Torque // Loner

Appearance:

If cats knew about breeds when it came to their species he would be recognized as a Siamese. Although one of a more unorthodox coloring; he has a heavily ticked coat along with generic [mackerel] tabby markings that manage to show through from his nose to tail tip. They are fainter over the bulk of his body but the barring is quite visible on his legs, tail and face. His base coat could be considered a brown - the agouti hairs over the majority of his body turning it a light grey in most places. His black tabby markings change tones to more earthy brown rather then black where, over his shoulders and up his throat, his coat gradually lightens to a light cream, then eventually to white. His muzzle is where the white ends, breaking even with the top of his nose. The black line of his lip is more prominent against this and each white whisker is set in the center of its own black spot, drawing straight even lines over his muzzle.

He isn't a huge cat but his presence never the less demands, although perhaps in a more subtle manner, admiration. He moves his long limbs with an easy familiarity and with a precise sort of purpose. Though thin they no do not lack muscle, but it is a strength better suited to hunting or running then grappling with other cats. He has a nack for staying dry while fishing with their length. The rest of his body is sleek with the same wiry strength but instead of looking lanky he exudes an overall well proportioned form. His neck is slightly longer then most and meets his head from his shoulders without narrowing much.

His head is rather slim, cheekbones prominent with the downwards stretch of his long muzzle. He has a broad nose bridge although his nose is a quaint triangle at it's end. His eyes are wide and more narrow then round - almond shaped and angled up at their outermost points. his ears are large, wide at the base and dully rounded at their tips. They sit slightly on the side of his head, angling them outward and giving the illusion of a wider head. He has a generous forehead, his face settled lower then most cats to match with his long muzzle. He has a more exotic face then most due to his Siamese lineage. His coat is short and although he's grown more used to living outdoors it isn't the warmest in the more chilled winters. Just like his legs his tail is long and slim and often moves with a gentle sway when not being used to direct other cats.

Personality:

As a kit Torque had little control. Born in a neglectful two-legged house there were times the family wasn't sure they would eat. Their care was sporadic at best and they were otherwise left to survive off of nothing, locked in only a small room. There was no one they could rely on with confidence in the predicament and yet, at the same time, they could hardly help themselves. With the death of his sister at six moons in that foul place his distaste for humans grew to a hatred. While he isn't one to spew insults of them at every turn he isn't exactly subtle with his disgust or suspicion of the giants either. He tries not to turn his thoughts to the two-legs if he can help it, they ruled a dark part of his past and walk close in hand with painful memories.

When he gained his freedom, not long after his sister's passing, he met enough loners and rouges to learn the values of caution and the pitfalls of arrogance. While he is confident in his abilities as a fighter and hunter he isn't one to needlessly invite conflict at the risk of his ability to fend for himself. Having the choice of self-sufficiency was something he sorely lacked in his kit-hood and as such it is probably what he now values most in his new life. He deplores reckless behavior and needless conflict and risks, much preferring a more practical approach to any issues that arise.

The death of his sister at such a young age has left the tom with a lackluster ability to express emotion easily. It is probably safe to assume that this is another reason he relies on a pragmatic sort of view. Spending most of his life alone -as his status implies- and with no strong bonds as of yet left for him he has grown used to silence and can falter in conversation. He would much rather let his body do the talking then his maw. So let's just say that if he compliments another cat in that low, clear voice of his or smiles at a joke it's quite a strong reaction and is a fact to be proud of.

History:

Torque was born to a kitty-pet queen; a beautiful but timid she-cat. He had four siblings, a single sister among the tom heavy litter. Their mother was a soft-spoken cat, gentle but utterly used to the life of a two-legged pet. That wouldn't have been a real issue in most kitty-pet cases, but the small family of two-legs that owned her were neglectful. They ran an ill-fitted business of breeding cats - more for the love of money then the animals themselves.

At four moons Torque and his litter-mates had learned to fear the heavy footed giants that lumbered into the room. The humans handled them carelessly and Torque had learned the painful way that attempting to discourage the hairless paws from probing him was not advised. His mother comforted him that night with meager meows, she knew there was nothing she could do.

Perhaps the only thing that brightened his day was his youngest sibling, his sister Kora. The two shared a close friendship, and a promise to one day escape the house and live a free life outside it's walls. Sadly, the closest they ever got to leaving together was sitting by the single small window they could reach.

Nearing their sixth moon Kora became very sick. There was nothing him or his family could do to ease her suffering, while the two-legs did nothing to help her past it. The young she-cat passed away in her sleep not long after. Torque's previous disdain for the two-legs grew to a raging hatred. He was disgusted by the fact they had simply left his sister to die without a care. His vow to escape and live as a free cat was now always at the forefront of his mind.

His chance came not a fortnight later. The stupid two-legs had left their room's door open and while they paid for their food delivery, front door propped open, Torque slipped through their -and the pizza boy's- legs into the front yard and freedom.

Those first moons were hard. The learning curve for a cat not born on the street steep. But he wasn't entirely inexperienced when it came to hunger pangs and at least now he found comfort in the fact he was his own cat now and didn't need to rely on others -cats or, god forbid, humans- for his well-being.

As he aged and grew older his skills improved and he decided to uproot from his childhood roots; he spent many days and nights traveling to put his painful upbringing behind him. When he came upon the lush lands the four clans called home he figured he would be set for the rest of his life. of course, that was until he found out about the cats that had laid claim to the vast territories.

Despite the amount of prey that could be found on their lands he often found sneaking through their territories too tedious for the most part. It was just his luck that there were an abundance of residential two-legged houses with trashcans to raid. It was when raiding one of these cans in fact that his life was about to hit another hurdle.

The tom cat had gotten rather complacent with the two-legs in the area. Far too often had he come away from their bins with a full belly and at a leisurely pace. It was this attitude that saw him nearly caught one evening. It seemed his previous raids on this particular house had not gone noticed, nor forgiven within the last while. The only thing that had saved him had been the involvement of their kitty-pet shecat. A heavily pregnant shecat who just shot out the front door and across the lawn, diverting her human's attentions long enough for him to slink away unseen.

It was this shecat, heavy with another toms kits, that the long faced loner couldn't stop thinking about. He visited her yard the next afternoon, shifting under the undergrowth with indecision until, suddenly, the silver tabby sought him out herself. She was an unassuming cat but had a fire for life and a flexible humor that could curl any cat's maw into a grin. It was this cat that, to his quiet dismay, Torque found himself falling for. They met many times through the last moons of her pregnancy and it was soon clear that the young she-cat felt the same about him.

The day he came and her belly had lessened she settled him with a pained gaze. "This will be my last litter." She had meowed, quiet and resigned. With as much comfort as he could give her, reassurances of his affections despite this development she became sad and withdrawn. They didn't meet often during the next two moons, though he was loyal and unwavering in his feelings. It was their last meeting that, with a fire he hadn't seen since before the birthing in her eyes, she lead a small stumbling kit to him and announced him his caregiver.

"The rest will find good homes. Lives as house cats," she had meowed, one eye on her adventurous kit as she spoke to the stunned tom. "He is as a part of me as you are my heart. The way you live has helped mold who you are. The cat I love." Only a flicker of pain flashed in her eyes before they hardened. She was sure and resolute in her decision. "If we cannot have kits, this will be your half. Your half of me."

Despite his trepidation he couldn't refuse. He took the tiny tom under his care, the confidence his love had instilled in the choice a buffer for his sorrow. They had decided, at least for a time, that they would no longer meet. She revealed she was sick, sick in a way that couldn't be cured and she had no wish to let him, or her son, watch her wither into nothing before death took her. If there was one last thing she could do for herself it was this and Torque had no desire, nor the strength, to deny her this one last request. He loved her enough to find the strength to.