Post by trissea on Apr 9, 2007 19:47:57 GMT -5
I wasn't sure if I should post this to be accepted but I did anyways.
They called me: Mottledkit
I'm built a: femme
I'm as old as: 3 moons
I allign: EclipseClan
Where I am a: Kit
I am a calico:
I have a mottled coat with many shades of different colors. Black, brown, white, and ginger live together on my harmonious pelt. My build is small and thin, but not really small, more stick-like. I am no smaller than the other kits, but I am faster and usually smarter. My thin legsg are strong but clumsy, and my tail is a stub from a ghost of my past. I have strange eyes that set off my entire appearance, being amber, almost the color of the ginger spots on my hide. It makes me look non-living, like a statue. Sometimes, you can imagine I am a statue. I am usually still and don't play much, for my eyes don't really see too well. This is also a curse from my woeful past. But my ears, starply angled and quite big, have develped and I can hear and smell better than any kit, and most apprentinces. Of course, I am different. Of course, I am mocked.
Who I Really am: I have a fantasy, a dream, a delusion. I wish that I would be accepted as any other kit. That I could play and stalk like the others, that I blended in like the others. But no. I am, as the elders say, "Atypical" or "something else". I am distinct in my intellegince, my ability to comprehend and value the life I live, and my sharpened senses. The other kits envy me, for the elders talk to me as if I am a warrior already. My foster mum is always worried for me, and never lets me do anything besides chores for the elders, which I am always keen to do in case they will tell me a yarn of the older Clan days. I never mingle with the apprentices or warriors like the other kits do, for I am afraid. Afraid to be mocked like the kits and their parents do. My color is fully amazing. At least, this is what my mum says. I think its repulsiive, and I wish to be stiking, or at least charming. I cannot speak too well, although I manage to utter enough to understand. I am a quick, logical thinker and I love to talk. At least, when someone can understand me. I don't speak well because I am nervous. If I had no fear I would surely talk much more, and be bold. But that is a load of mouse dung, because I am too different. And to some cats, different is scary. I can't say I blame them.
Past:
I was born to a mother who hated the color I was. She tried to kill me moments after she licked me clean, but my father caught her at it and instaed, as an accident, killed her. I was shocked. She had managed to cut me up pretty badly, including my tail, which was barely there anymore. The medicine cat took it off and for a whole moon I couldn't move. Then, a new problem arose.
My father suddenly realized why my mother had tried to kill me. He was desprate. In a dream she found him. With obvious reproach, she broke the bodn with him they'd always had, declaring she'd never welcome him in StarClan unless he did what she'd have done: kill me. I didn't know this until he snuck me out of the Mecidine cat's den and tried to rip my eyes out of my skull. Another cat cauhgt him moments into it and I wasn't too badly hurt. But my eyes would never fully recover. I had a misty feeling in both, and often, things would go suddenly blurry. The medicine cat says I will grow out of it, and as I grow, it does get better. Now the mistyness is gone and I only get blurry when I really concentrate, but I still can't see as well as the other cats can. Especially at night.
In Character: The small she-kit crouched in the medicine cat's den, half asleep. Her father suddenly appeared in the den' s opening, silently. He would keep his oath to Wheatfur, his dead mate. He would have to kill his own daughter. He slunk noiselessly along the side of the den, until he was in front of the calico. "Mottledkit? Wake up, I have to tell you something. Come, follow me, dear." Mottledkit awoke with a start, and, mutely, nodded. She trusted her father, but this had to be critical for him to wake her before dawn.
Behind the den, he stared up at the sky. "Whatcha looking at, Dad?" The little kit asked, eyes widening. With a voice that spoke of the signifigance of the situation, the father cat mewed, "Your mother." She gulped, rembering the night so ghastly, when her mother had tried to kill her. She tilted her head, and in a lovely, lilting voice, questioned the handsome tom. "Dad, why did mum try to destroy me? The elders say she was spiritually disturbed." The tomcat, shocked by his own kit's knowledge and extensive vocabulary, shook his head sadly. "No, Mottledkit, there was nothing wrong with her. She tried to kill you because she didn't want you to be mocked for your.. atypical colouring." Mottledkit nodded sadly. "I see. She hated me" The father cat looked over at her, clearly astonished. "No! She loved you! You were the only kit not born still-born! She just wanted you to die with pride and freedom, not with mockery and injustice. And I-"
There was a phisically painful pause, and a lump formed in Greenfur's throat. Mottledkit shriveled against the ground, eyes growing larger. "I suffer the same thoughts, Mottledkit. You do not understand; you are too young. Mottledkit, I love you. Always know that. But because I love you so-" He stood, stroking her muzzle gently with his tail. "I will habe to.. let you go." He stopped, noting the puzzled expression on Mottledkit's face as she began to fear her own father. "I've told you that I love you, and now...now I have to kill you." Mottledkit squealed in terror, a sudden memory of her mother's claws raking into her fur. She looked back at her stub of a tail, and then looke back up at her father, whose eyes glinted in passion and grief. "No... NO, father, Please!" She screamed, but to no avail. He shook his head despondently. "I'm sorry, Mottledkit, really, I am. Its for the best." Mottledkit stared up at him dejectedly as he heaved a huge paw into the air above her head. He released his deadly claws, and Mottledkit let free a fur-raising screech. Suddenly, a queen called Littleheart appeared, eyes huge with concern. They went even bigger in shock as the huge tom's mae-like claw fell on Mottledkit's head, nearly crushing it. She let a weaker, shriller squeal of pain. Greenfur, her father, said finally; "I have to do this. I really am sorry, Mottledkit... in StarClan you will understand.[/b]" Then a void, a chasm of warm, welcoming darkness overtook her, and she remembered no more.[/color]
Relationships/Kin: STARCLAN:
Hazelfoot;mother
Greenfur; father
Whitekit; sibling
Maskedkit; sibling
EclipseClan:
Littleheart; foster mum
Yewkit; best friend.
Other: Gah, Museless. That post sucked, but it has to do I suppose. I'll need someone to make Yewkit, though.
Codewords: Poison Tears Crash Down
They called me: Mottledkit
I'm built a: femme
I'm as old as: 3 moons
I allign: EclipseClan
Where I am a: Kit
I am a calico:
I have a mottled coat with many shades of different colors. Black, brown, white, and ginger live together on my harmonious pelt. My build is small and thin, but not really small, more stick-like. I am no smaller than the other kits, but I am faster and usually smarter. My thin legsg are strong but clumsy, and my tail is a stub from a ghost of my past. I have strange eyes that set off my entire appearance, being amber, almost the color of the ginger spots on my hide. It makes me look non-living, like a statue. Sometimes, you can imagine I am a statue. I am usually still and don't play much, for my eyes don't really see too well. This is also a curse from my woeful past. But my ears, starply angled and quite big, have develped and I can hear and smell better than any kit, and most apprentinces. Of course, I am different. Of course, I am mocked.
Who I Really am: I have a fantasy, a dream, a delusion. I wish that I would be accepted as any other kit. That I could play and stalk like the others, that I blended in like the others. But no. I am, as the elders say, "Atypical" or "something else". I am distinct in my intellegince, my ability to comprehend and value the life I live, and my sharpened senses. The other kits envy me, for the elders talk to me as if I am a warrior already. My foster mum is always worried for me, and never lets me do anything besides chores for the elders, which I am always keen to do in case they will tell me a yarn of the older Clan days. I never mingle with the apprentices or warriors like the other kits do, for I am afraid. Afraid to be mocked like the kits and their parents do. My color is fully amazing. At least, this is what my mum says. I think its repulsiive, and I wish to be stiking, or at least charming. I cannot speak too well, although I manage to utter enough to understand. I am a quick, logical thinker and I love to talk. At least, when someone can understand me. I don't speak well because I am nervous. If I had no fear I would surely talk much more, and be bold. But that is a load of mouse dung, because I am too different. And to some cats, different is scary. I can't say I blame them.
Past:
I was born to a mother who hated the color I was. She tried to kill me moments after she licked me clean, but my father caught her at it and instaed, as an accident, killed her. I was shocked. She had managed to cut me up pretty badly, including my tail, which was barely there anymore. The medicine cat took it off and for a whole moon I couldn't move. Then, a new problem arose.
My father suddenly realized why my mother had tried to kill me. He was desprate. In a dream she found him. With obvious reproach, she broke the bodn with him they'd always had, declaring she'd never welcome him in StarClan unless he did what she'd have done: kill me. I didn't know this until he snuck me out of the Mecidine cat's den and tried to rip my eyes out of my skull. Another cat cauhgt him moments into it and I wasn't too badly hurt. But my eyes would never fully recover. I had a misty feeling in both, and often, things would go suddenly blurry. The medicine cat says I will grow out of it, and as I grow, it does get better. Now the mistyness is gone and I only get blurry when I really concentrate, but I still can't see as well as the other cats can. Especially at night.
In Character: The small she-kit crouched in the medicine cat's den, half asleep. Her father suddenly appeared in the den' s opening, silently. He would keep his oath to Wheatfur, his dead mate. He would have to kill his own daughter. He slunk noiselessly along the side of the den, until he was in front of the calico. "Mottledkit? Wake up, I have to tell you something. Come, follow me, dear." Mottledkit awoke with a start, and, mutely, nodded. She trusted her father, but this had to be critical for him to wake her before dawn.
Behind the den, he stared up at the sky. "Whatcha looking at, Dad?" The little kit asked, eyes widening. With a voice that spoke of the signifigance of the situation, the father cat mewed, "Your mother." She gulped, rembering the night so ghastly, when her mother had tried to kill her. She tilted her head, and in a lovely, lilting voice, questioned the handsome tom. "Dad, why did mum try to destroy me? The elders say she was spiritually disturbed." The tomcat, shocked by his own kit's knowledge and extensive vocabulary, shook his head sadly. "No, Mottledkit, there was nothing wrong with her. She tried to kill you because she didn't want you to be mocked for your.. atypical colouring." Mottledkit nodded sadly. "I see. She hated me" The father cat looked over at her, clearly astonished. "No! She loved you! You were the only kit not born still-born! She just wanted you to die with pride and freedom, not with mockery and injustice. And I-"
There was a phisically painful pause, and a lump formed in Greenfur's throat. Mottledkit shriveled against the ground, eyes growing larger. "I suffer the same thoughts, Mottledkit. You do not understand; you are too young. Mottledkit, I love you. Always know that. But because I love you so-" He stood, stroking her muzzle gently with his tail. "I will habe to.. let you go." He stopped, noting the puzzled expression on Mottledkit's face as she began to fear her own father. "I've told you that I love you, and now...now I have to kill you." Mottledkit squealed in terror, a sudden memory of her mother's claws raking into her fur. She looked back at her stub of a tail, and then looke back up at her father, whose eyes glinted in passion and grief. "No... NO, father, Please!" She screamed, but to no avail. He shook his head despondently. "I'm sorry, Mottledkit, really, I am. Its for the best." Mottledkit stared up at him dejectedly as he heaved a huge paw into the air above her head. He released his deadly claws, and Mottledkit let free a fur-raising screech. Suddenly, a queen called Littleheart appeared, eyes huge with concern. They went even bigger in shock as the huge tom's mae-like claw fell on Mottledkit's head, nearly crushing it. She let a weaker, shriller squeal of pain. Greenfur, her father, said finally; "I have to do this. I really am sorry, Mottledkit... in StarClan you will understand.[/b]" Then a void, a chasm of warm, welcoming darkness overtook her, and she remembered no more.[/color]
Relationships/Kin: STARCLAN:
Hazelfoot;mother
Greenfur; father
Whitekit; sibling
Maskedkit; sibling
EclipseClan:
Littleheart; foster mum
Yewkit; best friend.
Other: Gah, Museless. That post sucked, but it has to do I suppose. I'll need someone to make Yewkit, though.
Codewords: Poison Tears Crash Down
