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[font=georgia][glow=black,2,300][size=26pt]Quietkit | Quietpaw | Quietlark | Quietstar[fancypost bgcolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing:4px; margin-top:-14px][font=georgia]riverclan leader | male | partially deaf[/fancypost]
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width:550px; margin-top:-15px; font-size: 13px;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; width:450px][justify][sub][font=georgia]The deaf tom hadn't heard her coming, but as soon as his sorrowful, blue eyes caught sight of the shadow dancing across his floor, he knew. A tiny smirk flickered across his chocolate maw; the nostalgic memories of her bursting in- usually in the worst moments- when she was younger pushing through his mind. How he missed those days, of their banter, their laughter. Her frustration at him attempting to teach her even the slightest things when she was an apprentice, simply because she already knew them.
A tear hit the floor, and the smirk died.
What a fool you are, old man. He thought. "What a foxhearted fool.
He had been sitting in the back of his den, his head against the freezing wall, eyes wide open. It was how he passed the time, these days. Quietstar had found that keeping himself awake was the only way he could prevent himself from falling into absolute disgust and self-loathing; keeping himself awake prevented him from losing himself entirely. For the past few weeks, this tactic had been working perfectly- monotonously staring at this wall- for as the hours drug on he forgot his anger, forgot his hatred, forgot his will to commit suicide and end it all.
Forgot his insanity.
He merely remembered the wall, and how it was much like himself, cracked, gray and dark.
As a matter of fact, he quite liked this wall, not as much as he liked Palemoon's shadow, though. He doubted anything else would've pulled him away from that surface, besides her. Maybe Charlotte, but she was long gone- like everything else he once loved- or thought he loved.
Her voice hit him like a brick, causing his malnourished body to sway like dead trees in the wind.
There father is a Bloodclanner, you know
He nodded, remembering how his past two mates had been Bloodclanners. One, the most beautiful being on earth, the other- a demon disguised as an angel, with nothing but terror to spread. He would never judge her for that, he would never judge her. A love for twisted things must run in the family, blood or no blood.
Another tear hit the floor.
...I want them to stay children for just a while longer...
Palemoon never got to be a child- and he blamed himself for that as well- even if he only found her when she was long through her life.
Another nod, followed by two more tears.
and you know what? i named my firstborn sheokit.
At that, the Siamese began to turn, his heart skipping beats. He looked her over, not unlike a father would his daughter going to prom- and admired how beautiful she had become. Well, she'd always been beautiful, but she seemed to glow now more than ever- even when she was looking for a fight. Her gray eyes, perfect, her gray body, perfect- both a far better gray than that wall.
Sheokit
The two of them had never gotten to say goodbye, Sheogorath and he. Their last conversations were nothing short of nasty as they tortured each other. The previous Bloodclanner wondered if Sheogorath had willed that upon him, or it was merely a thing of circumstance. Probably both, and neither, the Madgod was strange in that manner.
The fact that she had named him Sheokit tore him in many ways. He was disturbed, and grateful, glad and worried, for that name carried many lights and many burdens. All of the negativity washed away though when the Oriental realize that Palemoon- his daughter- was capable of nearly anything. She could make a good thing bad, a bad thing good, or simply steer it down the middle path. She was far wittier and wiser than most cats, and her children would be nothing but light in his life- no matter who they were named after. No matter their faults.
No matter of the past.
Another nod followed, this one with a deep smile.
The leader took a breath, struggling to fully stand on his stilt-like legs- and opened his mouth to attempt a single, hoarse question-
"Did they like the flowers, lass?"[/fancypost][align=center]
[align=center][size=7pt]Quietkit | Quietpaw | Quietlark| Quietstar
• Leader of Riverclan |
• Male | He/Him• Physically Two Years | Mentally 50's | Zodiac: Taurus |
• Single | Homo Sexual |
• Soft-Spoken | Intellectual | Gentle-Man | Spacey |
LOOKS/PERSONALITY
• Seal Point Siamese x Oriental mix |
• Space-Deep Blue Eyes |
• Partially Deaf in Both Ears |
• Triggered by "Blood Clan" related creatures/items/smells |
• Incredibly Tall |
INTERACTION
• Physically Experienced but Majorly Handicapped | Mentally Impossible
• No kill, capture, or major injuries without permission |
• [color=#A5D3F0]Attack in [color=#A5D3F0]#A5D3F0
([color=#A5D3F0]Frostbite
) |
• Non-harmful actions may be power-played |
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<333
^-^! The food was awesome though! I'm so happy you're having a good time!