - it was the kind of love that kits only hear in stories, and two-legs only read in their fairy tale books full of gallant knights and fairy StarClanmothers. It was the kind where you read about princesses getting swept of their feet and the bad guy gone forever. It was the type that everyone wanted to happen to them - but not all of us are that lucky.
Her name was Dreamwalker and his name was Smokewater. They were complete opposites, by the way. She has plush, gentle cream colored fur and was by far most the beautiful cat in the forest. He, to plainly say, was by far the ugliest cat in the forest. He had ragged, unkempt silver sheen fur and unnatural blue eyes that stuck out. He was lanky, skinny and awkward. There was no way he could ever find a mate, and yet she had every tom with a swish of her tail. And yet, fate as with all of us, had something different in store for them.
A young apprentice of seven moons, gentle Dreampaw was a full-blooded RootClanner and every single cat loved her. Perhaps it was because of her loving, giving personality. Maybe it was because of her looks - she played toms like a harp. She always wanted to help others, always wanting to give to the world in repay for what the world had given her. Truthfully, she was a wonderful cat.
Smokepaw was a horribly, depressed, emotional tom-cat who everyone either hated, laughed at, or was annoyed at. Every since the day he was born, every single cat of TrunkClanner had already known that his mother and father had both left their clans for love. He always hated Lightstep and Wintersong for that, by the way. He had nearly no TrunkClan in his blood - he was too scrawny and frail for them, for anything. His mother was - or at least used to be - a loyal LeafClan queen with a silver tabby pelt, and his father, a loyal BranchClanner with an incredibly handsome pale tom with shaded stripes. No cat really knows how Smokewater got into TrunkClan; although many think it might have been his sharp-tongued grandmother, Amberfrost's doing.[/color]
The snow was now a huge ocean of pure ivory, diamonds sparkling brilliantly under the moon's gentle gaze. The wind was ripping through the air, and yet as a gentle breeze blew past - this one not any less full of frost than the others - a figure of two cats could be seen under the shadows, away from the other cats.
The glare of the stars, the sound of the shredding winds, and the echoes of inconsistent chatter could've made this night the worst meeting ever, but to them - it didn't matter. Not at all.
They were in love.
They met at the next gathering - just as the majority of cats do and as all forbidden relationships begin.
Now of course, she didn't really pay attention to him at first. It might have done with being so beautiful, gaining that from her mother, and the helpful, innocent personality from her father, but to tell the truth she didn't really like any of them. She didn't want the attention - she wanted to be normal. Now her mother and father would have none of that of course, and would nod proudly when asked if that cat was their daughter. Finally, after some excuses and polite smiles, she escaped.
Smokepaw was entirely different; it was a StarClansend that his leader even let him go to the ceremony in the first place. He shuffled to the edge of the clearing, his wide milky-blue eyes wandering around. They landed on her and he held his breath. Like every cat, he already was in love with her.
Now of course, he knew that he would have no chance at all with her - not with cats like Shadepaw, Redpaw, Snowpaw and Lionpaw at her side, wooing her. They were the most handsome cats in the four clans and obviously at least one of them would gain her affections, if not then friendship. It didn't really matter that they were in different clans - back in those days too many cats were half-clan to begin with. At least they can boast they're half RootClan, he had reminded himself grimly.
And all of a sudden a cat had bumped into him without knowing so, mumbling something about inconsiderate tom-cats and how they were only after your looks. He jumped - what was Rowanpaw doing here? " Rowanpaw?" She was always grumbling something about how horrible cats were, but no matter how desperate Smokepaw might have been, he wouldn't settle for Rowanpaw. She was fierce, ugly and emotional - many cats disliked her.
"Huh? I'm Dreampaw, " she responded in confusion and young Smokepaw had flushed a deep crimson. Now that his eyes were adjusting to the dimness of the light, the sun's warm rays soaking his pelt, the silvery apprentice could see her lean figure, her cream coat and felt deeply embarrassed for mistaking her for such a horrible cat.
"S-s-s-s...sorry",he stuttered and jumped backwards, blue eyes wide in shock at the beautiful cat before him. She was smiling at him, he had noticed, and he couldn't help but laugh at this situation - she soon joined him, her harmonic giggles ringing through the air as they mingled with his low, clashing chuckles.
And then everything just went uphill from there. Although Smokepaw and every other cat that knew her would never expect it, she had fallen for Smokepaw on that very night. He was kind, gentle even, when he wanted to be and he was her knight in shining armor. Even if she was a RootClanner, somehow, every time she needed help he'd be her superman, flying to save her. She loved him - and no cat could stop them.
Even if Smokepaw despised love - love made him an orphan - he found himself caught in the childish oddities of it all. He found himself wanting to be by her side, wanting to hear her laugh, wanting her to smile just at him, he wanted her - no matter what it came with.
After talking for a few moments they were forced to part, but Dreampaw - not wanting to lose the gentle, kind-hearted tom who liked her for her - licked his cheek gently and breathed, " Meet me here tomorrow. " Now Smokepaw happily obliged, before realizing what sort of trouble she could be in.
Unable to hold it, he ran straight across the territories to see her. Now, she was appalled and overjoyed to see him at the border. Smokepaw just grinned and said that he would do anything she said as long as she stayed by his side. Dreampaw purred.
This happened for quite a few moons and even their own clan members could see drastic changes happening to them. Smokepaw, feeling gallant and proud to be with such a beautiful femme, transformed into the loyal warrior Smokewater, the one that would be graced with many apprentices in the future - one that every one would be proud of. Dreamwalker wasn't naive, she wasn't cute and innocent anymore. She was graceful, elegant, kind and because of Smokewater serious.
The relationship wasn't equal - Smoke could have been compared with a stinky low-life, and Dreampaw, a princess within a castle. It didn't make sense - not really. But since when does love ever make sense?
After a few more moons of constantly seeing each other, speaking to each other, touching each other [like flank to flank, of course] something happened. After surviving nights of hushed whispers, confessions of love, and then the dreadful parting the next day, Dreamwalker had news that would change both of their lives.
"I'm having kits, " she whispered one night, " Smokewater, I'm having your kits. "[/color]
&&. The Birth
The birds were singing, the skies were blue, and the sun was shining. You could hear the laughter of the kits, the conversations of the warriors, and the arguments of the apprentices. The air was clean and fresh, the trees were whispering sweet nothing to the world around them. And best of all, it was a special time - a time to welcome new life into the clan.
"Your kits have arrived, Smokewater", he said. [/i]
That's right, Smokewater was now a proud father of the new batch of RootClan kit's. Everyone knew it too, but moons had passed since the battle between RootClan and TrunkClan -- so nothing could be done, really, about it. Plus, no cat could argue that the silver tabby wasn't one of the loyalest cats of the forest.
Neither had any one dared to say that he didn't deserve Dreamwalker - thirty-three moons and all and still one of the beautifulest cats of the forest. They didn't argue with her anymore after Frostshard had his ear clawed off for even implying such a thought. They didn't dare force them apart, either. If they had they might as well kill her - for no other feline thought that she would be able to take the depression that was sure to follow since Tornheart, her father, had died not too long before hand.
He loved her deeply, and that was the end of it.
When the sleek tom-cat came back from a training session with his apprentice, Moonpaw, he was told that his second litter had been born. They were two weeks late, so Smokewater was worried that something had gone wrong and he'd come home early just for her. It all went perfectly because StarClan had blessed them once more.[/color]
It was a litter of three measly kittens - nothing special, nothing horrible and like the first litter, they would be utterly despised by those discriminating cats like Frostshard. The first-born was a flame-licked she-cat who took after her grandmother, Windfoot, and was named Burntkit. The second-born was a gentle, silver tom-cat that took after his father and grandfather, Robintail; he was called Lunarkit. The runt of the litter was sickly, and weak with honey-hued fur and milky blue eyes. At first he didn't cry, he didn't move - they thought he was a still born, but when Burntkit rolled atop of her brother, he let out a squeal indignantly and writhed away. "Airkit, I'll call him Airkit, " his mother let out between laughs.
Dragonsnare, a strong and independent green-eyed tom, came through a few hours later with a disgusted look on his face, he disliked the idea of having kits, but loved his mother and father dearly. The only cat who appealed to him was Burntkit. Roseheart stepped in after her brother, cuffing him childishly over the ear for his repulsed look at their siblings. A cherry-furred cat with blue eyes, she wasn't particularly fond of her parents, but enjoyed the company of any cat, she found herself connecting with young Lunarkit.
" Eh! Waht, ya still makin' kits with that st'pid fleabag? ", the old elder of ThunderClan, Ashspark waltzed into the den with a twisted expression on his face. He sat down next to his daughter, smirking at her angered expression and coughed out, " Yer little things, I s'ppose? He snorted, shaking his big black hide in exhasperation and let out a wheeze, " Ya know, after yer another nose-blood of a son whats its name - "
"Grayshadow," Smokewater meowed gruffly, his fur standing on end as he fought for the urge to shove the arrogant feline out of the nursery. Now, the silver-striped tom was normally very patient with things, but this tom always got on his nerves! But what cat wasn't annoyed with the old feline?
"Yah, grayshade, dunccap or whateve'. Anyways, afta' he kicked the bucket, ya know, i'd o' thought you'd stop makin' so many babies. Ya know, dragonflap?", The calico tom in question let out a growl and crouched, ready to attack his grandfather but Roseheart restrained him with a warning glare. " Anyways, whatcha name these little rascals? " Turning slightly to eye one of the kits - that looked not like any of them at all really - his crackled lips curled into the start of a smirk, a strange glint entering his eyes. Airkit, huh?
So the three kits grew up with a ill-tempered brother, fiery sister, much too nice parents and grumpy grandfather - whom they called gran' dad. Burntkit was spunky, fiery, and easily angered; Lunarkit was calm, smooth, and would've had his way with the ladies if he were to grow up, although he had a slight arrogance to him that was annoying sometimes; and then there was Airkit, little, little Airkit who would never fit in even after he overcame his sickness, and became just as strong, he would never fit in.
Nevertheless he was the social of the bunch, the most chattery, the most kind, the most of everything - he loved to talk, he loved to ask questions, and everyone hated him for it. Burntkit and Lunarkit grew a dislike for their youngest brother, deeming him unworthy of the presence. He was ignorant to their glares, to their sneers, and to their purposeful pranks - or at least didn't say anything about it.
Airkit was always an inquisitive kitten, but he didn't like the idea of being unhappy and he felt if he did stop and think about those things, he'd be hurt. And hurt, as many learn, is painful.
It didn't stop fate, however, to take it's course. At the age of two moons, one of his oldest siblings were killed in an epidemic that stuck the clan. Roseheart, the kind and sensible one, was swept up in the flood of dead warriors, dying within a few weeks of her friends. Dragonsnare had gotten ill, but somehow managed to survive.
Dreamwalker's second litter didn't know their brother or sister that well, so it wasn't much of a surprise that their reactions weren't as extreme as the parents. Burntkit had snorted, not having really cared for her sister. Lunarkit smiled encouragingly to their weeping mother and whispered, 'They were good warriors.' However, any cat knew that he had been exceptionally close to his sister. Airkit wasn't close to any cat - other than Ashspark, but his relationship with his grandfather was much like that of Firepaw[star] and Yellowfang. He didn't expect that it would be as painful as it ways, or that it would affect him in such a way. It was probably guilt that he never got to know his siblings that made him feel so horrible.
And then in his fourth moon, Burntkit escaped camp along with Lunarkit on one of those special adventures of theirs. [They were actually ditching Airkit, but no cat had to know that] As soon as Dreamwalker found out, she chased after them and screamed at Airkit for not stopping them, shoving his small frame against the soft dirt. She came back with two guilty kits - did they look more frail? - and came home to see a furious Smokewater lecturing Airkit. Dreamwalker didn't stop it, she simply growled in annoyance at seeing her youngest son before vanishing into the den.
And everything just grew worse from there. Burntkit devolved something that the two-legs call Heartworms from a substance that she swallowed down by the lake and although Lunarkit didn't catch it, he died from an unknown disease. Although Burntkit managed to miraculously outgrow it, Lunarkit's death was slow. It was killing his immune system slowly, making him weaker and weaker each day. He died in his sixth moon.
Dreamwalker, in her grief, soon became depressed and tried multiple times to kill herself - failing each time when Smokewater stopped her. He always said, Think of the kits!'. It tore a wall between them until Dreamwalker decided to back stab her mate and son by mating with a random rouge, who she ran off with the day of Airpaw's apprentice ceremony. The very next day when Airpaw was patrolling with his mentor, her dead body was found on the edge of the border. As said before, Smokewater certainly couldn't live without her and in a few days he jumped off the tallest tree in the territory, committing suicide. TrunkClan warriors deposited his dead body at the end of RootClan territory when Airpaw turned seven moons.
The honey-hued apprentice is now in his eighth moon and shows none of the grief that pained him. He is happy and gleeful - despite the horror that overshadows him. He doesn't often sleep in the apprentices den and wanders to the edge of the forest to sleep because you would've heard his screams of 'I'm cursed, I'm cursed!'.
[role-playing example] -- look at fallenstar's bio, please. <3
well, it's always better when we're together
yeah, it's always better when we're together
[better together by jack johnson]
[/blockquote][/size][/size]
