Aug 7, 2019 20:17:56 GMT -5
coralfrost
tidalclan ∙ fighter ∙ female ∙ 17 moons
Appearance
Description sentence:
lithe black tortoiseshell with dull green eyes
Appearance:
there’s nothing particularly unusual or different about the she-cats tortoiseshell pelt. predominantly black, her orange, browns and random splotches of white stand out starkly against it. the most noticeable colour distinctions are on her narrow face, and along her sides. with spots of white along the left side of her nose, and the underside of her chin, the she-cat has somewhat of a permanently surprised look to her, which is only enhanced by her seemingly larger than normal eyes. due to her lithe frame and narrow head, her dull green eyes appear bigger than they should be, and with black lining them, they only stand out more against her cornucopia of colours.
coralfrost was always smaller than her litter mates, being the last one born and quite sickly. some may mistake her for a fledgling - albeit an old one - due to her skinny frame, and flighty nature. the she-cat's spine is visible, along with her ribs, despite her insatiable appetite. the fighter eats more than enough, but her obsessive need to be in constant motion keeps her looking on the verge of collapse.
Personality
Positive Traits: • loyal • optimist • observant | Negative Traits: • airhead • eccentric • petty |
Personality:
perhaps the most important aspect of the she-cats personality is the fact that she cannot sit still. she has a thing about pacing, and always seems to be on edge, as if she is ready for a fight at any given time, despite the fact that she is far from a skilled fighter. the she-cat likes to keep herself moving, never sitting or standing in the same spot for too long before moving onto the next, and this has attributed to what can be described as ‘flighty’ or even whimsical if you want to be optimistic.
there could be storms for moons, or droughts, or any other catastrophic event going on, and coralfrost will be able to find the silver lining in it. not much gets her down, nor does she let petty little things stop her from being nauseatingly optimistic about things that would normally ruin another's day. she knows that the sun will always rise again, and that the clans will come out the other side stronger than ever simply because there isn’t any other option that she is willing to entertain.
now, don’t start thinking “oh no, she’s one of those.” the she-cat has a lot of repressed emotions, and covers them up with positive emotions because no one wants to deal with intrusive thoughts and sadness. the she-cat watched her mother go through the motions of grief and she vowed to herself that she would never let herself sink that low, or let others know what she is truly feeling. she’s basically a ticking time bomb.
coralfrost doesn’t really like serious conversations, and can get quite awkward around super serious cats who take life way too seriously. she knows that no one gets out alive, and sitting around blabbing about things such as “starvation” or “disease” don’t interest her. this has caused her to be called an airhead more than once, since she will simply smile at you and change the subject to something completely irrelevant and way out of left field.
she is definitely more of a bystander than a go getter. she’d rather sit idly by in the background than to actively engage with others around her. this gives her an opportunity to notice things that others may not, but whether or not she says anything about it, varies from day to day. perhaps someone said something about her behind her back and she caught wind of it, the she-cat has no qualms about staying painfully silent. just know that there is something coming the future; maybe she brings you a sodden piece of prey, or makes a snide comment about you to your face with a smile plastered on hers. to say she can be petty would be an understatement.
the she-cat has some . . . quarks that most of the time don’t go unnoticed. she always turns in her nest three times counterclockwise before laying down with her back towards the entrance to the den. she enjoys chasing butterflies whenever she gets the chance, and she has a thing for vibrantly coloured flowers, and will pick them to line her nest with. she can say some weird things as well, sometimes she thinks before she says them, and other times they pop out and surprise her just as much as others around her.
Skills & Combat
Strengths: • tracking • agility • reflexes | Weaknesses: • fighting • strategics • teamwork |
Combat:
• Defense: 10
• Attack: 1d20+(2)
Character Background
Family:
none that she believes are relevant.
History:
you were born shortly after sundown on a chilly soothing skies day. . .
your mother was not the nicest cat around. with a sharp tongue and a temper shorter than a summer storm, you learned tough love at a young age. you also learned disrespect, jealousy and cynicism. you weren’t like your other littermates (you hardly think of them now). they all took after your absentee father, strong, agile and big-headed. they took your mothers’ love and ran with it, leaving you with merely scraps of affection that hardly ever went past getting a few suckles in here and there when your voice rose above the others. in her eyes, you would come to find out, you were a dark reminder of her sister. small, fragile, and always sickly. your mother despised her sister. and thus, despised you and everything that you reminded her of.
at first you did everything in your minimal power to get her attention. you craved the affection and love that you saw her give your siblings, but try as you might, your mother wouldn’t waiver. you learned to entertain yourself, taught yourself how to comfort your aching heart, and to enjoy the little things in life that would brighten your day if even for a moment. your siblings would taunt you for your imagination, the way that you would blurt out whatever was on your mind without thinking of the implications or consequences, and they never failed to remind you of your shortcomings. they would sit just far enough away from you that you felt excluded, but spoke loud enough that there was no way you didn’t hear what they were saying.
“there’s no way coralkit is going to become a fighter. look at her.” they’d start a chorus of insults such as these, with smug glances over their shoulders as you traced lines in the dirt of the nursery, your mind swimming with darkness. “she’s so pathetic. i’ll be shocked if tinystar even gives her a mentor. she’ll just embarrass the clan.” by this point, tears block your vision, but you remain unmoving, determined not to let them see you cry. she’d become a warrior, and show them all up. even if it killed her.
“pay attention coralpaw! you’re not going to learn anything chasing butterflies!”
it’s far harder being a fledgling than you ever thought possible. your attention span is short, and your need to be constantly moving makes it difficult to concentrate. a full moon into your training and you can already tell that you’re causing your mentor great deals of stress. he’s a very serious cat, strictly adherent to the warrior code, and has zero patience for you and your shenanigans. you’re almost convinced he doesn’t know how to say anything else other than “pay attention”; you hear it numerous times a session and even though you try to pay attention, it’s just so, so, boring. you’re not made to fight, you know this, and every other cat in the clan knows it as well, but your stubborn mentor is determined to make something of you. you figure it’s in your best interest to humour him.
your siblings are exceptional, as you figured they would be. your brother has a great head for combat, and your sister can hunt like no ones business. you really just want to chase butterflies and watch the sunset, and dream of a time when you didn’t hate waking up everyday.
it is observed early on that you aren’t one for group work. group tactics while fighting intimidate you, and group hunting is just a waste of time. you’re quite light on your paws, and your sharp observation skills make it easy to hunt, though you aren’t as good as your sister. she still manages to outdo you nine times out of ten. you don’t want to envy her, but you do. she has an air of confidence about her that makes you shrink back into your shadow, and let all your negative thoughts build like wildfire. you’ve felt resentment, and it isn’t sweet. she is your sister after all, you should love her, not resent her for being better than you and not even having to try. but you do, oh boy, do you. her and her mentor click in a way that makes it seem like they are of one mind, working seamlessly together. maybe you imagine it, but you have a feeling your mentor resents you, just as much as you do your sister.
there was little adversity in your time as an apprentice. you’ve become more reclusive around certain cats, opting to hang out in your own head than listen to the gossip that most seem to revel in. there is no need for it, really. half the time they don’t even notice you’re around. no one keeps tabs on you, or even seems to care about you. you go about your days in a ritual. wake up, make dirt, go to training, eat, sleep and repeat. it’s comforting knowing day to day exactly what is going to happen. everyday moved you closer to when you would become a fighter and be out from under the iron grip of your no nonsense mentor. serious conversations make you wildly uncomfortable, and that’s all he seems to want to talk about. when was the last time the two of you joked around? you have no idea, and it gets under your skin. a laugh every now and then would be a nice change.
your assessment goes rather smoothly. you mess up on your initial hunt, but redeem yourself shortly after thanks to your quick reflexes and tracking abilities. there are some benefits to being as little as you, but the list is very minimal. you’re surprised when you are the first one done your assessment, and wait patiently for your siblings to finish theirs as well. you sister returns shortly after you, tail high, and prancing like she owns the ground she walks on. now you both sit and wait for your brother. you shoot daggers at your sister as she sits prim and proper, a slight purr of pride rumbling from her chest.
you realize with a sinking feeling that it’s taking far too long.
your mother is a mess. an inconsolable, wailing mess over the corpse of your brother. you weren’t told what happened, at least not in detail. there had been an accident, a miscalculated error that wound up costing your brother his life. was it a fall? a predator? no one will give you the information you ask for it, but does it really matter? at this point, the entire clan is trying to comfort your mother and sister. your heart is heavy, he was your brother after all, but there are no tears, no signs of emotions, as you turn and walk away from the sounds of grief. it turns your stomach. is that what love got you? maybe you are better off not knowing it.
feeling sad makes you comfortable. it’s a thorn in your side, making it hard to breathe, and function. it takes a while but soon you’re able to push it to the back of your brain and move on. yes, the death of your brother was tragic, but life goes on. you speak more frequently now, though some don’t always know what you’re going on about, and perhaps you worry them a bit. you’ve changed since your brother met his fate, but not in the way that many would expect.
you decide to go and see your mother who has barely left her nest since the passing of her son. her usually meticulously groomed pelt is disheveled, and her eyes are dull. your sister lays beside her whenever she’s not doing her duties and you’ve managed to catch your mother by herself. there is no other cats in the den, and you walk in, nervousness fluttering in your belly. you’ve never been truly alone with your mother, and unsurprisingly, she scares you.
“mother?” your voice sounds small, even to you, and she lifts her head to look at you, and her stare goes blank. she doesn’t want to see you. you know in that moment, that she wishes it was you buried beneath the soil. “can i get you anything?” you ask, staring down at your paws. she shorts, and curls her lip.
“you can get the hell out of my face, coralpaw.” her snarl bites through your heart, making the tear a hole, and sending it into your stomach. you nod your head, biting back your tears and turn to leave. “you never should’ve been born. you’re just like my sister. only she got what she deserved when she drowned, maybe one day you’ll meet the same fate. the gods know tidalclan would be better for it.” tears burning your eyes and a lump lodged in your throat, you leave the den without a look back and decide then and there that she is no mother to you. she had always been mean to you, but she had never been cruel. you can’t help but think that you understand why your father never claimed his kits.
“coralfrost! coralfrost! coralfrost!”
the chant sounds hollow. it didn’t sound like that when the other one was given her name. perhaps you’re reading too much into it, perhaps not. you’re not hated within the clan, but you’re not necessarily liked either. you’re the weird one, the one that sits back and observes, the one who manages to slip away whenever the conversation turns serious. the one that has a freaking nest lined with flowers. you don’t mind that they think you’re weird. it keeps their expectations low, which is fine by you. you became a fighter, and that’s all you set out to do.
i beat you, brother. i became a fighter, and you didn’t.
Other Notes
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