Post by mossheart on Jun 27, 2017 22:32:03 GMT -5
[attr="class","WindClanImage"]
[attr="class","WindClanName"]
MOSSHEART
[PTabbedContent][PTab=Tab1]
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[PTab=Tab2]APPEARANCE - NINKASI
PERSONALITY - Mossheart is a warm, loving she-cat with a quiet nature but not one born of shyness or a lack of self-confidence. She simply doesn't feel the need to constantly fill the air with her own words, and prefers to observe rather than insert herself into most situations. Thoughtful and nurturing, she aspires to have her own family and to be the best warrior she can be, though she doesn't have ambitions for much more. She can be considered complacent - happy with whatever lot in life StarClan and her leader grants her, and nothing more. She's never been known to be jealous, though if one pried enough she'd admit to feeling it a few times. Obtaining a heart of gold, she's willing to help wherever she can and doesn't think twice about helping a cat in need - WindClanner or not. Passionate about her beliefs, she finds it hard to believe that some of the stories of cruelty have actually happened - but she herself has been witness to the cold pain that this world has to offer, and she's no fool to think she won't face her own hardships before she goes to be with StarClan. Entirely loyal to her Clan, but resents the idea that cats from other Clans can't be considered her friends as well. She might even have a bit of a rebellious streak - from befriending a non-WindClan cat, to creating dangerous games that ended with her being held back from training and forced to clean the elder's den day and night, waiting on them paw and tail at every waking moment.
FAMILY -
Elmstep :: (father)
Littlebrook :: (mother)
Dipperflight :: (brother)
Rookfrost :: (sister)
Lionclaw :: (best friend)
HISTORY -
Kithood | 0-6 Moons
Elmstep and Littlebrook couldn't have been more in love if they'd been tied together and forced to spend every waking moment at each other's side (as if they didn't already). Elmstep was a huge tom with a solid build, who always seemed to be filling every nook and cranny with his warm, friendly voice. Littlebrook was pint-sized compared to him, and had a soft voice that was perpetually a whisper, but a fierce intelligence that burned in her gaze that told you that she was perhaps the more dangerous of the two. They had kits as young warriors, so in love and so ready to be parents that they could hardly wait. Two she-cats that looked more or less like Littlebrook, and a tom that was nearly the spitting image of his father - and the biggest, which was no surprise. She named the first-born Rook-kit, a nearly pitch black she-cat with a small white spot on her chest. The tom was named Dipperkit, and the last-born and the smallest, well, that was Mosskit - who shared the same pelt as her mother.
As they grew older, Dipperkit grew lankier rather than stockier. He still resembled his father in pelt color, but his build was leaner - more like Littlebrook's. Rook-kit, the ever-independent sibling (in both looks and personality), was even lankier than her brother, nearly just a wisp of black fur and long, long legs. Most would have described her as scrawny, or underfed, but she actually ate the most out of all three siblings, and seemed to have a nearly insatiable appetite.
Mosskit, for all her worth, stayed just about the same, growing no bigger and no lankier. She was petite, compact. Small.
What the sisters of the litter lacked in rambunctiousness, Dipperkit more than made up for. If he wasn't sleeping or eating, he was constantly on the move - and constantly talking. Always smiling - Mossheart still can't remember a time where her brother didn't smile, whether it was sad times or happy times. The day that she does see him look serious, is the day that she will be truly terrified.
Apprenticeship | 6-13 Moons
Her mentor was more than she could ever ask for - Longstride, perhaps the tallest, longest cat she'd ever met in her entire life. His legs were even longer than Rook-kit's, who had continued to climb in height and slimness since kithood. Mosspaw was mesmerized by him almost immediately, even though her apprenticeship was tainted by the death of their leader, Thistlestar, and the birth of a new one - Dewstar. Had Longstride reacted any other way, Mosspaw might have learned to deal with grief differently - instead, she watched him take it in stride, and she started to wonder if smiling through sad times was simply a thing for toms. Even so, she grew to both love and respect him, and to this day Mossheart has maintained a close relationship with the tall, goofy tom and still seeks him out when she needs advice.
It was between training sessions and family time that Mosspaw met Lionpaw. They first met at a Gathering - he was the most beautiful cat she'd ever seen, a large, fluffy golden tom with bright eyes. And he moved through the other Clan cats as if he didn't have a care in the world, while Mosspaw was tucked so closely to Littlebrook's side that she practically disappeared like camouflage into her mother's similar pelt. When her mother went off to speak to a few cats from other Clans, Mosspaw found herself alone - and terrified.
Until Lionpaw approached her. He was charming, and funny, and it wasn't long before the little she-cat softened and warmed up to the idea of making friends with the much larger tom. The two spent the entire Gathering whispering to one another, and even though Mosspaw caught a few sharp looks from her mother for being too loud, no one told her not to make him her friend. Of course, she'd been raised to have the Code memorized, and it was one of her very first lessons as an apprentice - she knew that, should she ever have to fight with ThunderClan, and came face-to-face with Lionpaw, she would have to fight him. It was her duty to her Clan - and it wasn't as if WindClan and ThunderClan had never fought before. And while the idea of hurting anyone gave her pause, Mosspaw had faith that the Clans could live in peace, and that she could have this innocent friendship.
It was towards the middle of her apprenticeship that she came up with a game for her and her siblings. She named it 'rogue hunting', and the idea was that a lone apprentice went out in the night and the rest of the group (it usually wasn't a big one - because it had to be secret, obviously), would go out after waiting for a while, and hunt the "rogue" down. Of course, nothing ever works out the way it should when you're breaking the rules - she was playing the rogue when she heard a cry raise through the night, and when she'd sped back towards camp, she blundered over a hill to find an actual rogue facing off with her brother and sister - pinning Dipperpaw down with wicked, curved claws tapping against his throat. Mossheart will never forget the scraggly tom's raspy voice, or the glint of his fangs in the moonlight. 'Little kitties shouldn't be out at night all alone, should they?' Looking back on the memory, Mossheart was fairly certain the tom was quite old, and probably quite deranged. But no less cruel or dangerous.
Luckily, Dipperpaw's loud cry of fear saved them all. In the next moment, as Mosspaw watched in sheer terror as the rogue pressed his claws closer to her brother's throat, a large figure shot out from the darkness and barreled into the crazy cat, knocking him away from Dipperpaw. She'd never seen Elmstep look so ferocious, his eyes dark with anger and body rigid with tension. The shadows seemed to move as Littlebrook appeared, curling her kits close to her body and giving Dipperpaw a comforting lick over the ear as her mate crashed after the rogue, chasing him out of their territory.
Of course, Mosspaw and her siblings were punished, but the game had been created - and the fear factor of possibly encountering a rogue only made it more enticing. To this day, apprentices still play it, and although Mossheart is older now, and recognizes how crazy and stupid the game is, she can only remember fondly of how amazed she was with her parents' swift dealing of the issue. The scolding they received was well worth the memory.
She and her siblings were held back from training for a moon, made to help Crookedwing with the elders' for the entire time. Mosspaw hadn't really interacted with the odd she-cat, though she knew enough about her from the whisperings of other apprentices. While Mosspaw found herself slightly intimidated by the she-cat and her disability, she found herself respecting the quiet dignitity with which the older she-cat lived her life, and in the way that she, a warrior, took on apprentice-level duties without complaint.
Warriorhood | 13-Current Moons
Mossheart was given her warrior name beside her siblings, Rookfrost and Dipperflight, while their parents looked on with pride in their eyes. The hardest part about sitting vigil was Dipperflight's incessant fidgeting, as if he had too much energy to sit even for a night. She'd catch him parting his jaws to speak, and silence him with a stern look - which was replied with simply a sheepish smile. The next moon flew by, and finally it was time to go to another Gathering. She can still remember the excitement of getting to tell Lionpaw about her warrior ceremony, and reminding herself that he was probably a warrior by now, as well. Mossheart had found herself so busy with her new duties that she hadn't been able to sneak out and meet him since their last meeting as apprentices, and she found herself missing him dearly.
He seemed bigger than she remembered, and he informed her his name was now Lionclaw, and had been so for a moon longer than her. They spent the Gathering catching up, and she left with a promise to meet him as soon as she could.
Most nights, one would find Mossheart in her nest sleeping, or out on a patrol. But some nights she will be doing neither, and she will find herself sitting on the bank of the stream, staring across into the dark woods of ThunderClan territory, waiting for the familiar flash of golden pelt, and musing on her future - and WindClan's future, as well.
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[PTab=Tab3]DO YOU BELIEVE IN STARCLAN? WHY OR WHY NOT?
"Of course I do." She responds neatly, tail curled around her paws and ears perked. "They're what separates the Clans from the rogues and the loners. Without the, we would have no order. No destiny."
FAVORITE HISTORICAL CAT? WHY?
She smiles fondly, the love practically coming off her in waves. "I know he might not be a hero in everyone's eyes, but I'd have to say my father, Elmstep. He saved my life, and without him I wouldn't be the cat I am today. He's a hero in my eyes, and nothing can change that."
WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST FEAR?
Tilting her head, the she-cat considers this question for a moment before answering. "Disappointing my family or my Clan. Sure, there are things like rogues, dogs, and foxes - even twolegs. But I can't think of anything more terrifying than having my parents no longer believe in me."
IF YOUR BEST FRIEND/MOTHER/WHOEVER KNOWS YOU WELL COULD DESCRIBE YOU IN THREE INDIVIDUAL WORDS, WHAT WOULD THOSE BE? DO YOU AGREE OR DISAGREE?
A laugh that sounds like bells escapes her muzzle, and she shakes her head. "He'd say I'm a goody two-shoes, a worry-wart, and not nearly selfish enough. But I only do the things I do because they're what make me happy, so really I'm quite selfish."
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[PTab=Tab4]USERNAME/ALIAS - BUNNY
PRONOUNS - SHE/HER
TIMEZONE - CENTRAL
OTHER CHARACTERS - ASHPAW (WC), MINTCLOUD (WC)
ADOPTED FROM - flynn
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PAST NAMES - Mosskit - Mosspaw
SEX - She-Cat
AGE - 36 Moons
CLAN & RANK - WindClan Warrior
BRIEF DESCRIPTION - A very small tortoiseshell she-cat with pale green eyes.
SEX - She-Cat
AGE - 36 Moons
CLAN & RANK - WindClan Warrior
BRIEF DESCRIPTION - A very small tortoiseshell she-cat with pale green eyes.
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[PTab=Tab2]APPEARANCE - NINKASI
PERSONALITY - Mossheart is a warm, loving she-cat with a quiet nature but not one born of shyness or a lack of self-confidence. She simply doesn't feel the need to constantly fill the air with her own words, and prefers to observe rather than insert herself into most situations. Thoughtful and nurturing, she aspires to have her own family and to be the best warrior she can be, though she doesn't have ambitions for much more. She can be considered complacent - happy with whatever lot in life StarClan and her leader grants her, and nothing more. She's never been known to be jealous, though if one pried enough she'd admit to feeling it a few times. Obtaining a heart of gold, she's willing to help wherever she can and doesn't think twice about helping a cat in need - WindClanner or not. Passionate about her beliefs, she finds it hard to believe that some of the stories of cruelty have actually happened - but she herself has been witness to the cold pain that this world has to offer, and she's no fool to think she won't face her own hardships before she goes to be with StarClan. Entirely loyal to her Clan, but resents the idea that cats from other Clans can't be considered her friends as well. She might even have a bit of a rebellious streak - from befriending a non-WindClan cat, to creating dangerous games that ended with her being held back from training and forced to clean the elder's den day and night, waiting on them paw and tail at every waking moment.
FAMILY -
Elmstep :: (father)
Littlebrook :: (mother)
Dipperflight :: (brother)
Rookfrost :: (sister)
Lionclaw :: (best friend)
HISTORY -
Kithood | 0-6 Moons
Elmstep and Littlebrook couldn't have been more in love if they'd been tied together and forced to spend every waking moment at each other's side (as if they didn't already). Elmstep was a huge tom with a solid build, who always seemed to be filling every nook and cranny with his warm, friendly voice. Littlebrook was pint-sized compared to him, and had a soft voice that was perpetually a whisper, but a fierce intelligence that burned in her gaze that told you that she was perhaps the more dangerous of the two. They had kits as young warriors, so in love and so ready to be parents that they could hardly wait. Two she-cats that looked more or less like Littlebrook, and a tom that was nearly the spitting image of his father - and the biggest, which was no surprise. She named the first-born Rook-kit, a nearly pitch black she-cat with a small white spot on her chest. The tom was named Dipperkit, and the last-born and the smallest, well, that was Mosskit - who shared the same pelt as her mother.
As they grew older, Dipperkit grew lankier rather than stockier. He still resembled his father in pelt color, but his build was leaner - more like Littlebrook's. Rook-kit, the ever-independent sibling (in both looks and personality), was even lankier than her brother, nearly just a wisp of black fur and long, long legs. Most would have described her as scrawny, or underfed, but she actually ate the most out of all three siblings, and seemed to have a nearly insatiable appetite.
Mosskit, for all her worth, stayed just about the same, growing no bigger and no lankier. She was petite, compact. Small.
What the sisters of the litter lacked in rambunctiousness, Dipperkit more than made up for. If he wasn't sleeping or eating, he was constantly on the move - and constantly talking. Always smiling - Mossheart still can't remember a time where her brother didn't smile, whether it was sad times or happy times. The day that she does see him look serious, is the day that she will be truly terrified.
Apprenticeship | 6-13 Moons
Her mentor was more than she could ever ask for - Longstride, perhaps the tallest, longest cat she'd ever met in her entire life. His legs were even longer than Rook-kit's, who had continued to climb in height and slimness since kithood. Mosspaw was mesmerized by him almost immediately, even though her apprenticeship was tainted by the death of their leader, Thistlestar, and the birth of a new one - Dewstar. Had Longstride reacted any other way, Mosspaw might have learned to deal with grief differently - instead, she watched him take it in stride, and she started to wonder if smiling through sad times was simply a thing for toms. Even so, she grew to both love and respect him, and to this day Mossheart has maintained a close relationship with the tall, goofy tom and still seeks him out when she needs advice.
It was between training sessions and family time that Mosspaw met Lionpaw. They first met at a Gathering - he was the most beautiful cat she'd ever seen, a large, fluffy golden tom with bright eyes. And he moved through the other Clan cats as if he didn't have a care in the world, while Mosspaw was tucked so closely to Littlebrook's side that she practically disappeared like camouflage into her mother's similar pelt. When her mother went off to speak to a few cats from other Clans, Mosspaw found herself alone - and terrified.
Until Lionpaw approached her. He was charming, and funny, and it wasn't long before the little she-cat softened and warmed up to the idea of making friends with the much larger tom. The two spent the entire Gathering whispering to one another, and even though Mosspaw caught a few sharp looks from her mother for being too loud, no one told her not to make him her friend. Of course, she'd been raised to have the Code memorized, and it was one of her very first lessons as an apprentice - she knew that, should she ever have to fight with ThunderClan, and came face-to-face with Lionpaw, she would have to fight him. It was her duty to her Clan - and it wasn't as if WindClan and ThunderClan had never fought before. And while the idea of hurting anyone gave her pause, Mosspaw had faith that the Clans could live in peace, and that she could have this innocent friendship.
It was towards the middle of her apprenticeship that she came up with a game for her and her siblings. She named it 'rogue hunting', and the idea was that a lone apprentice went out in the night and the rest of the group (it usually wasn't a big one - because it had to be secret, obviously), would go out after waiting for a while, and hunt the "rogue" down. Of course, nothing ever works out the way it should when you're breaking the rules - she was playing the rogue when she heard a cry raise through the night, and when she'd sped back towards camp, she blundered over a hill to find an actual rogue facing off with her brother and sister - pinning Dipperpaw down with wicked, curved claws tapping against his throat. Mossheart will never forget the scraggly tom's raspy voice, or the glint of his fangs in the moonlight. 'Little kitties shouldn't be out at night all alone, should they?' Looking back on the memory, Mossheart was fairly certain the tom was quite old, and probably quite deranged. But no less cruel or dangerous.
Luckily, Dipperpaw's loud cry of fear saved them all. In the next moment, as Mosspaw watched in sheer terror as the rogue pressed his claws closer to her brother's throat, a large figure shot out from the darkness and barreled into the crazy cat, knocking him away from Dipperpaw. She'd never seen Elmstep look so ferocious, his eyes dark with anger and body rigid with tension. The shadows seemed to move as Littlebrook appeared, curling her kits close to her body and giving Dipperpaw a comforting lick over the ear as her mate crashed after the rogue, chasing him out of their territory.
Of course, Mosspaw and her siblings were punished, but the game had been created - and the fear factor of possibly encountering a rogue only made it more enticing. To this day, apprentices still play it, and although Mossheart is older now, and recognizes how crazy and stupid the game is, she can only remember fondly of how amazed she was with her parents' swift dealing of the issue. The scolding they received was well worth the memory.
She and her siblings were held back from training for a moon, made to help Crookedwing with the elders' for the entire time. Mosspaw hadn't really interacted with the odd she-cat, though she knew enough about her from the whisperings of other apprentices. While Mosspaw found herself slightly intimidated by the she-cat and her disability, she found herself respecting the quiet dignitity with which the older she-cat lived her life, and in the way that she, a warrior, took on apprentice-level duties without complaint.
Warriorhood | 13-Current Moons
Mossheart was given her warrior name beside her siblings, Rookfrost and Dipperflight, while their parents looked on with pride in their eyes. The hardest part about sitting vigil was Dipperflight's incessant fidgeting, as if he had too much energy to sit even for a night. She'd catch him parting his jaws to speak, and silence him with a stern look - which was replied with simply a sheepish smile. The next moon flew by, and finally it was time to go to another Gathering. She can still remember the excitement of getting to tell Lionpaw about her warrior ceremony, and reminding herself that he was probably a warrior by now, as well. Mossheart had found herself so busy with her new duties that she hadn't been able to sneak out and meet him since their last meeting as apprentices, and she found herself missing him dearly.
He seemed bigger than she remembered, and he informed her his name was now Lionclaw, and had been so for a moon longer than her. They spent the Gathering catching up, and she left with a promise to meet him as soon as she could.
Most nights, one would find Mossheart in her nest sleeping, or out on a patrol. But some nights she will be doing neither, and she will find herself sitting on the bank of the stream, staring across into the dark woods of ThunderClan territory, waiting for the familiar flash of golden pelt, and musing on her future - and WindClan's future, as well.
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[PTab=Tab3]DO YOU BELIEVE IN STARCLAN? WHY OR WHY NOT?
"Of course I do." She responds neatly, tail curled around her paws and ears perked. "They're what separates the Clans from the rogues and the loners. Without the, we would have no order. No destiny."
FAVORITE HISTORICAL CAT? WHY?
She smiles fondly, the love practically coming off her in waves. "I know he might not be a hero in everyone's eyes, but I'd have to say my father, Elmstep. He saved my life, and without him I wouldn't be the cat I am today. He's a hero in my eyes, and nothing can change that."
WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST FEAR?
Tilting her head, the she-cat considers this question for a moment before answering. "Disappointing my family or my Clan. Sure, there are things like rogues, dogs, and foxes - even twolegs. But I can't think of anything more terrifying than having my parents no longer believe in me."
IF YOUR BEST FRIEND/MOTHER/WHOEVER KNOWS YOU WELL COULD DESCRIBE YOU IN THREE INDIVIDUAL WORDS, WHAT WOULD THOSE BE? DO YOU AGREE OR DISAGREE?
A laugh that sounds like bells escapes her muzzle, and she shakes her head. "He'd say I'm a goody two-shoes, a worry-wart, and not nearly selfish enough. But I only do the things I do because they're what make me happy, so really I'm quite selfish."
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[PTab=Tab4]USERNAME/ALIAS - BUNNY
PRONOUNS - SHE/HER
TIMEZONE - CENTRAL
OTHER CHARACTERS - ASHPAW (WC), MINTCLOUD (WC)
ADOPTED FROM - flynn
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