Post by Ashcloud on Aug 4, 2010 17:45:08 GMT -8
WHAT IS YOUR NAME?
[/sub]Ashkit,Ashpaw, Ashcloud
WHAT GENDER ARE YOU?
She-Cat[/sub]
HOW OLD ARE YOU?
Fifty-Eight Moons[/sub]
WHAT CLAN ARE YOU LOYAL TO?
ShadowClan[/sub]
WHAT IS YOUR RANK?
[/sub]Kit,Apprentice,Warrior,Queen,Warrior, Deputy (Senior)
WHAT DO YOU LOOK LIKE?
Once-beautiful gray she-cat with silver ringing her muzzle.[/sub]
GO INTO MORE DETAIL PLEASE
Rich yellow eyes look out from their dark setting of gray fur. Those eyes, still so keen and full of confidence despite her age, seem to catch everything. There is a glow to them, a commanding presence to be felt by anyone she sets her sights on. She harbors a secret that perhaps the medicine cat has guessed on, but only they would know. Regardless of her acute interest in how things are run and the fact that she doesn't seem to miss much, the old cat is going blind. A cataract is slowly spreading across her left eye, clouding the she-cat's vision. Having to look through the film only serves to irritate and dour her mood more. She's relying more and more on her hearing rather than her eyesight.[/sub]
With a medium build, standing at an average height for a she-cat, the deputy possesses a thin, single coat during the warmer months which thickens around the end of Greenleaf. It provides her shelter from the cold winds that blow over the backs of the cats living in the shadows of the pine forest. Being covered with dark gray fur, nearly black when the lighting is low, also gives her comfort when stealth and secrecy are the keys to survival. However, when the sun is just right and strikes her coat, rusty undertones dimly show, casting an air of exotic beauty on the aging she-cat. Strong muscles ripple under her pelt, though she feels her years quite often. Pains and aching joints force her to favor her right side and she can be seen limping with her chin held high and stubborn determination shining in her eyes. Around her muzzle and near her forehead, silver-gray hairs betray her to the dignity of her approaching retirement.
Living the battle-worn life of a warrior leaves scars on even the best fighters. These scars tell tales long past and can usher in respect by those who see them. Like all other Clan cats, Ashcloud bares her scars fondly. Deep-set over her hind quarters, down her legs, across her shoulder blades where enemy cats have bitten down so hard they've hit bone, the elderly she-cat is littered with them. And yet, as her fur sheds each Newleaf and doubles in preparation for Leaf-Bare, they are made less and less visible and now only trained eyes notice the most of them; hidden behind tufts of gray fur. One still stands out- a nick under her left eye from a Gathering gone wrong. The truce had broken down and despite the thin clouds that stretched across the full moon, Ashcloud had been caught by the claws of a WindClan warrior. He'd left that mark under her eye, when a single claw had dug into her face. She still thanks StarClan for saving her from losing an eye that night, for if he'd struck just a hair difference, she would have.
WHAT ARE YOU LIKE?
A sour personality to match her lemon-colored eyes, it takes some time to get used to Ashcloud. Putting up with her can be like having a thorn wedged deep into your pads. She doesn't sugar-coat anything to the point of being a bully when direct criticism is needed. Or rather, when she deems it necessary. Excuses only serve to cause the she-cat's eyes to flash dangerously, so her patience with mistakes is limited. However, there is a brighter side to the senior in the form of a dry sense of humor. She can find amusement in the oddest places at the oddest times and has a special type of wit to her jibes. But, humor or not, she doesn't back down and her sharp-tongue lashes out frequently. Just the same, she has earned the respect of her Clan and proven her loyalty many times over.[/sub]
While she is ashamed to admit it, when she was younger and first posted as deputy, Ashcloud's ambitions drove her farther and harder than her loyalty to StarClan. There was a time when she wanted nothing more than to be known to every cat as Ashstar. She dreamed of the power she'd receive, along with her nine lives. Her whiskers would twitch at the thought of being able to raid the territories, take what her Clan needed without anyone being able to bring her down. After all, they'd have to kill her nine times over. The taste of control she enjoyed as a deputy made her crave more until she spent the days watching her leader with cold, hungry eyes. However, she was no murderer. The thought of stealing the rights from her leader made her sick and as the moons passed by, she started to hate herself for ever thinking like that. Time brought more wisdom, and as she swiftly approaches retirement, the position of leader no longer interests her. She's happy to just be useful and honored to serve as their deputy.
She's known for being tough on the apprentices, and her own apprentices don't escape her tongue unscathed. She worked the young she-cat, known as Yellowpaw during that time, hard. Always having her running errands, training, hunting, or seeing to the elders and queens. She hardly gave her a break for more than a few hours at a time. Even so, she developed a close bond with young Yellowpaw, even if she might not share the same with her mentor. The day of the naming ceremony had her bristling with excitement as she watched her only apprentice touch the leader's shoulder and take up her warrior name, Yellowthorn. Now, much to Ashcloud's grim amusement, Yellowthorn stands to be the nastiest mentor in all of ShadowClan, and even carries her past mentor's fiery personality. She has also had the honor of playing mentor to her own kit, Smallpaw. Like Yellowpaw, she's working him to the bone.
For all those who do not have ShadowClan blood running through their veins, Ashcloud's normally tough disposition freezes her into a cold, aggressive cat. Considered oppressive by outsiders, she won't hesitate to drive a lost little kittypet off her territory, nor lead an attack against any other intruders who dare to set a paw over the border. She refuses to listen to excuses, and is quick to settle disputes with a well-aimed blow across the eyes. If necessary, she will guide prisoners back to camp to be dealt with there, though she despises the idea of exposing the location of the camp so willingly. More likely, she'll provide an escort for the cats back to the border. A heavily armed warrior escort with her over-seeing every step of the way.
Because queens can decide not to share the identity of their mates, the tom who fathered Ashcloud's litter back when she was a young warrior of about nineteen moons, as well as her final litter moons after, was never named. There was some speculation that he had been a rogue, as she was often caught near Twolegplace, hunting as she told fiercely them. The scorn that she received from her Clanmates forced her to defend her loyalty and actually aided in hardening her heart. Out of pride, she never thought to preserve her honor by telling her Clan who among them the father was.
In the first litter, she gave birth to three young kits, though there was a complication in her kitting and one was lost before it had the chance to breathe. She gave him a name, just the same, too heart-broken to deal with his death until the other queens were able to pull the scrap out from under her protective paws for a burial. One other turned out to be no better in the end. Born blind, he must have wondered away during the night and was picked off by a predator. Several patrols were sent out to find him, but to no avail. The first-time mother couldn't help but to blame herself for not watching him closely enough. The last, a spunky young female named Shadepaw grew ill when a bout of whitecough turned into deadly greencough and claimed her life.
Her second litter, and last litter as it were, bore only a single kit. Unlike the other three tragedies, the young black tom named Smallpaw, has grown into a fine apprentice. Of course, he better have, as it is she who mentors him. Nearly ready to take his warrior name, Ashcloud- though she may not openly admit it- couldn't be prouder. Of course, like all other cats, she didn't let up on him for a moment; treating him like a mousebrained kit, but with a motherly twinkle in her eyes.
YOUR FAMILY TREE
[/sub]
- BLOOD
-- Foxfur / Father / StarClan Warrior (Border dispute)
--- Shrikedash / Mother / MIA- Considered to be with StarClan
---- Ivytail / Sister / ShadowClan Warrior
- INTIMATE
-- Unknown / Mate / StarClan Warrior (Old age)
--- Bluekit / Offspring / StarClan Kit (Born blind- wandered off)
--- Thrushkit / Offspring / StarClan Kit (Stillborn)
--- Shadepaw / Offspring / StarClan Apprentice (Greencough)
--- Smallpaw / Offspring (2nd Litter) / ShadowClan Apprentice
- APPRENTICES
-- Yellowthorn / ShadowClan Warrior
-- Smallpaw / ShadowClan Apprentice
SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT
--From Glowing Paws {Zenobia}--[/sub]
And so she stepped forward from the relatively cool shadows. The bright sunlight lay like a curtain across the ground; a distinguishing line of darkness and day. Her brown-tipped toes glowed chocolate, followed by stark whiteness of her front legs and lower chest. She seemed to hesitate, unsure if she really wanted to cross into the heat. Eventually her thirst pulled her onward and her muzzle passed through the veil. Black nose twitching, the female blinked her eyes several times and hesitated, still mostly half in the shadows, until the blindness faded away.
Those eyes, purple and clear, looked across the bank and fell onto the shape that would be impossible to miss. A hulking, spiked shadow in the center of the bright Summer's light, far off to one side of the shore. Seemingly oblivious to him, she stepped across until all of her was exposed to the sun. Continuing down the bank, she lowered her face and lapped up as much as her stomach could hold. The cold water refreshed her strength and she had to bite back a sigh of relief at finding this place.
Typically a loner by nature, she hadn't anyone to show her around. Crossing through the territory, she walked alone. Explored alone. If it hadn't been for the fresh scent of the lake, she might have passed right by and ended up with her paws dipped in sea water. Still pleasant, but not palatable.
Ready to burst, she lifted a dripping muzzle from the surface and stared into her reflection. Looking almost vain to the outsider, the purebred looked upon herself with wise eyes. She traced her ears, down to the bangs that hung behind them which eventually parted into a long mane of brown fur. She looked into her eyes, watching with interest how her pupils would dilate each time she focused, looked away, and focused again. She noted the subtle changes in hue from dull violet to luscious lavender in the colors of her irises.
All for the meaning of self-discovery.
Earlier that day, after gaining acceptance into this pack, she had been left to cross the strangest place she had ever seen. In all her years of travel, in all the places she'd been to, nowhere was as unique as the place the locals call the Rainway. Caught in a downpour, she had been perturbed at being left there. The officer who greeted her had other important matters to tend to, but Zen could see into their mind. She knew how uncomfortable she made them. And so, she allowed them to leave without another word, taking her own leave before they could raise a paw.
Trudging through the grass and moss, she had passed several yards into the Rainway before she stopped to rest her eyes from the cold rain. Looking down for a moment, she was startled to see a path laid out behind her. She had turned to face it, and soon deduced that the marks left behind were hers despite their odd color. It was that very color that has the loner staring into her reflection now.
Red; blood red.
Later when she could ask about it, she learned that each hound left their own color. But what classified that color? Were her steps blood-red because of passion? That seemed unlikely, so why? Could it be that she was dangerous? Did it mean that she could spill blood as red as her steps and walk away just as she had in the Rainway?
And so she looked on, pondering what that simple color could mean, until the heat became so much to bear that she abruptly leaned over and dipped her face below the water. Retreating away to lay in the grass in the safety of the shadows, she relaxed; face still dripping and eyes still staring blankly ahead.
What, at first, sounded like a name derived from puppy-talk, Glowing Paws had a meaning of it's own. There in that field. Did her's still remain? Curiosity would not be enough to have her go to that place of mystery again. Never again. The tint of her trail frightened her, and she wouldn't admit to them being hers until she knew for sure what in the soul, mind, and body depicted the color of her trail.
