Post by bleak on Feb 16, 2011 16:14:06 GMT -5
Bleakheart of ShadowClan
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Name: bleakheart.
Age: thirty-six moons.
Gender: tom.
Clan: shadowclan.
Rank: warrior.
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Reason For Name:
'bleak': the almost absence of color in his pelt didn't go quite unnoticed. where stripes were expected upon his soot-like pelt, there were only light markings which took effort in scrutinizing to distinguish. not only this, but by his petite body at birth (which carries on today) and his momentary stillness, his chances seemed slim. as for 'heart', well, bleakheart descended from a sarcastically witty duo. throughout his aging, his attitude and personality was measured. his often somber state of mind came in handy for name-choosing, as well as the knowledge of there being something hiding in that chest of his.. to acknowledge that, there it was given.
Previous Names: bleakkit, bleakpaw.
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One Sentence Description: a small faded gray tabby tom with glass-green eyes.
Appearance:
in the dead of night his outline would only be slightly noticeable. gray on midnight sable, they go together perfectly. although, should a fire ignite and leave only ashes as entrails left, the soot would be a much darker, thick shade in comparison with this tom's. rather than bleakheart and the night, pair him with the winter snow and there he might blend in flawlessly. camouflage would almost be his entirety, if you could look past the slight difference of the two hues. if you spy closely upon him, there are quite a few intelligible dapples of thin stripes mottled about his long torso and frame.
this frame of his, though diminutive when standing next to or sitting beside other warriors his age, is muscular. beneath his long-haired coat (which comes to be such an annoyance to him; whoever thought mud could be so magnetic?) evidence of his effort and know-how ripple easily. they do, indeed, come in handy - his apprentice-like size often give others the wrong idea; that he's an easy opponent who won't give a speck of challenge. this hidden power is almost like a secret weapon when used in battle.
though dubbed petite and seemingly harmless, those little paws hide sharp razor-like claws, always ready at the spur of any moment to be released for the incision. always quick to draw these, you could call this swiftness a benefit of being miniature. although normally each side of a regular feline's body should be parallel, maybe this is an extraordinary case. on his right ear - which are both large, suitable for acute hearing - there's a scar acquired from an accident in the apprentices' den. split down the middle, it forms a long and slim triangle. the ends are completely healed, and no longer does it bring him any pain. there are other nicks and old wounds buried in his fur, most of which are just cuts formed by claws' passage.
for the small bundle of fur he is, would it be bragging to call him quite agreeable in looks? though he's not exactly desirable compared to many others of his clan, he'd like to say he's just as good as the best of them. his form comes to his aid in the best of moments - that tail guides his stamina correctly, keeping him smooth and agile in maneuvers. and that speed -- he'd be but a blur. you see, all these imperfections blend with what is good of him and create something nothing short of excellent - in his glass-green eyes.
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Personality:
don't judge a book by it's cover. that's the motto, when you're anywhere near this furball. the stereotype for anything smaller than average is -- what? -- weak, with a pushover attitude and a tongue as soft as the very bedding they sleep on. that's not the case here. anything but, really. bleakheart may as well have a switchblade for a tongue in the trap of a mouth he seems not to ever be able to close. maybe it was a skill he never learned, or maybe it's a hobby in the form of the lack of conducting an action. it's a supposed mystery by many, an annoyance for a few, and a disease of pure arrogance for most of the clan. don't think for a second that this one can't hold his own. he's got every tool he needs to defend himself - and, believe it or not, those he cares for. it might come as a shocker to you, but hidden behind that sternum -however well-guarded it may be- there's a beating heart with the capability of caring. that somber, almost sinister attitude is only a mask, you see.
he's one of those fellows you can find clinging to the shadows, often willing himself to go without a single glance his way. he likes it better that way. the silence sounds more like a song when no one interrupts. loneliness is almost golden, sometimes. it gives time for thinking. but when someone interrupts and sabotages that song he admires to such an extent, our peaceful sect of him bleeds his true outspoken colors, which reveals all the other pieces of him that fall out of the made puzzle.. the piece of him which disguises his jealousy -which comes very easily-, the piece of him which is natural curiosity, and the piece of the jigsaw of that disruptive pompousness. his own silence never lasts long. it's almost guaranteed that his uptight personality will come out of its hiding eventually. just like his judgmental mind, as he sits upon his high horse.
as spiteful and hard-headed as bleakheart can be, there's a deeper, more compassionate side to him. it's a rarity for this to come to life to be seen. and with this known by those who are relatively close to him, they'd find the idea of him having a mate appalling, or really, any sort of tender feelings.. this is why most of his friendships include harsh words with no meaning behind them. it's just for the sake of keeping a hard outer shell, a tough appearance to hide the inside. loyalty is there, somewhere. and with his bold personality, bravery isn't an issue.
Likes:
- quiet
- debate
- evenings
- cleanliness
- himself
Dislikes:
- apprentices
- insecurities
- mornings
- authority
- other clans
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History:
in the early moons, life was rather simple. there were only a few concerns which came to bleakkit's mind: feeding, playing, and wandering to and fro across the nursery den, wondering what his future had in store for him. maybe the proper word would be worrying; he had doubts, in himself and in others. low confidence and self esteem caused this, perhaps due to the fact that everyone else housed here in the nursery seemed more superior to him. he felt vulnerable, and there was no denying how small he was. always surpassed, he became used to playing his own role, or being left behind.
his mother and father objected to this submission he had. it was almost as if bleakkit would bow down before anyone who was bigger than him. he was intimidated easily back then, and practically feared his own shadow with the sense of paranoia. this was unacceptable. his litter-mates, two she-cats, were deemed tougher than he. he hated the fact, as did his own father, who for a while there seemed to be ashamed of his son.. eventually, as everything began to simmer in his gut and thinks started making sense, he began to play a little rougher. he began to speak a little more. he became less afraid, and a little more spontaneous in his doings.
this delighted his mother, tawnywhisker - a dark tabby femme with a definite attitude and strong values. she was an intelligent one, with sense and knowledge in what bleakkit imagined was in every subject in all-around life. he adored her, and looked up to no one but her. he could have cared less about his father - a gray tabby - who paid more attention to his siblings and who had seemingly disowned the runt of the litter. it was because of this that the eldest of his sisters began to pick on him. it was when they were each apprentices that she did so where all the eyes of shadowclans' apprentices could see. in the apprentices' den, one night before they would all settle down for the evening - bleakpaw strolled in late, which made his sister's mind tick with thoughts and insults to say aloud. once spoken, words could never be taken back.
this was her flaw. and shortly after this flaw was displayed, his sister's disappearance was reported. the incident in the apprentices' den was never known to be connected to whatever had happened to the young she-cat, but bleakpaw never spoke another word of her again. not until his mother came to him, weary, and accused him of murder. this was taken to heart, it was a low blow coming from someone he so treasured. it struck him deep, and soon history repeated itself in the form of his mother disappearing as well. there was talk going on about this, talk and rumor which kept him under a close eye. so close an eye he stuck to camp unless he was ordered to be on patrol with his mentor - the very feline which had hardened him the most, and molded him into what he had become. mystery seemed to surround him, but not even the sharpest eyes could peek through or distinguish any lies from truth.
by this time his father and the only sibling he had left claimed to not be related to him. they never spoke his name, nor acknowledged his presence. there were few who would trust bleak, for the fear that the rumors which had been circulating were true, though he would swear up and down and to starclan that they were not. when warriorhood rolled around, he took the newly found freedom to think more. he took it to grieve for his losses, but he took it as a time of discovery and revelation; from this point on, he guarded himself, and who he was.
IC Example:
the moon hung like an ornament upon the horizon. storm clouds rolled upon the night with heavy gusts sweeping over the ground, making blades of grass sway and dance with the shadows cast upon them. bushes shook ominously, suggesting unknown presences just like the tree branches trembled in warning. leaves descended to the ground in what seemed like a frenzy, along with a shower of fallen bark from the very trunk of the aforementioned tree; what climbed it, dare i describe? a thin wiry mess, cloaked in dark fur and armed with talon-like claws that secured themselves inside of everything they touched scaled the sad tree easily. like a monster it yowled, a gruesome yet familiar sound to the forest.
and suddenly there was only silence, just shortly after a sharp snapping sound. whatever creature had been in the tree was unable to be found, though it reappeared feet away, emerald orbs flaring like fire, dare and horrible intent the most obvious threat seen in them.
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Who Are You? bleakie, a trogolodyte.
How Did You Find Us? thank smally C:
Other Characters: none yet~