Post by kin on May 11, 2012 4:09:03 GMT -5
STORMCLAN
Shadowleaf is a slender, tiny black she-cat with luminous orange eyes. There is a small silver scar bisecting her muzzle.
To adequately describe Kin, one would need to understand her mentality. She is not a simple cat by any means, neither in the case of intellect, nor in that of psyche. Her mind is a complex place, haunted by ghastly wraiths and gilded with blood-red roses crowned by thorns. Those who attempt to walk the dark halls should beware for their lives.
Despite her position as a healer, Kin has a marked disdain for life. She has worked with herbs and poisons long enough to know that the difference between life and death can be something as simple as a yawn, a careless twitch of the paw. The black she-cat cannot respect something too fragile to survive the most mild of chance occurrences.
However, just as life is fragile and easily destroyed, it is also resilient, strong and determined. It can be nurtured back to life with a bit of skill and dedication. The idea that she has the power to control a cat's fate with the herbs stored in her den was intoxicating. She held the fate of a cat's life in her paws when she worked on their wounds. A bit of the right poison in the right healing poultice, and a cat could die of "complications."
Death had always fascinated Kin. Not the afterlife. No, that was best left to cats who were more spiritually inclined. Kin was fascinated by death and those things that caused it. Poison? Deliciously cunning substances. Blood? A substance with a mesmerizing red hue and a divine, spicy musk. All of those combined with the adrenalin of violence and dealing with a touch-and-go patient send icy claws dragging down her spine. There are few sensations Kin loves more.
Fascination with life's fragility and death aside, Kin enjoys healing. She likes being the one that cats come crawling to at their weakest, seeking her aid. Not even the Duke is immune from illness or injury, and needed her. A tiny fraction of her even likes healing for the sake of healing rather than its influence.
Her life has taught her many things, among which is the fact that certain cats respond better to certain personality traits. Kin discovered early in life an ability to mask her true emotions and demeanor, and don the facade of another. Another essential skill she picked up was quickly reading others. Within a few moments, Kin can tell how best to present herself to her patients.
She has a reputation as a skilled healer-- the most skilled for miles and miles, thank-you-kindly-- but more perceptive cats might catch a glimmer of bloodlust in her burnt orange eyes as she tends to them.
Despite her position as a healer, Kin has a marked disdain for life. She has worked with herbs and poisons long enough to know that the difference between life and death can be something as simple as a yawn, a careless twitch of the paw. The black she-cat cannot respect something too fragile to survive the most mild of chance occurrences.
However, just as life is fragile and easily destroyed, it is also resilient, strong and determined. It can be nurtured back to life with a bit of skill and dedication. The idea that she has the power to control a cat's fate with the herbs stored in her den was intoxicating. She held the fate of a cat's life in her paws when she worked on their wounds. A bit of the right poison in the right healing poultice, and a cat could die of "complications."
Death had always fascinated Kin. Not the afterlife. No, that was best left to cats who were more spiritually inclined. Kin was fascinated by death and those things that caused it. Poison? Deliciously cunning substances. Blood? A substance with a mesmerizing red hue and a divine, spicy musk. All of those combined with the adrenalin of violence and dealing with a touch-and-go patient send icy claws dragging down her spine. There are few sensations Kin loves more.
Fascination with life's fragility and death aside, Kin enjoys healing. She likes being the one that cats come crawling to at their weakest, seeking her aid. Not even the Duke is immune from illness or injury, and needed her. A tiny fraction of her even likes healing for the sake of healing rather than its influence.
Her life has taught her many things, among which is the fact that certain cats respond better to certain personality traits. Kin discovered early in life an ability to mask her true emotions and demeanor, and don the facade of another. Another essential skill she picked up was quickly reading others. Within a few moments, Kin can tell how best to present herself to her patients.
She has a reputation as a skilled healer-- the most skilled for miles and miles, thank-you-kindly-- but more perceptive cats might catch a glimmer of bloodlust in her burnt orange eyes as she tends to them.
Kin was born to a pair of loners. Samhain and Morpheus lived on the outskirts of the town of Blackwater. They lived in a small area caught between the territories of two rival alley gangs. Life there was precarious, always on the edge of ruin by either gang. Her siblings, Grave and Viper, pushed the small family's luck as far as they could. For fun. Kin herself had always been with her siblings, but she was smart enough to hide at the slightest hint that trouble was coming.
One day, around six moons after the siblings' birth, Viper and Grave were caught chasing after a mouse on one of the gangs' territories. They were captured, as was Kin. The three struggled, and the alley cats responded with excessive force. Kin's last sight of the fight showed Viper being overwhelmed by a pair of burly toms and Grave snarling and straddling a lithe, scarred she-cat.
She awoke an indeterminate amount of time later to the sight of wide grey eyes peering into her own. The gang who'd caught them had a healer of their own, one who knew herbs and pills equally well. He'd taken a liking to her, and claimed her as his daughter. As Kin would learn, the tom was insane, and his insanity overruled even the alley gang's leader.
He introduced himself as her father, Reaper. Reaper explained that she'd had a head wound, and that feeling dizzy and temporary memory loss were typical. Kin opened her muzzle to tell Reaper her name, but could not remember it. She could remember being out with a pair of cats her own age, could muzzily recall their names and vague appearances, but beyond that....
Nothing.
The little she-cat could not remember who her parents were, to which gang they belonged, her age, or any of the other dozen questions Reaper threw at her. He'd taken one look at her, cackled, and assured her that she was his daughter now. Kin was taught his craft, and his mind. Reaper was unafraid of lashing out at his delusions, and the grey tom occasionally caught Kin with claws or fangs.
Though she began to resent her foster-father as much as she appreciated his rescuing her, Kin stuck with the healer with quiet loyalty. The alley gang demanded much of Reaper and his apprentice, and they met the demands as best they could.
As soon as Reaper began bragging that the raven had grown its flight feathers, Kin was brought before the gang's leader. Two cats laid, unconscious, at his paws. She denied the question of being related to either of the black cats, or knowing their identities. To earn the trust of the gang's leader, Kin was ordered to kill the she-cat.
Both were brought back to the healer's den to stay until Kin passed or failed the test. She scaled a dumpster, and let her nose guide her to a vile, rotting piece of chicken. The she-cat chanced upon a smear of honey on the side of the dumpster, and smeared it all over the chicken. Unknowingly, the she-cat ate the infected meat.
She died two days later, of carrion disease and Kin earned her place in the alley gang.
She was twelve moons old.
Twelve moons later, the tiny healer woke up in the middle of the night to fierce yowls and angry hisses. Snarls, growls and frightened yelps filled the air. The scents of blood, adrenalin, and fear clogged her nostrils. Instincts as sharp as ever, Kin slipped out of Reaper's den, making her way out of the alley. Her dark fur allowed her to hide in the shadows, undetected.
After living on her own for seven moons, Kin was approached by a small contingent of cats claiming to represent a cat they would only refer to as "the Duke." They said that he was in need of a personal healer, and that her reputation spoke well of her.
Kin was unsurprised. After all, she had never learned to hunt or fight. She bartered food, shelter and protection for her skills. And if she didn't deliver on her end, she was more often than not assaulted by her irate customer. However, with leaf-bare approaching, she knew it was best to ally herself with a powerful cat likely to be well-fed. This "Duke" sounded like he fit the bill.
Even if she wanted to leave his services, the Duke would not let her. Kin had proven to be an expert on poisons and antidotes as well as medicinal herbs. Her knowledge served the Duke's purposes too well to be allowed to roam free of his control.
At the beginning of the war, Kin spent her days elbow-deep in the wounds of the Duke's cats. She staunched and bound wounds, spat quickly-chewed dock, and moved on to the next patient. War left the she-cat with no time for her usual calm precision and thoroughness, and she found it disagreed with her. Kin left as soon as it became apparent that Sithis's forces would not win this time. With Tahath by her side, the healer slipped out of the royal encampment and headed back toward the twolegplace.
Back in an area and situation she was familiar with, Kin resumed her lifestyle of bartering her and her daughter's healing services for enough food to keep the two of them alive. She taught Tahath more about healing and scavenging and living by one's wits and words than she ever could have managed in the luxury of the Duke's camp. All the while, she kept an ear open for gossip and rumor. As soon as she heard that the war was coming to a close, she bundled up what herbs she had with her, and mother and daughter carried them back into the Duke's lands. Only, they no longer belonged to the Duke.
Lichen, one of three illegitimate kits of the Duke, had won the war, and brought about the return of the ancient Clans. Apparently, the four spirits of the afterlife and the forces they represented wanted such a thing. Well. Kin was not typically one to argue with a cause that persisted after death. So, in a move that she will forever deny, the healer weighed which of the new leaders would be least likely to harm Tahath, and chose StormClan, home of Lichenstar.
She named herself Shadowleaf; Shadow, for her dark pelt, and -leaf for her healing skills. Kin bid Tahath choose her own name, and the younger she-cat dubbed herself Prophet, with the suffix -paw, which belonged to those in training.
One day, around six moons after the siblings' birth, Viper and Grave were caught chasing after a mouse on one of the gangs' territories. They were captured, as was Kin. The three struggled, and the alley cats responded with excessive force. Kin's last sight of the fight showed Viper being overwhelmed by a pair of burly toms and Grave snarling and straddling a lithe, scarred she-cat.
She awoke an indeterminate amount of time later to the sight of wide grey eyes peering into her own. The gang who'd caught them had a healer of their own, one who knew herbs and pills equally well. He'd taken a liking to her, and claimed her as his daughter. As Kin would learn, the tom was insane, and his insanity overruled even the alley gang's leader.
He introduced himself as her father, Reaper. Reaper explained that she'd had a head wound, and that feeling dizzy and temporary memory loss were typical. Kin opened her muzzle to tell Reaper her name, but could not remember it. She could remember being out with a pair of cats her own age, could muzzily recall their names and vague appearances, but beyond that....
Nothing.
The little she-cat could not remember who her parents were, to which gang they belonged, her age, or any of the other dozen questions Reaper threw at her. He'd taken one look at her, cackled, and assured her that she was his daughter now. Kin was taught his craft, and his mind. Reaper was unafraid of lashing out at his delusions, and the grey tom occasionally caught Kin with claws or fangs.
Though she began to resent her foster-father as much as she appreciated his rescuing her, Kin stuck with the healer with quiet loyalty. The alley gang demanded much of Reaper and his apprentice, and they met the demands as best they could.
As soon as Reaper began bragging that the raven had grown its flight feathers, Kin was brought before the gang's leader. Two cats laid, unconscious, at his paws. She denied the question of being related to either of the black cats, or knowing their identities. To earn the trust of the gang's leader, Kin was ordered to kill the she-cat.
Both were brought back to the healer's den to stay until Kin passed or failed the test. She scaled a dumpster, and let her nose guide her to a vile, rotting piece of chicken. The she-cat chanced upon a smear of honey on the side of the dumpster, and smeared it all over the chicken. Unknowingly, the she-cat ate the infected meat.
She died two days later, of carrion disease and Kin earned her place in the alley gang.
She was twelve moons old.
Twelve moons later, the tiny healer woke up in the middle of the night to fierce yowls and angry hisses. Snarls, growls and frightened yelps filled the air. The scents of blood, adrenalin, and fear clogged her nostrils. Instincts as sharp as ever, Kin slipped out of Reaper's den, making her way out of the alley. Her dark fur allowed her to hide in the shadows, undetected.
After living on her own for seven moons, Kin was approached by a small contingent of cats claiming to represent a cat they would only refer to as "the Duke." They said that he was in need of a personal healer, and that her reputation spoke well of her.
Kin was unsurprised. After all, she had never learned to hunt or fight. She bartered food, shelter and protection for her skills. And if she didn't deliver on her end, she was more often than not assaulted by her irate customer. However, with leaf-bare approaching, she knew it was best to ally herself with a powerful cat likely to be well-fed. This "Duke" sounded like he fit the bill.
Even if she wanted to leave his services, the Duke would not let her. Kin had proven to be an expert on poisons and antidotes as well as medicinal herbs. Her knowledge served the Duke's purposes too well to be allowed to roam free of his control.
At the beginning of the war, Kin spent her days elbow-deep in the wounds of the Duke's cats. She staunched and bound wounds, spat quickly-chewed dock, and moved on to the next patient. War left the she-cat with no time for her usual calm precision and thoroughness, and she found it disagreed with her. Kin left as soon as it became apparent that Sithis's forces would not win this time. With Tahath by her side, the healer slipped out of the royal encampment and headed back toward the twolegplace.
Back in an area and situation she was familiar with, Kin resumed her lifestyle of bartering her and her daughter's healing services for enough food to keep the two of them alive. She taught Tahath more about healing and scavenging and living by one's wits and words than she ever could have managed in the luxury of the Duke's camp. All the while, she kept an ear open for gossip and rumor. As soon as she heard that the war was coming to a close, she bundled up what herbs she had with her, and mother and daughter carried them back into the Duke's lands. Only, they no longer belonged to the Duke.
Lichen, one of three illegitimate kits of the Duke, had won the war, and brought about the return of the ancient Clans. Apparently, the four spirits of the afterlife and the forces they represented wanted such a thing. Well. Kin was not typically one to argue with a cause that persisted after death. So, in a move that she will forever deny, the healer weighed which of the new leaders would be least likely to harm Tahath, and chose StormClan, home of Lichenstar.
She named herself Shadowleaf; Shadow, for her dark pelt, and -leaf for her healing skills. Kin bid Tahath choose her own name, and the younger she-cat dubbed herself Prophet, with the suffix -paw, which belonged to those in training.
by Kin