Post by Kai on Oct 18, 2019 22:05:11 GMT -6
STAGPAW
REDWOODCLAN
a large, long-haired brown tabby with hazel eyes
apprentice
tom
six months
Appearance
Gentle the soft reach of fine hairs gathered within such volume almost no conclusion may be found, parting the loose top strands until beneath the thickness of lower coat is situated. Mottled the shadings laid atop, how the notes of brown wound about one another, deepening each hue until indistinguishable each in turn. Darkness stretches forth along spine, encases the plumed length of his tail as forth it is drawn along his sides, fading into a deep brown speckled with the lightness of hidden undercoat. Loose is the light ring adorning throat, reaching down along chest and belly, a rich colour marked with slightly darker speckles. Broken apart and a near shade that is engulfed within the surrounding thick are the stripes cutting along each leg though distinct is their lack on his tail.
Beneath the plush covering none may dispute he is one of a great size, though assisted such by the coat itself. Time has seen some of the baby fat clinging to broad frame melt away, the increased physical activity honing the built up muscle taking its place, yet even this time of transition is a mere hint of the future drawing closer with each passing day. No matter how fat and muscle lay atop there is a clear broad set to chest, grown deep as it tapers off into wide set hips. Though there is no real length to legs that can be deemed stubby the built up of muscle upon them is well suited to strength, heavy and wide the paws in which they end, dark the pads decorating each.
Of little note the softness of gently rounded features, the high slope of his forehead leading into the short jut of a rounded muzzle. Indeed here too weight clings, the accumulation of baby fat not yet lost softening it all, though from a frontal view there is a somewhat squashed look to his overall face. White clings to his chin and rises up along the inner seam of his whisker pads where they met his nose, fading away into a ring of light brown ringed in the lengthy, dropping extension of pale whiskers. Dark his features for about the soft planes here is where the stripes of a tabby is most noticeable until the dark brown cut along his forehead and cheeks, dissecting the lighter base it is set upon.
Ringed by white against the darkness of the muddled browns of his body arresting the depths of pale colour. About the vertical slit of his pupil a light green accumulates in a broken wash of colour, fading into a pale yellow as it reaches the midway point.
Beneath the plush covering none may dispute he is one of a great size, though assisted such by the coat itself. Time has seen some of the baby fat clinging to broad frame melt away, the increased physical activity honing the built up muscle taking its place, yet even this time of transition is a mere hint of the future drawing closer with each passing day. No matter how fat and muscle lay atop there is a clear broad set to chest, grown deep as it tapers off into wide set hips. Though there is no real length to legs that can be deemed stubby the built up of muscle upon them is well suited to strength, heavy and wide the paws in which they end, dark the pads decorating each.
Of little note the softness of gently rounded features, the high slope of his forehead leading into the short jut of a rounded muzzle. Indeed here too weight clings, the accumulation of baby fat not yet lost softening it all, though from a frontal view there is a somewhat squashed look to his overall face. White clings to his chin and rises up along the inner seam of his whisker pads where they met his nose, fading away into a ring of light brown ringed in the lengthy, dropping extension of pale whiskers. Dark his features for about the soft planes here is where the stripes of a tabby is most noticeable until the dark brown cut along his forehead and cheeks, dissecting the lighter base it is set upon.
Ringed by white against the darkness of the muddled browns of his body arresting the depths of pale colour. About the vertical slit of his pupil a light green accumulates in a broken wash of colour, fading into a pale yellow as it reaches the midway point.
Personality
For those who have come to establish a connection with him in the time of his youth stark is the dramatic shift of demeanor, the mere hints of what was once present overlaying the budding growth of well buried issues.
Ever striving to improve his image within the eyes of others it is by no means a stretch to call Stagpaw a people-pleaser even if the direct out come may directly hinder him in some fashion, ever conscious of the opinions others may hold of him, the nagging sense he is acting in a fashion that is wrong at the core of his thoughts. In a way such goes rather poorly with the fact he may be viewed as somewhat of a perfectionist, though to others it may simply be he is a dedicated worker striving for the best outcomes, such outlooks leading him to forgo personal care in favour of completing a task to the lofty heights of unobtainable results.
From the days of his youth instilled in him was a quiet sense of wonder which has translated rather well to an astute sense of the world and people around him, soothing his words and quick his mind in a fashion he is best suited to a speaking role. Yet, for all of this, it is all too clear he is happy to reduce himself to the laughing stock for others pleasure. To a near fault he is agreeable with no true care for his own personal health if another asks or expects something of him, seemingly from his vocabulary has words of refusal been stripped.
No matter the fashion in which he conducts himself there is issue present, always something upon which he may be judged, a deep-rooted issue a self critical view of himself that has come to stem from a near overwhelming sense of anxiety that has shaped his thoughts with fear of outright rejection. It may well be easy to deem all of this the reason he is rather prone to seeking others, wanting their attention but incapable of holding it for a length of time, going out of his way to perform acts that put himself in danger though the eyes upon him make his skin crawl.
A contradiction is he in many ways, the soft spoken fashion in which he conducts himself in private moments bellying a delicate sense of wonder, a fragmented, broken thing he clings to with single minded hope it may once more be cultivated in later years, unfit when one takes into consideration how he appears within the eye of the public. Possibly, in time, the falsehood of this dare devil ever pushing the boundaries with a vein hope he may be noticed can be put aside, shown the sweet and naive child still beneath.
Ever striving to improve his image within the eyes of others it is by no means a stretch to call Stagpaw a people-pleaser even if the direct out come may directly hinder him in some fashion, ever conscious of the opinions others may hold of him, the nagging sense he is acting in a fashion that is wrong at the core of his thoughts. In a way such goes rather poorly with the fact he may be viewed as somewhat of a perfectionist, though to others it may simply be he is a dedicated worker striving for the best outcomes, such outlooks leading him to forgo personal care in favour of completing a task to the lofty heights of unobtainable results.
From the days of his youth instilled in him was a quiet sense of wonder which has translated rather well to an astute sense of the world and people around him, soothing his words and quick his mind in a fashion he is best suited to a speaking role. Yet, for all of this, it is all too clear he is happy to reduce himself to the laughing stock for others pleasure. To a near fault he is agreeable with no true care for his own personal health if another asks or expects something of him, seemingly from his vocabulary has words of refusal been stripped.
No matter the fashion in which he conducts himself there is issue present, always something upon which he may be judged, a deep-rooted issue a self critical view of himself that has come to stem from a near overwhelming sense of anxiety that has shaped his thoughts with fear of outright rejection. It may well be easy to deem all of this the reason he is rather prone to seeking others, wanting their attention but incapable of holding it for a length of time, going out of his way to perform acts that put himself in danger though the eyes upon him make his skin crawl.
A contradiction is he in many ways, the soft spoken fashion in which he conducts himself in private moments bellying a delicate sense of wonder, a fragmented, broken thing he clings to with single minded hope it may once more be cultivated in later years, unfit when one takes into consideration how he appears within the eye of the public. Possibly, in time, the falsehood of this dare devil ever pushing the boundaries with a vein hope he may be noticed can be put aside, shown the sweet and naive child still beneath.
History
None present during impromptu discussion, unwilling each witness to drivel grown mindless and dull as the days wore on offering nought but well tread argument that circled back upon itself as the hour drew to its end, may discount the preparation or thought put forth. Rather, at fault may well have been their dawdling fashion, how their feet dragged in the sand on the matter until a mere pipe dream had grown the possibility of extending the boards of their family further.
Muddled within tear soaked memory that which encircled the final discussion, breathed into thread bare notion a new spark of life, enough aside cast the harsh beat of uncertainty.
She had known there was to be no ease, had weathered the sharp rise of stuttering cries that had painted the air when each contraction had struck, the splintering crack of soon discarded stick casting a gnawing worry about her thundering heart. No matter the softness of her tone, how she spoke of the elation washing away the budding sense of dread worn about slumped shoulders, there was nothing that might sooth the thunderous beat pressing an imprint into her aching ribs. Within her periphery Dusknose had lingered, a living shadow the fragile frame of another, unconscious the tap of paws, about each sudden strike a puff of dust arising.Within the dry confinement of her throat caught words of comfort, broken the stuttering groan forced through clenched teeth.
Loose the formation of seconds, barely felt their passing as the ebb of agony slowly faded, assisted by the dark point of seeds mixed within a leafy mix of flora pressed to crackled lips. Though they spoke of what had happened, animated in a fashion that drew a quiet, shaky laugh from the exhausted queen, Russetclaw knew only the accumulated gloom gathered in a thick haze of shade spoke of the passage of time. Strange was the sensation of paws pressing into her stomach, the pull on her skin as each nursed, broken the soft sounds of their meal by quiet squeaks.
"Should we... name them?" A quiet unease wound about her soft voice, pleading the gaze lifted to the two coiled about her, loose the entanglement of limbs where Dusknose filled the space before her, familiar the heat and gentle weight of Acornfall where his chin pressed lightly into her shoulder. Almost amusing had grown the situation, a mere surrogate the one that offered the rasping rumble of a purr caught in the thickness of her coat, a slight, warm presence she longed for when he was lacking, affection bright in his eyes as he looked upon each kitten in turn.
"Are you sure you're ready?"
Constricting the tight passage of her throat, broken the utterance of gentle sound arising upon the curl of tongue, abandoned futile attempts for the mere incline of her head. There was to be no ease from the echoing pain caught about her chest, the soft song of agony and affection worn on her sleeve, but for just a moment Russetclaw indulged in the pulse of excitement warping soft words.
Late had grown the hour, time passing them in a slow trickle, the ease with which near identical kittens were gifted titles not present for the last. No matter the offerings put forth none fit in a fashion the three found they could agreed upon. Exhaustion tugged at the edge of her mind when it arose, dancing across the cracked surface of her lips, delicate the curl of hopeful smile pressed into the expanse of her muzzle.
The richness of brown woven through the ashen touched hues spoke of a resemblance unmistakable no matter how crown lacked the heft of branching bone.
A mere hint, a brush aside worry manifesting in a fashion none had expected. Implausible, surely, how they struggled with fitting him in among them, carving a place within the ever expanding borders of their family speaking of hardship merely awaiting the correct time. But almost it seemed such was the case and he was behind both his siblings, cruel the growth of worry.
Foolish to worry as to how his eyes did not open for nearly two weeks after his sisters, how his stumbling, unsure steps were made only as they found their footing more sure, comfortable where he curled against the warmth of his mother. Difficult to place blame on any, to think poorly of either mother or father who cared and dotted on Stagkit in the fashion they had once before when the eldest of their children had been but kittens, lost as those around them for what might cause such. Though she cared not to speak such in any way that may grow apparent to the kitten himself to those bystanders looking in almost easy was it to see how Russetclaw had grown to resent her son in a fashion both startling and disheartening even to the mother, the wide blue eyes slow in their darkening meeting hers with a light of pure innocence.
Had things been different possibly she may have stayed longer, did not depart the nursery with half formed excuses painting the air, unnecessary her present for well prepared the children she claimed to think of when it came their time to join the warriors. Had he been as his sisters were, prodding about on stubby legs voicing their joy in high pitched voices she may not have looked on her youngest son with disappointment, turning from him as quickly as she could.
Maybe, had she understood the problem lay with her and the refusal to face such, left Stagkit the one dealing with the repercussions.
"Are you ready?" Gentle the note of unease wound about lowered voice, shaky the slight curl barely registering as a smile, the comfort it was meant to portray a mockery.
No matter how his heart clenched with worry the kitten merely sat by and looked on, devoid the depths of light hazel of anything, though the manner of his speech did not match well. "Of course! I've wanted to be an apprentice for ages now and I know the others, they like me... I'll be fine, ma."
Hollow rang the words within his own ears, false the grin given brief life. There had been no ease within the span of months since the departure of Russetclaw and that which saw him lingering beside Dusknose with tepid excitement bubbling beneath the surface of his taunt skin. From around him had been torn the walls, familiar the weigh of facade hiding how he fretted and worried, sought a reasoning for the rejection that had cut his family seemingly in half. Yet caught behind his teeth the probing questions, small almost did he seem in those moments, wide hazel eyes finally taking on a trace of something.
Fear.
Muddled within tear soaked memory that which encircled the final discussion, breathed into thread bare notion a new spark of life, enough aside cast the harsh beat of uncertainty.
She had known there was to be no ease, had weathered the sharp rise of stuttering cries that had painted the air when each contraction had struck, the splintering crack of soon discarded stick casting a gnawing worry about her thundering heart. No matter the softness of her tone, how she spoke of the elation washing away the budding sense of dread worn about slumped shoulders, there was nothing that might sooth the thunderous beat pressing an imprint into her aching ribs. Within her periphery Dusknose had lingered, a living shadow the fragile frame of another, unconscious the tap of paws, about each sudden strike a puff of dust arising.Within the dry confinement of her throat caught words of comfort, broken the stuttering groan forced through clenched teeth.
Loose the formation of seconds, barely felt their passing as the ebb of agony slowly faded, assisted by the dark point of seeds mixed within a leafy mix of flora pressed to crackled lips. Though they spoke of what had happened, animated in a fashion that drew a quiet, shaky laugh from the exhausted queen, Russetclaw knew only the accumulated gloom gathered in a thick haze of shade spoke of the passage of time. Strange was the sensation of paws pressing into her stomach, the pull on her skin as each nursed, broken the soft sounds of their meal by quiet squeaks.
"Should we... name them?" A quiet unease wound about her soft voice, pleading the gaze lifted to the two coiled about her, loose the entanglement of limbs where Dusknose filled the space before her, familiar the heat and gentle weight of Acornfall where his chin pressed lightly into her shoulder. Almost amusing had grown the situation, a mere surrogate the one that offered the rasping rumble of a purr caught in the thickness of her coat, a slight, warm presence she longed for when he was lacking, affection bright in his eyes as he looked upon each kitten in turn.
"Are you sure you're ready?"
Constricting the tight passage of her throat, broken the utterance of gentle sound arising upon the curl of tongue, abandoned futile attempts for the mere incline of her head. There was to be no ease from the echoing pain caught about her chest, the soft song of agony and affection worn on her sleeve, but for just a moment Russetclaw indulged in the pulse of excitement warping soft words.
x - x - x
Stagkit.Late had grown the hour, time passing them in a slow trickle, the ease with which near identical kittens were gifted titles not present for the last. No matter the offerings put forth none fit in a fashion the three found they could agreed upon. Exhaustion tugged at the edge of her mind when it arose, dancing across the cracked surface of her lips, delicate the curl of hopeful smile pressed into the expanse of her muzzle.
The richness of brown woven through the ashen touched hues spoke of a resemblance unmistakable no matter how crown lacked the heft of branching bone.
A mere hint, a brush aside worry manifesting in a fashion none had expected. Implausible, surely, how they struggled with fitting him in among them, carving a place within the ever expanding borders of their family speaking of hardship merely awaiting the correct time. But almost it seemed such was the case and he was behind both his siblings, cruel the growth of worry.
Foolish to worry as to how his eyes did not open for nearly two weeks after his sisters, how his stumbling, unsure steps were made only as they found their footing more sure, comfortable where he curled against the warmth of his mother. Difficult to place blame on any, to think poorly of either mother or father who cared and dotted on Stagkit in the fashion they had once before when the eldest of their children had been but kittens, lost as those around them for what might cause such. Though she cared not to speak such in any way that may grow apparent to the kitten himself to those bystanders looking in almost easy was it to see how Russetclaw had grown to resent her son in a fashion both startling and disheartening even to the mother, the wide blue eyes slow in their darkening meeting hers with a light of pure innocence.
Had things been different possibly she may have stayed longer, did not depart the nursery with half formed excuses painting the air, unnecessary her present for well prepared the children she claimed to think of when it came their time to join the warriors. Had he been as his sisters were, prodding about on stubby legs voicing their joy in high pitched voices she may not have looked on her youngest son with disappointment, turning from him as quickly as she could.
Maybe, had she understood the problem lay with her and the refusal to face such, left Stagkit the one dealing with the repercussions.
x - x - x
"Are you ready?" Gentle the note of unease wound about lowered voice, shaky the slight curl barely registering as a smile, the comfort it was meant to portray a mockery.
No matter how his heart clenched with worry the kitten merely sat by and looked on, devoid the depths of light hazel of anything, though the manner of his speech did not match well. "Of course! I've wanted to be an apprentice for ages now and I know the others, they like me... I'll be fine, ma."
Hollow rang the words within his own ears, false the grin given brief life. There had been no ease within the span of months since the departure of Russetclaw and that which saw him lingering beside Dusknose with tepid excitement bubbling beneath the surface of his taunt skin. From around him had been torn the walls, familiar the weigh of facade hiding how he fretted and worried, sought a reasoning for the rejection that had cut his family seemingly in half. Yet caught behind his teeth the probing questions, small almost did he seem in those moments, wide hazel eyes finally taking on a trace of something.
Fear.
