slender blue siamese tom with pale mint-green eyes

Paleflight is a tom who moves purposefully. Deliberately, as if he knows exactly what he needs to do. His head is high, his shoulders back. A proud posture no doubt - and Paleflight is proud of his Lichenclan heritage. It's rare to find the tom slouching or curled over, unless he's sick or extremely tired. A highly observant cat, the tom's eyes are always open and assessing, examining other cats. Perhaps he is judging you, perhaps not. When you look at Paleflight, his pelt is a dead giveaway what clan he comes from. Lichenclan, of course. He embodies every physical trait. With a svelte build, lightweight bodice, and his fine pale coat, it seems as if Paletide was born to be in Lichenclan all along. The description is rather simple. Most of the tom's coat is a pale dusty cream color that occasionally mixes with dove grey hues. Save for a mask on his face, four paws, and his tail, which take on a darker greyish tone. His fur appears to cling to his frame rather tightly, giving him a much thinner appearance than usual. It's as if he's never had a proper meal in his life. In general, his coat is well-kept, sleek and smooth to the touch like the scales of a fish. Paleflight's coat hides muscle, especially around his haunches and legs, strengthened by moons of running and swimming during training. His face is indeed rather angular, narrowing from his crown to his maw. His muzzle is pronounced and eyes sharp. Large ears protrude each side of his scalp. His face is, for the most part, much darker than the rest of his body. There is a brown-gray hue to it, misting gently over his face before fading into the usual creamy color of his body. 

Paleflight has a smooth voice, and speaks in regal, languid tones, carefully enunciating each word as clearly as possible.

Devoted/Religious - Much like his parents before him, Paleflight's loyalties lie with Lichenclan and the starry ancestors to which they preach. Not for one second will he allow his faith to falter, as he believes that a departure from Their will could lead to consequences. Feeling somewhat disappointed and saddened at the disorder currently plaguing the clan, he believes that Starclan and Minnowstar will bring those who have strayed from their path and bring them back. He is very familiar with how those who lack faith in Starclan are punished, and truthfully, he doesn't want to see anyone go down that path. A part of his time alone is spent in quiet prayer and introspection, examining himself for sin. 

Calculating Among the many ways to describe Lichenclan, political is a no-brainer. A clear line is drawn between how one presents onself, and how one really is. Every cat has something to hide, and it should not always be taken seriously when they smile in your face. Instead of talking himself into a corner, Paleflight prefers to listen and observe. Making small notes to himself, small tidbits of information that he can mull over later. Life is a chess board with each move precise and planned out. His teachings under his mentor, Vipercloud, have taught him to pick out slight nuances and political knots. Thinking before he speaks could be a literal star-sent gift in many cases, as it allows him to get the whole picture before putting in his two cents. He picks his words carefully, making sure he can put it out in a way that sways his audience where he choses. This doesn't mean he's openly dishonest; Paleflight doesn't enjoy telling an outright lie, but part of his vocabulary includes white-lies. 

Distant Paleflight isn't a social cat, and in fact, he claims that being in a crowd can feel suffocating. Loud noises bother him, and when around a large group of cats, it's difficult to think straight. He prefers to be alone with his brooding thoughts. Having felt adrift after the loss of his mother and two siblings, he has also developed a cynical and dry viewpoint on the clan and their starry ancestors. He is aware that not all cats are as religious as they claim, deny it as they will. It is easier for him to shut other cats out than to allow them to pry into his personal life. At gatherings, he will only associate with those of his own clan. 

Ruthless/Callous Paleflight is not exactly the kindest individual, and won't even try to be nice when displeased. He has a bitter temper, which combined with his cynicism, makes him rather harsh at times. He is the first to, usually sarcastically, offer criticism. Apart from friends and those he has known for a long time, it's ill-advised you go to this tom if you need help or advice. He doesn't like strangers. And should Lichenclan ever be danger, Paleflight will go to shocking lengths to re-insure its safety. He has a somewhat frightening tendency to turn to aggression in order to achieve his goals, whether its uncalled for or not. In battle, he goes for the best way to hinder or disable his opponent. He allows himself the thrill of ferocity and brutality, giving his opponent grievous wounds when outright killing them isn't an option. He sees his actions as necessary in order to do his job and ensure stability and efficiency within Lichenclan. 

Paleflight's father, Crickestride, and mother, Pebblewind, were two esteemed warriors of Lichenclan, devout and pious. From the moment Palekit was born, it seemed as if his fate had been decided for him and his siblings. His parents toiled by day and prayed by night, all in the service of their leader Minnowstar, under who's reign he has spent his entire life. Palekit was born with two younger brothers, Shiverkit who inherited his mother's alabaster colors and golden eyes, and Scalekit, who was nearly identical to their father with the blue points on his face. In essence, they were no different from an average Lichenclan family. The three brothers were thick as thieves, and partners in crime. But while his brother, Shiverkit, was mostly troublemakers that got under everyone's paws, Scalekit was confined to the nursery. Why? Because the tom was constantly sick. When one illness abated, another one would spring up within the moon. The tom never had it easy, and it worried Pebblewind and Palekit sick. Even now, in his warrior years, Palekit could remember how his mother sobbed through prayer each night, begging Starclan to allow her son to live just one more day. Nothing Cricketstride said would hide the grief that shrouded their family like a shadow. He broke the news in veiled sentences that revealed more than it hid, in broken sentences. But it was obvious. Both Cricketstride and Pebblewind were afraid that the runt wasn't going to make it. He remembered the medicine cat visiting too, imploring them for a stronger faith and assuring the parents that as long as they remained faithful and in Starclan's good graces, Scalekit would soon recover. And not just them had to remain faithful, but their kits as well. But Palekit's worrying did not abate when their third moon around. In fact, the mystical pool looked rather daunting, and he couldn't help his mewl of fear as the medicine cat lifted him up gently by the scruff. 'For Scalekit' The male promised to himself, imagining a future where his youngest brother could be as lively as he. Well, if the resulting cold didn't kill him first. 'For Scalekit' The plunge was quick, just a brief few moments of the holy water embracing him with its cold fingers. He was jerked, sputtering water and flailing comically to a few odd chuckles, and set aside. Oh Starclan above, he was freezing! Shiverkit went next with a hilarious squeal of shock as he went under. But all sense of laughter died when Scalekit was handed over by his mother for his baptism. The tom was coughing and shivering with nerves as he approached the pool. The water had been so cold, what would it do to the kit's deteriorating condition. Would he get sicker? He must have let out an audible gasp when Scalekit went under because the medicine cat turned around to face him with a solemn gaze. And the pointed tom would never forget what she said. "Starclan determines those that are worthy." Cinderface intoned, "If he continues to sicken, that is starclan's will." Scalekit thrashed like a fish out of water. It wasn't until after the ceremony was dismissed, after their mother had retrieved all three in the litter and left that Palekit realized that Shiverkit was walking stiffly, his claws scratching stone as he stormed out. Things were never quite the same after that. Obviously disturbed by the ceremony, Shiverkit became stony and antisocial. What was once a warm relationship between the two brothers descended into fighting and bitterness. They were driven apart like water around stones. Palekit did approach his brother a few times, but their interactions were never friendly. Shiverkit even went so far to deal a stinging blow to Palekit's face on one occasion. The tom was shocked and hurt. Was this what happened when cats lost faith in their ancestors? Did love and warmth curdle sourly in the breast without Starclan's divine will to guide them? Was this the fate that would befall all who lacked faith? He was left in an anxious fret, pacing back and forth. He would often stay up at night to pray to Starclan, eager to demonstrate his piety. Palekit would often speak in hushed, worried tones to Scalekit, visiting the young tom in the medicine den, somewhat overprotective.

When Palekit turned 6 moons old, he was given the name Palepaw. His mentor, Vipercloud, was a cunning and calculating warrior of Lichenclan, and a loyalist at that. Her smile never reached her cold sage-green eyes. The way she treated him was venomously sweet, subtly preying upon his weak spot for his brother. However, if he thought her training method was gentle, he was wrong. She pushed him hard and set high expectations. In fact, Palepaw was so busy that he hardly had time to check in with Shiverpaw and Scalepaw, who was finally apprenticed after eight moons. Every night, Palepaw collapsed in his nest, his bones aching and mind foggy from fatigue. Even if Palepaw did well, he didn't get to take the rest of the day off. Vipercloud trained him from sunrise to sundown. It didn't help matters that his relationship with Shiverpaw, who was only just hiding his disillusionment with the clan's tyrannical environment at bay, didn't improve in the slightest. No matter how many times he pleaded with his brother to pray and repent, the white tom's decision didn't change. This wasn't the clan that Pebblewind had told them about. Starclan wasn't benevolent, it was callous. Even if they were faithful, that did not mean they were worthy. Wasn't that what the medicine cat said? Several weeks later, in the first breaths of leafbare, the breaking point came. A bout of greencough ailed the clan. Most unsurprisingly, Scalepaw became sick. Against better judgement and Cricketstride urging his mate against it, Pebblewind elected to stay with her youngest son. The medicine cat was reasonably optimistic at first, saying that Scalepaw would recover eventually. But that never happened, and by the end of the moon, the young tom walked with his ancestors. Palepaw's mother, his secret-keeper, the cat who had supported him from day one, was not much better off. She grew weaker by the day, presumably from sadness, and eventually, when she passed away two moons later, her sons were devastated. Her death rubbed off especially hard on Shiverpaw, who became convinced that Starclan had forsaken his family for good. Both cats were quite close to warrior age, having nearly completed their training. The next morning, Vipercloud came to speak with him. Through her words, he felt some of his pain turn into a dull acceptance. Pebblewind and Scalepaw were weak. They were suffering, and as such, death should have been expected. They were not worth of Starclan's glory. 'There was nothing you could have done.' Vipercloud said quietly. 'This is the price one will pay for a fall from grace. Don't dwell on it.' Love is weakness, she'd taught him. Emotions are something that can be taken advantage of. This was a message that Palepaw had been unable to absorb his entire life, but in the wake of the deaths of his mother and brother, he could see it. Not everybody was worthy, and those that weren't were culled. And those that lacked faith in Starclan? He was convinced they were doomed, and beyond redemption.

Throwing himself into his training, Palepaw recieved his warrior name: Paleflight, for his agility, powerful running abilities and decisive battling skill. But Shiverpaw refused to accept his name (Shiverswoop). Much to Paleflight's grim dismay, he publicly denounced the clan, saying that in his eyes, he saw a fall from grace. Turning to face his brother, teeth bared, he dared the tom to stop him from leaving. But the tom would do no such thing. With a bitter gleam in his eye and hackles high, he bid his brother goodbye forever. "You have driven yourself to this path. brother. Now, starclan can no longer guide your path. You no longer belong here. Go now." And Paleflight watched as his brother passed through the camp entrance and out of his life forever. The siamese tom spent a long night in the Mooncave, submerged in the pool from toe to crown, grievingly confessing his sins before his hallowed ancestors. As a warrior, Paleflight is highly devout to starclan, and to the current Minnowstar reign. He doesn't want to see the clan fall apart, and believes only starclan's holy word will bring them back the peace they deserve.