Azalea // Rogue WIP

[daisy]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,bTable][atrb=border,0,bTable][cs=2][classy=charname]azalea[/classy]
[atrb=style, width:105px; height:365px; overflow:hidden;][classy=stattop]clan[/classy][classy=statbottom]none[/classy] [classy=stattop]rank[/classy][classy=statbottom]rogue[/classy] [classy=stattop]age[/classy][classy=statbottom]12 moons[/classy] [classy=stattop]gender[/classy][classy=statbottom]female[/classy] [classy=stattop]sexuality[/classy][classy=statbottom]asexual[/classy]	[atrb=style, width:345px; height:365px; overflow:hidden; padding:2px;][style=margin-top:-18px;][classy=infotop]appearance[/classy][classy=appbottom]small, stocky black she-cat with medium-length fur and yellow eyes. LINK[/classy] [classy=infotop]personality[/classy][classy=infobottom]minimum of 150 words[/classy] [classy=infotop]history[/classy][classy=infobottom]“Tell me again, little one.” The old she-cat murmured. “What is your story?” Azalea sighed, crept toward Marigold, and curled up next to the elderly cat. Marigold was very fond of storytelling, even if that meant hearing the same story multiple times. This was probably the fifth or sixth time Azalea went through this tale with Marigold. She couldn’t decide if it was Marigold’s failing memory getting the best of her or if she really did enjoy hearing about Azalea’s short life. Azalea started where she always did. “I was born by the river. Only kit in my litter, I think.” Marigold smiled at hearing that. “You’re very lucky.” She mused. Azalea continued without responding. “My mother was called Ivy. She had dark brown fur just like you, Marigold. I don’t think she really wanted me around, or at least that was how she acted. I think I came as a surprise. She told me I had to fend for myself at a very young age, and tried teaching me how to fish and catch mice when I could barely speak. I wasn’t any good at hunting, which made her upset often.” “But you’re better now,” Marigold interrupted. “You catch me mice in this barn all the time.” “Yes,” Azalea agreed. “I’m better now. I’ve learned.” “Skip to the part where you meet the clan cats.” Marigold said. “Okay, I think I was about nine moons. My mother and I never liked to stay in one place for a long time. We were always moving around, exploring. We came across a fine meadow in one part of the forest. Very pretty, with plenty of prey to be caught. We were there for maybe a day, and the next morning a small group of cats found us. They weren’t too happy to see us.” Azalea hated this part of the story. She wondered why Marigold was always so interested in it. Maybe because when she was young (and beautiful, as Marigold always said she was) she had a litter of kits with a tom in a clan. After they were born, she had to give them up to the clan when they were just a few moons old, and she never saw them or her mate again. “My mother was a very aggressive cat. If anyone provoked her she was quick to fight back. When a few of the toms in the group threatened her, she pounced. I crept back and watched. I watched as they overpowered her like she was a piece of meat to them. A plaything. And when they were finished with her…” She stopped for a moment. This was the hardest part of her story to tell. Marigold, even though her eyes were slowly failing her, could sense Azalea was upset. She nudged Azalea with her nose to comfort her. “You can skip this part if you want.” She said. But Azalea continued. “She asked them to kill her. I was young; I didn’t know what was happening. The toms laughed it off, said they would make it quick for her. One of the other cats in the group, a small she-cat, urged them to stop. She said it was wrong. And when they wouldn’t listen to her, she said ‘Not in front of the kit. Don’t do it in front of her kit.’ She was talking about me, quiet and still as my mother gave her life away right in front of me. But they did it. Right there in that meadow. And after it was over, I looked away. I looked at anything else. The sky. The flowers. I didn’t want that image of my mother to stay with me. I didn’t want that in my mind. I heard the she-cat in the group say, ‘Let’s take the kit back to camp. She can’t survive on her own now.’ But the toms told her their leader wouldn’t allow it. So they took my mother’s body and they left me alone.” Marigold stopped her. “How did you survive after that?” “I ran away- into the forest again. I prayed I didn’t run into any clan cats. I tried fishing in a stream, but I wasn’t too good at that. I think for the entire moon I was on my own, I survived on small, sickly mice and rabbits that were too weak to get away from me. It never filled me up completely, but I lived. And then I found this barn. And I found you in here, hungry and all alone.” Marigold smiled. Her unseeing eyes were closed. Her breathing was shallow. “You are very lucky to be alive, little one.” Marigold said quietly. “And I am very lucky to have lived for this long. But my time in this forest is coming to a close.” Azalea sat staring at the she-cat, hearing her words and understanding them but not showing any reaction on her face. “Come closer.” Marigold said. Azalea did. “You have spent these last few moons with me, and I have gotten to know you very well. I know you like my own kit. I have met few cats in my long life that are as strong as you. You are like fire. Warm and bright. But if you lose control- if you don’t watch yourself- you will consume everything in your path. You have a whole life ahead of you, Azalea. You will either bring light to this forest or burn every tree to the ground.” Azalea shivered. She never liked when Marigold got serious with her. The old she-cat shuddered, smiled, and then said her final words. “Your story is one of my favorite stories.” And then she was still. Azalea pressed her nose into Marigold’s fur and breathed in her scent one last time. She left immediately, not looking back at the old barn once she was outside. The sun was still high in the sky when she set off into the forest, not knowing where she was going but hoping she would meet someone else along the way. She hated being alone. Marigold’s last words stayed with her the whole day. [/classy]
[atrb=style, width:450px; padding:2px;][cs=2][classy=infotop]roleplay sample[/classy][classy=rpsample]see cricketpaw[/classy]