Post by Egotistic on Jan 22, 2020 12:55:58 GMT -6
Acornpaw
RedwoodClan
a bedraggled classic tabby-and-white she-cat with green eyes.
apprentice
she-cat
7 moons
Appearance
At first glance, one would come to the immediate conclusion that what effort Acornkit could’ve put into keeping her fur sleeked back and presentable was instead put into doing the complete opposite—and they’d be right in thinking so. Preferring her coat to be ruffled rather than laid flat, her signature look is a roguish tousle, and one she goes to great lengths to keep that way; washing her pelt against the grain, teasing it with tongue and tooth to leave it spiky and unruly—it’s a part of her morning routine in maintaining her abhorrent appearance. And if you were to ask her why she chooses to present herself in such a way—more prickly and unpleasant to the eye than a thorn bush—she would promptly tell you to mind your own business… and that it’s just the way she likes her fur.
As for the truth in that, well, there is some, though, in actuality, it’s all in an effort to look bigger… and, in a small, innocent way, an act of defiance against her mother’s constant—and in her opinion, unnecessary—groomings.
Beyond her bedraggled tabby-and-white fur, however, Acornkit is nothing altogether impressive. She’s not particularly tall, nor is she strong or beautiful. She does not even bear the odd curling ears of her siblings or their stunning points. Instead, she is below average in height, herself being short of limb and as a result more rotund and stout by appearance than her leaner littermates. It is this in particular that she considers the greatest slight to her person—her size—and though you’d never know it based on how highly she speaks of herself, it is the subject of much loathing in her eyes and one she compensates for in excess.
As for the truth in that, well, there is some, though, in actuality, it’s all in an effort to look bigger… and, in a small, innocent way, an act of defiance against her mother’s constant—and in her opinion, unnecessary—groomings.
Beyond her bedraggled tabby-and-white fur, however, Acornkit is nothing altogether impressive. She’s not particularly tall, nor is she strong or beautiful. She does not even bear the odd curling ears of her siblings or their stunning points. Instead, she is below average in height, herself being short of limb and as a result more rotund and stout by appearance than her leaner littermates. It is this in particular that she considers the greatest slight to her person—her size—and though you’d never know it based on how highly she speaks of herself, it is the subject of much loathing in her eyes and one she compensates for in excess.
Personality
A contrarian from birth, or so it would seem, despite being born during the cold winter moons, Acornkit embodies the torrential and volatile nature of a summer storm. She is as boisterous as they come, fun-loving and mischievous to a fault, with the sort of carefree attitude that refuses to take much of anything seriously. Instead, she would much rather spend her energy wiggling out of lessons on clan history, etiquette, and old, droning elders tales so she can instead romp and frolic in the snow, organizing grand mock battles and rooting up all nature of mischief—a habit that has landed herself, as well as whoever had the misfortune of getting roped into her antics, into a great deal of trouble. But for all the scolding’s she’s received, she doesn’t seem the least bit bothered, herself being too willful to be anything but herself and as a result, only reinvigorating her efforts to prove everyone wrong when it comes to what she can and can’t do.
This complete disregard for the social expectations of others has allowed her to remain unmolested by traditional social norms. She doesn’t want to be any old she-cat, growing into her later moons to become a mother and bring life to the clan, no. She wants to be a warrior, a great and veritable one who only has themselves to answer to—she wants to have her own adventures and carve her own path through the world, one untroubled by meddling siblings and fretting mothers. And so she tries to just that—or at least to the best of her abilities, herself possessing a strong independent streak and a bull-headedness that cannot be turned away from a task she has set her mind to. In this way she is a fighter, and while she does not dabble in politics nor burden herself with clan relations, should her morals be pushed, she would fight stubbornly to defend them, be it with words—of which she has an endless supply—or claws, it is no matter to her if it means protecting that in which she believes.
But for all Acornkit’s grit and bold talk, she doesn’t hold a particularly high opinion of herself, instead harboring a deep-rooted self-loathing that she keeps buried beneath her rowdy personality.
Born the smallest in the litter and blandest of coat, there is nothing outwardly attractive or eye-catching about her. She doesn’t even bear the curled ears of her mother. This has led her to view herself as inadequate when compared to her siblings, herself feeling out of place among them and, as a result acting out as a way of compensating for that which she feels she lacks. It is due to this view that she has grown so overly defensive, finding a slight in every comment or lighthearted jape. She thinks everyone views her as insignificant, unimportant and unimpressive, failing to realize it’s her own view of herself she projects onto other people, not their own, leading her to be a reactive and confrontational individual. It has helped her little in making friends, but like her self-loathing, she feigns indifference. So long as she doesn’t think about it, it won’t hurt her, and so long as she pretends it doesn’t bother her, it eventually won’t, or at least, so she hopes.
This complete disregard for the social expectations of others has allowed her to remain unmolested by traditional social norms. She doesn’t want to be any old she-cat, growing into her later moons to become a mother and bring life to the clan, no. She wants to be a warrior, a great and veritable one who only has themselves to answer to—she wants to have her own adventures and carve her own path through the world, one untroubled by meddling siblings and fretting mothers. And so she tries to just that—or at least to the best of her abilities, herself possessing a strong independent streak and a bull-headedness that cannot be turned away from a task she has set her mind to. In this way she is a fighter, and while she does not dabble in politics nor burden herself with clan relations, should her morals be pushed, she would fight stubbornly to defend them, be it with words—of which she has an endless supply—or claws, it is no matter to her if it means protecting that in which she believes.
But for all Acornkit’s grit and bold talk, she doesn’t hold a particularly high opinion of herself, instead harboring a deep-rooted self-loathing that she keeps buried beneath her rowdy personality.
Born the smallest in the litter and blandest of coat, there is nothing outwardly attractive or eye-catching about her. She doesn’t even bear the curled ears of her mother. This has led her to view herself as inadequate when compared to her siblings, herself feeling out of place among them and, as a result acting out as a way of compensating for that which she feels she lacks. It is due to this view that she has grown so overly defensive, finding a slight in every comment or lighthearted jape. She thinks everyone views her as insignificant, unimportant and unimpressive, failing to realize it’s her own view of herself she projects onto other people, not their own, leading her to be a reactive and confrontational individual. It has helped her little in making friends, but like her self-loathing, she feigns indifference. So long as she doesn’t think about it, it won’t hurt her, and so long as she pretends it doesn’t bother her, it eventually won’t, or at least, so she hopes.
History
Born into a litter of four, Acornkit is the second-born of her siblings and the runt. She is daughter to Curlycloud, her mother, and a father whose name not even she knows.
