Post by yazsh on Jun 12, 2022 3:40:38 GMT -6
BATNOSE
thistleclan
lanky black tom with yellow eyes
warrior
tom
sixteen moons
Appearance
There is no grand mystery behind Batnose’s namesake. For with just a glance even the least-interested fog-brain can see his resemblance. Those big ears, large enough to house individual anthills, are clearly the culprit. “Like big ol’ batwings,” his momma used to say. “But don’t you fly away from me.” If it weren’t for his ears, Batnose’s black-as-a-beetle pelt would be the next giveaway. There’s hardly anything unique about it amongst his dark-pelted clanmates, though perhaps it’s just a smidge fluffier than usual – particularly in the tail. Maybe he baked just a little too long in his mother’s oven, hence the overgrowth.
The rest of the tom is built just as unevenly. Too-big paws might be perfect for burrowing if it weren’t for his too-tall legs. He’s long and lean when he should be compact, and his gait reflects the clear mistake. This is a cat who walks like he’s never not had to crouch or duck. There’s a nervousness reflected there, in bowed shoulders and over-cautious pawsteps.
And yet no such anxiety troubles his face. He’s all eyes – big, bright, happy, and yellow – and his narrow little muzzle is never without a smile. With fluffy cheeks and long-hairs sprouting from his ears, Batnose can’t help but to look kitlike, gleeful, and perpetually curious.
The rest of the tom is built just as unevenly. Too-big paws might be perfect for burrowing if it weren’t for his too-tall legs. He’s long and lean when he should be compact, and his gait reflects the clear mistake. This is a cat who walks like he’s never not had to crouch or duck. There’s a nervousness reflected there, in bowed shoulders and over-cautious pawsteps.
And yet no such anxiety troubles his face. He’s all eyes – big, bright, happy, and yellow – and his narrow little muzzle is never without a smile. With fluffy cheeks and long-hairs sprouting from his ears, Batnose can’t help but to look kitlike, gleeful, and perpetually curious.
Personality
Idolizing, Anxious
Exuberant, Resourceful
Batnose has an abundant readiness to ignore reality. He idolizes the important figures in his life all too easily, and utterly ignores any evidence in the contrary. Theivingstar and Stagflight are heroes, just as powerful and magnificent as any in StarClan. The boasts of his clanmates must be real, no matter how outrageous. Batnose’ll be among the first, and most outspoken, to take their tall tales and repeat them to absolutely everyone – adding his own innocent embellishments. Oh sure, he knows deep-down it’s not actually fact. He’s not a complete frog-brain, but he won’t let on no matter how pressured.
Perhaps his willingness to be blind to the truth stems from the anxiety that rules Batnose’s life. As an apprentice it made him timid and fearful, a cat who never really tried at any given task. Trying, he thought, meant that the failure would be all the worse. It was Bearpaw, now Bearstride, whose success and confidence gave him the courage to actually give a darn. He idolized him, adored him, and wanted so badly to be able to stand shoulder to shoulder as equals. While that fear of being a disappointment will never go away, he constantly strives to overcome it.
The trick? Fake it until you make it. Batnose has made this advice his whole identity. Whatever doubts he has or fear he holds, he will always outwardly put his best face forward. He’s absolutely terrified of social interactions, but he makes it a point to greet all his clanmates and say yes to every opportunity. Whether it’s signing up for patrols, offering assistance, or fulfilling the most trivial of his clanmates requests, Batnose will never turn it down.
While he lacks the sharp wit of his clanmates, Batnose’s plenty clever in his own right. He’s never far from an unexpectedly sly remark, and he’s quite capable of finding unorthodox solutions to common problems. Granted, the outcome is often far clumsier and more roundabout than necessary, but the spirit is there. He’s the king of failing forward, or at least a prince.
History
Kithood
Perhaps it’s cliche to fantasize about the cat he could have been, would have been, without his mother’s influence. Yet without Beetleheart the picture makes no sense; you could hardly hang it on a wall without the nail. From a young age Batkit idolized his mother and the fanciful tales she’d spin about her accomplishments and lineage. She taught him that fiction is better than truth. That lies are better left believed, for reality is far too punishing to survive on. If he could ignore the darkness he’d surely be happier.
Born amongst his shivering, sick, and starving clanmates, within the snow-coated confines of the abandoned campground, Batkit had every reason to want to escape the truth. The reality was that ThistleClan had been half-drowned by StarClan’s waters and driven from one home to the next in desperation. They were without a real medicine cat during the worst moons of leafbare while rogues partied in what should have been their dens. And because of these hardships two of his littermates never lived long enough to open their eyes. Everything outside of his mother’s white lies was utterly terrifying, so he chose to live within them.
Adolescence
Batpaw was loath to leave the warmth of his mother’s side in exchange for Duckfoot’s aloof detachment. His mentor was her opposite in every way; honest to a fault, devoted to her personal space, and rarely encouraging. She allowed no explanations for failure or fault, and hadn’t the patience to deal with Batpaw’s timidness when it came to learning something new. More often than not he’d hear his name on her disappointed tongue as she met with her mate in the evenings. “He’ll have to be held back,” she’d say. “He just isn’t trying.”
Duckfoot would have been right, save for a daring black-furred tom named Bearpaw. Two moons Batpaw’s senior, Bearpaw was everything Batpaw wasn’t. He tackled sparring with dazzling confidence, chased blackbirds like he was half-hawk, and threw himself into his duties with the grace of a prodigy. Batpaw was captured under his spell, and charmed by the other’s desire to succeed. He wanted to be with him, and to be him.
Oh how he’ll never forget the day when Batpaw finally coughed up enough courage to ask Bearpaw “H-how d’you do it? Aren’t you afraid?” And Bearpaw, splashing through the murky bog waters of their re-claimed territory, didn’t hear him. But still, Batpaw had actually asked. If he could do that, well, then he could do anything! Things were looking up for both the young tom and his clan.
Adulthood
What started as a small spark of hope eventually carried Batnose into his warrior ceremony – right on time. As he dug away those first few mud clumps doubt plagued his mind. The rogues had stolen a kit, war was continuing to wage amongst their neighbors, and Bearstride still seemed so far away. Yet, with each pawful of dirt, his hole grew and his confidence blossomed. He could do it. A single pawful might not make an impact, but they added up to something tangible and deep. If he could devote himself to acting like the cat he wanted to be, it'd someday become just as real as his new den. Maybe someday he’d be Bearstride’s equal at last.
And then LichenClan did the unthinkable.
Perhaps it’s cliche to fantasize about the cat he could have been, would have been, without his mother’s influence. Yet without Beetleheart the picture makes no sense; you could hardly hang it on a wall without the nail. From a young age Batkit idolized his mother and the fanciful tales she’d spin about her accomplishments and lineage. She taught him that fiction is better than truth. That lies are better left believed, for reality is far too punishing to survive on. If he could ignore the darkness he’d surely be happier.
Born amongst his shivering, sick, and starving clanmates, within the snow-coated confines of the abandoned campground, Batkit had every reason to want to escape the truth. The reality was that ThistleClan had been half-drowned by StarClan’s waters and driven from one home to the next in desperation. They were without a real medicine cat during the worst moons of leafbare while rogues partied in what should have been their dens. And because of these hardships two of his littermates never lived long enough to open their eyes. Everything outside of his mother’s white lies was utterly terrifying, so he chose to live within them.
Adolescence
Batpaw was loath to leave the warmth of his mother’s side in exchange for Duckfoot’s aloof detachment. His mentor was her opposite in every way; honest to a fault, devoted to her personal space, and rarely encouraging. She allowed no explanations for failure or fault, and hadn’t the patience to deal with Batpaw’s timidness when it came to learning something new. More often than not he’d hear his name on her disappointed tongue as she met with her mate in the evenings. “He’ll have to be held back,” she’d say. “He just isn’t trying.”
Duckfoot would have been right, save for a daring black-furred tom named Bearpaw. Two moons Batpaw’s senior, Bearpaw was everything Batpaw wasn’t. He tackled sparring with dazzling confidence, chased blackbirds like he was half-hawk, and threw himself into his duties with the grace of a prodigy. Batpaw was captured under his spell, and charmed by the other’s desire to succeed. He wanted to be with him, and to be him.
Oh how he’ll never forget the day when Batpaw finally coughed up enough courage to ask Bearpaw “H-how d’you do it? Aren’t you afraid?” And Bearpaw, splashing through the murky bog waters of their re-claimed territory, didn’t hear him. But still, Batpaw had actually asked. If he could do that, well, then he could do anything! Things were looking up for both the young tom and his clan.
Adulthood
What started as a small spark of hope eventually carried Batnose into his warrior ceremony – right on time. As he dug away those first few mud clumps doubt plagued his mind. The rogues had stolen a kit, war was continuing to wage amongst their neighbors, and Bearstride still seemed so far away. Yet, with each pawful of dirt, his hole grew and his confidence blossomed. He could do it. A single pawful might not make an impact, but they added up to something tangible and deep. If he could devote himself to acting like the cat he wanted to be, it'd someday become just as real as his new den. Maybe someday he’d be Bearstride’s equal at last.
And then LichenClan did the unthinkable.
