Posts by STORMBIRD

S T O R M B I R D - / - LOOK AT YOU, STRAWBERRY BLOND

✲ stormkit — stormpaw — stormbird. - / - named for his coloration & attitude.

✲ cisgender male: he/him/his. - / - gay. single but interested in a relationship.

✲ riverclan? - / - age and rank currently undetermined. - / - work in progress.

✲ long line of information here

B L U E - T A B B Y - W - W H I T E - / - FIELDS ROLLING ON

✲ storm's art is heavily stylized, not an accurate depiction of his appearance.

✲ a tall and lean medium hair blue tabby with high white and stark blue eyes.

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E L E G A N T - & - C O O L - / -I LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL MY NAME

✲ refined and relaxed, with perfect poise and elegance. polite and charismatic.

✲ aloof and difficult to get close to, but well worth the effort. loyal and helpful.

✲ lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. in interdum scelerisque enim. nulla accumsan a risus sit amet maximus. curabitur orci sapien, auctor sit amet neque et, aliquet feugiat metus. vestibulum dictum lectus mollis sapien congue, et pellentesque nunc congue. proin rutrum eleifend nisl ut egestas. etiam posuere convallis ipsum non tincidunt. phasellus volutpat sed enim eget auctor. nam eu pharetra massa, in scelerisque lorem. aliquam erat volutpat.

Leafbare weighs down on RiverClan and therefore on Stormbird's back, his shoulders tensed and his eyes steely. Whatever short daylight graced his home was spent with the young tom busying himself in every way possible and it was beginning to show — he had spent his life like this, really. But he has always carried the burden with grace, standing tall despite the pressure. Today, something worries at him. Chips at his facade, his makeshift happiness. The elegant decorum he usually carries himself with is only halfway there as he returns to camp with a squirrel in his jaws. It's a scrawny, tough one, probably having strayed too far through another Clan's territory, but in all honesty he can't make himself care. It's food, and that's all that matters.

He drops it to the meager pile without ceremony, and settles down to lick his figurative wounds, tongue rasping over sleek blue and white fur. Though it never fully lies flat, it's typically less disastrous than this, and it once more chips at his pride until Stormbird is truly scowling. An expression like this is only rarely seen on the warrior's face, and it's rarer still that he puts noise to his displeasure. Today, the warrior hisses in frustration, the rumbling noise pointed and only partially muffled in his downy pelt. "StarClan above —" he curses, then busies himself with more grooming in hopes that it would calm him some. (It doesn't.)

The weights dragging him underneath the surface were things that Stormbird primly ignores now. What his parents had done was out of his control, and for the most part the other cats of RiverClan seemed to agree. He was allowed to be his own creature under the eye of StarClan. Some days he finds it difficult to discern whether he did this for himself or for others; due to his own expectations or his home's. He supposes it doesn't matter anyway. It's made him a better warrior, and he could ask for nothing else. Gladestar will find nothing less than a sturdy, sympathetic listener in Storm, because his home, and by extension those that worked so hard to make it what it was, had every love he could offer.

Even in times like these, when he's grumbling and displeased with his existence. He snaps himself back into perfect poise as soon as the leader approaches him, offering a crisp yet gentle smile and a dip of his head that is nothing short of perfectly respectful. "Only if you'll allow me to return the favor. Have you been rolling in bramble?" he teases with a light huff of laughter.

Stormbird holds no sentimentality for the past. In part it was because of how distanced he himself had been for those moons. He had looked after his own ambitions; not unkindly or irresponsibly, but by taking to his duties more than he took to friendships. As charming as he may be, he was difficult to get close to through no fault but his own. Relationships of any sort had always seemed...irrelevant. They would simply weigh him down, or so he said. Perhaps he was just trying to make excuses and ignore the heavy loneliness he'd felt as of late. It's far easier to compose himself and soldier on, wasn't it? Did others see it the same way? Were they here for the same reason, in the end?

He approaches the apprentice on silent paws, though he makes his presence known at the last moment with an intentional rustling of dead grass. When he sits down, his elegant, feathery tail swishes and then settles over his paws. "Are you doing alright? I've only ever known cats to come here alone if they were in the mood to brood."