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[justify]Slavekit is a rather original cat. Born of jet black, he never has been one of the beautiful good fur exhibitor. He contented itself with a dry, Jet black coat with white reflects. Extremely thin, even when he eats a lot he seems famished. Indeed, he has never eaten a lot, contenting with a short nibble here an there when the bloodclan members authorized him. His mother comes from a slum in a big city and ventured to far in the desert getting captured by the bloodclan. His mother died but he remained, getting tortured and beaten bloody so he possesses multiple wounds: His tail has been broken a few times and his right ear has almost completely been torn off . What only remains is the opening and a bit of ripped flesh. On the other side, a scar starts at the beginning of below his whole ear and just finishes above his chin, slashing through his eyeballs. This injury never really made him blind, but gives him a savage and gaunt look about him. His eyes are a bright orange shot with red. Eyes of orange, eyes of danger that sparkle dangerously with hate and madness. Due to his constant beatings, Slavekit is very tolerant to pain and suffering and is one of the most enduring kits in the land. He has often been sent in the arena and the pit but always came back more stronger than the last time. He is a very fast little critter and often scurries to cover when bloodclan members want him harm. For now, he was using this speed to try and escape. [/justify]
[justify]Slavekit moved forward without looking behind him. This time this was it, he was determined to run away from this Clan. He had it enough of all these high-flying people which chattered ceaselessly, while devoting all their time to squalid tasks. He so much preferred to live in the shanty towns which had rocked him a large part of his life even if he could never look at stars. Here, he had the impression to be only a slave, little because of his name moreover, for the benefit of the others. Slavekit did not have more than a word in the mouth; Liberty!
The morning in the harsh desert revealed the true beauty of the place. Layers of sand formed a patchwork of different hints of red, yellow and browns. The sun was starting to rise in all it's glory. At first a light blue had jumped throughout the whole sky. Then a vivid purple and pink shot through the heavens, giving a dreamlike appearance to the scenery. Of course all this could be quite misleading: The monarch of the skies was almost never as beautiful as this. He was usually a bright yellow white. A blinding red hot light that killed every living things for miles. As a reminder, a warm breeze blew slightly and a beautifully bleached skull of a buck appeared. Sand poured out of the empty eye socket and nostrils, reminding the kit of what would happen to anybody in the end:« Memento mori ».
This of course did not have any importance to Slavekit as for now, his mind was just fixed on one thing: Liberty!
the white socked paws stopped slowly stood still like a steamroller stands to a stop. A acrid, metallic and salty smell had slid in his nostril... The black kit raised his eyes to the sky and sighed. Despair and anger diluted with a hint of annoyance shot through the black kit. the He knew his escape from bloodclan had been desperate but this was just ridiculous. He could smell the members hanging around, like specters. Invisible, but still there as he could smell their aggressive pungent smellfoating on his nose like a bad tempered ghost. This smell he had known all his life, as he had lived all his life in the bloodclan. For now, he really hated this odor. But he realized very quickly that he naturally could not dissociate the smell of bloodclan with the smell of home. His one good ear drooped in disappointment... He had been so close to getting away, to not ever get beaten up, to never get his tail broken again, to go back to the city! The warm wind blew again, as if it was a gust of a monstrous creature lurking under the sand. Oh well, what was the worst that could happen? At the very least he would get a scolding and the worst that could happen was a good beating. Even if the bloodclanners often beat the crap out of him, he stil knew that he didn't have any other family. Even if his family was a bunch of murdering pieces of crap he knew that they wouldn't kill him or injure him critically. The small black kitten shut his Orange eyes and tensed, awaiting for the clan members to appear and bring him back home...
ooc: please don't just do a one liner pls! ^^