Weevil

Outsider

a muscular, black rosetted tom w/ green eyes and a bobtail.

Despite his low-born origins, there is an air of decadence to Weevil’s appearance that may not immediately suggest such humble beginnings. Even in his scant moons, there is an imposing air about him, dark and waiting and powerful. Buried under a dense, short coat, rosetted like the furs of an ancient beast. He is dark in complexion and countenance, equipped with dark green eyes banded with earthen tones and exuding the same flippant airs as the sardonic expression he seems always to be wearing.

However, the most distinct trait he carries, beyond his size and musculature, is his tail, of which very little can be said for it is almost non-existent. Bobbed similarly to his fathers, it causes him little hindrance, though it sets him apart from his fully-tailed peers.

As Weevil transitions into adulthood, his imposing stature will only grow in its significance. The softness of his kittenhood will gracefully give way to a solid, powerful sinew. He will stand heavy-set and lumbering, a dominating and oppressive figure among his peers. Even his airs of superiority will grow with him, though by then they will be more well-earned, his physicality a testament to the strength lying dormant beneath his pelt.

Positive Traits: charming, straightforward, fair.
Neutral Traits: impressionable, flippant, detached.
Negative Traits: arrogant, conformist, impulsive.

First impressions would dictate that Weevil is an arrogant and sardonic youth—and for the most part, he is those things. Unapologetically and to such a degree, one might forget he was anything but. But that is a matter he feels cannot be wholly helped. For he would not be those things—he would be quick to inform others—if he did not earn the right to them somehow.

For what harm is there in arrogance to a cat who has never truly known defeat? What shame is there in cockiness or a few fair japes if they were truly and honestly deserved? He sees no problem with either and feels no compulsion to change those things about himself. Leave the pleasantries for the Clans, he would say; a rogue has no need for such things.

And in many ways, he will maintain this belief. Leading conversations with an aggressive straightforwardness, he is not withholding and views dishonesty and lies as the past-time of those too weak or cowardly to back their beliefs with tooth and claw.

But beyond his curtness and braggadocious nature, Weevil can be exceptionally charming and is known to earn the attention of admirers and friends without thought. He is notably gregarious and fond of those he considers of a like mind with himself and is a fond ally to even his subordinates. Though to those he deems beneath him—the ceaseless jabberers with their endlessly flapping tongues—he can be particularly cruel, taking special interest in pointing out the many contradictions in their honeyed words.

That is, however, not to imply he is wholly without his own. For all his raving about strength and free spirits, Weevil is ultimately complicit in the misdeeds of his superiors. He is no mastermind; he finds no pleasure in being made to think for himself and leaves such complex matters to those he deems more intelligent. It does not matter in the end what they demand he does; so long as it involves fighting, he is no great complainer. And never will he be.

Far easier to let such ailments as misgivings and guilty consciences plague the mind of someone better suited for them.

There could have been no more apt time for the news of their coming to reach their mother’s ears. She was to be expecting—on the cusp of an alliance with old enemies, on the brink of a battle that would change Celandine for moons to come. What better time for little ones destined for dark futures?

Passed without issue, there were four of them in total—Weevil the first, the eldest, and the strongest, followed by three others of gradually diminishing quality. Lacewing, they called the second, Springtail, the third, and the last, the runt, they called Grasshopper. Four sons were born to carry their mother and father’s legacy and serve the faction Poppy and Honeybun had sacrificed so much to build.

Within a moon's time, the trials of their parents have already begun, and the knowledge of their ever-watching eyes has not escaped Weevil’s notice. Yet rather than be discouraged by them, he feels empowered and strives endlessly for their hard-earned approval, not knowing what earning it might mean for himself or his kin and their futures.