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Very interested in Incendre.
Posts by Suiren
This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.
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Rohthy padded up, eyes narrowed. A tom? On RadicalClan territory? //track -
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Rohthy strode over. "I'm watching." she declared, deciding to see who the candidates could have been. -
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Thank you! Posting in a sec! -
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Cookiecrumble had just joined BlizzardClan, so naturally, she didn't know many people. She wasn't too keen on it, either, as her jerky personality had taken control: she was being a b****y princess again. The tortie spotted the grizzly bear, vaguely recognizing her as an ambassador. Huh. Had it been a normal BlizzardClanner, she would have demanded him or her to kneel and bow. She supposed she wasn't quite in a position to do that, though, considering it was an ambassador.
And she was currently being a power-hungry witch with nothing better to do, anyway.
"Hello. I'm Cookiecrumble." she said regally, padding over with her usual condescending air as if she expected the bear to kneel down and kiss her feet. It was only a matter of time, though, she knew, until her princess attitude was overthrown and either her friendly, polite self, her hyperactive crazy side, or her inner shy introvert would take over. Forcefully, the mean personality shoved down nicer greetings that her normal self was trying to say. -
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Rohthy studied the students all with a sort of mild and cool interest. Who would be the new medic? She didn't know. -
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Gonna make it in a sec.
Blargh procrastination. -
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Aw, thanks, Cluey~! Bump! -
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Bump. -
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Omg. Applying. -
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Very interested. <3 -
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Track, may apply? -
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Track b/c... Dally, that naughty boy. -
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May apply with my possessed semi-HP, but she's kind of young, so... -
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Major interest in Witchcraft. c: -
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Cosmopolitanembassy.
[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=none; background:url(http://images.colourbox.com/thumb_COLOURBOX2048484.jpg); height:303px; width:300px; border:2px solid white; border-radius: 10px 10px 10px 10px; text-shadow:3px 3px 3px white; overflow:auto; box-shadow: 2px 2px 200px 20px mintcream inset;] ||About Me||
DISPLAY NAME;; ~Lιℓуѕρℓαѕн❀Bℓσѕѕσмѕ σƒ мαgιc~ (Call me Lilysplash or just Lily. :) )
ACTIVITY;; 8-9/10 in the summer, 7-9/10 during the school year. This fluctuates, as I am a busy person. I am currently recovering from WCRPG glitches- if this does reoccur, I will definitely contact you or place in a temp as soon as possible.
MUSE;; 10/10, of course! Super high-- I love this character so much. ;u; He's been sitting in my head for a while.
MY REASON;; Well, I was browsing through the adoptions center since I’m a feline geneticist, and usually do that on the way to the genetics center. I just happened to spot this! It was nice since I don’t have a SunClan charrie, and I was always looking for one. This is a golden opportunity, since it is a litter of tiguars. And my character happens to be a golden wildcat that could be a golden tiger or jaguar. XD I'm really hoping to have him promoted because I love him so much already. ;u;And I should really move out of the TidalClan board once in a while to them anti-Clans.
WHO HAVE I ROLEPLAYED?;; I co-owned Saffronspice (ThunderClan medic) for a while before moving on to develop Summerpaw, ex-heir and now head merchant of TidalClan. Her subbie is here. I also have Cookiecrumble in BlizzardClan who I'm developing and co-owning and Feia Sumire Valerius Midday in RadicalClan. I've temped many S/HP/Rs. As a side note, no, I no longer roleplay on my main account or this account (which is my adoption account).
Now, that's enough about me. Let's move onto the kit... I mean, cub!
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||ABOUT COSMOPOLITANEMBASSY||
[color=black]NAME;; Arthur Zaroff--Cosmopolitancub Zaroff--Cosmopolitanpaw Zaroff--Cosmopolitanembassy Zaroff
NICKNAME(S);; Cosmos, Iggy, Arthur, or Brit
NAMESAKE;; His birth name is Arthur, but he changes it later on. Let us start with the definitions, then, before moving on to the whole meaning.
Cosmopolitan- 1. adj. belonging to all the world; not limited to just one part of the world.
2. adj. at home all over the world.
Embassy- 1. a body of persons entrusted with a mission to a sovereign or government, especially an ambassador and his or her staff.
2. a mission headed by an ambassador.
Why Cosmopolitanembassy, then? Read his personality and you’ll see! As for his nickname, why Brit? (Cosmos is self-explanatory-- Cosmopolitanembassy, with its nine syllables, is just too big a mouthful to say!) Brit is, of course, the noun meaning somebody from the country of Great Britain. With Cosmos’s British accent and naturally British appearance, it’s a no-brainer why he is fondly called Brit. He is also dubbed Iggy or Arthur, usually by affectionate siblings, at times.
GENDER;; Male
GENDER ORIENTATION;; Masculine
SEXUALITY;; Biromatic Pansexual (Sexually attracted to all genders in all species but romantically, he prefers females.)
POWERS;; Multiple possessions, telepathy, and more, probably by the likes of super senses and memory manipulation.
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE;; As a note, yes, I will be including his main body and a frequently used body because he'll use the second body as much or more than the first for plot reasons.
--the basics, main body;; Brit’s main body is a golden Bengal tiger with olive green eyes.
--detailed;;Think of the word "tiger". What comes to mind? A large, vivid orange feline, muscular and beribboned with ebony stripes? Yellow or amber eyes, glinting and fierce?
What about a jaguar? Sleek and black with glowing optics or golden with black rosettes burgeoning over its pelt?
Now, take those images and tear them into bite-sized chunks.
Why? He's your rare tiguar, one heck of an unusual hybrid in the feline world.
Let's describe him as if he were a painting, starting with a blank canvas of overwhelming white.
Obviously, outlines come first. You start with the proportions so that he comes out accurately. A large-ish, shapely, almost square head is sketched lightly with your HB pencil, with rough lines composed across for the eyes and nose. The body is also sculptured and strictly proportional for a tiger, big enough, a rectangular ellipse right under the head. The limbs aren't thick, each composed of a few rough circles and ovals, but the back limbs are the framework of legs that would be built for speed and power, almost like a cheetah's. The paws are large but not clumsily so.
Next is filling in the detail. Ears come first. They are big and rounded, stereotypical tiger ears, just a notch too big for his head. Eyes come next: they are also circular and large, giving an innocent appeal to his features. You draw two circular tufts above the eyes that are rather large. Moving on, you fill in a shapely muzzle and a nose. You smooth out the rough proportions, erasing the chunky shapes for a more fluid outline that clearly has muscles. His legs are strong; his tail is long and almost comically puffy for a tiger. His chest, too, is puffy.
Finally, the last step! Color! Imagine a summer sunset over English countryside: a disc of molten gold sinking into those rolling green hills. Watercolor ribbons of pastel hues, magenta and purple and orange and gold, dance across the sky like Elysian streamers. Focus on that orange-gold. A squirt of a few paints on your palette and a bit of stirring results in that color your mind's eye envisions. You dip a large brush into the golden brown, orange-tinged color, sweeping it grandly across and inside your outline. However, you do not fill it all. You also squeeze out a bit of ivory white, brushing that in the belly and underside, blending it into the orange-gold.
Next comes the stripes and spots. You get just a touch of bronze-tinged brown to mix into the orange color and, using a fine brush, you create stripes rippling across the body, much like molten gold. Darker rosettes are made on the legs: spots clustered like little roses blossom over his legs. You add texture to the pelt using light and dark paints, highlighting a thick and plush pelt, an intermediate between coarse and soft. You make the tail almost feathery in its fluffiness.
Finally, the head, the center of expression. His ears come first, large and painted a dull pink and brushed with fluffy white. The back of them is outlined as his usual golden orange. His nose is made a dusty rose color: a dark, gray-infused pinkish-red. The bridge leading up to said nose is entirely velveteen bronze, a bit darker than his stripes, and it forms a direct contrast to his pale face. Moving even further down, the fringe lining his chin and the side of his head is an alabaster color. His muzzle is pale, and his mouth is lined in black. He has a plethora of small, barely visible, translucent whiskers. His forehead is speckled with dark rosettes; they are almost black in contrast to the dark bronze on his legs. The back of his ears is black as well; they have the characteristic black jaguar ear spots.
His final asset to color are his eyes, the windows to his soul. You squirt out a touch of a different color entirely: lime green. You add some darker shades and lighter tints to your palette for shading and proceed to delicately fill in his irises. They are a bright, striking lime green, piercing and clever and almost glowing. They glimmer with a sort of stubborn determination and pride.
You set your brush down, admiring your work. You've just created the appearance
--the basics, felis catus body;; Blue mackerel tabby and red chimera Scottish fold with white and green eyes.
--detailed;;[font=times new roman]If Cosmos’s appearance represented a country, he’d symbolize the United Kingdom of Britain. Now, you may be asking: how in the world does a cat seem like Great Britain? Close your eyes and picture a British flag. What three colors do you see on it? Well, if you don’t know what a British flag looks like, it’s a red and white union jack on a background of dark blue (the same colors as on the American and Australian flags, if you’re familiar with those). You’re probably still wondering what in the world red, white, and blue have to do with a cat. Does Cosmos have a union jack painted all over his conveniently and unrealistically navy blue fur? Don’t be silly; if he did, I’d be describing some sort of mythical creature or Nyan Cat’s British, poptart-less offspring.
What does he look like, then? Well, listen up and you’ll find out what this United Kingdom incarnate actually looks like.
Let’s start at the very bottom and work our way upwards. The first things you will see are obviously four paws. They are not tiny paws, but not the huge, padded things of his tiger body, either. However, they are still decently sized, around average. They have thick pads, easily crushing leaf litter or pine needles without hurting Cosmos. The front right paw is mostly white, marbled with a bit of blue mackerel tabby. This grayish hue is almost tinged with blue, striped with a dark black-gray color. The top left paw is also partially white, almost speckled with it, but carries streaks of ginger tabby, a russet, dark reddish ginger with even darker, almost brown, rust-colored stripes. The back left paw is uniformly white, the back right paw a darker blue.
Now, you must be curious. How in the scientific world could it be possible for a cat --let alone a tom-- to have red, blue, and white? The closest one possible is a dilute calico, which is blue and cream, which is only a pattern available on females. There is, on the other hand, another possibility. There is a genetic possibility in which cats can have blends of two colors not usually seen together, caused by when two egg cells merge together before birth. This is just the case with Cosmos. He is called a “chimera cat”.
Back on track now! His paws lead up to legs that may seem a tad-- but just a tad-- short for his paws. After all, his frame is small, and he is, dare we say it, small for a cat. His legs just add to that impression, skinny and almost spindly. They're not quite spider legs; thankfully, they have much more flesh than emaciated twigs.
Moving upwards, the blue tabby seems to recede to mere spots on his back: a small patch on his spine and another on his right flank. Red, too, is shrunken to a handful of appearances. The fiery ginger appears on the flank with the blue and on a few patches on his back. White is the dominant color, a shining ivory coating his body. The torso itself seems lacking in muscle, forming a stark contrast to his more powerful tiguar body. It's far more well-off than his spindly legs, of course. The rib cage isn't visible, nor are his other bones. It's just that he doesn't seem plump at all. He lacks solid muscle and doesn't have much blubbery fat, creating a slightly wimpy or harmless air. On the bright side, he argues that it doesn't make him a fat housepet, but his thin and shrimpy figure does not make him a fighter, either.
Extending from his body is a long, thin tail. It is, in contrary to his torso, marbled in solely red and blue tabby. Splashes of red stripes and gray stripes alternate until the very tip (which happens to be red tabby). It's not nearly as fluffy as his birth body's tail, but still usable as a tool for balance and expressing his emotions. He lashes it passionately while screeching in fury or stubbornly when in his "stiff upper lip" mode.
Finally, we reach his last asset, his head. It rests proportionately on his skinny shoulders, sporting two large ears, one red tabby with white and the other blue. These ears are not that of your usual cat: they fold in the classic Scottish fold manner, drooping a bit over his brows. His muzzle is small, with a darkish ashen rose nose, and multiple long whiskers. His eyes are perhaps his best feature. They are olive green, a bright, foresty olive green, the color of English woods or grasslands. They are large, round, almost innocently wide circles that gleam intelligently yet passionately, carrying a soft light in them that reveals a bit of his inner, gentle persona. They are handsome in comparison to his bony figure, hopefully making him just a tad more attractive. They're mysterious emeralds adorned with onyx pupils that truly peer into his soul.
PERSONALITY and HISTORY;;
--simple;; A bit of a juvenile delinquent in his first few moons, then "sophisticated", intelligent, mature and responsible, creative, spacey, stubborn, cynical, proud, blunt, scathing, secretly loves travel and culture, and tsundere.
--detailed;; To describe Brit's multifaceted and deep persona, one obviously needs more than a handful of words to understand the whole meaning.
The beginning is his childhood. In his early years, Cosmos is far from the refined and cultured tom he will become. Rambunctious. Loud. A juvenile delinquent. Those words most certainly come to mind while describing him. Little Brit is what one would call an aspiring pirate.
Pirate? Yes, you saw that right. Pirate. He is a thieving and aggressive cub, often bullying other youngsters into compliance and roughly skirting the edge of danger. He is a sly creature, slipping out to other Clans often and, even more often, hauling back captures or big game. He acts stupidly and is, frankly, your stereotypically daft and impulsive idiot. Lying, cheating, stealing, bullying... all in a day's work for young Arthur. He only keeps a soft spot for his mother and father, often presenting them a share of his loot (and most likely being yelled at). He gathers groups of minions or friends for his expeditions, whether it be looting the medics' store of honey or the whole pile of fresh-kill (or perhaps even raiding another Clan). His irritating catchphrase of "Arrrrrrghhhh!" certainly doesn't help his reputation as an annoying prick and dumbly brave maniac. Punishment? Ha! Arthur fears it not! He is not afraid of pain nor death, let alone a little bit of scolding. His common sense is lacking quite a bit, and his rebellious attitude matches that of a young criminal.
Finally, the tiguar cub grows out of this stage around four moons, his personality quickly changing. His rambunctious and daredevilish days fall rapidly behind him as he matures to a more sophisticated tom. He changes his name to remove the connotation of the "obnoxious little pirate" that comes with it.
Sophisticated. Brit matures into a sophisticated tom. Of course, with his fancy, standard British accent, he does radiate a sort of cosmopolitan and cultured refinedness. This may or may not only be a result of his noble tiger body and other aesthetics; despite his taste for culture, his polite mannerisms, and his worldly decorum, he does occasionally ruin that airy and sophisticated image. After all, he is still a bit of a fussy cat, and is often yelling or cussing at an enemy. His sense of vengeance is notorious... and certainly not cultured in any way.
Intelligent. Cosmos is an extremely sharp-witted fellow. He spends most of his time thinking up scathing and witty retorts as well as plotting revenge. His memory is incredible; he'll never, ever, ever forget a grudge. Now, although his book and street smarts are pretty impressive, he's no genius. He hasn't quite got the IQ for that, but can come up with surprisingly ingenious schemes when angered. His intelligence, however, relies too much on his beliefs.
Mature and responsible. Sort of. Somewhat. Okay, not really. He is mature on his exterior, organized (nearly to the point of obsessive compulsive disorder) and neat. He can discuss to older cats with experience seemingly beyond his years and responsibly acts with common sense. Maybe not the common sense part, though. He is always found chastising his friends or peers with disdain and yelling at them to be more responsible. As for he himself? He acts mature only on the outside, but he is still devilish on the inside.
Creative. That, at least, is true. He easily makes little accessories and knick knacks from given supplies and, strangely, enjoys simple stitching, embroidery, and such. He is an amateur artist that likes to paint using berries and such, creating crude portraits. Not only are his hobbies creative, but his methods are innovative as well. He has bright ways to catch certain prey or set traps and certainly has creative ways to seek revenge.
Spacey. Or so everybody thinks. He's often off daydreaming or fantasizing. Being extremely superstitious, he believes in ghosts and unicorns and fairies. Since he will have the Sight, he'll often spend a while chatting to spirits, not at all afraid of them. Sadly, the outcome is that fellow Clanmates may find him to be... slightly off in the head. He believes in black magic and his daydreaming may lead to his extreme forgetfulness. Surprisingly, all that superstition still ends up giving him horrid luck.
Stubborn. Yes, Cosmos is extremely stubborn. He always must have things going his way. He will never, ever budge on an opinion, and will attack all that challenge him in a belligerent fashion. The better side of this is his strong will. He will not easily succumb to stress, pressure, or negative emotions, and usually reacts calmly when in a pinch. Except for when he's in panicked rage mode, of course. Then he goes all out and unleashes his temper.
Cynical. Brit is a skeptic through and through. He is a critic at heart and will always critique anything and everything, even when not asked. He is not easily trusting and is a prickly figure, always challenging everybody outside of his family. It's ironic because of his faith in the supernatural that he is extremely dubious of strangers and tall tales.
Proud. Proud is the sin that affects Brit the most. He loves himself and isn't afraid to admit it or show it off. He's not flamboyant, but braggy in an irritating prick sort of way. He's got accomplishments, sure. Everyone will know because he will continuously ramble about them.
Blunt. Cosmos has a hard time "getting a clue". He always struggles when trying to read between the lines in spite of his intelligence. Even if he has a horde of fangirls, he'd probably be clueless for a while.
Scathing. Sarcastic and sharp-tongued. That's the best way to describe his baritone speech. He is angered easily and shows it with his proclivity to swears. His bad mouth and hot temper make him a scathing critic and fearful enemy. His sense of revenge is even scarier.
Secretly loves travel and culture. Although Brit insists he adores isolation to be a "philosopher", he actually loves company and other places. Sure, he's sort of egocentric and conceited, but he does love to tour other places and learn about other cultures. He's a traveler that loves to vacation and visit anywhere.
Tsundere. The word that sums up it all. Tsundere is a Japanese colloquial term meaning a person who acts mean on the outside but actually is a big softie. That's Brit. He secretly cares despite his prickly, unlovable attitude. He splutters when accused of this, though, always flushing and stammering and denying it. This is especially the case with love and friends: the more he pushes you away, the more he likes you.
PLOTS;; I'd like to go with the flow for the most part, but here's a rough sketch of it.
• He will change his name to Cosmopolitancub.
• He will find a cat body that he adores and use it. He will be mocked by friends and family for this "weakness".
• He will fall in love at first with a male and always deny it. He will have multiple relationships after that.
• He will hopefully get promoted to ambassador.
• He will travel everywhere, even pro-Clans, on friendly terms. However, he will always change his identity when in pro-Clans, especially after battle so he doesn't get kicked out. Hopefully, he will reach every front and backboard Clan.
• He will adopt to many traditions from other places and acquire many different family names (but mainly SunClan family names).
TRIVIA;;
Ambition;; To become ambassador or wyvern knight of SunClan. A physician is okay, too.
Best Warrior Skill;;Being a tsundere!Strategy, speed, or swimming.
Favorite Color;; Green, especially the green of his eyes or an army green color.
Favorite Pastime;; Cooking.
Favorite Food;; Brit has a strange taste in food, and strangely enjoys twoleg scones and crumpets. He also likes “cooking” freshkill, or combining them fruitlessly with edible herbs, resulting in absolutely horrid-tasting things.
Favorite Animal;;Flying green mint bunnies.Cats, of course.
Theme Song;; Pub and Go by Sugiyama Noriaki.
Religion;; Despite being in an anti-Clan, StarClan, although he does have some of his own takes on the religion. He is not very religious. He is, however, very superstitious and believes in ghosts.
Mates and Crushes;; N/A. He will crush on both males and females, and most likely have at least one litter.
Quirks;;
•Cosmos will have a pet bunny and name it Mint. However, it always hides from strangers, so they think he’s delusional. He starts to pretend that Mint is green and flies.
•Cosmos does not like dogs, namely golden retrievers and American bulldogs. However, he does not mind the occasional yorkshire terrier or scottish terrier. This is only the case for Twoleg owned or rogue dogs, though; despite his prejudice, he obviously respects his canine Clanmates.
•Brit tries to cook, but it always turns out horrible and downright nasty.
•He will have a penchant for twoleg food for the rest of his life, despite others thinking that so strange.
•He will have a very low alcohol and catnip tolerance, leading to many (humorous) accidental hangovers and drunken stupors.
•He is a morning bird, but he sleeps very late anyway.
•He loves all Scottish folds, hence using his feline body so much.
QUOTED ROLEPLAY SAMPLES;; [spoiler=Roleplay Samples Selection 1- Saffronpaw, Low-Average Muse]Display More[font=times new roman] Saffronpaw nodded at them all now. "Yes, juniper. Great job, all!" Her gaze flitted to Nightkit; he seemed eager and knowledgeable, but she definitely wasn't in a position to promote anybody, let alone knowing if there were any spots to promote anybody. There almost definitely weren't any available slots, or certainly Bearstorm or Earlybird would be helping oversee the training. She looked at him and Satankit, who also seemed wanted the position- and all the other eager kits, as this was characteristic of all herb trainings- apologetically, silently trying to tell them that she wasn't really able to give anybody titles.
"No," she said slowly after a moment to answer the black kit's question. "Juniper is found on more of an evergreen type of shrub, and is usually very blue, like blueberries and may be hard. It directly ripens from a green color. Nightshade, on the other paw, is found on a more vine-like plant with deciduous leaves. They have purple flowers and the berries themselves start out green, ripening to yellow, orange, red, then purple, sometimes even a blackish color. They are very soft berries. Don't ever try to pick anything you may think resembles nightshade, though! That goes for every cat here. It could easily burst and stain your paws, and if you accidentally lick your paw or anything that came in contact with the berries..." The silver tabby trailed off, shuddering. I'd hate to cure a case like that... Good thing we have yarrow, though. But even that may not be enough.
Her violet optics closed for a moment, thinking of another question. "Name a few other herbs with the same ability as juniper to heal bellyaches. I would like at least three or four, and keep in mind that these answers may vary!" She smiled, definitely looking forward to some of the more complicated answers these cats could come up with.
[/spoiler]
[spoiler=Roleplay Samples Selection 2- Memoriae, Low-Average Muse]Display More
[font=times new roman] Dreams were always funny, weren't they? Mysterious, vague, and hazy, scarcely remembered when awoken. Perhaps Memoriae's dreams were strangest of all. True to her name, they were often a medley of memories, shards and fragments and wisps of the past fused together.It was a strange blur, a flash of light. Warmth radiated from the source, a lovely and milky scent pooling from the source. The world had been dark before the light, a void of nothingness until that moment. A mew escaped from the silver-frosted lilac torbie's mouth, small and feeble. She was pressed against another bundle, heaving with breath at her side. What was this? Her eyes adjusted, blinking for the first time, taking in the view, watching the cat next to her. Her sister.
The scene shifted to a cold, snowy path. The sound of frost covered gravel crunching under paws accentuated the still, algid air, stirred ever so slightly with silvery puffs of breath. She felt the sensation of being carried by the scruff, being moved. A protesting mewling nose arose from her, loud in comparison with the surroundings hushed by leafbare. Instantly, the world shattered into infinite pieces, a loud crack ringing in the kit's ears.
With a gasp, Memoriae woke up. Already, her dream was fading from mind. She could feel herself struggling to recall it, knowing that there must've been something significant to those little moments in time. However much she wanted the dream to stay, it slipped from her paws, gone in less than a heartbeat. Sitting up, she blinked her pale blue-and-green eyes, adjusting to the light of her new territory. It was cold! She turned to her sister, who was already awake, shaking her formerly sleeping form.
"What?" she managed to mumble in a sleep-blurred voice. She blinked again, then sighed, sprawling out into a dainty stretch. Finally, she sat back in a comfortable position, long, pouffy tail curling over her small paws. The kit surveyed the scene, growing quizzical. Where was she? And why a place like this, in the middle of leafbare?
Display More
[font=times new roman]IC: Memoriae looked at her sister, cocking her head. "Hunt? I'm really not that hungry." There it was, a blatant lie. Her stomach was twisting and protesting in hunger, growling like an angry badger. She frowned, hoping that her belly wasn't as loud as she heard it. It wasn't, right? Besides, if it were audible, then Wolf could probably also hear her racing pulse, the feverish thump-thumping of her heart thundering in her ribcage. She could hear the blood roaring in her ears above the thrumming cacophony of her heart, almost deafening.Closing her diachronic eyes, she took a deep breath of the chilly, crisp air. It was clean, fresh, and light, scented with running water, somehow different to the heavy, creamy scent in the musty, thick air she was accustomed to. She opened them again, scanning the white-frosted landscape in feigned nonchalance. "You can really just keep whatever you catch for yourself. You're hungrier." Another flat-out lie. The words hurt when they escaped from her mouth, literally striking a blow to her now-howling stomach. Memoriae inwardly hissed at her belly to stop with the agonized cries. She was suffering as much as it was.
What a nice sky, what a pretty, steel gray sky. The lilac torbie continuously cycled vacant thoughts through her head. Oh, look, trees. Nice trees they have here. She turned to the ice-laced trees with false rapt intrigue. A gust of wind, much too frigid and strong for her liking, buffeted the kit. A shiver cascaded down her spine on light, insect-like feet. It was cold. Very cold. She trembled, suddenly not at all liking her new surroundings, I'm not scared, not at all.
"I'll join you in hunting." Memoriae murmured, eyes squeezing shut against the biting, algid gales. "What're we going to do? Fish?" She loved her sister dearly, she really did, so as she stared into the rippling, translucent mercury waves, she could only feel her heart swell as their adjacent reflections stared back. "Do you know what to do?" Schools of silver fish, quicksilver darts in the current, flitted by as quickly as shadows. The she-kit couldn't picture reaching a paw into the glittering, icy river, the freezing temperature sneaking into her pelt again. The fish did look appetizing, though...
Her stomach let out another ungodly grumble, her mouth nearly watering as she stared down the little shoals of minnows and trout. Instantly, her small paw shot out into the rushing water, hooking up a rather large trout. The fish, however, escaped with a bound, rapidly slipping out of her grasp like mist.
Display More[font=times new roman]IC: Memoriae stared at the tempting catch, mouth watering, before shaking her head to cleanse it of her hungry daze. No, no, no. Wolf eats first. "Oh, no, I didn't really catch that one. You did all the actual work!" she mewed, shaking her head feverishly. "And I'm not that hungry. Just take a bite. You're cold and hungry and probably tired from that swim. We can share."
Oh, who am I kidding? Not hungry? The torbie stared back down at their new catch. It was a nice, shiny silver, covered with delicate, paper-thin scales. It was iridescent in the light, casting a little rainbow on each flake of metallic scale. Its eyes were a gooey yellowish-whitish color, bulged out and glazed over, and normally Memoriae would've cringed in disgust at the sight, but hunger honestly did not care. Its tail and fins were translucent and spiny, probably inedible, but still looked so appetizing.
Most of all, the trout smelled amazing. It emitted a delicious, tantalizing aroma unlike anything she'd ever scented, painting the vivid image of eating the fish in her mind. Juicy, tender flesh, uniquely wonderful, fishy flavor, large enough to stuff her silly... she was mesmerized by the fish, practically drooling. Perhaps it was hunger playing tricks on her, or perhaps it was that she had never seen or had fish before. She could vaguely recall eating a chewed-up mouse as her first meat, the musky, foresty, unfamiliar flavor. It had been alright for her hunger, but didn't taste right. Wolf had been there, too, she was sure, but she hadn't known who else had been. A family, maybe? A helpful loner she had met? Since when could she catch a mouse for herself? Besides, it wasn't as if a helpful loner would give them milk.
Of course, being half-starved, she didn't question what she normally would about her new fresh-kill. Since when could she catch a fish for herself? Since when could Wolf swim? At that moment, nothing mattered but her and the fish... her and the fish... the fish...
The lilac torbie smoke soon found herself lunging for the prey, tearing a savagely large bite from it and chewing it with relish. It tasted as good as she imagined, and probably a whole lot better. The fish was luscious and flavorful, the taste dancing on her tongue. A small sigh of satisfaction escaped her mouth as she kept chewing, reluctant to swallow the toothsome morsel. It was simply scrumptious!
Realizing what she was doing mid-chew, Memoriae stopped. "I'm sorry!" she squeaked, swallowing the bite. She pushed the trout closer to her older sister, rather embarrassed by her lack of self-control. "Here. Have it. All of it." She shifted her paws guiltily, avoiding Wolf's gaze. "I-I don't really like or need it, anyway." She had a knack for lying that day, didn't she?
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[spoiler=Roleplay Samples Selection 3-Aurumkit, Average Muse]Display More
[font=times new roman] Sometimes, it was as if one could never live up to perfection.There was always the paragon, that quintessential paradigm, that archetype for all felines to gaze upon in awe. The leader. The deputies. The medicine cats. Even common warriors.
Some just seemed too perfect to be true.
Perfection, Aurumkit knew, was painful. It was difficult for the fanatic, almost ascetic in practice. But it couldn't be impossible, right? With all those one-faceted characters with nothing but wisdom and beauty and kindness in their all-too-big hearts, perfection couldn't be too hard to achieve, right? Their utterly astounding talent couldn't be out of reach, right? If some cat, some hopeful RiverClan kit, tried hard enough, perhaps that divine perfection would fall out of the sky and into her desperately outstretched paws.
Desperate, indeed, the silver Bengal femme was as she sat in the center of camp, her wide peridot eyes gazing into the seemingly fathomless depths of a puddle, scrutinizing the very face that stared, equally studiously, back. Big green eyes, a delicate carnation pink button nose, a petit and dollish muzzle, and pointed, average-sized light silver ears reflected her face, her large pupils glassy as if she had been staring at herself in discontent for a long time.
Indeed, she had- the kit had been studying herself for an hour yet, wishing that she were beautiful. Not just pretty, but beautiful. Beautiful in a supermodel, extraordinary, make-toms-turn-their-heads-in-awe sort of way.
Like those other kits with long, graceful legs and crystalline blue eyes, with all the skill and compassion to run a Clan.
But she was stuck with this- a tiny, girlish thing with her short legs and petite frame, a cherubic instead of a drop-dead gorgeous face. At last, wrinkling her nose in disgust, she deemed the reflection unworthy and ugly, raking small claws over it in a fury. The image fractured, dissolving into incomprehensible ripples, and she looked away before that appearance, that picture that always haunted her, could reform.
Quickly, she set to get another grooming session, licking her paw that had been in the puddle thoroughly. Tiny droplets of water, glasslike and mercurial, scattered, dripping off of the raised paw and splattering like pearly tears onto the ground below. Fiercely, she drew that paw over her ear, squeezing her eyes shut and just wishing for the umpteenth time to be prettier. To mean something. To be perfect.
But dreams and reveries never worked that way. As much as she hoped, she was still Aurumkit, with a lavender blossom tucked behind her ear in a seemingly futile try to make her seem more mature and lovely. Sighing, she licked her paw again, readying to wash up and make herself better.
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[spoiler=Roleplay Samples Selection 5, Candykit, Very High Muse]Display More[font=times new roman]
IC:
Candykit had been among the cats to meet Caneret as he had rejoined TidalClan; she had certainly remembered that moment! She could clearly remember what she had said, bouncing up to the black smoke with her usual eagerness for newcomers: “What’s your name, Mister?” Of course, that blunt introduction had followed a series of excited babbling, which she obviously did not recall. Probably something along the lines of “ooh, ooh, yay”? Yes, that was about right; the dilute calico usually started out sentences like that. She always bursted with excitement, giggling with glee at that sort of thing.The little femme had been strolling along the lighthouse after a full day of frolicking in the sandy beach. It had been surprisingly warm for a leafbare day: the sun was out, and the usually thickly layered clouds, ominously gray, had been replaced with comatose, wispy white cirrus clouds, barely visible against the blue, blue sky. It was delightfully warm, not too hot or cold, and it was as if winter’s brumal wrath had been replaced with spring’s caressing touch, laced with buttery sunshine and balmy air fragranced with a florid redolence. It was a lovely time to be out and about, so of course the nearly six-moon old femme took advantage of the situation. The only disadvantage was, perhaps, the wind. Ugh, the wind-- it whipped Candy’s puffy fur like stray cotton candy, floating awry as it was separated from the bundle. It was the only slightly wintry thing, biting and stinging like a belligerent insect, pushing rather ferocious grains of sand into Candykit’s unsuspecting dichroic eyes.
It was irritating, the sand, flying in the most rudely bellicose manner about the beach like a swarm of vicious wasps. Wasps, Candykit knew, were evil, evil things. Little yellow bugs, with plasticky transparent wings that were paper-thin and hummed in their rapid motion, striped in midnight black and bearing dangerously sharp stingers… ugh. Ew. Ew, ew, ew. They made her shudder. Nefarious things! She had been stung by one once before, and never tried to befriend bees or wasps ever again, especially yellow jackets. Anything but the yellow jackets!
The beach had been like that with the wind, but, of course, Twilightmoon’s daughter did not let that get in her way. She had frolicked happily through the sand, giggling in her mirth, an even larger grin (which most thought impossible) replacing the usual smile on her white maw. What had she done? The tiny kit had built sand castles, of course. She’d skipped in the waves, frolicking in the sand, playing with other kits that just happened to be there. She’d laughed and giggled and chortled so much she was sure her stomach would burst… wait, was that even possible for Candykit? Dying of laughter? Then again, it probably wasn’t. The saline water was refreshing and cool, lapping against her paws soothingly. It had been shockingly cold at first, a shock to hop in, but her body quickly adapted, and soon, the kitten was paddling through the waves like a pro. (But waves still crashed onto her and she almost drowned a few times. Still, she was Candykit. Did she care? Of course not!)
The day had rushed past in a blur of euphoric colors, zipping past much too quickly for Candy’s taste. Why did fun never seem to last long enough? That was all she wanted: fun, fun, and, you guessed it, more fun! Wouldn’t it be great to always be giddily running through sunny beaches, playing with friends and sharing a sense of camaraderie found nowhere else? Sadly, fun things always went faster than boring things! What sort of logic was that created on, anyway?! What kind of twisted tormentor established that rule?
Nonetheless, Candy was sitting, relishing the remains of her amusing times as it slipped away, clean through her exhausted alabaster paws. Ah, well. There was sure to be another chance for more excitement the next day. The sun had set a while back, sinking slowly beneath the horizon in a ceremonial procession of silky magentas and delicate pinks, burning oranges and bold yellows, passionate reds fading to cold, dark navy blue. The drop-dead gorgeously tinted sky, candy for the eye to absorb, had been washed with color, beautiful color, but it had all disappeared, slowly but surely, replaced with the velveteen black of night.
The day’s warmth had drained away, again distinguishing the difference between spring and winter. The crickets’ rich melodies did not hum out, neither did the lethargic buzz of nocturnal cicadas. All Candy could hear was the soft but soothing sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, its salty waves kissing the sun-soaked, warmth-bathed sand that lay quiet, at rest, blanketing the earth snugly. The old lighthouse rose out of the island, a glowing beacon, its warm fire flickering on top. The satin sky, a mesonoxian ebony, was spangled with little diamonds that glittered arbitrarily, adorned with one big moon, a milky and polished claw-slice of moonstone or opal against inky blackness. It painted the world in its chalky moonlight, leeching the colors into a detailed grayscale. It was a soft, silent universe, held frozen in that mesmerizing moment of calm.
Candykit just stared at the stars, absolutely wordless for once, trying to search out constellations. No queen had called her to bed… yet. It was best to count her blessings before they ended and not bite the hand that fed her, right? Something darted, a mercurial silver streak, across the night sky, flitting over like a metallic hummingbird before disappearing, its long tail fading away. A shooting star! Closing her blue and orange eyes, the fluffy dilute calico tried to make a wish. What to wish for? What to wish for? Her (somewhat dull) mind spun at the thought. Was it too late to wish? How horrid, to blow such an opportunity.
“I have it!” she whispered at last to nobody in particular, whispering so as not to wake up anybody and get a nasty scolding. “I want to be an apprentice soon.” She would not be a medic like her mother, that she knew. But she was almost six moons, and it was about time to find a mentor. Who?
She trusted the star. It would find her somebody.
Her mouth stretching into a pink ‘o’, the little femme padded off into the darkness, searching for her den. That was, of course, when she bumped into a certain black smoke. “Oh, hello again!” she sing-songed chirpily. “Mister Caneret! Whatcha doing up so late?”
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[font=times new roman][color=black]OTHER;; Shhhhh. This wasn't here, but... (highlight to read) [color=transparent]Freetime!
[color=black]Good luck to all! I hope I have a chance at roleplaying him. c; He is based off of one of my all-time favorite characters from an anime show.
I may include a RP sample with the character if I can find the time.
Done for now! c: Hope it wasn't too lengthy or tedious to read. ^^"
[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=none; background:url(https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic…T_p9aXP27q3K4WrIzEk9JrSBg); height:135px; width:60px; border-radius: 10px 10px 10px 10px; border:2px solid mintcream; box-shadow: 1px 1px 75px 10px mintcream inset; color:slategray; background-position: left;][color=#2f2f2f][font=times new roman] Hover for battle tags
[size=4pt]Fancypost by Quill[/size][/fancypost]
[fancypost bgcolor=none; background:url(https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic…T_p9aXP27q3K4WrIzEk9JrSBg); height:135px; width:60px; border-radius: 10px 10px 10px 10px; border:2px solid mintcream; box-shadow: 1px 1px 75px 10px mintcream inset; color:slategray; background-position: bottom;][color=#2f2f2f][font=times new roman] Fridaynight xx Aes Sundai xx Adventuretime [/fancypost][spoiler=extras;; graphics, art, and stuff. ♥]
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[img width=467 height=510]http://warriorcatsrpg.com/prof…1396316863.png?1396316982[/img] This is by my dear friend Cutebunny. c: She was kind enough to make it for me. The thing is, she accidentally made a golden tiger instead of a tiguar. ^^ Hopefully, it's not too big of a difference.
More to come.
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*Blushes*
Aw, thanks, Truthy. /w\ I spent a long time on it, but couldn't finish it in time for the previous adoption I was trying for. -
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OMG~! ♥ Summy's nieces and nephews! Good luck to all! I look forward to roleplaying with you guys. c: -
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X3 I'll apply, then! As a note, this will be a multi-father litter for plot reasons, since she's possessed. c:
Name: Summerpaw Verano Starke
Alliance: TidalClan
Age: 6 1/2 moons
Rank: Head Merchant (semi-HP). Summy was originally promoted to heir once but was demoted because it was realized that there was a staff error in terms of high position demotions and stuff. Kind of complicated. ^^"
Relations: Oh, gosh, a ton. She's Archipelagoisland (ex-TidalClan deputy) xx Fragilepast (ex-ThunderClan deputy) xx Fallenkingdom xx Rouge xx Hunterkillerdrone. From Archipelagoisland alone she's the granddaughter of Rangerstar and Silentwitness, linking her to the Cougareyes family tree and many more. The other cats are also majorly HPR, and I'll try my best to dig up their relations. She herself is a semi-HP, and two of her siblings are sentinels (HP). Her brother-in-law is Ridgepaw, MCA of TidalClan, who is the son of the head medic, Klondike, of TidalClan and Saffronspice, ThunderClan medicine cat. Her half-brother is the other MCA, Jericho, who is the son of Sheepherder, RiverClan deputy. Her half-brother, Guessinggame, was an ex-sentinel, and his mate was Vanillabiscotti, ex-MC and ex-heir. Summerpaw was adopted by Jasper, captain sentinel (HP) of TidalClan, and is the adopted sister of Haribostar, leader of TidalClan. Yep. Very, very, very HPR.
Appearance: Longhaired cinnamon calico cat with high white and heterochromatic aqua and silver eyes.
Personality: Normally a fiesty tomboy and daredevil, but since she got possessed, a bit of a girly slut that is extremely superficial.If this is accepted, I will be making the adoption. c:
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Oh, I forgot to mention that I post on three subbies: Summerpaw (TidalClan), Cookiecrumble (BlizzardClan), and Feia Sumire Valerius Midday (RadicalClan). c: