Post by captain on Apr 7, 2013 20:03:54 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellspacing,0,bTable][atrb=border,0,bTable][cs=2][classy=charname]rookpaw[/classy] | |
| [atrb=style, width:105px; height:365px; overflow:hidden;][classy=stattop]clan[/classy][classy=statbottom]shadow[/classy] [classy=stattop]rank[/classy][classy=statbottom]apprentice[/classy] [classy=stattop]age[/classy][classy=statbottom]eight moons[/classy] [classy=stattop]gender[/classy][classy=statbottom]male[/classy] [classy=stattop]sexuality[/classy][classy=statbottom]demi[/classy] | [atrb=style, width:345px; height:365px; overflow:hidden; padding:2px;][style=margin-top:-18px;][classy=infotop]appearance[/classy][classy=appbottom]skittish black and white tom, golden eyes (click for image)[/classy] [classy=infotop]personality[/classy][classy=infobottom] clumsy | rigid | anxious | sensitive sometimes it was so easy to pretend. he did it all of the time - pacing nervous lines by camp, wearing trenches into the ground, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. his mind would be far, far away, racing and spinning through situations and stories, and in them he was the hero - the poor victim - the damsel in distress. anyone but him. the thoughts alone put him in a trance, glazed over his eyes, and in those moments he was vulnerable but oh so free, and happy, and he could feel - he could name the emotions. he wasn't him, so there was nothing to overwhelm him. no one could see him like this - he always made sure he'd be left alone, sneaking off in the middle of the night if he had too. it had to be done. the practice was a ritual, sacred to him, but nobody else would understand - not really. even ravenclaw would think him strange if she were to witness it - steps that are both calm and frantic, laughs muffled and choked, small whispers scattered by the breeze. it was so easy to pretend when you did it every day. "i think something's wrong with our smallest son." pointed glances at him, calculating, wondering. he became deaf to the sound, but he could still feel her voice. he felt everything. every tiny shift in mood, every little touch. brushing, fleeting; sending sparks through his nerves, tattered and torn. he felt it. nothing escapes his attention, except when everything catches it, and bundles him up in a cocoon of confusion. he wants to hide then, curl up in a safe, stable area. fight the chaos with peace, with rituals - shake off his nervous energy, wear himself out enough to stop feeling, stop thinking, just go to sleep. he felt everything - except his own voice. he's never had a hearing problem - just a problem with communication. he's forgetful - often needing orders broken down and completed one by one - and can't seem to carry a conversation properly, always either too eager or too lax. when he's excited - read: any emotion stronger than his base, neutral persona - he may speak too loud, causing himself to flinch. often times, though, he's too soft and gentle, stuttering and stumbling over his words. some nights he doesn't speak at all. "what's wrong with him? can you fix him?" oh, mother. there's nothing to be fixed. [/classy] [classy=infotop]history[/classy][classy=infobottom]mother featherstep, father kestrelflight, sisters ravenclaw, sparrowpaw, heronpaw, brother swiftcall origins act one kestrelflight couldn't believe his luck when he slunk through the nursery entrance, body low to the ground in a hunter's crouch. his mate - gentle only in name when she was pregnant - was curled up in a tight ball, resting on a thick nest of moss. pressed against her belly were three tiny kits, sleeping soundly - just like their mother. the warrior grinned, bounding over to the warm pile of bodies, prodding at the small forms with a large paw. only one - the tiniest, a little black and white creature - stirred, trying to shift away from the offending limb. he pouted for a moment before turning his attention to the sleeping she-cat, pulling on her ear with his teeth until she awoke, hissing at him and batting his face. "featherstep," he trilled, "what are they? what'd ya name them? look at them, so tiny and cute! were ravenpaw and swiftpaw ever this small? aw, i wanna play with them, featherstep, why won't they wake -" her stony glare didn't shut him up. a thickly furred tail pressed against his muzzle and a low warning growl did. "they're kits, moron. two female, one male. heronkit, sparrowkit, rook-kit. yes, they were. no, you can't, you'll break them. they're sleeping, like i should be." he went to touch them again. "DON'T YOU DARE, KESTRELFLIGHT." genesis act two he didn't like being out in the center of camp. it was too bright, too crowded - too open, even with the pine canopy above him. his mother was pressed to him, one paw wrapped around him to hold him tight, keep him from fleeing back to the relative safety of his corner of the nursery. he squeezed his eyes shut, fending off rolling waves of nausea as more cats pressed around him, stifling him. his chest ached when the leader's voice boomed out, when the clan chimed his brother's new name in unison. sick, sick, sick. he ducked and wriggled away, back to the nursery. his mother didn't follow him, and he was both pleased and disappointed as he retched, body trembling. movement at the entrance - the pawsteps too big for heronkit or sparrowkit, too light to be swiftp - claw. mother and father would be enjoying the festivities, congratulating their eldest son. a scent wafted over to him, warm and familiar, though the she-cat kept her distance. ravenclaw. calm, dependable ravenclaw. his heart splintered and burst, fire prickling through his veins. his tears burned his eyes, blurred his vision as he turned to her, a small sound of discontent lodging itself in his throat. she knew what he needed. she always did. a soft smile flitted across her face, her low voice soothing frayed nerves as she pulled him to her, bathing him with strong strokes of her tongue. the deep pressure grounded him. eventually, he was ready to converse. tyros act three he couldn't remember what happened on his 'special day' - the day he (and his sisters, sparrowkit and heronkit) became an apprentice. not the true event - just impressions, emotions. he remembered those with sickening clarity - the noise, the crowd. stifling and thundering, shaking him to his very core, leaving him feeling as if he was hollow and brittle; later that night he stepped out into the wild with his dearest older sister, and saw the wide world in all of its glory. that, too, rattled him - shook his already frayed nerves until he was a tearful, whimpering mess. he retched just beyond the camp while ravenclaw soothed him with gentle words and a heavy tail across his shoulders. [/classy] |
| [atrb=style, width:450px; padding:2px;][cs=2][classy=infotop]roleplay sample[/classy][classy=rpsample] from another site, about... six months ago? he'd probably never know if the smaller cat knew that he followed him, watched him with a gaze close to wonderment. it was enough to scare off some of the others - his unblinking, unwavering stare, focused on his best friend. when he couldn't see him his chest fluttered, and his ears strained to catch the gentle sound of careful pawsteps. it was distracting and unhealthy this protective urge - so he'd brushed it aside, placed his faith in the capable paws of cedarblaze to help goosepaw remain safe. he made new friends (and some enemies, but he didn't like to think about that), he had fun - without goosepaw, his best friend. he felt horrible. so he followed the pale tom, staying just behind him as he traveled towards sunningrocks. he stopped when they came into sight, watching the other climb onto a flat stone - the day was overcast and rather mild for greenleaf, so the rocks would be just slightly warm. a small smile crossed his maw as he slowly made his way to the shore, his presence acknowledged with a simple flick of the tabby's tail. i wanted to spend some time with you, |
i'm sorry. i - i didn't think it mattered. i missed you.[/color] he paused. what're you thinking about?[/color][/classy][/td][/tr][/table][/center]
