Post by sloth on Apr 18, 2021 18:47:45 GMT -6
Clovershade
Redwoodclan
Petite, short-haired calico molly with green eyes
warrior
she-cat
39 moons
Appearance
Clovershade is a petite she-cat with a small frame and lithe features. Her swift movements are naturally silent and thanks to her slim size she's become quite stealthy. She has short limbs with small feet that help her move quickly in short bursts though she can become exhausted quickly if she over exerts herself. Most of Clovershade's muscling runs along her legs making her an apt climber and sprinter. Her light weight and strong back limbs make her quick and nimble at the tops of trees however she does her best to avoid swimming for fear of being swept away by an unexpected current.
Clovershade's tortoiseshell body is covered in roughly forty percent white fur that is peppered throughout her pelt. It starts at her toes and travels up across all four paws to end about halfway up her legs. There is a white speck left center of her forehead that snakes its way down to her cheek and jaw before widening to encompass her chest and stomach while the rest of her frame is marbled with orange and black fur. Her pelt is short yet dense to the touch, giving her a surprising amount of warmth in the colder moons that sheds out in the warmth of newleaf to prepare for the heat of greenleaf.
A round face completes Clovershade's look and regardless of her unique patterned fur she is unfortunately easily forgettable to most. Short white whiskers frame her cheeks with stump, round ears topping her forehead. The most notable of features are her green eyes, mostly due to their ability to express her emotions so blatantly. Often they are dull and pointed down but in her rare moments of excitement or happiness they seem to glow with an inner fire few have seen.
Clovershade's tortoiseshell body is covered in roughly forty percent white fur that is peppered throughout her pelt. It starts at her toes and travels up across all four paws to end about halfway up her legs. There is a white speck left center of her forehead that snakes its way down to her cheek and jaw before widening to encompass her chest and stomach while the rest of her frame is marbled with orange and black fur. Her pelt is short yet dense to the touch, giving her a surprising amount of warmth in the colder moons that sheds out in the warmth of newleaf to prepare for the heat of greenleaf.
A round face completes Clovershade's look and regardless of her unique patterned fur she is unfortunately easily forgettable to most. Short white whiskers frame her cheeks with stump, round ears topping her forehead. The most notable of features are her green eyes, mostly due to their ability to express her emotions so blatantly. Often they are dull and pointed down but in her rare moments of excitement or happiness they seem to glow with an inner fire few have seen.
Personality
Clovershade would rather do something alone than with others and isn't one to go looking for companionship. In group setting she is shy and uncomfortable when asked to give insight. She'd rather let someone else take the lead and follow behind and doesn't openly volunteer to lead patrols or assist with one-on-one training exercises. Her antisocial behavior and unwillingness to try new things has lead to a very closed off and lonely life for her. When she does feel the need to express herself or share her thoughts and ideas, there aren't many around to listen. This feeling of isolation only increases with her desire to stay out of the warrior den if at all possible due to how claustrophobic it can make her feel. As such the only true socialization she gets is from Pebblefoot and Thornfall or when she's on the occasional group patrol and someone forces her into a conversation.
Despite her unwillingness to be surrounded by others, Clovershade is instinctively charitable and kind. She has the innate ability to sense when others are in need and will do what she can to improve moods or assist in hunts or patrols. Though she isn't one you would go to for advice, her silent support gives others a shoulder to lean on when they have none. Clovershade will let others go first before her and isn't one to complain when she has to give something up for the sake of another. This desire to give to others has its drawbacks however, as she has been known to be overly submissive to others with stronger and more forceful personalities.
Being raised in a traditional Redwoodclan family Clovershade knows how important it is to do one's duties. She is obedient and thoughtful, never one to go against the grain regardless of how others might feel about it. Unless something is openly against her morality she is content to listen to orders and follow them flawlessly.
History
It all started with a forward she-cat and a leader's son. Emberheart was a beam of light long before becoming a queen and Thornfall's tenacious ways always kept him going despite the deaths that pilled up around them throughout Lichenclan's relentless assaults. Even with the world darkening around them after the death of Heatherstar, Clovershade's parents could never seem to loose their grip on hope. It was with this ray of hope that Cloverkit and Tansykit came into the world.
As a kit Clovershade grew with the presence of both her parents, a commodity not every cat received when their clan was constantly attacked by another. As such her life of kithood played out relatively normal if not a little bland. She was happy to have her brother take the charge and follow along in his shadow as long as either Emberheart or Thornfall were close enough. Though war pulsed along the edges of her vision Cloverkit saw little of it, content to roll moss balls with her aunt or listen to her father's stories when he wasn't off fighting or training. It was easy to ignore the scars that formed on the warriors surrounding her when she had a warm body to snuggle up against and a belly full of milk.
She basked there in her mother's comfort as a kit, her whole realm of reality ever growing but always looping back to the embrace of Emberheart. Though Thornfall was less present in her life at that age, Cloverkit always watched him with an air of awe and found herself yearning to live up to his expectations. Though she was a descendent of Heatherstar she never found that quite as impressive as being compared to Thornfall; after all she'd never met the late leader and who could compare to the aura Thornfall possessed?
She was eager to become Cloverpaw and though it meant leaving her mother's side, the young molly walked with trembling paws towards her future. She took hold of her apprenticeship quickly, the desire to prove herself to her family and clan evident in her early morning training and diligent practice. That same hope that lead to her birth carried her that first moon of training and although her paws still stumbled over holes in the ground and tripped on exposed roots she felt a sliver of confidence take hold within herself and push her towards her goals.
A moon after her apprentice ceremony the camp erupted around her. A surprise attach from Lichenclan sent Redwoodclan reeling, scrambling to defend their home in the chaos of yowls and blood. Cloverpaw was completely overwhelmed by it all and stuck close to the apprentice den, too terrified to chase after the invaders and instead took up a defensive position. The battle was a blur and time seemed to stretch and shrink all at once until Lichenclan retreated and they were left to clean up what remained of their clan. Cloverpaw went in search of her parents only to find Thornfall as the only left standing.
At first she was confused, how could her mother be gone? This being that had always been there for her, supported her, looked out for her was there in a blink and gone in the next. A million regrets washed through Cloverpaw all at once, things she could have done differently if she'd been stronger. Braver. She felt lost and the deterioration of Thornfall's mental state only pushed Cloverpaw further within herself. If her strong, capable father could fall under the pressure what hope did she have to withstand it? Cloverpaw's hope had died with Emberheart and was now buried alongside her in a grave too deep to ever crawl out of.
She did the only thing she could do; shut the door.
Cloverpaw dove into her training with a desperate vigor, if she could focus on getting better maybe it would make her better too. She worked hard under the training of her mentor, Haretail and spent most of her time out in the territory. The camp began to feel too claustrophobic for Cloverpaw, the dens too narrow or stuffy and the tree branches felt like they pressed down on her. Tansypaw grew distant to her, his chaotic and brazen attitude confusing her and only alienated her further. She sought comfort in repetition; performing the same patrols and walking the same paths soothed her buzzing mind. If she kept busy it meant she was distracted enough to pass the day and exhaust herself so she could fall asleep quickly and ignore the press of the redwoods surrounding her.
It came as no surprise when she was announced a warrior at 12 moons. Her brother's blatant disregard for training had stunted him and she walked this new path alone. Her warrior vigil was a silent and lonely one and while the climb up the tree was easy Clovershade held little hope for her future as she contemplated what to do next. The sun rose on a new day and she was still left without answers. Her climb down into official warriorhood was a hard one.
Now Clovershade seems to go through the motions; she does patrols and will occasionally speak with her aunt but she's done little to open herself up to the world and its possibilities; content to stay wrapped up in a bubble no one can seem to break through.
As a kit Clovershade grew with the presence of both her parents, a commodity not every cat received when their clan was constantly attacked by another. As such her life of kithood played out relatively normal if not a little bland. She was happy to have her brother take the charge and follow along in his shadow as long as either Emberheart or Thornfall were close enough. Though war pulsed along the edges of her vision Cloverkit saw little of it, content to roll moss balls with her aunt or listen to her father's stories when he wasn't off fighting or training. It was easy to ignore the scars that formed on the warriors surrounding her when she had a warm body to snuggle up against and a belly full of milk.
She basked there in her mother's comfort as a kit, her whole realm of reality ever growing but always looping back to the embrace of Emberheart. Though Thornfall was less present in her life at that age, Cloverkit always watched him with an air of awe and found herself yearning to live up to his expectations. Though she was a descendent of Heatherstar she never found that quite as impressive as being compared to Thornfall; after all she'd never met the late leader and who could compare to the aura Thornfall possessed?
She was eager to become Cloverpaw and though it meant leaving her mother's side, the young molly walked with trembling paws towards her future. She took hold of her apprenticeship quickly, the desire to prove herself to her family and clan evident in her early morning training and diligent practice. That same hope that lead to her birth carried her that first moon of training and although her paws still stumbled over holes in the ground and tripped on exposed roots she felt a sliver of confidence take hold within herself and push her towards her goals.
A moon after her apprentice ceremony the camp erupted around her. A surprise attach from Lichenclan sent Redwoodclan reeling, scrambling to defend their home in the chaos of yowls and blood. Cloverpaw was completely overwhelmed by it all and stuck close to the apprentice den, too terrified to chase after the invaders and instead took up a defensive position. The battle was a blur and time seemed to stretch and shrink all at once until Lichenclan retreated and they were left to clean up what remained of their clan. Cloverpaw went in search of her parents only to find Thornfall as the only left standing.
At first she was confused, how could her mother be gone? This being that had always been there for her, supported her, looked out for her was there in a blink and gone in the next. A million regrets washed through Cloverpaw all at once, things she could have done differently if she'd been stronger. Braver. She felt lost and the deterioration of Thornfall's mental state only pushed Cloverpaw further within herself. If her strong, capable father could fall under the pressure what hope did she have to withstand it? Cloverpaw's hope had died with Emberheart and was now buried alongside her in a grave too deep to ever crawl out of.
She did the only thing she could do; shut the door.
Cloverpaw dove into her training with a desperate vigor, if she could focus on getting better maybe it would make her better too. She worked hard under the training of her mentor, Haretail and spent most of her time out in the territory. The camp began to feel too claustrophobic for Cloverpaw, the dens too narrow or stuffy and the tree branches felt like they pressed down on her. Tansypaw grew distant to her, his chaotic and brazen attitude confusing her and only alienated her further. She sought comfort in repetition; performing the same patrols and walking the same paths soothed her buzzing mind. If she kept busy it meant she was distracted enough to pass the day and exhaust herself so she could fall asleep quickly and ignore the press of the redwoods surrounding her.
It came as no surprise when she was announced a warrior at 12 moons. Her brother's blatant disregard for training had stunted him and she walked this new path alone. Her warrior vigil was a silent and lonely one and while the climb up the tree was easy Clovershade held little hope for her future as she contemplated what to do next. The sun rose on a new day and she was still left without answers. Her climb down into official warriorhood was a hard one.
Now Clovershade seems to go through the motions; she does patrols and will occasionally speak with her aunt but she's done little to open herself up to the world and its possibilities; content to stay wrapped up in a bubble no one can seem to break through.
