Fawnstep [Riverclan]
Feb 15, 2009 18:11:05 GMT -6
Post by wish. on Feb 15, 2009 18:11:05 GMT -6
fawnstep
she-cat ● twenty-three moons ● riverclan ● warrior
dark tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes
A P P E A R A N C E
Fawnstep is a slightly smaller than average she-cat. Her bone structure is angled and gauntly at the joints. Paired with her thin legs this gives her a lanky appearance. The she-cat's body is long and sleek. She has a long, slender tail and small, delicate paws. Her bones stick painfully out from beneath her pelt - but this is merely due to her high metabolism and indifference toward food. Her face is triangular, angled at the cheeks and slim around the jaw. She has large, kitten-like ears and a small, rosy pink nose. Her olive colored eyes are round, dewy, and much too big for her petite appearance.
The she-cat dons a thin, shabby pelt. Unlike most riverclan warriors her pelt isn't as shiny as it should be. She doesn't eat much and lacks a proper appetite because of this her fur suffers. Instead of glistening in the sun it looks rough and coarse. Fawnstep's pelt is an array of colors. The dominant hue is a dark, coal black. Large patches of ginger, brown, and white litter her pelt in a typical calico pattern. Her muzzle, chest, underbelly, and legs are a soft off-white.
Her stature is often slumped and flimsy. Fawnstep doesn't walk with her chin held high or her tail up in the air. She doesn't walk with a purpose. Her posture reflects her interior. The calico doesn't have any confidence and steps quietly; careful to keep hidden from the world. Entirely she's rather unnoticeable; fortunately her eyes breathe as a beacon for her soul.
Fawnstep is a slightly smaller than average she-cat. Her bone structure is angled and gauntly at the joints. Paired with her thin legs this gives her a lanky appearance. The she-cat's body is long and sleek. She has a long, slender tail and small, delicate paws. Her bones stick painfully out from beneath her pelt - but this is merely due to her high metabolism and indifference toward food. Her face is triangular, angled at the cheeks and slim around the jaw. She has large, kitten-like ears and a small, rosy pink nose. Her olive colored eyes are round, dewy, and much too big for her petite appearance.
The she-cat dons a thin, shabby pelt. Unlike most riverclan warriors her pelt isn't as shiny as it should be. She doesn't eat much and lacks a proper appetite because of this her fur suffers. Instead of glistening in the sun it looks rough and coarse. Fawnstep's pelt is an array of colors. The dominant hue is a dark, coal black. Large patches of ginger, brown, and white litter her pelt in a typical calico pattern. Her muzzle, chest, underbelly, and legs are a soft off-white.
Her stature is often slumped and flimsy. Fawnstep doesn't walk with her chin held high or her tail up in the air. She doesn't walk with a purpose. Her posture reflects her interior. The calico doesn't have any confidence and steps quietly; careful to keep hidden from the world. Entirely she's rather unnoticeable; fortunately her eyes breathe as a beacon for her soul.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Fawnstep grew up terrified of the world. From a young age she found herself hiding behind her mother, scared of anything that offered any sort of change. She was only comfortable with the familiar; everything else posed a threat. As an apprentice she was skittish. She jumped at anything that moved. As the moons flitted by Fawnstep grew more accustomed to her clan and began to open up to her denmates. She began to smile a bit more and engage in conversation. She became friends with the medicine cat apprentice and immersed herself into the world of her friends. She was living vicariously and she liked it.
Interested in the world of starclan, Fawnstep began to teach herself through idle listening. Every day she would drop by the medicine cat's den and pretend to be doing something else - grooming herself, eating - it didn't matter, she wanted to learn what it was like to be so important. In merely a couple moons Fawnstep was as knowledgeable as the medicine cat herself.
When she became a warrior Fawnstep began to worry. Fighting disgusted her. It made her skin crawl. She didn't want to fight; she wanted to heal. In lieu of battle practice the she-cat would make up excuses to get out of training. She would offer to clean the elder's den or go on an extra hunting patrol - anything, just so she didn't have to fight.
Instead of fighting, Fawnstep would occupy her time listening to her clanmates. She liked overhearing bits and pieces of conversation. She liked learning about the lives of her denmates. The she-cat wanted to find a place in the clan. She wanted to grow attachments to each and every cat in riverclan. But due to shy and timid nature she would often be overlooked. Her denmates aren't mean to her - they just forget she's there.
Fawnstep is sweet, cautious, and quiet. Instead of blurting out the first thing on her lips, she chooses to turn the words over her tongue first. She thinks before she speaks. The calico carefully picks each word and rearranges the idea before it leaves her mouth. She doesn't want to fill the air with useless words; she wants to make a statement. She might lack confidence and a positive self-image, but Fawnstep prides herself in her conversation. She knows what she says is worth listening to and someday she hopes to find a bigger purpose.
Fawnstep grew up terrified of the world. From a young age she found herself hiding behind her mother, scared of anything that offered any sort of change. She was only comfortable with the familiar; everything else posed a threat. As an apprentice she was skittish. She jumped at anything that moved. As the moons flitted by Fawnstep grew more accustomed to her clan and began to open up to her denmates. She began to smile a bit more and engage in conversation. She became friends with the medicine cat apprentice and immersed herself into the world of her friends. She was living vicariously and she liked it.
Interested in the world of starclan, Fawnstep began to teach herself through idle listening. Every day she would drop by the medicine cat's den and pretend to be doing something else - grooming herself, eating - it didn't matter, she wanted to learn what it was like to be so important. In merely a couple moons Fawnstep was as knowledgeable as the medicine cat herself.
When she became a warrior Fawnstep began to worry. Fighting disgusted her. It made her skin crawl. She didn't want to fight; she wanted to heal. In lieu of battle practice the she-cat would make up excuses to get out of training. She would offer to clean the elder's den or go on an extra hunting patrol - anything, just so she didn't have to fight.
Instead of fighting, Fawnstep would occupy her time listening to her clanmates. She liked overhearing bits and pieces of conversation. She liked learning about the lives of her denmates. The she-cat wanted to find a place in the clan. She wanted to grow attachments to each and every cat in riverclan. But due to shy and timid nature she would often be overlooked. Her denmates aren't mean to her - they just forget she's there.
Fawnstep is sweet, cautious, and quiet. Instead of blurting out the first thing on her lips, she chooses to turn the words over her tongue first. She thinks before she speaks. The calico carefully picks each word and rearranges the idea before it leaves her mouth. She doesn't want to fill the air with useless words; she wants to make a statement. She might lack confidence and a positive self-image, but Fawnstep prides herself in her conversation. She knows what she says is worth listening to and someday she hopes to find a bigger purpose.
H I S T O R Y
There were three of them - Gingerkit, Skyskit, and Fawnkit. They were born to Silentpool and Firefox. Silentpool was quiet, a serene she-cat who served her clan as a devoted queen. Their father, Firefox, was a noble warrior who died fighting for the clan he loved. Fawnkit grew up living buried beneath her mother's pelt. She was born without bravery. Everything frightened her. The first time she saw her father she trembled in fear. The first time she left the nursery she couldn't move. The first time she left camp she found death.
They were just exploring. Skykit had said it at least a hundred times, it was the only way he could get his sister out of camp. "Bu-but what if we g-get it trou-trouble?" Fawnkit whimpered. Every step she took was tentative, cautious. The she-cat's eyes were wide, frozen in terror. Skykit glanced lazily over his shoulder, "We won't." Fawnkit nodded nervously in response. He was right, he had to be right.
"And what do we have here." Fawnkit froze. A slender black form slithered from the shadows, he padded toward the two kits, a malicious grin dripping from his jowls. "Aren't you two a little far from camp?" The trembling she-cat shot her brother a pleading look. She wanted to run, she wanted to go home. "Skykit." She whimpered. Her brother cast her a reassuring glance before fluffing up his fur and growling, "Aren't you a nasty, disgusting rogue who's a little too close to Riverclan's camp?"
The loner raised his brows, "Cute." He mused, "It's a shame I'll have to kill you." And then he struck. The tom dispatched Skykit with a swift bite to the neck. Fawnkit watched in horror as her brother's body fell to the ground, writhing and screaming. The black tom turned to look at her, his cloudy blue eyes narrowed in delight, "Frightened?"
Fawnkit ran. She bolted into the reeds and threw her body into the river. The water tugged feverishly at her pelt, dragging her deeper into the current. Her heart was pounding, her lungs were screaming. She couldn't see, she couldn't hear anything. Hours later she washed up on the shore cold, broken, and alone.
A patrol found her at sun-high. They brought her back to camp and sent her straight into the medicine cat's den. That night they held a silent vigil for her brother's death. Firefox sat solemnly near the camp's entrance, his eyes narrowed and waiting - it's as if he were hoping the rogue would turn up, just so he could serve his son justice. Silentpool wept quietly in the nursery, too distraught to even look at his mangled body. Whoever did this was a monster.
When Fawnkit became an apprentice she desperately hoped for something extraordinary. She wanted to become medicine cat. She wanted a purpose. Her nights, since her brother's death, had become restless. The she-cat couldn't sleep. She felt useless. Over and over again she would watch her brother die, and each time she knew she could do nothing. Fawnkit wasn't a fighter, but perhaps as a medicine cat she could serve her clan truly.
But there was a flaw in her plan, Moondust, the clan's previous medicine cat had already chosen an apprentice, and Blackfur was nearly done with his training. He wouldn't be taking an apprentice for quite a few moons.
Instead Fawnpaw was going to become a warrior. Her mentor was the quiet and docile Finchtail, Riverclan's fleeting deputy. He was a silent tom, he rarely spoke and when he did he sounded rather unsure of himself. His guidance only hindered Fawnpaw's development and sent her further into her shell. Like mentor, like apprentice they said.
And then it happened.
Fawnpaw was dragging a mangled mouse from the fresh-kill pile when she saw him. A tall, lanky black tom with glassy blue eyes. The she-cat dropped her breakfast, her mouth hung open in disbelief. Why is that monster in camp? Snowstar was leading him around camp, their fur brushing, a smile perched on her lips. What's going on?
His name was Raven and he was going to stay.
No one questioned his past. No one saw the blood on his paws. The death on his breath.
Fawnkit was the only one who knew the truth; everyone else was oblivious. It was then and there when she decided to teach herself. She wasn't going to become a medicine cat in the spiritual sense, no - she was just going to learn the ropes. And this time when he struck - she was going to be ready.
Whenever she had the chance Fawnpaw would find herself outside of the medicine cat's den. Sometimes she'd pretend to be grooming herself, other times she'd be slowly eating a mouse but each time she'd be listening. This went on for a couple moons before she was finally caught.
Fawnstep leaned silently over her thrush, she gave it a quick nudge before returning her gaze on the den. Inside she could hear Blackfur quietly mumbling to himself. Her knowledge of herbs and healing remedies was expanding, but she needed practice. Maybe if she faked an injury? No, that was stupid - the she-cat glanced up, a pair of amber eyes met her gaze. Blackfurfurrowed his brows, "You know, I always see you out here..." The tom trailed off, "What in Starclan's name are you doing?"
Fawnpaw felt her cheeks color, "Uh, I'm just, well-" The she-cat couldn't talk, her tongue suddenly felt heavy. She quickly scrambled to her paws, "I should get going, this is silly-" The tom interrupted her, "Do you want to help me? Moondust's getting old. She could use a break."
When Moondust died, Fawnstep, now a warrior, became Blackfur's apprentice. Riverclan could always use two medicine cats, so why not? The pair would visit the moonpool during the half-moon and Fawnstep knew it was her purpose.
She remained co-medicine cat for almost ten moons before it happened. Blackfur wasn't able to make it to the half-moon. Instead Fawnstep went alone; she expected nothing of it. It was just like any meeting, but to her dismay, she was wrong. The four medicine cats received vicious, ominous threats from starclan, and poor Fawnstep endured the most frightening message of them all. The she-cat was eaten alive, voices ripped through her flesh, claws piercing her thoughts - when she awoke she couldn't think straight. She still can't think straight.
Due to her growing insanity she's had to resign.
Due to her growing insanity she doesn't - she can't - she's incapable of believing in starclan. And perhaps that's what scares her the most.
There were three of them - Gingerkit, Skyskit, and Fawnkit. They were born to Silentpool and Firefox. Silentpool was quiet, a serene she-cat who served her clan as a devoted queen. Their father, Firefox, was a noble warrior who died fighting for the clan he loved. Fawnkit grew up living buried beneath her mother's pelt. She was born without bravery. Everything frightened her. The first time she saw her father she trembled in fear. The first time she left the nursery she couldn't move. The first time she left camp she found death.
They were just exploring. Skykit had said it at least a hundred times, it was the only way he could get his sister out of camp. "Bu-but what if we g-get it trou-trouble?" Fawnkit whimpered. Every step she took was tentative, cautious. The she-cat's eyes were wide, frozen in terror. Skykit glanced lazily over his shoulder, "We won't." Fawnkit nodded nervously in response. He was right, he had to be right.
"And what do we have here." Fawnkit froze. A slender black form slithered from the shadows, he padded toward the two kits, a malicious grin dripping from his jowls. "Aren't you two a little far from camp?" The trembling she-cat shot her brother a pleading look. She wanted to run, she wanted to go home. "Skykit." She whimpered. Her brother cast her a reassuring glance before fluffing up his fur and growling, "Aren't you a nasty, disgusting rogue who's a little too close to Riverclan's camp?"
The loner raised his brows, "Cute." He mused, "It's a shame I'll have to kill you." And then he struck. The tom dispatched Skykit with a swift bite to the neck. Fawnkit watched in horror as her brother's body fell to the ground, writhing and screaming. The black tom turned to look at her, his cloudy blue eyes narrowed in delight, "Frightened?"
Fawnkit ran. She bolted into the reeds and threw her body into the river. The water tugged feverishly at her pelt, dragging her deeper into the current. Her heart was pounding, her lungs were screaming. She couldn't see, she couldn't hear anything. Hours later she washed up on the shore cold, broken, and alone.
A patrol found her at sun-high. They brought her back to camp and sent her straight into the medicine cat's den. That night they held a silent vigil for her brother's death. Firefox sat solemnly near the camp's entrance, his eyes narrowed and waiting - it's as if he were hoping the rogue would turn up, just so he could serve his son justice. Silentpool wept quietly in the nursery, too distraught to even look at his mangled body. Whoever did this was a monster.
When Fawnkit became an apprentice she desperately hoped for something extraordinary. She wanted to become medicine cat. She wanted a purpose. Her nights, since her brother's death, had become restless. The she-cat couldn't sleep. She felt useless. Over and over again she would watch her brother die, and each time she knew she could do nothing. Fawnkit wasn't a fighter, but perhaps as a medicine cat she could serve her clan truly.
But there was a flaw in her plan, Moondust, the clan's previous medicine cat had already chosen an apprentice, and Blackfur was nearly done with his training. He wouldn't be taking an apprentice for quite a few moons.
Instead Fawnpaw was going to become a warrior. Her mentor was the quiet and docile Finchtail, Riverclan's fleeting deputy. He was a silent tom, he rarely spoke and when he did he sounded rather unsure of himself. His guidance only hindered Fawnpaw's development and sent her further into her shell. Like mentor, like apprentice they said.
And then it happened.
Fawnpaw was dragging a mangled mouse from the fresh-kill pile when she saw him. A tall, lanky black tom with glassy blue eyes. The she-cat dropped her breakfast, her mouth hung open in disbelief. Why is that monster in camp? Snowstar was leading him around camp, their fur brushing, a smile perched on her lips. What's going on?
His name was Raven and he was going to stay.
No one questioned his past. No one saw the blood on his paws. The death on his breath.
Fawnkit was the only one who knew the truth; everyone else was oblivious. It was then and there when she decided to teach herself. She wasn't going to become a medicine cat in the spiritual sense, no - she was just going to learn the ropes. And this time when he struck - she was going to be ready.
Whenever she had the chance Fawnpaw would find herself outside of the medicine cat's den. Sometimes she'd pretend to be grooming herself, other times she'd be slowly eating a mouse but each time she'd be listening. This went on for a couple moons before she was finally caught.
Fawnstep leaned silently over her thrush, she gave it a quick nudge before returning her gaze on the den. Inside she could hear Blackfur quietly mumbling to himself. Her knowledge of herbs and healing remedies was expanding, but she needed practice. Maybe if she faked an injury? No, that was stupid - the she-cat glanced up, a pair of amber eyes met her gaze. Blackfurfurrowed his brows, "You know, I always see you out here..." The tom trailed off, "What in Starclan's name are you doing?"
Fawnpaw felt her cheeks color, "Uh, I'm just, well-" The she-cat couldn't talk, her tongue suddenly felt heavy. She quickly scrambled to her paws, "I should get going, this is silly-" The tom interrupted her, "Do you want to help me? Moondust's getting old. She could use a break."
When Moondust died, Fawnstep, now a warrior, became Blackfur's apprentice. Riverclan could always use two medicine cats, so why not? The pair would visit the moonpool during the half-moon and Fawnstep knew it was her purpose.
She remained co-medicine cat for almost ten moons before it happened. Blackfur wasn't able to make it to the half-moon. Instead Fawnstep went alone; she expected nothing of it. It was just like any meeting, but to her dismay, she was wrong. The four medicine cats received vicious, ominous threats from starclan, and poor Fawnstep endured the most frightening message of them all. The she-cat was eaten alive, voices ripped through her flesh, claws piercing her thoughts - when she awoke she couldn't think straight. She still can't think straight.
Due to her growing insanity she's had to resign.
Due to her growing insanity she doesn't - she can't - she's incapable of believing in starclan. And perhaps that's what scares her the most.
