Heavyshadow

redwoodCLAN

longhaired black tabby tom with white

Imposing and lumbering, Heavyshadow is aptly named. He's a mammoth of a cat, as is typical of those from the red woods. What he lacks in speed and poise he makes up for in sheer power and brawn. Make no mistake, however, he can hold his own up in the trees. He has learned to rely on his strengths, how to work around his weaknesses, like the stiffness and twinges that sometimes crop up in his left shoulder; a residual effect from a bone fracture in his youth. Despite this fault, the tom has a rugged and healthy look to him, with a broad, sturdy physique.

His fur is not so long as some, but it is thick and tufty and requires daily grooming nonetheless. His mother had a pelt of snow-white, with only a swatch of gray upon her hindquarters. His father, a tabby bicolor. It would seem that Heavyshadow inherited looks from both; his mother's heterochromia and high white markings, his father's classic black tabby stripes and longer fur. Both were large cats who came from large families; no bloodline was truer to their heritage, which they took pride in to that extent.

Heavyshadow often wears a severe expression upon his furrowed, white-striped face and frowning, wide maws. It is unusual to catch him smiling or laughing, but not impossible. When his green-and-gold eyes glimmer with interest and soften to look upon the face of whomever he shares his rare company with, it's then that his strength seems like nothing more than a façade. Heavyshadow has a naturally soft expression upon a softer face, but his life experiences have forged those hard lines across it; little valleys of grief and mountains of strife form a map of hardship across the surface.

+ Sincere, Free Thinker | - Antipathetic, Standoffish

Heavyshadow is honorable in many ways but not in others. The term seems to be a matter of opinion in a world guided by ancestral laws and cultural convention. Yet expectations won't compress him into the shape of a dutiful, obedient warrior. He detests restriction of the individual, often mocking those who thrive in their 'yes sir's and 'right away sir's; the type that live and breathe the warrior code.

Well, despite his [at times] stubborn discordance and sarcastic attitude, Heavyshadow is at least true. Reliable, even, if one means that he can be relied upon to be himself. He is true to his word, true to himself, and true to what he believes is right. No one else will dictate his actions or shape his life but him; whatever he does, it's safe to say he's done it of his own volition and desire. It might be unexpected of a tom who works so hard to be unapproachable and cold, but Heavyshadow is nonetheless led by his heart -- and, as it turns out, it isn't such a bad one after all.

Still, it is unfortunate that he went through so much as a kit and apprentice or else he might be that brave, strapping young tom; the kind that apprentices long to be and that his peers envy. Instead, he is aloof and snappish. He looks the part, sure, but beware of prodding the bear. When Heavyshadow doesn't want to put up with some cat, he can be downright reproachful or bitter, depending on the history. Though most of the time he is more neutral and even-keeled, so long as no one tries to connect with him on an emotional level. He does really distance himself. Should he fall into the trap of opening himself up, he recoils before he gets too attached. It's contradictory; this cat who wants nothing more than to find happiness, yet squanders it every time.

Growing up, Heavykit didn't receive much attention from his parents. Hickoryshade, his father, and his mother, Palehawk, were so caught up in dealing with the war that they didn't [or wouldn't] recognize their son was suffering from their marked absence in his life. They were more concerned with the "Cause".

Without siblings or other family, without consistent caretakers, Heavykit's ability to speak up for himself was greatly impaired. When he spoke, he was not listened to. His most basic needs were always anticipated, and even then they were treated as an annoyance by queens who had grown tired of his parents' lack of presence. Later in his life he would realize they were simply tired; those queens were not truly angry with him. They were trying to raise their own families. Still, the environment of his youth had lasting effects on his psyche. He learned that there was less trouble and less arguing if he did everything for himself... if he did not ask for a thing from anyone.

Apprenticeship was at least a change of pace, if not better. Heavypaw felt indifferent to the additional personal freedom or the responsibilities that came with it; much of these things, he already had or he at least anticipated. Forced to grow up quickly, he was much happier about the fact that he could finally leave the confines of camp [without getting in trouble]. For this reason, his early apprenticeship was off to a well enough start. Things were perhaps clunky at first between him and his mentor, especially considering his inability to say what he needed.

He was a willing apprentice even if he did resort to sarcastic remarks and snarky humor when he felt slighted. Even if he could be difficult, and even though her strict policies were unappreciated by him, his mentor persisted. She was best at teaching him climbing and jumping, which were fun activities that he at least enjoyed engaging with. Other lessons included learning how to predict prey, to put himself in their paws to better understand their different, sometimes peculiar, natures. Though he was not exactly the sharpest mind in the apprentices' den. In those moons, he was easily distractible and unable to stay still.

On one of their outings, Heavypaw and Forestflight came across a most peculiar beast. It was much taller than either of them, much bigger too, and had a lengthy neck. He listened to his mentor explain that it was a male deer called a stag, and those were quite rare to see on the island. She inched closer to it, curious. And, curious, he followed close behind.

If he had known that deer had a propensity for sudden violence, he might've kept his distance, but at the time he didn't know any better. So, when Forestflight leapt to the side in a flash of involuntary reflex, it was Heavypaw who took the full force of the kick from one very startled deer.

Two bitter moons were spent in the medicine cat's den following that event. He had to recover fully from the blunt force trauma which had fractured his shoulder at the joint. He at least gained a new appreciation for medicine cats, his eyes opened to all that they carried upon their weary and pressured shoulders. He saw a lot, given that the borders with LichenClan were incredibly hostile places at the time, and he saw just how much his Clan was going through.

At the time, he hadn't understood the full scope of the situation until then. LichenClan wanted to demolish them, and it was then that it sank in why his parents had been so absent. They were fighting, patrolling, working themselves into a stupor. And he decided that he didn't really want to live like that, though he didn't know how else he could live if he was honest. Everyone in RedwoodClan worried over the war to some extent. It impaired their lives; joy could not be felt without guilt, without the dark stormcloud of oblivion still looming overhead.

He sought to share his understanding and forgiveness with his parents, limping into their nest and pouring out his sorry heart to them. His mother looked upon him with sympathetic, sad eyes. He knew instantly that she regretted everything, too. But the moment wasn't long to last, for his father stomped out the warmth with world-bitten sentiments and a clear distaste for his own son. Weak, he called him; pathetic. No son of his should be teary-eyed and broken-boned.

And Palehawk didn't stand up for him. Just watched on in shriveled silence. He'd never felt so much resentment for them, not even when he'd actively hated them. No, this was different. This was the feeling of having his heart smashed to bits by the two cats who were supposed to support him, love him, embrace him. Well, no more of those silly ideas, boy, you were born to be a warrior, not a son.

So when he resumed his apprenticeship, he didn't find that feeling of enjoyment he'd felt previously. Though he didn't sprawl in his troubles, he certainly felt them weigh upon his heart. Still, he grit his teeth and pulled through. It didn't help that Forestflight was still his mentor after all that she'd put him through, and he still blames her for it. But he didn't voice this, he only expressed it in his often antipathetic attitude toward her. In truth, she could not be faulted but he had no other way of showing that he needed help. Though she never caught onto that, she could not have known because he didn't tell her.

When he received his warrior name, Heavyshadow, he scoffed. Right then during the ceremony -- which earned him a jab in the ribs from the hulking figure of his father. He thought it ironic; how accurate it was to how he felt. Shadowed by heavy darkness he could not outshine or outrun.

As a warrior, he didn't experience relationships the same way others did. He felt intimidated by strong feelings -- feared that if he gained and lost love it would shatter him beyond repair. So he shunned it from his life and, as a result, many cats came and went. He detested the war, vying for peace though he knew it would not come. In many ways, he supported Finchstar because of this. When Icesong came into the picture, he knew it was bad news. She believed they could simply beat LichenClan back with brute force, and that it would work. Why? Because it's different. It'll be different this time. But they say that every time, don't they?

Heavyshadow doesn't fight, not because he can't but because he is secretly afraid. Not for himself, no, he may be cynical and scars might line his heart, but he's not selfish. When it comes down to it, he jumps into the fray. A few times this has happened, more skirmishes than battles but he's earned a few nicks in his ears. Something his father was sure to praise him for, to push him to fight more, pressure him to get stronger so his shoulder wouldn't hinder him. Heavyshadow made an oath to protect and defend his Clan and he would be a warrior of his word. Yet, when battle patrols are called for, he breathes a sigh of relief every time his name is not called.

As for the rest? Heavyshadow knows he wants more out of life, but he doesn't really know what that means yet. So he experiments, for lack of a better word. He goes for things he might not have if he were born different or raised different. He is who he is, though, and he tries to learn to live with that.