Post by rainith on May 21, 2009 18:05:43 GMT -5
Name: Fallensage
Definition: Fallen: overthrown, destroyed, or conquered ---Sage: A type of herb or plant
Gender: She-cat
Age: 30 moons
Clan: Eclipseclan
Rank: Deputy?? If not Warrior
(For the deputy thing i'm not sure if you'd want some of my RP experances so here thery are in list form:
Started off RPing cats 4years ago.
Started RPing wolves before cats.
I have a total of 6 years RPing
I have owned my own site.
I've been Admin, Mods, Co-Admins, and basically every high spot on a site there is.
So theres me in a nut-shell)
Apperance:Bright as freshly fallen snow, though shades of stones adorn her pelt. Fallensage stands as winter in a dark world. Who ever said evil had to be dark? Her small bodice is meant for the speed and agility of a fight. She stands no more then eight inches from the ground but lean muscle ripples under the beautiful pelt. Eyes of a strange starry blue they stand out and seem to pierce through to the soul. Blood stains her beautiful face beneath her left eye and splashed across her muzzle. The disaster blinded her in that eye although you cannot tell with out being told. Her voice is like a melodic flute whispering on the breeze. A single scar rests on her left side stretching her already thin stomach. Slightly disproportional, her back legs were made for speed and jumping while her face and body are down-sized. Fallensage’s tail is on the bushy side which contrasts with the rest of her snowy fur. With claws of the night sky Fallensage uses her speed and tricks to slice her enemies.
As one was to open their eyes to gaze upon the cat, their jaws would drop in awe of sheer jealousy and pure lust. Feminine air cloaks the tall mysterious beauty. Clothing her tight skin is the wrapping of silk fit for an ivory queen. Shades of stone adorn the goddess’ cloak. Upon the light of the eerie glow of the father moon or the mother sun, deep pools of liquid silver are cast upon her silky apparel. Bestowed upon her cranium would not be the base of a crown fit for a queen – such as herself – but two lovely satellites of equal beauty to her luscious fur. Each turn of her almost god-like build would cause her fur to shimmer, almost enough to glow with unearthly radiance. Upon her birth, the heavens could have wept for the loss of their radiant maiden. One of which they should have locked away in a cabinet for their own selfishness.
With a look up her curvaceous body, one would spot such peculiar, yet mesmerizing orbs. Glowing dimly with her hidden emotions – a veil pulled tightly over her insides – and to contrast beautifully with her god-like form. Two perfect blushing light pink rose like marbles made from the finest glass, glance at you from beneath long black lashes. One could claim as if the angles had caught each barely blooming blossom, and drained the color into her large captivating curious gaze. A smile within a smile, as one could claim seeing the beauty’s ivory smile and soft eyes. Her face with the fullness of her light and dark combination seems as if it were painted by an artist with such great talent. Strange ebony markings lace her orbs, making them ever more noticeable and even more mesmerizing.
Her long slender legs are strong, and – as well as her alluring body – seemingly carved from the perfect stones. The heavens shine down upon her glowing apparel, the healthy silver and beautiful dark grays seem to shimmer with every little move the female makes. Grace and perfection seem to be key in her movements – the long slender trunk-like limbs move fluidly through the terrain. A constant smirk is hung upon her artistically painted lips, daring every male and female to stare upon her superior queen-like beauty. If such said cat were to be in human form, her elegance and beauty would be best described that of a ballet dancer that has been painted with the elegance and beauty of an angel. The perfection of an unearthly artist would draw upon her eyes the light mesmerizing stare that could catch any – male or females’ – curious and jealous eye.
As if she were a statue, the carver has bestowed upon her lovely satin gown the fineness of Egyptian cotton. Her two radiating ears are poised that of an Egyptian Hieroglyph, the angles of true history and perfection. Although this rare rose has her imperfections, one would not notice any upon her looks, her grace, her smile, or upon her glittering eyes. Upon her long muzzle sits a perfected ebony nose. Petite, but perfect for her features, and excellent at her needs for smell. Males flock to her perfected form, and females gawk at the simple glance at her collage stone print. The sheer confidence and captivation of a gypsy intertwined with the pure luxurious elegance of a ballet dancer with the superiority of a queen or of a princess. A heavy burden held upon her shoulders – but not one the lovely lady could not hold for herself in honor.
Many have referred to the lovely maiden as the lost Lenore that Edgar Allen Poe has quoted upon in his poem. For many could weep for her pure luscious fur, and her feminine perfection. Holding herself to her normal height out of pure pride for herself and family ties is a must. She’s the perfect example of poise and the simplicity of cat kind. She could possibly be compared to the strong and beautiful Athena or the goddess Hera – Zeus’ lovely maiden. The most common referral the beauty would have is Aphrodite. With the swans’ beauty and grace, she could easily be Aphrodite’s carbon copy – that is in cat form – and possibly be larger than the Greek Goddess for her popularity of ‘love’. The goddess Artemis protects her wildness – for she protects all that are animal and wild. This rare and radiant maiden doesn’t search for such admiration from a male; she simply is followed with such admiration.
As reference to Lenore;[/b]
Edgar Allen Poe – Lenore;
Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever!
Let the bell toll! -a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river -
And, Guy De Vere, hast thou no tear? -weep now or never more!
See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!
Come! let the burial rite be read -the funeral song be sung! -
An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young -
A dirge for her, the doubly dead in that she died so young.
"Wretches! ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride,
And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her -that she died!
How shall the ritual, then, be read? -the requiem how be sung
By you -by yours, the evil eye, -by yours, the slanderous tongue
That did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?"
Peccavimus; but rave not thus! and let a Sabbath song
Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong!
The sweet Lenore hath "gone before," with Hope, that flew beside,
Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride -
For her, the fair and debonairness, that now so lowly lies,
The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyes -
The life still there, upon her hair -the death upon her eyes.
Avaunt! tonight my heart is light. No dirge will I upraise,
But waft the angel on her flight with a paean of old days!
Let no bell toll! -lest her sweet soul, amid its hallowed mirth,
Should catch the note, as it doth float up from the damned Earth.
To friends above, from fiends below, the indignant ghost is riven -
From Hell unto a high estate far up within the Heaven -
From grief and groan to a golden throne beside the King of Heaven."
Personality:Fallensage is a trickster in all words. She would rather use her mind then her claws but the thoughts are too ruthless to be sane. Blood-lust surges constantly through her icy cold veins and controls her mind. Mercy for none is how she works so death shall be given slowly and painfully. Her secrets are only trusted to her sister, the only cat she cares about. Sinister love for death plays with her mind twisting it to demonic ways, but she lets it, she loves it. With a heart of ice Fallensage is impenetrable glaring at the world despising the creatures who roam it. Her blindness causes her to be ambitious and doesn’t let it slow her down even a little. taught fighting by her sister she is deceiving with her beautiful voice and blind eye but this she-cat is as sharp as they come. Never stopping to smell the roses Fallensage is strong-willed and smart as a whip. With a crooked smile Fallensage waits in silence for her next kill to fall under her viper claws. Though there is more to her than just this…
“Darling, you’ll have them crawling at your feet drooling.”
She walks with the beauty of a goddess, and the sincerity of a saint. She’s eloquent, combining with her alluring body. Her lips will part with such grace, as words flow – almost prancing – with amiable courtesy. The beauty that radiates from her body is put into her words. Each syllable is sung from that of a birds’ sweet trill, the high statue of literacy is her forte – as well as her greatest masterpiece. Her words are well thought, put together as if they were twined with silk. Before she speaks, the female thinks of her next phrase. Each time her longing salmon tongue darts from inside of her cavern-like mouth, the words are filled with patience, and politeness. Her feminine charm is aired around this elegance, and she respects all those who respect her. Those of higher status get the same respect – maybe with a little more sincerity.
Her every move is placed in rhythm, the steady steps of the waltz. It’s almost as if she is a ball room dancer. Medieval times’ fairest maidens, flushed in beauty, spoke in perfection, and trained in manners. When one gazes upon this lovely maiden, the wisdom that flows from her lips, are placed high upon a pedestal. Out of reach from the current generations’ world, for she was raised with the proper manners – at least according to herself. Holding high upon her own free will and mind, one could say that she was stead fast upon her rules of literacy – and the beauty of ancient techniques used by those in the medieval era.
“Fight, my dear, fight with your life, and you will succeed.”Although Fallensage reeks of feminine beauty and elegance beyond her years, she has a fire that burns within endlessly. If upset or angered, the beauty has the temper of a killer – a boiling pot of acid – and a mouth that’s sting will be worse than that of a king cobra. Although the beauty is not venomous, she has a bite that burns like fire, and a tongue that lashes like a bull-whip. Her extensive vocabulary will spin itself around to insult the one that has made her angry with words they have never heard before. Her pale pink orbs will darken just the slightest – some can even swear they see the faint flicker of the fire within the ‘dove’.
The lovely maiden will speak her mind, even if it means that she has to put some in their low place. Her voice is as powerful as the raging wind in a storm. Her words cut through the air like razors, as her tongue lashes like a whip upon ones’ flesh. Although the heat of her reaction to torment or ones offensive words is enough to burn the flesh off of anything, the females’ actual lust for a battle or war is below the bar of low. She fears not the actual reality of a fight, or a battle. None know of this deadly secret, for the maiden is fierce upon the outside, and one could never be able to tell that this fierce – yet polite – package would not be afraid of the very thing that many thrive to fear about.
“Its all about you my darling, and don’t let anyone say any different!”Should ones’ selfish nature be considered a family trait or an ancient curse? One of such high eloquence, fire, and beauty should not be introduced into the means of ones’ true selfish notions, alas, she was. As well as her – and any other living person, or creature – own indulgence in self-absorbency to pure her importance to everyone and her high self-thoughts, are minor to those of her siblings. One could say that she was not selfless – but it is proven that no creature beneath creation is – to the point of minor pleasure to herself before others. Alas, many have this constant problem – with effort, one could eventually control this ‘selfish’ trait. Her self-importance is one of the problems that would eventually lead to friendship issues as well as love problems – although her beauty could help with this, many would have to learn to cope with her attitude.
Unlike her sister, she believes that even if they aren’t her – meaning others – they are still cat. She does take and twist the feelings and needs of a male, for they are no more than mortal and fragile – as well as herself. She appreciates everyone – at least if they are polite and sincere – and does fall subject to greed and desire as much as her other siblings. Also, unlike her lovely sister Ceruleantwilight, Fallensage does lead on the male gender out of lust, and doesn’t often just use them. She has a warm opening for everyone, but at the same time, she retains a selfish side that is less than a quarter of her full self. It's essential in her personality – not to mention that once again, no one is entire selfless for it is impossible – and a trait that defines her.
History:Two shadows drifted through the forest searching for a dry place to rest. One, a tom, supported the female who was heavy with kits. As the snow storm blinded the two cats they struggled on until finally they reached a dreary cave. The mocha colored she-cat, Frechla, gave birth to four kits in the blizzard. They all were weak from the un-natural birth in the winter. The lone tom was black like his father, Glatern, the eldest she-cat was a glowing red, and the other two were a bright snow white like the blizzard they had been born in.
Spring approached and the newly weaned kits began to explore the land. The white kits, Fallensage and Ceruleantwilight were inseparable, for now. Born cold-hearted killers the two cats concocted a plan to destroy their disgusting siblings. One day as the two good kits played gleefully the two dark sisters found their chance. Ceruleantwilight approached her siblings and said “Hey you two guess what we found.” She put on her fake sweet voice as they tilted their heads, “A fox hole! Mother called us back before we could explore it so do you want to check it out or what? Fallensage has already headed out!” The brute answered bouncing around in a circle. “Defiantly, let’s go!!” As Ceruleantwilight lead the way she grinned like a demon from hell to herself loving their plan more and more by the second. Fallensage was tucked into the fox hole as her three siblings approached, waiting for her chance. “Where is Fallensage?” the shy red pup asked. “Already in the hole.” Ceruleantwilight watched as her siblings rushed down the tunnel. Fallensage grinned as the kits came to their doom falling before her with Ceruleantwilight sliding in behind them. Fallensage darted at her red sister clawing at her delicate face and legs. Ceruleantwilight tackled her brother from behind, pinning the unsuspecting kit down. Biting his neck like piece of prey Ceruleantwilight twisted and flung her smaller brother until his fragile neck broke. Fallensage blinded her sister then rammed the red she-cat into the dirt wall. Both the white sisters leapt onto their red sister back shattering it stopping her breaths. The two inseparable sisters laughed like demons as they returned to their parents.
They were the perfect picture of innocence as their parents searched frantically for their two missing kits. The father suspected his others daughters, but her mother refused to believe it. Constantly fighting they eventually went their separate ways, the mother taking the kits. She ran with the two remainders of her old life, eventually entering a large land occupied by the cats of the clans. Instantly the kits mother ran for the nearest clan, Riverclan, and asked for them to take in herself and her kit, though Fallensage thought other wise she followed her mother. The kits became apprentices and Ceruleantwilight became a medicine cat for Thunderclan, she had left her mother and sister before joining Riverclan. They heard from her at the gatherings and Fallensage soon became disgusted by her mothers pride for Ceruleantwilight. So Lycena took the only thing she thought right to do. One night she lured her sister away from her camp and killed her with no effort at all and left Riverclan. She now wonders the lands as a rogue, an outcast, to most any clan, though she has a plan, dark and evil as she truly is. She plans to join the clan her sister use to belong to, Thunderclan. No one knows it was her that killed her sister Ceruleantwilight, so she now is pacing the Thunderclan woods waiting to be found.
In Character Example (This is from a post i made a short while ago on a diffrent kitty):.x.where the ash falls.x.
Blackness filled the sky and the stars were blotted out. There was nothing, nothing; it was all an oblivion of pure chaos and everything, things she could and couldn't see, were spinning like she stood in a vortex. No, no, I can't see! Stop, please! None of her usual good humor remained in her voice, not a trace. She could only cry out in terror, running in circles because she could go nowhere and running into black doors that stood firm against her protests. Please, let me go! Let me out, let me out! She wailed.
She whirled around, hearing the screech of an owl echo in her ears. A huge gray wing barrelled out of nowhere and slammed into her, knocking her into one of the black trees. Panting for breath, she scrambled to her feet, staring blindly into the darkness. The owl! She had been able to see when it had flown at her! If only- Wham. She shot backwards and it was as if she had fallen off a cliff. Ashpatch twisted and turned as she fell, wanting to cry out, but refusing to. She could see the mocking look in Dragonblaze's eyes, the look that had mocked her her whole life. She shut her eyes.
I will not cry out! Ashpatch woke up with a start, biting back a yelp when she banged her head scrambling to her feet and searching for the white owl, before realizing she had been dreaming. A little embarrassed, she sat down and licked her paw, noticing that her fur was damp with sweat and yet, was ruffled from moving around so much. It's a good thing every cat here is a good sleeper! She thought, relieved and smiling. It was her nature to be happy, even if a horrible nightmare had just befallen her. Ashpatch stretched and bounded out of the den, carefully avoiding her clan mates.
She padded out of the camp, wondering if anyone else was awake at this time of the morning. It looked like a pretty day and she purred as the sun hit her pelt and glowed, warming her. There would be plenty of prey out, with the new sunlight shining and the dew was still there, wetting her paws as she walked, silent as the owl. And Ashpatch, dear Ashpatch, had totally forgotten about her dream and the silent owl who had stalked her. She blinked and slowed her walking down, noticing that two of her clan mates were already up. Great! We can have a patrol! She thought with a big grin.
Ashpatch padded up to greet them, purring, "Morning, Darkstorm. Morning, Whitepaw. How are you?" She sat down and curled a long tail around her white paws, flicking it occasionally and taking interest in the fact that she knocked dew off the blades of grass each time she did it. A small smile darted across her face as she glanced up to see if the other two cats had noticed how easily she was amused. Just like an apprentice, I am. She thought, mentally laughing. She could hear Poisonleaf's admonition now, about focusing on the present and forgetting about her nightmares. Guess that isn't a problem anymore!
Codewords: Painting Portairts of Ghost
Definition: Fallen: overthrown, destroyed, or conquered ---Sage: A type of herb or plant
Gender: She-cat
Age: 30 moons
Clan: Eclipseclan
Rank: Deputy?? If not Warrior
(For the deputy thing i'm not sure if you'd want some of my RP experances so here thery are in list form:
Started off RPing cats 4years ago.
Started RPing wolves before cats.
I have a total of 6 years RPing
I have owned my own site.
I've been Admin, Mods, Co-Admins, and basically every high spot on a site there is.
So theres me in a nut-shell)
Apperance:Bright as freshly fallen snow, though shades of stones adorn her pelt. Fallensage stands as winter in a dark world. Who ever said evil had to be dark? Her small bodice is meant for the speed and agility of a fight. She stands no more then eight inches from the ground but lean muscle ripples under the beautiful pelt. Eyes of a strange starry blue they stand out and seem to pierce through to the soul. Blood stains her beautiful face beneath her left eye and splashed across her muzzle. The disaster blinded her in that eye although you cannot tell with out being told. Her voice is like a melodic flute whispering on the breeze. A single scar rests on her left side stretching her already thin stomach. Slightly disproportional, her back legs were made for speed and jumping while her face and body are down-sized. Fallensage’s tail is on the bushy side which contrasts with the rest of her snowy fur. With claws of the night sky Fallensage uses her speed and tricks to slice her enemies.
As one was to open their eyes to gaze upon the cat, their jaws would drop in awe of sheer jealousy and pure lust. Feminine air cloaks the tall mysterious beauty. Clothing her tight skin is the wrapping of silk fit for an ivory queen. Shades of stone adorn the goddess’ cloak. Upon the light of the eerie glow of the father moon or the mother sun, deep pools of liquid silver are cast upon her silky apparel. Bestowed upon her cranium would not be the base of a crown fit for a queen – such as herself – but two lovely satellites of equal beauty to her luscious fur. Each turn of her almost god-like build would cause her fur to shimmer, almost enough to glow with unearthly radiance. Upon her birth, the heavens could have wept for the loss of their radiant maiden. One of which they should have locked away in a cabinet for their own selfishness.
With a look up her curvaceous body, one would spot such peculiar, yet mesmerizing orbs. Glowing dimly with her hidden emotions – a veil pulled tightly over her insides – and to contrast beautifully with her god-like form. Two perfect blushing light pink rose like marbles made from the finest glass, glance at you from beneath long black lashes. One could claim as if the angles had caught each barely blooming blossom, and drained the color into her large captivating curious gaze. A smile within a smile, as one could claim seeing the beauty’s ivory smile and soft eyes. Her face with the fullness of her light and dark combination seems as if it were painted by an artist with such great talent. Strange ebony markings lace her orbs, making them ever more noticeable and even more mesmerizing.
Her long slender legs are strong, and – as well as her alluring body – seemingly carved from the perfect stones. The heavens shine down upon her glowing apparel, the healthy silver and beautiful dark grays seem to shimmer with every little move the female makes. Grace and perfection seem to be key in her movements – the long slender trunk-like limbs move fluidly through the terrain. A constant smirk is hung upon her artistically painted lips, daring every male and female to stare upon her superior queen-like beauty. If such said cat were to be in human form, her elegance and beauty would be best described that of a ballet dancer that has been painted with the elegance and beauty of an angel. The perfection of an unearthly artist would draw upon her eyes the light mesmerizing stare that could catch any – male or females’ – curious and jealous eye.
As if she were a statue, the carver has bestowed upon her lovely satin gown the fineness of Egyptian cotton. Her two radiating ears are poised that of an Egyptian Hieroglyph, the angles of true history and perfection. Although this rare rose has her imperfections, one would not notice any upon her looks, her grace, her smile, or upon her glittering eyes. Upon her long muzzle sits a perfected ebony nose. Petite, but perfect for her features, and excellent at her needs for smell. Males flock to her perfected form, and females gawk at the simple glance at her collage stone print. The sheer confidence and captivation of a gypsy intertwined with the pure luxurious elegance of a ballet dancer with the superiority of a queen or of a princess. A heavy burden held upon her shoulders – but not one the lovely lady could not hold for herself in honor.
Many have referred to the lovely maiden as the lost Lenore that Edgar Allen Poe has quoted upon in his poem. For many could weep for her pure luscious fur, and her feminine perfection. Holding herself to her normal height out of pure pride for herself and family ties is a must. She’s the perfect example of poise and the simplicity of cat kind. She could possibly be compared to the strong and beautiful Athena or the goddess Hera – Zeus’ lovely maiden. The most common referral the beauty would have is Aphrodite. With the swans’ beauty and grace, she could easily be Aphrodite’s carbon copy – that is in cat form – and possibly be larger than the Greek Goddess for her popularity of ‘love’. The goddess Artemis protects her wildness – for she protects all that are animal and wild. This rare and radiant maiden doesn’t search for such admiration from a male; she simply is followed with such admiration.
As reference to Lenore;[/b]
Edgar Allen Poe – Lenore;
Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever!
Let the bell toll! -a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river -
And, Guy De Vere, hast thou no tear? -weep now or never more!
See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!
Come! let the burial rite be read -the funeral song be sung! -
An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young -
A dirge for her, the doubly dead in that she died so young.
"Wretches! ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride,
And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her -that she died!
How shall the ritual, then, be read? -the requiem how be sung
By you -by yours, the evil eye, -by yours, the slanderous tongue
That did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?"
Peccavimus; but rave not thus! and let a Sabbath song
Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong!
The sweet Lenore hath "gone before," with Hope, that flew beside,
Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride -
For her, the fair and debonairness, that now so lowly lies,
The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyes -
The life still there, upon her hair -the death upon her eyes.
Avaunt! tonight my heart is light. No dirge will I upraise,
But waft the angel on her flight with a paean of old days!
Let no bell toll! -lest her sweet soul, amid its hallowed mirth,
Should catch the note, as it doth float up from the damned Earth.
To friends above, from fiends below, the indignant ghost is riven -
From Hell unto a high estate far up within the Heaven -
From grief and groan to a golden throne beside the King of Heaven."
Personality:Fallensage is a trickster in all words. She would rather use her mind then her claws but the thoughts are too ruthless to be sane. Blood-lust surges constantly through her icy cold veins and controls her mind. Mercy for none is how she works so death shall be given slowly and painfully. Her secrets are only trusted to her sister, the only cat she cares about. Sinister love for death plays with her mind twisting it to demonic ways, but she lets it, she loves it. With a heart of ice Fallensage is impenetrable glaring at the world despising the creatures who roam it. Her blindness causes her to be ambitious and doesn’t let it slow her down even a little. taught fighting by her sister she is deceiving with her beautiful voice and blind eye but this she-cat is as sharp as they come. Never stopping to smell the roses Fallensage is strong-willed and smart as a whip. With a crooked smile Fallensage waits in silence for her next kill to fall under her viper claws. Though there is more to her than just this…
“Darling, you’ll have them crawling at your feet drooling.”
She walks with the beauty of a goddess, and the sincerity of a saint. She’s eloquent, combining with her alluring body. Her lips will part with such grace, as words flow – almost prancing – with amiable courtesy. The beauty that radiates from her body is put into her words. Each syllable is sung from that of a birds’ sweet trill, the high statue of literacy is her forte – as well as her greatest masterpiece. Her words are well thought, put together as if they were twined with silk. Before she speaks, the female thinks of her next phrase. Each time her longing salmon tongue darts from inside of her cavern-like mouth, the words are filled with patience, and politeness. Her feminine charm is aired around this elegance, and she respects all those who respect her. Those of higher status get the same respect – maybe with a little more sincerity.
Her every move is placed in rhythm, the steady steps of the waltz. It’s almost as if she is a ball room dancer. Medieval times’ fairest maidens, flushed in beauty, spoke in perfection, and trained in manners. When one gazes upon this lovely maiden, the wisdom that flows from her lips, are placed high upon a pedestal. Out of reach from the current generations’ world, for she was raised with the proper manners – at least according to herself. Holding high upon her own free will and mind, one could say that she was stead fast upon her rules of literacy – and the beauty of ancient techniques used by those in the medieval era.
“Fight, my dear, fight with your life, and you will succeed.”Although Fallensage reeks of feminine beauty and elegance beyond her years, she has a fire that burns within endlessly. If upset or angered, the beauty has the temper of a killer – a boiling pot of acid – and a mouth that’s sting will be worse than that of a king cobra. Although the beauty is not venomous, she has a bite that burns like fire, and a tongue that lashes like a bull-whip. Her extensive vocabulary will spin itself around to insult the one that has made her angry with words they have never heard before. Her pale pink orbs will darken just the slightest – some can even swear they see the faint flicker of the fire within the ‘dove’.
The lovely maiden will speak her mind, even if it means that she has to put some in their low place. Her voice is as powerful as the raging wind in a storm. Her words cut through the air like razors, as her tongue lashes like a whip upon ones’ flesh. Although the heat of her reaction to torment or ones offensive words is enough to burn the flesh off of anything, the females’ actual lust for a battle or war is below the bar of low. She fears not the actual reality of a fight, or a battle. None know of this deadly secret, for the maiden is fierce upon the outside, and one could never be able to tell that this fierce – yet polite – package would not be afraid of the very thing that many thrive to fear about.
“Its all about you my darling, and don’t let anyone say any different!”Should ones’ selfish nature be considered a family trait or an ancient curse? One of such high eloquence, fire, and beauty should not be introduced into the means of ones’ true selfish notions, alas, she was. As well as her – and any other living person, or creature – own indulgence in self-absorbency to pure her importance to everyone and her high self-thoughts, are minor to those of her siblings. One could say that she was not selfless – but it is proven that no creature beneath creation is – to the point of minor pleasure to herself before others. Alas, many have this constant problem – with effort, one could eventually control this ‘selfish’ trait. Her self-importance is one of the problems that would eventually lead to friendship issues as well as love problems – although her beauty could help with this, many would have to learn to cope with her attitude.
Unlike her sister, she believes that even if they aren’t her – meaning others – they are still cat. She does take and twist the feelings and needs of a male, for they are no more than mortal and fragile – as well as herself. She appreciates everyone – at least if they are polite and sincere – and does fall subject to greed and desire as much as her other siblings. Also, unlike her lovely sister Ceruleantwilight, Fallensage does lead on the male gender out of lust, and doesn’t often just use them. She has a warm opening for everyone, but at the same time, she retains a selfish side that is less than a quarter of her full self. It's essential in her personality – not to mention that once again, no one is entire selfless for it is impossible – and a trait that defines her.
History:Two shadows drifted through the forest searching for a dry place to rest. One, a tom, supported the female who was heavy with kits. As the snow storm blinded the two cats they struggled on until finally they reached a dreary cave. The mocha colored she-cat, Frechla, gave birth to four kits in the blizzard. They all were weak from the un-natural birth in the winter. The lone tom was black like his father, Glatern, the eldest she-cat was a glowing red, and the other two were a bright snow white like the blizzard they had been born in.
Spring approached and the newly weaned kits began to explore the land. The white kits, Fallensage and Ceruleantwilight were inseparable, for now. Born cold-hearted killers the two cats concocted a plan to destroy their disgusting siblings. One day as the two good kits played gleefully the two dark sisters found their chance. Ceruleantwilight approached her siblings and said “Hey you two guess what we found.” She put on her fake sweet voice as they tilted their heads, “A fox hole! Mother called us back before we could explore it so do you want to check it out or what? Fallensage has already headed out!” The brute answered bouncing around in a circle. “Defiantly, let’s go!!” As Ceruleantwilight lead the way she grinned like a demon from hell to herself loving their plan more and more by the second. Fallensage was tucked into the fox hole as her three siblings approached, waiting for her chance. “Where is Fallensage?” the shy red pup asked. “Already in the hole.” Ceruleantwilight watched as her siblings rushed down the tunnel. Fallensage grinned as the kits came to their doom falling before her with Ceruleantwilight sliding in behind them. Fallensage darted at her red sister clawing at her delicate face and legs. Ceruleantwilight tackled her brother from behind, pinning the unsuspecting kit down. Biting his neck like piece of prey Ceruleantwilight twisted and flung her smaller brother until his fragile neck broke. Fallensage blinded her sister then rammed the red she-cat into the dirt wall. Both the white sisters leapt onto their red sister back shattering it stopping her breaths. The two inseparable sisters laughed like demons as they returned to their parents.
They were the perfect picture of innocence as their parents searched frantically for their two missing kits. The father suspected his others daughters, but her mother refused to believe it. Constantly fighting they eventually went their separate ways, the mother taking the kits. She ran with the two remainders of her old life, eventually entering a large land occupied by the cats of the clans. Instantly the kits mother ran for the nearest clan, Riverclan, and asked for them to take in herself and her kit, though Fallensage thought other wise she followed her mother. The kits became apprentices and Ceruleantwilight became a medicine cat for Thunderclan, she had left her mother and sister before joining Riverclan. They heard from her at the gatherings and Fallensage soon became disgusted by her mothers pride for Ceruleantwilight. So Lycena took the only thing she thought right to do. One night she lured her sister away from her camp and killed her with no effort at all and left Riverclan. She now wonders the lands as a rogue, an outcast, to most any clan, though she has a plan, dark and evil as she truly is. She plans to join the clan her sister use to belong to, Thunderclan. No one knows it was her that killed her sister Ceruleantwilight, so she now is pacing the Thunderclan woods waiting to be found.
In Character Example (This is from a post i made a short while ago on a diffrent kitty):.x.where the ash falls.x.
Blackness filled the sky and the stars were blotted out. There was nothing, nothing; it was all an oblivion of pure chaos and everything, things she could and couldn't see, were spinning like she stood in a vortex. No, no, I can't see! Stop, please! None of her usual good humor remained in her voice, not a trace. She could only cry out in terror, running in circles because she could go nowhere and running into black doors that stood firm against her protests. Please, let me go! Let me out, let me out! She wailed.
She whirled around, hearing the screech of an owl echo in her ears. A huge gray wing barrelled out of nowhere and slammed into her, knocking her into one of the black trees. Panting for breath, she scrambled to her feet, staring blindly into the darkness. The owl! She had been able to see when it had flown at her! If only- Wham. She shot backwards and it was as if she had fallen off a cliff. Ashpatch twisted and turned as she fell, wanting to cry out, but refusing to. She could see the mocking look in Dragonblaze's eyes, the look that had mocked her her whole life. She shut her eyes.
I will not cry out! Ashpatch woke up with a start, biting back a yelp when she banged her head scrambling to her feet and searching for the white owl, before realizing she had been dreaming. A little embarrassed, she sat down and licked her paw, noticing that her fur was damp with sweat and yet, was ruffled from moving around so much. It's a good thing every cat here is a good sleeper! She thought, relieved and smiling. It was her nature to be happy, even if a horrible nightmare had just befallen her. Ashpatch stretched and bounded out of the den, carefully avoiding her clan mates.
She padded out of the camp, wondering if anyone else was awake at this time of the morning. It looked like a pretty day and she purred as the sun hit her pelt and glowed, warming her. There would be plenty of prey out, with the new sunlight shining and the dew was still there, wetting her paws as she walked, silent as the owl. And Ashpatch, dear Ashpatch, had totally forgotten about her dream and the silent owl who had stalked her. She blinked and slowed her walking down, noticing that two of her clan mates were already up. Great! We can have a patrol! She thought with a big grin.
Ashpatch padded up to greet them, purring, "Morning, Darkstorm. Morning, Whitepaw. How are you?" She sat down and curled a long tail around her white paws, flicking it occasionally and taking interest in the fact that she knocked dew off the blades of grass each time she did it. A small smile darted across her face as she glanced up to see if the other two cats had noticed how easily she was amused. Just like an apprentice, I am. She thought, mentally laughing. She could hear Poisonleaf's admonition now, about focusing on the present and forgetting about her nightmares. Guess that isn't a problem anymore!
Codewords: Painting Portairts of Ghost
