Whitesmoke::ShadowClan::

Whitesmoke
pictures; xx

Age: 21 moons
Gender: she-cat
Rank: warrior
Clan: ShadowClan
Short Description: long-haired white she-cat with blue eyes

Appearance:

Whitesmoke is definitely considered one of the most beautiful specimen to ever hit your eye. Framed after her mother, she is slim and graceful, giving you a hard time to image her in a bloody battle. Her body seems fragile, but you can soon regret thinking such an absurd observation when you find out the speed and strength she contains. Though her slim features make it hard to pack a punch, her claws and blinding agility substitute for this, making her dangerous in battle. This also serves as a great advantage in hunting, which is sad, because she is not the greatest hunter around. She is too distracted for such activities, and is much more skilled in battle than anything. It is also much more preferred, and is something she trained harder for thanks to her ex mentor Ruggedstar.

Her ears are a tad larger than what a normal cat's ears are, due to her father, but it doesn't take away the glory of her long, flowing pelt. As hinted at in the previous sentence, her fur is long, but doesn't take on a fluffy appearance. It seems more mature and natural, falling at her sides obediently. She is pure white, without any other color to invade her snowy appearance. While her paw pads are a delicate light pink, that match nicely with her nose. The final feature that makes her a 10/10 is her soft, light blue eyes, that almost seem as if they are made of frost when in sunlight.

Personality:

Though her beauty speaks of confidence, her interior's beauty was long faded away by repeated mental scars and bruises. She is rather a strange character, with a shield that always seems to be up around any cat, friendly or not. She is a complete loner, and communicates only through her gaze, which always seems to portray fear and hatred. When she does speak, she speaks with a quiet, cold voice, which speaks nothing but the truth. She is not afraid to speak her mind, nor admit the dark feelings from her heart. Very distant indeed, but it doesn't mean she never gets the job done. Though she does it with as minimum effort as possible, always seemingly distracted with other thoughts.

Speaking of thoughts, they aren't the most pleasant either. There is always a voice, always, playing tricks on her mind and communicating with her as though it had a mind of its own. Though its crazy, she can't control it, but she has been able to sustain it to a whisper, ignoring any dangerous orders it had to conceal.

While she seems totally dark and mentally ill, she does have a small side of her that portrays her real, natural self. She is actually a sweet cat, just like her mother. Never judgmental, never holds grudges, never lets depression hold her down. Though a shy cat, she is kind and gentle, as well as stubborn as a rock. She is evidence that there is beauty inside and out. Intelligent and a good listener, her favorite hobby is observing and learning. But unfortunately, this hobby is used for simply observing her own clan-mates, and her old side has only appeared out of sight, with objects she has neatly collected under her nest. She has never connected with a living cat, but she does have close connections with things such as rocks, feathers, bones..but what is mysterious about this collection is they all share a similar trait: they all consist of one hole.

Nothing else about her personality is known, due to her distant nature.

History:

Though born out of love, she grew up in hate.

Scarredfang and Whiteheart. They were the perfect two, yet the most oddest couple. Scarredfang was definitely not the most handsome cat in the block. His ears were ragged and too large, his pelt was shaggy and scar-ridden, he was skinny to the bone, his fangs stuck out of his mouth..while Whiteheart had the beautiful of StarClan in her body, with flowing white fur, a perfect frame and deep blue eyes. Yet she fell for Scarredfang's corny ways, and to her, he was the most handsome tom in the entire Clan.

In the background, a much more handsome and powerful tom watched the scene with menacing eyes. Ruggedstar. Whitesmoke learned very early in her life of his obsession for her mother, and his strong envy of their perfect relationship. Despite his attempts, despite his obvious feelings toward her, Whiteheart picked the lower class. It was like an insult.

Though her mother died giving birth to her, and her siblings were lost in her mother's cold body, her father cared for her like a fragile rose in the last moon of his life. She was named after his mate with loving eyes, and he was so obsessed with caring for her and the misery plagued on him for StarClan taking his mate away that he slowly starved to death and dehydration, not drinking nor eating despite strong warnings from his clan-mates. This left her vulnerable. Without the protection and nurture from her father, she suffered from frequent cruel remarks and insults, which became so often that they were almost normal to her. She also mysteriously suffered from seizures, but it wasn't a big enough deal to say she was handicapped.

But later in life, her kithood would have seemed like heaven. Apprenticeship became her hell, as if she never deserved to live. Her mentor was the infamous Ruggedstar, and for the most part, she listened to everything he said. She would follow every order, (mostly out of fear she would be ridiculed, and also wanted to prove herself) and he was a very rough and strict mentor. They would train all day, every day. One day, though, things were different. She was woken up extra early for a training session.

"Wake up."

Whitepaw slowly opened her eyes, preparing for the faded light that welcomed her each morning. Instead, she was welcomed by still night air and darkness that still inhabited the sky. She looked up. Ruggedstar was standing stiffly above her, his eyes portraying seriousness for such an early time of day. Whitepaw hauled herself up, noting that he wasn't playing around. Instead of arguing and waking her fellow den-mates up, she followed him obediently, listening to his explanation of how they needed extra time to work on battle moves, and how it needed to be taught by the end of the day, while she was half asleep.

"Your feet are too clumsy! You will never get this down until you stop dragging your damn paws!"
Tiredness and grumpiness gripped her, controlling her jaws. It was bad enough that it already consumed her body, but her drowsy mind had enough. "I can't when you don't give me any sleep so I'll have enough energy to do things how you want them to be done!" she screamed. "It's bad enough when you work me from the brink of dawn till when everyone is already asleep, but now you get me up before the dawn patrol? It isn't fair!"

Ruggedstar never looked scarier. He moved in, closing her in, eyes dark and menacing. Hovering over her, he growled under his breath. "I'll show you what's 'unfair'.." Grabbing her scruff, he showed her the true meaning of pain.

Every time Whitepaw disobeyed or did something wrong, cruel punishment ensued. Sometimes Ruggedstar made small excuses out of nothing, just so he could "justify" punishing her. Growing up, her experience made her cold, viewing him and the cats around her with hatred, as if blaming them for not stopping the torture she endured. Blaming them for bowing down to such a cruel leader. Blaming them for accepting him as the higher authority.