Post by Egotistic on Sept 24, 2019 14:15:12 GMT -6
RIVERPAW
LICHENCLAN
a large, shorthaired tom with chocolate spotted tabby fur and vibrant golden eyes.
warrior
Tom
16 moons
Appearance
Large—or at least in comparison to his brother—despite his youth, Riverpaw has already succeeded at standing a head taller than most of his denmates. He is broad of shoulder, held up by thickset limbs and cloaked in a generous endowment of muscle that allows him to move with a certain assured confidence seemingly uncharacteristic of his size. And yet, his proportions do not come without their fair share of shortcomings. For, while he is more than capable of holding his own in a fight, he falls short when it comes to agility. In this way, he is significantly slower, but he does well in making up for it insofar as fighting prowess is concerned. Wrapping his well-muscled physique, a coat of glossy chocolate spotted tabby fur takes root, a color that compliments the vivid gold of his eyes. It is these eyes that are the most expressive feature he possesses. Guarded and thoughtful, there is very little they give away, and yet, in comparison to his limited reliance on body language—ear twitches and tail movements are not a commodity to him—they speak volumes. So closed off and unreadable is he in this respect that if cats had a concept of books, they more than likely refer to him as a closed one, something that is not altogether far from the truth.
Personality
Riverpaw has always been a remarkably calm, level-headed cat—so much so that some would even go so far as to accuse him of being apathetic and emotionless. And in this way, they are not entirely far off from the mark; Riverpaw likes to keep his emotions well hidden behind a cold exterior, and is aloof and rational to fault, even when it comes to emotional issues. In his eyes this is a necessity for he is of the belief that allowing one’s emotions to guide them is the greatest sign of weakness, and with himself being anything but, he does not afford himself such luxuries.
Having also a natural talent for observation, Riverpaw relies heavily on his own instincts and find them rarely to be wrong. This, paired with his calculating nature, make him one who is not against sitting and watching from afar, himself preferring to have already thoroughly assessed a situation and its outcomes than rushing in headfirst without thought for his own safety. And once he does understand a situation and does choose to act, it is with the utmost confidence in his own abilities… and, of course, a bit of arrogance. After all, having grown up under the belief that he has always been more gifted than his peers, his ego is just a little bit inflated, to say the very least. Even so, he does not view himself so highly that he lacks the ability to be loyal to his Clan and would fight tooth and claw to defend his clanmates should that be asked of him.
Partnered with these traits, Riverpaw is nothing if not a perfectionist; he holds himself and others to the same perfect, unrealistic standards. Even he himself cannot live up to his own lofty expectations, and yet, despite that, he works harder than most to achieve this. And should anyone fail to be the best he imagines them to be, well, he is none too shy about voicing his own criticisms and judgments. In short, he expects far too much of his siblings, his Clan, and himself, always seems discontent about it.
Having also a natural talent for observation, Riverpaw relies heavily on his own instincts and find them rarely to be wrong. This, paired with his calculating nature, make him one who is not against sitting and watching from afar, himself preferring to have already thoroughly assessed a situation and its outcomes than rushing in headfirst without thought for his own safety. And once he does understand a situation and does choose to act, it is with the utmost confidence in his own abilities… and, of course, a bit of arrogance. After all, having grown up under the belief that he has always been more gifted than his peers, his ego is just a little bit inflated, to say the very least. Even so, he does not view himself so highly that he lacks the ability to be loyal to his Clan and would fight tooth and claw to defend his clanmates should that be asked of him.
Partnered with these traits, Riverpaw is nothing if not a perfectionist; he holds himself and others to the same perfect, unrealistic standards. Even he himself cannot live up to his own lofty expectations, and yet, despite that, he works harder than most to achieve this. And should anyone fail to be the best he imagines them to be, well, he is none too shy about voicing his own criticisms and judgments. In short, he expects far too much of his siblings, his Clan, and himself, always seems discontent about it.
History
The night of Riverkit and Creek-kit’s conception was a long and dreary one; marked by the drone of a late spring storm, both brother’s wails were drowned by the distant crashes and booms of thunder. To their mother, a firm believer in StarClan and a renowned warrior just the same, the storm boded not as an ill omen, but a blessing, and as she drew her sons close to her, she gave them each a name to bode them well into adulthood. Her firstborn son she named after the fast-flowing river that fed into the sea, hoping the strength embedded in it would follow him well into adulthood, while to her other son—significantly smaller in comparison to his brother, who was already large and well-built—she named after the slower moving creek. Both healthy, neither she nor her mate doubted they’d thrive, and thrive they did—or, at least… Riverkit did.
From an early age, Riverkit remembers only praise and confidence voiced about himself. He was always outperforming his denmates, always striving for perfection—in his parents' eyes they could not have asked for a better son, and so, whether unintentionally or not, they thrust the bulk of their expectations onto him. And so he shouldered the weight of them to the best of his abilities, and in the beginning, it was a simple enough task—garnering a throaty purr of approval or an encouraging lick between his ears. But with time, their attention dwindled, and it seemed nothing he did was enough to get their attention. Even when he practiced his battle moves until his muscles ached, it did nothing to turn their eye, and steadily he was no longer the focal point of his parents’ lives.
And what, you may ask, had absorbed their attention? Why, his younger brother Creek-kit, of all things.
Always the smaller of the two, the quieter and more introverted, where Riverkit was bold and outgoing, Creek-kit was nothing not meek. He always seemed to keep to himself, preferring his own company over that of even his brother. He never played, rarely spoke, and when confronted, always seemed more willing to tuck his tail and flee than meet the challenge head-on. To Riverkit, his brother was nothing but a burden. He was weak, and though Riverkit looked out for him to the best of his ability—more so to appease his worrisome parents than any sort of innate compassion—he never did come to love him or see him as anything but.
If only his parents had shared the same sentiment.
The pair were insistent. Thinking their son needed the additional guidance and support to find the confidence he so clearly lacked, they spent every waking hour—or at least, so it seemed to Riverkit—prattling after their lesser son. Of course, no amount of doting was enough for Creek-kit, and as the two grew older, his brother never did seem to improve, much to the chagrin of their parents and Riverkit’s own annoyance.
Feeling himself unjustly ignored for a lost cause, Riverkit steadily grew less accommodating of his brother. Should he ever happen to slip up, Riverkit was none too shy bringing it to the attention of their peers, and on the off chance the two would ever be left alone his words only grew crueler still. In this way and many other ways, Riverkit only succeeded at furthering Creek-kit’s condition, taking every opportunity to torment and terrorize his brother under the guise of play and good fun. It was something not even his parents took much notice of, but then, they took note of very little when it came to him, something he used to his advantage without restraint.
As apprentices, the two’s paths quickly diverged. Riverpaw finally found the attention he so desperately craved in his mentor and applied himself accordingly. His days were soon filled to the brim with training, and when he wasn’t trailing after his mentor, listening intently and acting out battle and hunting techniques, he was training on his own. But his own high standards made things only harder for himself, as he often pushed himself to the point of breaking. To many, it was a wonder how he never did injure himself—of course, there were still many near-misses. Yet, despite the risks, despite the near-misses and nightly pains, he was determined to make a name for himself and earn the recognition he felt he rightly deserved.
In that time, his relationship with his brother only continued to fester. Gradually, he grew almost openly scornful of Creekpaw, though he insisted he was only rude and criticizing in an attempt to make his brother try harder. Such treatment led to the already massive rift between them to grow even further, and Riverpaw felt nothing but embarrassed when other cats mentioned that he was related to such a weak-bodied cat. And while he never admitted it aloud, he knew as well as his brother did that he was humiliated to be related to him.
Even so, the thought only seems to push him further, and while he has no intention of rekindling the bond between them, he does to some extent wish for his brother to improve—for his own sake more than anything.
From an early age, Riverkit remembers only praise and confidence voiced about himself. He was always outperforming his denmates, always striving for perfection—in his parents' eyes they could not have asked for a better son, and so, whether unintentionally or not, they thrust the bulk of their expectations onto him. And so he shouldered the weight of them to the best of his abilities, and in the beginning, it was a simple enough task—garnering a throaty purr of approval or an encouraging lick between his ears. But with time, their attention dwindled, and it seemed nothing he did was enough to get their attention. Even when he practiced his battle moves until his muscles ached, it did nothing to turn their eye, and steadily he was no longer the focal point of his parents’ lives.
And what, you may ask, had absorbed their attention? Why, his younger brother Creek-kit, of all things.
Always the smaller of the two, the quieter and more introverted, where Riverkit was bold and outgoing, Creek-kit was nothing not meek. He always seemed to keep to himself, preferring his own company over that of even his brother. He never played, rarely spoke, and when confronted, always seemed more willing to tuck his tail and flee than meet the challenge head-on. To Riverkit, his brother was nothing but a burden. He was weak, and though Riverkit looked out for him to the best of his ability—more so to appease his worrisome parents than any sort of innate compassion—he never did come to love him or see him as anything but.
If only his parents had shared the same sentiment.
The pair were insistent. Thinking their son needed the additional guidance and support to find the confidence he so clearly lacked, they spent every waking hour—or at least, so it seemed to Riverkit—prattling after their lesser son. Of course, no amount of doting was enough for Creek-kit, and as the two grew older, his brother never did seem to improve, much to the chagrin of their parents and Riverkit’s own annoyance.
Feeling himself unjustly ignored for a lost cause, Riverkit steadily grew less accommodating of his brother. Should he ever happen to slip up, Riverkit was none too shy bringing it to the attention of their peers, and on the off chance the two would ever be left alone his words only grew crueler still. In this way and many other ways, Riverkit only succeeded at furthering Creek-kit’s condition, taking every opportunity to torment and terrorize his brother under the guise of play and good fun. It was something not even his parents took much notice of, but then, they took note of very little when it came to him, something he used to his advantage without restraint.
As apprentices, the two’s paths quickly diverged. Riverpaw finally found the attention he so desperately craved in his mentor and applied himself accordingly. His days were soon filled to the brim with training, and when he wasn’t trailing after his mentor, listening intently and acting out battle and hunting techniques, he was training on his own. But his own high standards made things only harder for himself, as he often pushed himself to the point of breaking. To many, it was a wonder how he never did injure himself—of course, there were still many near-misses. Yet, despite the risks, despite the near-misses and nightly pains, he was determined to make a name for himself and earn the recognition he felt he rightly deserved.
In that time, his relationship with his brother only continued to fester. Gradually, he grew almost openly scornful of Creekpaw, though he insisted he was only rude and criticizing in an attempt to make his brother try harder. Such treatment led to the already massive rift between them to grow even further, and Riverpaw felt nothing but embarrassed when other cats mentioned that he was related to such a weak-bodied cat. And while he never admitted it aloud, he knew as well as his brother did that he was humiliated to be related to him.
Even so, the thought only seems to push him further, and while he has no intention of rekindling the bond between them, he does to some extent wish for his brother to improve—for his own sake more than anything.
