Post by j a y d e . & on Nov 25, 2007 22:26:48 GMT -5
Name -- Minnowpool
Age -- 19 Moons
Gender -- Female
Alignment -- It differs. Mostly nuetral/evil.
Rank -- Adolescence
Picture -- black-hearted evil or brave-hearted hero...
Appearence --
Minnowpool's pelt is short and stick, much like her mother's had been. Yet the colouration is completely opposite, in a way. The fur that lines Minnowpool's body is a smooth, smoky, utterly gorgeous white. It lies over her body, the only colour on her pelt besides her points. Minnowpool has ginger tabby points, silky cream stripes that glide over her face and tail. Very faintly, ginger pours over her ankles. This female's tail is shorter that usual, and coated in ginger markings. Minnowpool has a strong, muscular body, inherited from her father. Two broad shoulder span from her back, with a broad face and narrow muzzle. Minnowpool's limbs are strong and supple, light as bamboo but strong as diamonds. Two ears sit atop her crown like rotors, they twist and turn, catching every sound. Minnowpool can travel long distances, very fast. An inhuman strength that possesses her frame like a demon in a kit, muscles gliding down her pelt like a flick of a rope. Minnowpool's eyes are two peircing globes of blue, happiness worn out of them from many moons of harshness.
Short Description --
Fierce white she-cat with ginger markings and pale blue eyes
Personality --
Think of a bubbly kit. A childhood of curiosity and adventure, tricking the wits out of adults. All fun. No work, teaching herself the ways of trickery and life. Many grew up, simply, in this exact way. As a young adult, pretty and a bubblehead, trouncing around and eluding many a tom. Finally, a cold, cruel, fighting machine, changed with force by laws not of nature.
This is the story of Minnowpool's personality. Outside, cruel, inside, struggling. Minnowpool is now made to fight down cats, keep the goodies from killing themselves and the baddies from killing others. This femme is ruthless in her line, coldly whipping curveballs into anyone's face and hunting them down. Minnowpool is cruel. A beautiful, cruel cat. A very special cat. Minnowpool has a razor-sharp clarity added to the world. An icy-sharpness that almost hurts. Anger floods her body quite often, if she had not succeeded. Violence overwhelms. A bit of a hypocracy. Keeping others from harm, yet harming others as she traipses around.
History --
Birth. In all of the irony, Minnowpool has no clue whom she was born to. Probably won't ever find out. A distant, musty, wet scent is her only clue. Unfortunately, whoever this female was gave birth to her near Twolegplace. Leaving her near a fence, the queen drug herself off, probably thinking her birthing was over. For all Minnowpool knows, she has no other siblings. Anyway, some plump kittypet queen picked her up and nursed her along with her kits. So, named Minnow, the kit grew up in a Twoleg house for a few moons. Eventually, she left on a whim, with no desire to return to her foster mother. Quite frankly, her foster mother had been quite stupid.
As Minnow grew, she met a few forest cats, or "Clan cats", as they called themselves. Whatever. Yet, one in particular explained their names, which Minnow enjoyed enough to change her name to Minnowpool. So, a gorgeous, bouncy Minnowpool bounced around loner territories, catching a few eyes yet totally ignoring them. The young female hadn't ever really been interested in guys. Rather, she was pretty bubbleheaded with confidence and arrogance. Which really cost Minnowpool her future. Totally missing the fact that a Thunderpath had cars on it, the fluffy female got hit, and was brought to a vet's office by the owner of that car.
The vets examined her. Hardly anything wrong with her, even though she'd been hit full-on. They set her hip back into place, much to the dislike of Minnowpool. They named her Cinnamon for her markings, and set her in a kennel. Some of the employess took to her. Poor Minnowpool wanted out, really bad.
She got what she wanted. That night, some robbers broke in and stole a few crates, all cats. Minnowpool included. They threw them in the back of a white van and drove off in the darkness, with the crates bumping around in the back. They arrived at some remote, white building where they took the cats in and examined them thoroughly. Minnowpool was separated from them. The tall Twolegs in long white coats exclaimed over some translucent black papers, then knocked her out. When she woke, everything felt different. Sharper, brighter, clearer. Her hip felt perfect. As a matter of fact, everything felt perfect.
What had they done to her?
Soon, they took her to an outdoor kennel. Apparantly, they underestimated her. Minnowpool unlatched the lock and bolted far away. It was odd. Her muscles didn't scream at her after five minutes of straight sprinting. Her torn pawpads didn't ache. Minnowpool wasn't alarmed. It was almost like her mind knew what happened, but her conscience didn't.
They had turned her into something different.
Face it, Minnowpool was special.
Lineage --
Fishpelt [mother]
Phantomstorm [father]
Spectrumfire [brother]
RP Sample --
A slit of light cut in between the outline of the low-growing trees. It bathed the hollow in eerie gray-white light, like the world had been swathed in a black-and-white curtain. A feline form slipped down the side of the hollow, tail waving back and forth as the tip brushed silently over the ground rythmically. Her head was lowered, eyes set forward, and then up. The two pools were as clear and pale and beautiful as the sky of a winter's morning. Her pristine coat shone like starlit dew had been laced into it. Her ginger markings burned with a delicate fire as it coursed over her sturdy forepaws.
Bounding the rest of the length, she looking up at the sickly sunlight. With a twitch of her whiskers, the young female settled on the floor the forest, tail-tip twitching once and a while. It's still quite warm for leaf-fall. Minnowpool thought dryly, flexing her muscles and unsheathing her long, hooked claws. It's quite nice. Minnowpool bared her teeth in what seemed like a wolfish smile, thinking back to a moon ago, on this territory. That bumbling terracota-coated tom with the green eyes had skittered off. Huh. Minnowpool snorted, shifting her gaze to the layered outcrop of rocks. Idiot. She turned her mind to the lighter gray tabby-and-white tom, whom she had fought and won.
Another idiot, if you ask me.
Smiling, Minnowpool turned her paws over, inspecting her claws. Rather intresting, how easy that was.
Then again, she was Minnowpool.
Why should something so measly and pitiful be interesting to her?
