|
|
Post by » FOXWHISKER on Aug 25, 2013 0:31:29 GMT -5
WHAT'S COOLER THAN COOL?
ICE COLD?
ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT
Foxwhisker 55 MOONS · MALE · CLIFFclan · MEDICINE CAT∙ STRAIGHT BUT CELIBATE ∙ full image- Pelt: ginger
- Eyes: orange
- Build: short and stocky
- Other: nah
- Brief Description: long-hair ginger tom with orange eyes.
appearance - General: [ awkward, cautious, focused, realist ]
- Enjoys
- sleeping
- healing
- helping others w their problems
- Hates
- pressure
- starting conversations
- being intimidated
- Habits
- making un-funny jokes and laughing awkwardly when nobody laughs at them
- Positive Traits
- empathetic
- selfless
- whenever you feel like a failure just look at him you'll feel better
- Negative Traits
- reluctant to admit faults or mistakes
- rarely acknowledges the elephant in the room
- whenever you feel like a failure just look at him you'll feel better
- Your Own Section
- ibis-star FREAKS HIM THE FUCK OUT
personality - Even in the beginning, there was always something just a little bit off about Foxkit. Yes, yes - it's cliché to admit; but even aside his two siblings, he was always the more physically stunted of the three. Sure, he had the standard CliffClan traits (rougher pawpads, eager to learn, never missing out on a lecture about the warrior code or StarClan), but when it came to development he was just a little behind the rest. Even when his siblings became strong enough to climb on top of dens and wrestle with each other until they pushed each other to their own 'demise' along the camp's floor, Foxkit struggled to pull himself up beside them, often tumbling at the slightest nudge off onto the ground - and in the early days he ended up many times in the medicine cat's den for hitting his head or some other hazardous feat he had been pressured into doing.
The medicine cat's den; that became the place that the child began to hate. He wasn't deaf. He could hear what his clanmates said about him, how it was such a shame that Pikeleg's son (the only one of his litter that looked similar to him) was so weak. He promised himself he would work harder to be stronger, and often ignored the medicine cat completely, taking his herbs and leaving as soon as he possibly could. And yet again and again he would land back in the den, only to force himself out sooner to prove himself to his siblings. He was desperate to prove himself even in his early years - and, if anything, in those moons he exhibited more persistence and focus than any of his siblings ever did.
Foxkit was more excited than anyone to become an apprentice and eventually a warrior; he couldn't wait to be at that point where he could take an apprentice, become a deputy, a mate, a leader, an uncle - growing up seemed like something just out of reach. And when he received Ibisfrost as a mentor, he brightened up even more. He had heard of Eveningheart from the elders - a fiesty young she-cat who straightened up quick at the paws of the professional, stoic warrior. And the first day was something from a dream; he wandered around the territory without stumbling or falling into any chasms, his mentor seemed to… well, not loathe him completely, and he had been able to make a nest in the apprentice den in a rather nice location. It was like things were looking up. He'd finally be able to get through apprenticeship to warrior-hood if he just practice the age-old CliffClan mantra: just focus.
If he learned anything within the next moon, it was to never get his hopes up like that again.
He tried - he really did try. But it was all more than he bargained for. Training became more of trying to prove himself rather than try to improve himself, talking with his fellow apprentices caused his thinking to turn to paranoia; he constantly wondered what others thought of him and what he did, and something planted within him from childhood flourished - a feeling of helplessness. He was so small, his limbs so tiny, his frame so stocky; it was all he could do at times to just stay inside camp, tell his mentor he was taking an off day, and try to keep himself out of the way. And of course, matters only worsened when nobody noticed or came to talk to him outside of the occassional "hey, Foxpaw," he got when apprentices entered the den. And he couldn't blame them for that. He was the one who had never tried to make friends because he was so busy trying to prove himself. It was early on in his apprenticeship that he decided that he couldn't do it anymore. He didn't want to be a warrior; he didn't want to die at the claws of an enemy warrior, or fall off a cliff because he couldn't maneuver his weight right.
But every time he approached his mentor, he couldn't bring himself to say it. He couldn't just look that she-cat in the eye and say this isn't the life for me. He didn't know his mentor well at all, and yet that gaze of hers made him want to shrivel inside. He didn't respect her as much as he did fear her. He didn't want to know what she would say to him. Maybe she'd tell him to go back to BeachClan where his kind truly belonged? His apprenticeship was not mice and moonlight; it was a mixture of him trying to grin and bear it and eyeing that cozy nest in the medicine cat den.
Grass sure was greener on the other side, and that was a lesson Foxpaw knew better than anyone else.
His warrior's ceremony was a mixture of pride and exhaustion. He was finally free from Ibisfrost's paws, and for a moon or two longer he attempted to improve himself away from her hardened voice. Instead, he got worse - without her coaching he steadily declined in skill level. He couldn't approach her about that (with unhealthy levels of unease and fear of his mentor contributing) and soon enough he was back and forth from the medicine cat's den - a place he had rarely visited since he had received his mentor.
It was different than he remembered, and Palestripe's comforting purr became less of a nuisance to him and more of a relaxing noise, glorious birdsong in comparison to his mentor. And soon enough, he practically begged the medicine cat to take him under her wing; her previous apprentice had passed away traversing the cliffs and she was more than happy to take on a more mature cat who already knew his way around the cliffs. There was less of a likelihood of him falling to his death. Perhaps impacted by that traumatic experience, the tom was quickly taken on (and approved of by StarClan).
He quickly grew from a nervous young tom to a focused medicine cat - no longer regularly forced out to practice at the crack of dawn, he began to mature in ways that others thought he might never achieve. Sure, his self esteem could always use a hit or two upwards, but he was quickly able to climb from a young agitated creature to someone CliffClan could be proud of calling their medicine cat; he was sharp, focused, never wasting a word when needed - and most of all, he was a father figure for younger cats who seemed to doubt themselves the way he had.
After the incident, he couldn't talk to Ibisfrost. Long after he became a full medicine cat and she a leader, the only time they spoke to each other was in snippets (his mostly awkwardly phrased and stilted) and never unless necessary.
- Family/Relatives
- Pikeleg || Father || NPC
- Duckface || Mother || NPC
- Cormorant-- || Brother || Natsu
- idk || Sister || NPC
|
[/ul]
[/div][/div] background [/div] [/td][/tr][/tbody][/table] This template was created by Mykolai of SBPlease do not remove credits. [/div] |
|
|
|
Post by ♥ BEAU on Aug 25, 2013 0:43:38 GMT -5
|
|
