Jul 22, 2018 19:23:10 GMT
Post by shades on Jul 22, 2018 19:23:10 GMT
name • littlestar (nose)
age • 60
gender • m
sexuality • gray ace
clan • thunder
rank • leader
allegiance • a small, black tom with amber eyes.
full • a longer more detailed description of the character's appearance
=his want for a good reputation makes him a habitual liar. if pressured, these tales can slip from him without thought and become frail in quality. though he considers himself a grand schemer, he is often prone to these anxious bursts; derived from the fear of being seen as inferior as he believes himself to be.
mother • crowtail, female, alive
father • smokestorm, male, alive
sister • nightwhisker, female, alive
mentor • lizardwing, male, alive
apprentice • stagfoot, male, deceased
his mother was sharp, and his father was absent. he doesn't like to dwell on this; they didn't shape him. his course was always set. he is who is because that's who he's meant to be.
he didn't like others; their company alone enough to send him into a panic. his would fur stand up straight (like a porcupine) when he tried. so he quietly hid behind his duties. some days, he'd barely say a word at all.
he thought xxx was just like the rest. but after only a day in their company, he found himself very wrong. he wonders why he grew so close. sometimes, he supposes it was for starclan to test him; a challenge he failed. xxx was solemn and quiet. level-headed, but with the charm of a humor drier than dust. they drew out of littlepaw the opinions he once kept all to himself.
he didn't realize it for a while. not even when he invented injuries just to see them. not when he thought of them long after they left. it hit him moons later; when his heart would reach a frightening pitch upon being bestowed with their company.
now he was caught between waves of rage and mourning. he wouldn't dare threaten their oath, but he could not cut his feelings away.
the teeth of anxiety gripped his throat on his way to their den. and by his exit, they'd snapped it clean.
he was bitter. and that anger turned his somber voice into a lash. his views were worth sharing;
he wouldn't allow the hollow voice of his younger days to eat him. familiar anger (and mourning) stirs him again, but starclan has set him on this path for a reason. the cloak of piety is a warm one. he shares the comforting words of starclan's power—and allows his bitterness and hate stew. soon, he may find a way to...