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Post by yami-chan on Aug 5, 2008 16:43:27 GMT -5
Name: My name is mouthed in silent whispers,
baring the feeling of hate, Blackkit
Age: I am but 5 moons
Gender: Male, brute, or just Tom
Clan: The clan whose hearts have turned bitter by cold winds, Night
Rank: A care free kit is what I am, but not for long
Apperance:
When starting out, a kit is not much; bones and muscles
have not yet developed, height and strength not at it’s
peak. Blackkit’s body structure is that of a growing tom’s;
his legs still short and squishy, paws acute and rounded,
tail stumpy and flimsy. Visible lines of muscle show through
his taught skin, but much work still has to be done until
it can truly be called tough and hardy. As of now the kit’s
height is that of normal size; neither looming nore squat.
His facial disk rests on a thick crested neck, baby fat still
visible on his cheeks. Ears placed atop a broad flat skull,
the size is rather small, but none take any notice, for a
kit after all is still in the growing stages. It is a thought
much cats ponder what this little kit dose to get his
whiskers in a state of absolute crookedness beyond repair.
Sitting mostly still, completing his face is a paler black
nose, the shade a light stone colour.
A deep, rich, and leafy green. That is the colour
of this tom kit’s eyes, the entire forest could have been
painted in those visuals. One often loses sight of
Blackkit when he steps within the shadows wake,
having only one way to find him, and that is to look
for two blinking circles of green, lined with a tender
gold.
The colour that is feared when taken in by the gentle
arms of night; black, the colour that is really a shade.
It stretches thinly over his pelt, small clumps stick
awkwardly out atop his hunches. Decorating the sooty
black skull are spots of gold, like little sun spots dancing
upon his forehead, the only marking on his body.
He bears them with pride, beaming that they had been
inherited from his mother, who had been clad head to
two with these dazzling dots.
Though a kit is not much to look at, other than there
uber plushy cuteness, one would have to stray toward
the tom’s jaws. Within those chops lay in wait fangs
of sharpened bone, the length lordly. Like a leech they
are razor sharp, cutting through flesh as if it were merely
paper.
Personality:
Many are quick to miss judge this young tom, thinking he
will follow in his mother’s paw steps with ease. Though he
acts evil and ambitious around his mother, passing it on
to other clan mates, only when the kit is alone will he
rid himself of those thoughts, clearing a path for those
damper and more depressing thoughts. Blackkit is
searching only for his mother’s attention, thinking that it
can be brought out by acting like Cheetahwind’s shadow.
Seeing as NightClan does not bother to hide that kind
of personality, the tom sees no trouble laying in wait
for him.
What dose this kit have to worry about, when his
father is leader of Nightclan, and his mother, a
feared and powerful warrior. It is these sorrowful
thoughts that continue to plague his mind, heartbroken
that neither of his parents care for him. The rough
persona must constantly be put up like a wall,
hiding the fact that every sinew and muscle throb
when bitterness is thrown to a sibling or friend.
It can’t be denied that young Blackkit hones a sharp
tongue; though when he snaps insults they are
intended for himself even if they are driven in the
opposite direction. He wishes to find a cat that can
be trusted and confided in, hoping that one day the
heavy depressing thoughts can be washed away for
good.
History:
Being a kit, not much can be written in his early
chapter. He was born to Cheetahwind and Silverclaw,
a pair of evil cats who threatened and still place one
in the forest. Blackkit has three other siblings that
were born with him. Close kin include Breezeecho,
Silverstrike, and their litters. He currently resides
in a cat prison, located within a wolf camp, along
with Cicadakit, Molttedkit, and Hauntedkit.
Adopted from Cheetahwind, MODIFIED by Nighteh |
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