Post by cheshy says grace on Dec 23, 2007 13:30:10 GMT -5
my name's not important; Miserycalling
but I just so happen to be a; tom
even though I am; 37 moons
it doesn't mean I am not loyal to; BrightClan
I am proud to be a; Warrior
misery calls me forth; Dull orange eyes set perfectly on a multi-coloured face. My petite nose is dark pink and my fur is as soft as new grass. But it's my fur colour you want to know, right? Well, let's see, my pelt it a burnt orange. As if a tongue of flame wrapped around me when I was born and granted me part of its colour. Patches of ebony black fur cover my pride and joy, so only parts of my flame fur shows. My fur is long, but it doesn't hang from my legs and underbelly. I'm sort of what you'd call the perfect cat. Small paws, lithe shape, handsome, black whiskers, perfectly shaped ears. Except a few flaws, scars. I unsheath my paws. And I always take a claw and bring it to my haunches. Fur is missing around that area and my scars are healing. I keep trying to stop, but I can’t stop.
yet I try to keep it at bay; I’m a solemn cat. I keep to myself, quiet, alone. I tend to be social at times, because no cat can go a moon without talking to someone. I have suffered a terrible past, but now is not the time to tell you about it. I have a small part in this big world. But I know some how my small role will be important, someday. Maybe I’ll become a hero in my clan, or rescue a she-cat; perhaps become leader someday. Even though I fully doubt it.
then and now; I was born in the middle of Leafbare. My mother died giving birth to her two kits, me and Kindlekit. My father committed suicide out of grief. My foster mother died when I became a warrior. My sister died in a fox attack. The only relative that I have living now is Brokensavior. And he’s not even blood. I grew up alone and in fear. When I was small I felt the world was against me. And I still do. I was quiet, I didn’t talk to anyone except Brokensavior. My foster-mother had named him for the fact that he was the only kit that hadn’t been born stillborn. He was born with out an eye though and his immune system had been weak. Brokensavior needs special care, that’s why he lives in the elder’s den. I watch over him, keep care of him. Bring him fresh-kill and such. I worry about him, but he’s strong and can fight if he’s forced to.
I once had fallen in love with a she-cat. She had a beautiful black pelt and icey blue eyes. Her name had been Iceclaw. She died in the fox attack along with my foster sister.
And so, here I am today. Alone, quiet, deadly, solemn… it’s not you’re fault. It’s just who I am.
My family;
Nettletooth; Mum [dead]
Jadebird; Dad [dead]
Kindlekit; Sister [dead]
Cinderstorm; Foster Mum [dead]
Tigerfang; Foster Dad [alive]
Brokensavior; Foster Brother [alive]
piccy; Click
codeword; Poison Tears Crash Down
[/color]but I just so happen to be a; tom
even though I am; 37 moons
it doesn't mean I am not loyal to; BrightClan
I am proud to be a; Warrior
misery calls me forth; Dull orange eyes set perfectly on a multi-coloured face. My petite nose is dark pink and my fur is as soft as new grass. But it's my fur colour you want to know, right? Well, let's see, my pelt it a burnt orange. As if a tongue of flame wrapped around me when I was born and granted me part of its colour. Patches of ebony black fur cover my pride and joy, so only parts of my flame fur shows. My fur is long, but it doesn't hang from my legs and underbelly. I'm sort of what you'd call the perfect cat. Small paws, lithe shape, handsome, black whiskers, perfectly shaped ears. Except a few flaws, scars. I unsheath my paws. And I always take a claw and bring it to my haunches. Fur is missing around that area and my scars are healing. I keep trying to stop, but I can’t stop.
yet I try to keep it at bay; I’m a solemn cat. I keep to myself, quiet, alone. I tend to be social at times, because no cat can go a moon without talking to someone. I have suffered a terrible past, but now is not the time to tell you about it. I have a small part in this big world. But I know some how my small role will be important, someday. Maybe I’ll become a hero in my clan, or rescue a she-cat; perhaps become leader someday. Even though I fully doubt it.
then and now; I was born in the middle of Leafbare. My mother died giving birth to her two kits, me and Kindlekit. My father committed suicide out of grief. My foster mother died when I became a warrior. My sister died in a fox attack. The only relative that I have living now is Brokensavior. And he’s not even blood. I grew up alone and in fear. When I was small I felt the world was against me. And I still do. I was quiet, I didn’t talk to anyone except Brokensavior. My foster-mother had named him for the fact that he was the only kit that hadn’t been born stillborn. He was born with out an eye though and his immune system had been weak. Brokensavior needs special care, that’s why he lives in the elder’s den. I watch over him, keep care of him. Bring him fresh-kill and such. I worry about him, but he’s strong and can fight if he’s forced to.
I once had fallen in love with a she-cat. She had a beautiful black pelt and icey blue eyes. Her name had been Iceclaw. She died in the fox attack along with my foster sister.
And so, here I am today. Alone, quiet, deadly, solemn… it’s not you’re fault. It’s just who I am.
My family;
Nettletooth; Mum [dead]
Jadebird; Dad [dead]
Kindlekit; Sister [dead]
Cinderstorm; Foster Mum [dead]
Tigerfang; Foster Dad [alive]
Brokensavior; Foster Brother [alive]
piccy; Click
codeword; Poison Tears Crash Down
[/center]
