Stormswoop

Thistleclan

a muscular, handsome tuxedo tom with pale hazel eyes

A native of the pines by coloration and shape, the tom boasts a muscled frame and strong bones. As is the right of the firstborn tom his coat gleams with health, and despite being crafted in his gentle mother's likeness, he shares the good breeding of his father. After all, the tom is nothing if not luxurious. Silken locks drape over his muscles, a sea of inky black only broken by the center of his chest, tail-tip and paws. Conscious of his appearance, the tuxedo's pelt is well-maintained at all times, attended by a steady tongue and patient washing. Long whiskers curl elegantly away from the ebony mask of his face, as thin and soft as spider webs. Formidable in hue as well as frame, the tom's substantial ego is aptly matched by his veritable height. He towers over most of his clanmates, and not just over their shoulders. This is a feeling enhanced by the lofted chin and panther-cadence Stormswoop uses, the pattern drilled into him having become muscle memory. But along the aristocratic slope of his shoulders are the scars and marred flesh that comes with a lifetime of fighting and drilling, signs that he does not lead the sheltered life most think he does.

There is often a fine line between those who know Stormswoop well enough to see past all the walls he has put up in his psyche, and those who don't. He knows how to keep up appearances, with tricks and silky words providing ample distraction. The tom seeks out attention and validation constantly, and he knows how best to get it. He is comfortable in large social groups, and with a charming laugh, it's hard not to like him at first. A people-pleaser at heart, he has a strong drive towards working hard and achieving a goal. Not unlike his brother, in fact. The black tom has a strong nationalistic backbone. He believes that despite all of the hardships Thistleclan has endured, that it has the potential to be great again; such is its right as the ruler of the needle-pines. The black tom is also quick to the uptake, responding to situations with spontaneous but calculated grace.

By virtue of his upbringing, Stormswoop is a cat with a lot of egocentric pride. He is readily assured of his self-worth and his place within the clan. In particular, the black tom believes his opinion is correct, and struggles to take feedback. He would rather solve a problem alone then have to dally for the sake of others. Once he loses his patience, he is dismissive at best, and curt at worst. Once his mind is set on a task, he stays on it relentlessly regardless of obstacles in his way. His headstrong nature is just one of many aspects that can make him unpopular with others. Stormswoop is also a surprisingly temperamental cat, body language readily conveying how he feels even as he tries to conceal it. He has a long fuse, but when his temper does display itself, it is a wonder to behold. Claws and fangs lash the open air, coupled with words that batter and bruise.

Despite his easygoing demeanor and smooth words, Stormswoop is filled with doubt, a mistrust of others and even himself. Having grown up on the dichotomy between having nothing and having everything, he is often insecure and possessive over what he has. His behavior stems from the fear that due to the conditional nature of love, those he loves will inevitably abandon him when he is no longer useful. He has a fear of not being needed or useful. When he advocates himself, his self-critic is harsh and his view of others shallow. Similarly to how he seems himself, he sees other only by their usefulness to him. Anything else below, he doesn't care to find out, because attachment can only lend itself to disappointment in the end.

Born during the ravages of a greenleaf storm, Stormkit and his brother Shadekit were the two survivors of a disastrous kitting. Though their litter had originally been one of four in the womb, two of the kits which Shadowfrost bore drew their last breath air before the queen could even name them. Gazing down upon