Post by Storm on May 28, 2022 23:50:42 GMT -6
HONEYBLAZE
REDWOODCLAN
curious flame-point tom with cerulean eyes
curious flame-point tom with cerulean eyes
warrior
tom
Twelve moons
Appearance
Large from birth, Honeyblaze is a typically formed Redwoodclan cat. Heavy muscles gained from genetics and honed from moons spent climbing every tree in range of his paws are packed onto a well formed, hulking rectangular frame. His front legs are thick and grounded by wide paws, his claws kept well sharp from his explorations. His rear legs are bulky, propelling him forward easily whatever the obstacle. From a distance he is intimidating, and it is necessary for an opponent to be wary of the strength he possesses.
He was born a pale cream, with his red inheritance barely evident on his limbs. Only his nose displayed the fiery point genes that would be his birth-mother’s gift to him. As he grew, his coat darkened at the traditional point areas to be a bright, blazing apricot and the fur along his spine matured to a more rich gold. His tail is a long and plumed, and put to good use in his tree climbing. Honeyblaze has a dense honeycomb colored base coat of long fur which in leaf-bare fills out to be positively cumbersome, but keeps him happily unbothered by the long cold moons. In Newleaf it thins out, making him look younger than his moons to match his energetic spirit. It is often mussed by shavings of tree bark, leaves or flower petals in Greenleaf and will smell of whatever flower patch he slept in the night prior.
Honeyblaze is, as his adoptive mother Dawnlight described him as a kit, adorable. He has a rounded face with a perfectly proportioned muzzle to show off his bright copper nose and whiskers that are always askew. The only place where his flame point markings coalesce into their tabby form is in the set of triangles that build upon each other over his eyes. Wide, rounded and a refreshing shade of blue, this tom’s eyes are reminiscent of clear pools of water on a hot Greenleaf day. His ears may be on the small side but they sit neatly on his head, his fur is pale and thin enough on the insides to betray the pink of his skin but a dark copper on the hoods.
He was born a pale cream, with his red inheritance barely evident on his limbs. Only his nose displayed the fiery point genes that would be his birth-mother’s gift to him. As he grew, his coat darkened at the traditional point areas to be a bright, blazing apricot and the fur along his spine matured to a more rich gold. His tail is a long and plumed, and put to good use in his tree climbing. Honeyblaze has a dense honeycomb colored base coat of long fur which in leaf-bare fills out to be positively cumbersome, but keeps him happily unbothered by the long cold moons. In Newleaf it thins out, making him look younger than his moons to match his energetic spirit. It is often mussed by shavings of tree bark, leaves or flower petals in Greenleaf and will smell of whatever flower patch he slept in the night prior.
Honeyblaze is, as his adoptive mother Dawnlight described him as a kit, adorable. He has a rounded face with a perfectly proportioned muzzle to show off his bright copper nose and whiskers that are always askew. The only place where his flame point markings coalesce into their tabby form is in the set of triangles that build upon each other over his eyes. Wide, rounded and a refreshing shade of blue, this tom’s eyes are reminiscent of clear pools of water on a hot Greenleaf day. His ears may be on the small side but they sit neatly on his head, his fur is pale and thin enough on the insides to betray the pink of his skin but a dark copper on the hoods.
Personality
ENDEARING – CURIOUS – DISTRACTABLE – UNAWARE – GOSSIP
Honeyblaze doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, nor a single cruel intention. This is clear to any cat that talks to him for more than a few moments, and often earns him the affection and trust of those that get to know him.
He is also curious to a fault, ready to explore and only too happy to go anywhere or do any new task if it means he might find out something new. There isn’t a tree within the clan’s borders that he hasn’t climbed, nor plant that he hasn’t learned the name of and what time of season it blooms. He loves to watch birds, for their behavior is hard to predict and he feels as though every day he sees them do something new. Plus, they are tasty.
This curiosity also means that Honeyblaze is so easily distracted from more important matters. Which can open him up to being manipulated by cats with nefarious or cruel purposes, for since Honeyblaze himself is sweet he has a hard time imagining that any other cat could not be.
Though technically grown up, Honeyblaze has had to face few hardships in life. He doesn’t quite understand the ramifications of his actions. Not for himself and certainly not for others, let alone the monumental forces that spin throughout the island.
Honeyblaze loves news. Any news. About anything. He loves to talk to his clan mates and learn what is going on with them, or anyone else! And he especially loves the attention he gets from others when he has news or gossip to share! He doesn’t do this with any malice, but he is blind to the impact of him spreading unwanted words about another cat could have.
History
The tale of Honeykit's creation is unfortunately neither simple nor happy. Ironic then, that the result would be such a sweet tom.
Friends from their youngest days, perhaps that is all that should ever have existed between Eveningsong and Rowanflame. But it was not to be. Eveningsong was by default a caring molly. Sympathetic to the woes of others and happy to lend an ear to their complaints, while keeping her own problems to herself. It was only natural then that the egoistic tom Rowanflame would turn to her often, and she never refused him time nor attention.
It all changed in their time as warriors, when Rowanflame - upset over the end of his relationship with a forbidden love in another clan - came to Eveningsong for more than just friendship. Eveningsong had always harbored a crush on the tom and was only too happy to take part. Even moreso when she eventually realized she was pregnant. Overjoyed by this turn of events she gave the news to Rowanflame with dreams of a happy family swirling in her head. His rejection and anger was swift as he called their time together a mistake, a fling that meant nothing to him. Hurt beyond words, the molly fled from him. They never spoke again.
By the day of Honeykit's birth, Eveningsong had come to terms with raising any children alone. The pregnancy had not been easy for her, and she had been nest-ridden on the medicine cat's orders for many sunrises. The birth was an agony for her. Not only physically, but emotionally as three kits came into the world stillborn. Dark kits taking after their progenitor, they seemed the physical manifestation of the dead possibilities of her life. Only the last - a big strong kit in hues of milk and honey, with a copper nose - was born healthy and mewling for her. She gathered him close and groomed him with care, heedless of the pain in her own body. She resolved to give him all of the love that she had been longing for herself. She was dead before sunrise.
Honeykit may have been doomed, had he not been born during a veritable boom in the nursery. In the end it was the caring Dawnlight that took the kit into her care. An extra burden perhaps, but to the queen he was just one more gift from Starclan. A pale little bundle to meld into her nest. And luckily Loudstorm supported the adoption, becoming the father to replace the unknown and absent Rowanflame.
So, Honeykit grew up loved and happy with parents that cared for and taught him, and brothers that he seemed born to match in personality. His first memories of being alone and pressed into fur that smelled differently than Dawnlight's confused him until he finally asked her about them. Perhaps he should have been sad to learn of a mother and siblings that he'd never know. But to Honeykit, Dawnlight was the mother he knew and the one he wanted. The little kit mewled in fear and pressed close to her, asking if he'd have to go away. He hoped not. He loved her purrs and licks and soft warm nest while she told him stories. And he wanted to keep playing with Reedkit and Hailkit. Being reassured that he was there to stay filled him with contentment.
Only once Honeykit was a moon from being made an apprentice did Rowanflame gather the nerve to go to the nursery and meet his son, to tell him of their bond in blood. As the tom ducked into the soft den, his ears twisting and his pelt twitching at the unfamiliar sound of happy kits, he was hit right in the nose by a twig. A little meow of apology assaulted him further, from a sweet and happy voice with a tremble in the words. Honeykit had never seen the tom before and was a little afraid of being hissed at for the twig. The mere sight of the kit - with some of Eveningsong's coloring, including the lovely big blue eyes that she'd last looked at him with - cut through all of Rowanflame's confidence. Embarrassed and confused, he rushed from the nursery and didn't return. In his wake was Honeykit, briefly confused and blissfully unaware that he had just met his genetic father.
When it came time to be named an apprentice, Honeykit couldn’t have been more excited. Though perhaps not for the reasons that most young cats looked forward to being given a mentor. Training to fight and hunt were secondary matters. Finally, he got to explore! So many trees to climb and birds to chase and plants to sniff and rub. And he was able to do it all with his brothers!
Honeypaw, Hailpaw and Reedpaw. A trio not lacking in mischief or affection, and certainly not adventure. They stayed close throughout their moons of growing up. More than once, Honeypaw was drawn into Reedpaw’s mischief. Sneaking out of camp to explore or playing a prank on someone in camp that they ought not have, all with Hailpaw trying to dissuade them. Sometimes they were punished, and sometimes Honeypaw’s sweet nature and sincere words were able to get them back into good graces. For any cat could see that he never had bad intentions.
No mentor could have been better for the sweet, attention loving young tom than Wisteriaflight. Sure she made him practice fighting, which he had a talent for if he would only focus on it for longer than a bird’s wing-flap. She also talked an awful lot about stinky Lichenclan cats and how terrible they were, but that made sense to him. And yes, it seemed that they spent so much time going hunting. But Honeypaw grew to love his mentor for other reasons. They spent many a day together. Climbing trees so that he could learn to fight in them, though Honeypaw did get awfully distracted by all the birds. Patrolling all over Redwoodclan territory, which meant he got to see every place he’d always wondered about! And she would lead him to places that seemed special to her, where she would grow more quiet and sad. But Honeypaw would distract her by pointing out all the lovely plants and flowers nearby, finding ways to make places that reminded her of Stoatshiver special all over again. He didn’t know what it was like to lose a cat one was close with, but he could tell it was awful. And Wisteriaflight was too good of a mentor for him to let her be sad.
After being judged proficient in all the skills he would need to make a competent warrior for the clan, Honeyblaze was faced with the freedom to do…well, whatever he wanted! No more sleeping in a jam-packed den with a bunch of other cats if he didn’t want to! Oh no, now he could finally curl up in that nice patch of lavender and wake up to bumblebees buzzing around his whiskers. And when he wasn’t busy with warrior duties – which he did feel a certain pride in being able to do, after all that work with Wisteriaflight – he could explore or nap in the sun or help train his brothers so that they too could be named warriors. Oh, life was good. In the face of such a life, the war that the senior warriors grumbled about seemed so very far away, indeed.
And sometimes in the evenings, Honeyblaze slips away to be alone. Though he does love the raucous energy of his brothers and the company of the clan, the quiet of the forest as the sun sets fills him with a peace and warmth that he can’t explain. He visits a certain patch of white campion flowers blooming amongst the trees, and listens to the forest as he nuzzles the petals. The evening birds always seem to sing a special song just for him, sweet in the growing twilight. So he sits and listens, and never dreams of catching them.
Friends from their youngest days, perhaps that is all that should ever have existed between Eveningsong and Rowanflame. But it was not to be. Eveningsong was by default a caring molly. Sympathetic to the woes of others and happy to lend an ear to their complaints, while keeping her own problems to herself. It was only natural then that the egoistic tom Rowanflame would turn to her often, and she never refused him time nor attention.
It all changed in their time as warriors, when Rowanflame - upset over the end of his relationship with a forbidden love in another clan - came to Eveningsong for more than just friendship. Eveningsong had always harbored a crush on the tom and was only too happy to take part. Even moreso when she eventually realized she was pregnant. Overjoyed by this turn of events she gave the news to Rowanflame with dreams of a happy family swirling in her head. His rejection and anger was swift as he called their time together a mistake, a fling that meant nothing to him. Hurt beyond words, the molly fled from him. They never spoke again.
By the day of Honeykit's birth, Eveningsong had come to terms with raising any children alone. The pregnancy had not been easy for her, and she had been nest-ridden on the medicine cat's orders for many sunrises. The birth was an agony for her. Not only physically, but emotionally as three kits came into the world stillborn. Dark kits taking after their progenitor, they seemed the physical manifestation of the dead possibilities of her life. Only the last - a big strong kit in hues of milk and honey, with a copper nose - was born healthy and mewling for her. She gathered him close and groomed him with care, heedless of the pain in her own body. She resolved to give him all of the love that she had been longing for herself. She was dead before sunrise.
Honeykit may have been doomed, had he not been born during a veritable boom in the nursery. In the end it was the caring Dawnlight that took the kit into her care. An extra burden perhaps, but to the queen he was just one more gift from Starclan. A pale little bundle to meld into her nest. And luckily Loudstorm supported the adoption, becoming the father to replace the unknown and absent Rowanflame.
So, Honeykit grew up loved and happy with parents that cared for and taught him, and brothers that he seemed born to match in personality. His first memories of being alone and pressed into fur that smelled differently than Dawnlight's confused him until he finally asked her about them. Perhaps he should have been sad to learn of a mother and siblings that he'd never know. But to Honeykit, Dawnlight was the mother he knew and the one he wanted. The little kit mewled in fear and pressed close to her, asking if he'd have to go away. He hoped not. He loved her purrs and licks and soft warm nest while she told him stories. And he wanted to keep playing with Reedkit and Hailkit. Being reassured that he was there to stay filled him with contentment.
Only once Honeykit was a moon from being made an apprentice did Rowanflame gather the nerve to go to the nursery and meet his son, to tell him of their bond in blood. As the tom ducked into the soft den, his ears twisting and his pelt twitching at the unfamiliar sound of happy kits, he was hit right in the nose by a twig. A little meow of apology assaulted him further, from a sweet and happy voice with a tremble in the words. Honeykit had never seen the tom before and was a little afraid of being hissed at for the twig. The mere sight of the kit - with some of Eveningsong's coloring, including the lovely big blue eyes that she'd last looked at him with - cut through all of Rowanflame's confidence. Embarrassed and confused, he rushed from the nursery and didn't return. In his wake was Honeykit, briefly confused and blissfully unaware that he had just met his genetic father.
When it came time to be named an apprentice, Honeykit couldn’t have been more excited. Though perhaps not for the reasons that most young cats looked forward to being given a mentor. Training to fight and hunt were secondary matters. Finally, he got to explore! So many trees to climb and birds to chase and plants to sniff and rub. And he was able to do it all with his brothers!
Honeypaw, Hailpaw and Reedpaw. A trio not lacking in mischief or affection, and certainly not adventure. They stayed close throughout their moons of growing up. More than once, Honeypaw was drawn into Reedpaw’s mischief. Sneaking out of camp to explore or playing a prank on someone in camp that they ought not have, all with Hailpaw trying to dissuade them. Sometimes they were punished, and sometimes Honeypaw’s sweet nature and sincere words were able to get them back into good graces. For any cat could see that he never had bad intentions.
No mentor could have been better for the sweet, attention loving young tom than Wisteriaflight. Sure she made him practice fighting, which he had a talent for if he would only focus on it for longer than a bird’s wing-flap. She also talked an awful lot about stinky Lichenclan cats and how terrible they were, but that made sense to him. And yes, it seemed that they spent so much time going hunting. But Honeypaw grew to love his mentor for other reasons. They spent many a day together. Climbing trees so that he could learn to fight in them, though Honeypaw did get awfully distracted by all the birds. Patrolling all over Redwoodclan territory, which meant he got to see every place he’d always wondered about! And she would lead him to places that seemed special to her, where she would grow more quiet and sad. But Honeypaw would distract her by pointing out all the lovely plants and flowers nearby, finding ways to make places that reminded her of Stoatshiver special all over again. He didn’t know what it was like to lose a cat one was close with, but he could tell it was awful. And Wisteriaflight was too good of a mentor for him to let her be sad.
After being judged proficient in all the skills he would need to make a competent warrior for the clan, Honeyblaze was faced with the freedom to do…well, whatever he wanted! No more sleeping in a jam-packed den with a bunch of other cats if he didn’t want to! Oh no, now he could finally curl up in that nice patch of lavender and wake up to bumblebees buzzing around his whiskers. And when he wasn’t busy with warrior duties – which he did feel a certain pride in being able to do, after all that work with Wisteriaflight – he could explore or nap in the sun or help train his brothers so that they too could be named warriors. Oh, life was good. In the face of such a life, the war that the senior warriors grumbled about seemed so very far away, indeed.
And sometimes in the evenings, Honeyblaze slips away to be alone. Though he does love the raucous energy of his brothers and the company of the clan, the quiet of the forest as the sun sets fills him with a peace and warmth that he can’t explain. He visits a certain patch of white campion flowers blooming amongst the trees, and listens to the forest as he nuzzles the petals. The evening birds always seem to sing a special song just for him, sweet in the growing twilight. So he sits and listens, and never dreams of catching them.
