Post by origami on Apr 2, 2011 9:38:31 GMT -5
t h r u s h p a w
Gender: Tom
Age: VI Moons ( 1/2 Year )
Rank: Apprentice
Clan: Riverclan
Mate/crush: Open
Role player: Origami
Personality: The child of the forgotten, he is a thing that cynics wish to slaughter. A bleeding heart, so to speak, he is as fragile as a heart kept concealed by warping glass jars and underneath comforting blankets. Take a breath, he reminds you of things that cradle unwholesome hearts, ( missing pieces ), like steam wafting tea that slips is cradled between cupped hands, blankets tossed about shivering shoulders, summer dresses that flutter in breath filling, billowing wind, vintage bookstores and chipped, aged photos. A relic, he has the ability, strongly, to sympathize even the most ostracized omega, he holds close, stitching to his heart the tales of the elders, and himself feels. This is not to say that he surrenders to every chance to shed a tear nor become inflamed with anger, but he is a slightly melancholy soul by default, he simply has an inborn drive to comfort. He wishes to see the best of others at the sacrifice of himself. Quietly, he shames himself, with a plummeted self esteem, but he exerts what normally would go to his own ego and redirects it to others. He appears, yonder from, a stoic, quiet, shy even, but dutiful, it is only when approached that his loving nature is exposed, like the heart on his sleeve. A dreamer, he knows responsibility and knows to perform his duties, but he is a whimsical soul like a kite flapping in the summer and autumnal winds. Whimsical, care free even, he allows himself to only be anchored by others. He speaks in a soft voice with powerful words, for he is the sort of tom for the artistic intelligence, that of expression and linguistics ( he dabbles in epistemology ), and ponders a daring amount. He is quick to make friends, if first approached, but he holds only a few of them very close. As for love and lovers, he is a closet romantic, easily fawning and falling for just a sweet bat of an eye. But he would imagine it difficult for anyone to love a free bird as he, especially being small and not exactly the most studly. But he would be a devotee, and this female, if he were to find a very special someone, they would become his new religion.
Appearance: Born of sacred geometry, he bears a charming and endearing symmetry. Miniature cathedral, his marrow heavy portions of form make for a small architecture, a slight trellis for skin to climb. Thrushpaw is born to be agile and swift, flighty like a thrush, versus as solid as stone or as infallible powerhouse. Dark mackerel tabby, he is of smoked timber browns, he looks like the floor of the forest with his slithering stripes of shadow hued fur. Lighter at the face, he has a tan nose and cream highlights about his eyes, typically of tabbies. His skull holds two pendulous eyes, bright, intelligent and wonder wide, they are of a honey amber, curious and endearing forever. His ears and paws are things he has yet to grow into, for they remain slightly large for his body. But it is decided, easily, that he shall not grow to be a large powerhouse and will remain the small cat to sit like fond memories, quiet and sweet. But his slight form only accompanies, to complete, his endearing nature.
History: This is for you to find out.
