Northfoot [Windclan]
Aug 18, 2015 15:32:36 GMT -6
Post by wish. on Aug 18, 2015 15:32:36 GMT -6
Northfoot
she-cat ● 28 ● windclan● warrior
silver and white she-cat with blue eyes
A P P E A R A N C E X
Northfoot is a pretty cat. Even her stature is something carved in beauty. She has thin, spindle limbs and a pretty, picturesque face. Everything about her is sharp angles and breath-taking pauses. She is slightly taller than average, her body carried on long, nimble legs. Her torso is long, thin and bred for running. Her paws are slightly bigger than average, capable of stretching apart for a rather wide swipe. Northfoot's claws are razor sharp, long and hooked - as are the teeth in her mouth. The she-cat's face is long and angular. She has an oriental look to her - something siamese about the dark gray on her limbs and maw. She has a dreamy, often lost in thought, look resting on her face. The she-cat usually appears 'stupid' or 'not-that-bright' due to the spacey look that crosses her face. However, that is far from the case. When immersed in deep conversation, the she-cat poses an array of sharp, penetrative expressions, and there is a cunning, carnivorous intelligence lurking behind her gaze.
Northfoot is a siamese, wild-cat cross. She has the sparse, dingy fur of wild-cat and the coloring of something of a much higher stature. Her pelt is a light, dusty cream color that often appears silver in the right light. Her skin is pointed at the muzzle, ears, tail, and legs. Her fur is a dark, deep grey that climbs from the tips and meets at her mid-section. The tops of her legs are striped in a hazardous tabby pattern, criss-crossing from one joint to the next. Her tail, in excessive light, has darker gray stripes spiraling down to the tip. Her face is perhaps, the most articulately marked part of her body. Northfoot's crown is adorned in the traditional tabby 'm', a rich, chocolate brown color - while the edges of her cheeks carve deep stripes into the middle of her face. The top of her muzzle is a soft, smoky gray, while the bottom is an almost milky white. She has long trailing whiskers and bright, brilliant blue eyes. The lightness of her eyes often cause her to look cross-eyed or often surprised. In reality, Northfoot is probably deeply annoyed.
One peculiar aspect of Northfoot's character is the deepness of her voice. She has a low, 'vocal-fried' sound resonating from deep within her throat. It's isn't completely masculine, but it definitely isn't a dainty she-cat mewl. She has this horrible habit of speaking specifically in a low, unimpressed, monotone voice. This often creates the illusion that she's fairly uninterested, and therefore could care less. This is probably true.
Northfoot is a pretty cat. Even her stature is something carved in beauty. She has thin, spindle limbs and a pretty, picturesque face. Everything about her is sharp angles and breath-taking pauses. She is slightly taller than average, her body carried on long, nimble legs. Her torso is long, thin and bred for running. Her paws are slightly bigger than average, capable of stretching apart for a rather wide swipe. Northfoot's claws are razor sharp, long and hooked - as are the teeth in her mouth. The she-cat's face is long and angular. She has an oriental look to her - something siamese about the dark gray on her limbs and maw. She has a dreamy, often lost in thought, look resting on her face. The she-cat usually appears 'stupid' or 'not-that-bright' due to the spacey look that crosses her face. However, that is far from the case. When immersed in deep conversation, the she-cat poses an array of sharp, penetrative expressions, and there is a cunning, carnivorous intelligence lurking behind her gaze.
Northfoot is a siamese, wild-cat cross. She has the sparse, dingy fur of wild-cat and the coloring of something of a much higher stature. Her pelt is a light, dusty cream color that often appears silver in the right light. Her skin is pointed at the muzzle, ears, tail, and legs. Her fur is a dark, deep grey that climbs from the tips and meets at her mid-section. The tops of her legs are striped in a hazardous tabby pattern, criss-crossing from one joint to the next. Her tail, in excessive light, has darker gray stripes spiraling down to the tip. Her face is perhaps, the most articulately marked part of her body. Northfoot's crown is adorned in the traditional tabby 'm', a rich, chocolate brown color - while the edges of her cheeks carve deep stripes into the middle of her face. The top of her muzzle is a soft, smoky gray, while the bottom is an almost milky white. She has long trailing whiskers and bright, brilliant blue eyes. The lightness of her eyes often cause her to look cross-eyed or often surprised. In reality, Northfoot is probably deeply annoyed.
One peculiar aspect of Northfoot's character is the deepness of her voice. She has a low, 'vocal-fried' sound resonating from deep within her throat. It's isn't completely masculine, but it definitely isn't a dainty she-cat mewl. She has this horrible habit of speaking specifically in a low, unimpressed, monotone voice. This often creates the illusion that she's fairly uninterested, and therefore could care less. This is probably true.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Northfoot isn't bored. Northfoot isn't mean. Northfoot is just misunderstood.
Her deep, raspy voice, in combination with the far-away look on her face creates an interesting complication. She doesn't look like she's interested, and she definitely doesn't sound like she's interested. However, Northfoot is usually, very interested. She likes to learn about clan gossip and she is definitely passionate about windclan. She has a fondness for her birth clan. A sort of blood-born loyalty that sits in her bones. Once she understood her destiny, as a windclan warrior, she swore to protect it. However, her fondness only goes bone deep. It's an inexplicable tugging at her soul. The rest of her empathy and sympathy are almost non-existent. It is completely impossible for Northfoot to put herself in someone else's paws. She doesn't understand how to talk to someone with feelings and she definitely can't reciprocate in return.
It's not that she doesn't have any feelings, it's just hard for her to step outside of her own body. She is incredibly self-absorbed, concerned with her own well-being. An independent she-cat with years of suppressed emotions settling at the bottom of her gut. She's learned through preservation it's easier to pretend they're not there. Instead she's horribly blunt toward her peers. She'll openly say what's on her mind without any boundaries. It's not that she speaks with reckless abandonment, but rather, she doesn't know that it's wrong. She doesn't recognize that others can feel - that others openly express their insides - instead she only thinks of herself, and her knotted emotions.
Another, deeper, dug in her bones feeling is this unwavering fondness for kits and younger cats. She doesn't emotionally connect with them, but rather, feels a strong sense of protection over them. She remembers feeling helpless, small, and perhaps this is the closest to empathy that she can muster. She desperately wants to have her own children someday - something no one could ever know. It's a feeling she suppresses deep within herself, but it's definitely present.
Northfoot rarely expresses dramatic expression. Her emotions are fairly in check. However, during a battle, her aggression reveals a surprising side of her. The she-cat is a superior fighter. She may not be the best hunter or conversationalist, but she can fight. Her claws and teeth are sharpened daily, and she makes sure to keep her battle-training up to date. She loves taking apprentices out for a training session and Sunstar is usually more than happy to send them out with her. Northfoot is exceptional mentor. She is blunt, straight to the point, and isn't afraid to put her apprentices in danger. She won't coddle them but she is protective of them. Her apprentices are her pride and joy.
Northfoot is typically quiet, more-kept to herself, but she won't shy away from a conversation. She lacks the basic social skills to really keep them going, but she will talk to her clan-mates. She is indifferent towards company and could care less if she's alone. However, she is interested in keeping up to date with her denmates and is always interested in learning. Her intelligence is vast and expanding - a constant ticking in the back of her mind.
Northfoot isn't bored. Northfoot isn't mean. Northfoot is just misunderstood.
Her deep, raspy voice, in combination with the far-away look on her face creates an interesting complication. She doesn't look like she's interested, and she definitely doesn't sound like she's interested. However, Northfoot is usually, very interested. She likes to learn about clan gossip and she is definitely passionate about windclan. She has a fondness for her birth clan. A sort of blood-born loyalty that sits in her bones. Once she understood her destiny, as a windclan warrior, she swore to protect it. However, her fondness only goes bone deep. It's an inexplicable tugging at her soul. The rest of her empathy and sympathy are almost non-existent. It is completely impossible for Northfoot to put herself in someone else's paws. She doesn't understand how to talk to someone with feelings and she definitely can't reciprocate in return.
It's not that she doesn't have any feelings, it's just hard for her to step outside of her own body. She is incredibly self-absorbed, concerned with her own well-being. An independent she-cat with years of suppressed emotions settling at the bottom of her gut. She's learned through preservation it's easier to pretend they're not there. Instead she's horribly blunt toward her peers. She'll openly say what's on her mind without any boundaries. It's not that she speaks with reckless abandonment, but rather, she doesn't know that it's wrong. She doesn't recognize that others can feel - that others openly express their insides - instead she only thinks of herself, and her knotted emotions.
Another, deeper, dug in her bones feeling is this unwavering fondness for kits and younger cats. She doesn't emotionally connect with them, but rather, feels a strong sense of protection over them. She remembers feeling helpless, small, and perhaps this is the closest to empathy that she can muster. She desperately wants to have her own children someday - something no one could ever know. It's a feeling she suppresses deep within herself, but it's definitely present.
Northfoot rarely expresses dramatic expression. Her emotions are fairly in check. However, during a battle, her aggression reveals a surprising side of her. The she-cat is a superior fighter. She may not be the best hunter or conversationalist, but she can fight. Her claws and teeth are sharpened daily, and she makes sure to keep her battle-training up to date. She loves taking apprentices out for a training session and Sunstar is usually more than happy to send them out with her. Northfoot is exceptional mentor. She is blunt, straight to the point, and isn't afraid to put her apprentices in danger. She won't coddle them but she is protective of them. Her apprentices are her pride and joy.
Northfoot is typically quiet, more-kept to herself, but she won't shy away from a conversation. She lacks the basic social skills to really keep them going, but she will talk to her clan-mates. She is indifferent towards company and could care less if she's alone. However, she is interested in keeping up to date with her denmates and is always interested in learning. Her intelligence is vast and expanding - a constant ticking in the back of her mind.
H I S T O R Y
Northfoot was born out of love for her clan. Her mother was a seasonal queen, a pretty pointed she-cat with silky, silver fur and bright blue eyes. Violetwing had kits every season, and after every six or seven moons she would find herself heavy with the next litter. She was a docile mother with a persistent tongue. She didn't talk much and was often ridiculed by her denmates. She would go to sleep - listening to the warriors whisper to each other. "She's such a waste of fur." "All she does is eat and sleep - eat and sleep." "Windclan needs real warriors. What can she honestly do in a fight?" And they were right. What could she do? The she-cat learned to hate herself and with each litter she slowly became colder and colder.
When Northfoot was born she had one brother and an absent father. The one time she asked about her father, her mother responded with a shallow grunt, "He's the lanky tabby with green eyes." Northfoot wondered if her mother even knew his name.
The warrior was Brackenpelt and it was his turn to sire one of Violetwing's litters. He didn't really care about his offspring and would only watch from a distance. It didn't bother Northfoot. She didn't know what a family was like or what it felt like to feel her parent's affection. She only remember the cool touch of her mother's tongue as it rhythmically dragged her down - over and over again until she drifted off to sleep.
Her brother was a silver tabby tom with blue-green eyes. Violetwing named his Breezekit. Breezekit and Northkit. They weren't very close. The moons before her apprenticeship were spent exploring the camp, listening to warriors, and learning the pecking order. She knew from a very young age that she was at the bottom of the bottom. Her mother wasn't very respected and the clan could care less who fathered her. Northfoot knew that if she were to make a name for herself she'd have to be good at something. So she started to watch the apprentices train. She would pick up on battle moves and occasionally practice them on her brother. Hazelstar was so impressed with her dexterity and thoughtful quietness that she was apprenticed at five moons.
Northfoot moved easily through her apprenticeship. She was quiet, and when her denmates spoke to her she learned to answer truthfully and quickly. She wasn't keen on the endless conversations drooling from their tongues. She learned to heed intelligent conversation and absently listen to what didn't matter. When she was ten moons old her brother was killed on a scouting expedition. The clan sent a patrol out past the highstones and her brother was hit by a monster on the thunderpath. Apparently he was too terrified to think clearly and darted out in front of the metal beast.
It boiled Northfoot's blood. Not because her and her brother were close, but because some stupid warrior didn't do his best to stop him.
Northfoot had nightmares for weeks - imagining the terror her brother experienced and then death. She would wake up trembling, her fur hot and tangled. It took awhile for the image to finally disappear.
When she was eleven moons old she was appointed a warrior. She a slender, pretty she-cat by then and had picked up a lot of male attention. Their advances made her wary and she eventually learned that her blunt personality would keep them at bay.
Desperate for mentors, Northfoot was assigned her first apprentice as quickly as possible. She exceeded all expectations. She was a diligent mentor - never speaking too frivolously and being direct as possible. She was protective of them, never putting them in unnecessarily risky situations, but not keeping them from the harsh reality of the life of a warrior. She may not have been the most affectionate mentor but she has definitely produced a fine group of warriors.
As a warrior, Northfoot keeps to herself. Her peers have learned when to seek her out as needed. She is hard to open up, but once she feels comfortable, she can be calming company. She isn't one to over-excite or dramatize, and has been told she is a soothing presence. Northfoot isn't particularly satisfied with her life but she isn't discontent. She's a thoughtful presence in Windclan's stifling atmosphere and sometimes that's all you need - a quiet ear that listens.
Northfoot was born out of love for her clan. Her mother was a seasonal queen, a pretty pointed she-cat with silky, silver fur and bright blue eyes. Violetwing had kits every season, and after every six or seven moons she would find herself heavy with the next litter. She was a docile mother with a persistent tongue. She didn't talk much and was often ridiculed by her denmates. She would go to sleep - listening to the warriors whisper to each other. "She's such a waste of fur." "All she does is eat and sleep - eat and sleep." "Windclan needs real warriors. What can she honestly do in a fight?" And they were right. What could she do? The she-cat learned to hate herself and with each litter she slowly became colder and colder.
When Northfoot was born she had one brother and an absent father. The one time she asked about her father, her mother responded with a shallow grunt, "He's the lanky tabby with green eyes." Northfoot wondered if her mother even knew his name.
The warrior was Brackenpelt and it was his turn to sire one of Violetwing's litters. He didn't really care about his offspring and would only watch from a distance. It didn't bother Northfoot. She didn't know what a family was like or what it felt like to feel her parent's affection. She only remember the cool touch of her mother's tongue as it rhythmically dragged her down - over and over again until she drifted off to sleep.
Her brother was a silver tabby tom with blue-green eyes. Violetwing named his Breezekit. Breezekit and Northkit. They weren't very close. The moons before her apprenticeship were spent exploring the camp, listening to warriors, and learning the pecking order. She knew from a very young age that she was at the bottom of the bottom. Her mother wasn't very respected and the clan could care less who fathered her. Northfoot knew that if she were to make a name for herself she'd have to be good at something. So she started to watch the apprentices train. She would pick up on battle moves and occasionally practice them on her brother. Hazelstar was so impressed with her dexterity and thoughtful quietness that she was apprenticed at five moons.
Northfoot moved easily through her apprenticeship. She was quiet, and when her denmates spoke to her she learned to answer truthfully and quickly. She wasn't keen on the endless conversations drooling from their tongues. She learned to heed intelligent conversation and absently listen to what didn't matter. When she was ten moons old her brother was killed on a scouting expedition. The clan sent a patrol out past the highstones and her brother was hit by a monster on the thunderpath. Apparently he was too terrified to think clearly and darted out in front of the metal beast.
It boiled Northfoot's blood. Not because her and her brother were close, but because some stupid warrior didn't do his best to stop him.
Northfoot had nightmares for weeks - imagining the terror her brother experienced and then death. She would wake up trembling, her fur hot and tangled. It took awhile for the image to finally disappear.
When she was eleven moons old she was appointed a warrior. She a slender, pretty she-cat by then and had picked up a lot of male attention. Their advances made her wary and she eventually learned that her blunt personality would keep them at bay.
Desperate for mentors, Northfoot was assigned her first apprentice as quickly as possible. She exceeded all expectations. She was a diligent mentor - never speaking too frivolously and being direct as possible. She was protective of them, never putting them in unnecessarily risky situations, but not keeping them from the harsh reality of the life of a warrior. She may not have been the most affectionate mentor but she has definitely produced a fine group of warriors.
As a warrior, Northfoot keeps to herself. Her peers have learned when to seek her out as needed. She is hard to open up, but once she feels comfortable, she can be calming company. She isn't one to over-excite or dramatize, and has been told she is a soothing presence. Northfoot isn't particularly satisfied with her life but she isn't discontent. She's a thoughtful presence in Windclan's stifling atmosphere and sometimes that's all you need - a quiet ear that listens.
