Post by Woodlow on Jan 1, 2024 22:09:34 GMT -6
Twig
Outsider
a brown ticked-tabby tom with yellow eyes
loner
male
19 moons
Appearance
Barred Ticked Tabby | Yellow Eyes
Twig is nothing special in matters of height or size. He is average in almost every trait a cat could have, if not less than. Surviving on his own has proven difficult for the young tom and it shows in his starved, thin frame.
Though his small stature gives little advantage in a fight it does benefit him some while hunting, his lithe frame light enough for him to leap high, pounce far, and put up quite the chase for his prey... at least when he can find some.
His short, coarse fur is a blend of greys and browns (though depending on the light his fur could look more greyish silver) and his underbelly is a yellowish-tan.
Dark stripes wrap around the base of his legs and thighs, settle in the grooves of his face and coil along the length of his tail. They stand out against his light fur, making his slender limbs resemble the bark of a birch tree.
His eyes are wide and expressive and shine a pale yellow, a striking contrast to his otherwise dull appearance. Strangely, the soles of his paws are an inky black, and look as if they'd been caked in mud or tar. Meanwhile his pink nose, modest in hue, sits between notably dark whisker pads.
His earthy tones and dark stripes make for great camoflauge. Hiding him well against the rocky cliffs and trees that reside near the northen parts of the island, his home unfortunately.
Twig is nothing special in matters of height or size. He is average in almost every trait a cat could have, if not less than. Surviving on his own has proven difficult for the young tom and it shows in his starved, thin frame.
Though his small stature gives little advantage in a fight it does benefit him some while hunting, his lithe frame light enough for him to leap high, pounce far, and put up quite the chase for his prey... at least when he can find some.
His short, coarse fur is a blend of greys and browns (though depending on the light his fur could look more greyish silver) and his underbelly is a yellowish-tan.
Dark stripes wrap around the base of his legs and thighs, settle in the grooves of his face and coil along the length of his tail. They stand out against his light fur, making his slender limbs resemble the bark of a birch tree.
His eyes are wide and expressive and shine a pale yellow, a striking contrast to his otherwise dull appearance. Strangely, the soles of his paws are an inky black, and look as if they'd been caked in mud or tar. Meanwhile his pink nose, modest in hue, sits between notably dark whisker pads.
His earthy tones and dark stripes make for great camoflauge. Hiding him well against the rocky cliffs and trees that reside near the northen parts of the island, his home unfortunately.
Personality
(+) Observant & Patient: Twig is known to be very observant of his surroundings, eyes and ears shifting at the slightest of sounds and movements; like when he noticed that hawk circling overhead long before it swooped up his sister. Twig is patient as well and prefers to bide his time, carefully planning his next move, rather than rushing into situations impulsively; like when that hawk carried his sister away and he just sat back and watched…
(=) Flighty & Opportunistic: Call him disloyal, or cowardly even, but survival is always at the forefront of Twig's mind, so morals and ethics mean little to him in the face of that. At the first sign of trouble Twig’s main instinct is to flee. The only way he’d ever put up a fight being if the other had some severe disadvantage or he was literally backed into a corner. Twig feels there's no shame in living to see another day, so he’d gladly run and hide or, if possible, join the winning side.
Additionally, his opportunistic nature limits his compassion for others. Naturally, his situation doesn't always allow him to be generous or kind, not when it could mean the difference between a full stomach or another hungry night. This doesn't mean he's heartless though, he’s just more likely to lend a helping paw if he felt it benefited him in some way or at the very least cost him nothing in return. His kindness only goes so far, and it’d be careless of him to risk his own well-being for some stranger.
(-) Guarded & Skeptic: Twig doesn’t have much experience socializing with others outside of his family. Since his main goal is self-preservation, he feels safest when keeping his distance from others, alert and cautious of any malicious intent. He approaches interactions with a healthy sense of wariness and distrust befitting of a loner.
History
0 - 6 moons (06/01/22 - 12/01/22)
Twig was born to his mother Birch alongside his two sisters, Pebble and Fern. His father remains a mystery. Twig had no qualms about his identity staying secret, though Fern did. Birch preferred the topic never come up, always interrupting any questions with a pointed glare. The litter of three spent their early moons nestled in an abandoned fox den on the outskirts of ThistleClan territory.
As leaf-fall approached, food became scarce, which meant longer hunting trips for their mother. She’d often be gone for hours and still come back without a whisker of prey.
One day, while Birch was off on another hunt, Twig spotted a hawk circling overhead. He eyed it cautiously but said nothing of it. By the time its wings dipped, and it made its fatal dive for Pebble, it was far too late to say anything. Fern, in a desperate attempt to save her, raced after the hawk and managed to slow its ascent by grasping its tail feathers in her claws. She called out to Twig for help, but he kept himself hidden away in the den and refused to come out. Fern’s grip loosened eventually, and the hawk flew off with Pebble, never to be seen again.
When their mother returned from her hunt Fern broke the news to her, emphasizing Twig’s cowardice, and flashing bitter glares his way between pauses. Fern expected her to be just as angry with Twig as she was, but instead their mother only offered a mournful, understanding look. She nuzzled them closely that night and nothing more was said of the incident.
6 - 12 moons (12/01/22 - 06/01/23)
As Twig and Fern neared six moons, growing far too big to sit idle in the den, their mother guided them through the wilds of their waterlocked home. Birch, a seasoned survivor, imparted all she knew as they explored the northern parts of the islands. She taught them how to hunt, how to evade predators, and how to cautiously navigate the territories of clans and tribes should they find themselves with no other choice but to trespass. Together the siblings learned the delicate dance of survival and, with their mother’s constant stress on the importance of teamwork, found their own way to tolerate each other.
That was until a blizzard came to the islands with a merciless frost. The three scrambled to find shelter in the blistering storm, Birch collapsing in the snow as the siblings made work of another abandoned den as quickly as they could. They bunkered down and waited out the storm while Birch fell ill to the biting cold. When the storm settled, Twig went off to hunt while Fern opted out to watch over their mother. He returned later that night, empty pawed, with the claim that he hadn’t found any prey, but Fern could smell the lie, and prey scent, on his lips.
Twig, exhausted from the day's onslaught hardship, fell into a deep slumber, unaware of his mother's declining health. Fern, vigilant and watchful, stayed by Birch's side throughout the night. Tragically, Birch passed away in her sleep, Fern mourning the loss alone.
New-leaf was no better. A flash flood surged across the islands, hungry waves biting the shores and swallowing everything. Fern, fueled by her growing resentment towards Twig, had distanced herself from him days before the impending disaster struck. Twig sought refuge in a large tree near ThistleClan territory, perching himself high atop its bulky branches. From his vantage point, he witnessed the relentless floodwaters consuming everything in its path. Among them was Fern, fighting against the raging currents and struggling for breath.
By sheer luck she managed to cling onto the very same tree he was sitting in and desperately pulled herself up the trunk of it, claws raking against slippery bark. She tried to grab onto one of the lower hanging branches, but a wave crashed into her and had her holding on for dear life. She called out to Twig to pull her up, but he refused to step down from his safe perch. Another wave rushed into her and carried her away. Twig never saw her again after that and made no attempt to search for her, instead heading further up north and seeking refuge from the remaining flood waters. By late green-leaf the floodwaters receded and allowed for Twig to return to his familiar loner ways.
12 - 18 moons (06/01/23 - 12/01/23)
Twig now roams the outlands of the islands alone, hunting and scavenging what he can just to stay alive. Always in search of a safe place to rest for the night before getting up and doing it all over again. For the most part he's content with his current situation.
Twig was born to his mother Birch alongside his two sisters, Pebble and Fern. His father remains a mystery. Twig had no qualms about his identity staying secret, though Fern did. Birch preferred the topic never come up, always interrupting any questions with a pointed glare. The litter of three spent their early moons nestled in an abandoned fox den on the outskirts of ThistleClan territory.
As leaf-fall approached, food became scarce, which meant longer hunting trips for their mother. She’d often be gone for hours and still come back without a whisker of prey.
One day, while Birch was off on another hunt, Twig spotted a hawk circling overhead. He eyed it cautiously but said nothing of it. By the time its wings dipped, and it made its fatal dive for Pebble, it was far too late to say anything. Fern, in a desperate attempt to save her, raced after the hawk and managed to slow its ascent by grasping its tail feathers in her claws. She called out to Twig for help, but he kept himself hidden away in the den and refused to come out. Fern’s grip loosened eventually, and the hawk flew off with Pebble, never to be seen again.
When their mother returned from her hunt Fern broke the news to her, emphasizing Twig’s cowardice, and flashing bitter glares his way between pauses. Fern expected her to be just as angry with Twig as she was, but instead their mother only offered a mournful, understanding look. She nuzzled them closely that night and nothing more was said of the incident.
6 - 12 moons (12/01/22 - 06/01/23)
As Twig and Fern neared six moons, growing far too big to sit idle in the den, their mother guided them through the wilds of their waterlocked home. Birch, a seasoned survivor, imparted all she knew as they explored the northern parts of the islands. She taught them how to hunt, how to evade predators, and how to cautiously navigate the territories of clans and tribes should they find themselves with no other choice but to trespass. Together the siblings learned the delicate dance of survival and, with their mother’s constant stress on the importance of teamwork, found their own way to tolerate each other.
That was until a blizzard came to the islands with a merciless frost. The three scrambled to find shelter in the blistering storm, Birch collapsing in the snow as the siblings made work of another abandoned den as quickly as they could. They bunkered down and waited out the storm while Birch fell ill to the biting cold. When the storm settled, Twig went off to hunt while Fern opted out to watch over their mother. He returned later that night, empty pawed, with the claim that he hadn’t found any prey, but Fern could smell the lie, and prey scent, on his lips.
Twig, exhausted from the day's onslaught hardship, fell into a deep slumber, unaware of his mother's declining health. Fern, vigilant and watchful, stayed by Birch's side throughout the night. Tragically, Birch passed away in her sleep, Fern mourning the loss alone.
By sheer luck she managed to cling onto the very same tree he was sitting in and desperately pulled herself up the trunk of it, claws raking against slippery bark. She tried to grab onto one of the lower hanging branches, but a wave crashed into her and had her holding on for dear life. She called out to Twig to pull her up, but he refused to step down from his safe perch. Another wave rushed into her and carried her away. Twig never saw her again after that and made no attempt to search for her, instead heading further up north and seeking refuge from the remaining flood waters. By late green-leaf the floodwaters receded and allowed for Twig to return to his familiar loner ways.
12 - 18 moons (06/01/23 - 12/01/23)
Twig now roams the outlands of the islands alone, hunting and scavenging what he can just to stay alive. Always in search of a safe place to rest for the night before getting up and doing it all over again. For the most part he's content with his current situation.
