Post by GIG♠NTICK on Oct 11, 2012 17:26:02 GMT -5
Stormclan
slight young she-cat with blue eyes.
Singer has a bad reputation among those who know of her existence, based off of her most alarming trait--her painful and terrifying attacks. This has sent many cats running, and many are therefore wary of her, having heard she is perhaps insane. She is, however, very far from what most cats expect.
Singer is sweet, polite, and humble. She would never harm another cat in a fit of anger, or speak ill of another. She is new to the realm and structure of Duke Sithis, still learning her place in it and that she has no place at all. She is still horrified by what he is capable of.
She is, despite her innocent facade, quite sly. While she doesn't necessarily mean to seem so naive, or even use it to hide her crafty mind, it works in her favor. She has survived on her own this long for a reason.
She is very prone to lying, or at least that's how other cats see it. Sometimes, in the visions she receives during her attacks, what she sees and feels and knows is so vivid, she confuses herself for whoever she may be seeing through the eyes of.
Singer is sweet, polite, and humble. She would never harm another cat in a fit of anger, or speak ill of another. She is new to the realm and structure of Duke Sithis, still learning her place in it and that she has no place at all. She is still horrified by what he is capable of.
She is, despite her innocent facade, quite sly. While she doesn't necessarily mean to seem so naive, or even use it to hide her crafty mind, it works in her favor. She has survived on her own this long for a reason.
She is very prone to lying, or at least that's how other cats see it. Sometimes, in the visions she receives during her attacks, what she sees and feels and knows is so vivid, she confuses herself for whoever she may be seeing through the eyes of.
Singer claims to have come from the sea, which is not exactly true because her origins were that of a seaside town, known for its smelly docks and booming cat population. Her mother and father were simple strays, earning their fish from the upwalkers by keeping their little ships free of mice. Her mother, a pretty black she-cat who spent most of her time staring into the expanse of the sea, once told her that their names were reflections of their true selves, like she knew what it meant then. She was too young to have ever followed in their footsteps by the time they died. It was horrible to watch. She, her sister and brothers, all just young enough that they were spared the fate of the poisoned fish, observed as their parents convulsed and suffered.
The four kits learned how to hunt very quickly. They knew they would never eat fish. Fury was already living up to his name. He brooded, paced, seemed trapped in his own mind. He defended them from older cats, his pure rage and anguish warning off the aged strays of the city. Soon, though, the city crackdown on the cat population that took their parents' lives reared its head at them.
Singer was the only one to escape, watching as her litter mates were swept away in boxes made of shiny, solid twigs. Fury was going insane. Valiant, Singer knew in her heart, was soon to earn his name just by looking in his eyes. Peace, she might never really know how her name was meant to serve her, but she was docile as ever as she was taken. Singer escaped the city.
Twelve moons of wandering and starving, and Singer found herself on the border of Sithis' kingdom. She was not the same cat that had left the city so long ago. Now she was aged far beyond her moons in her mind, and she was given to moments of complete loss. Some called it insanity, as she would babble names that no cat had dared spoken in generations, but these moments, while she often could keep them in control, were painful, and terrifying.
Some say she makes them up, and others say they've heard much the same, but Singer finally earned her name by the stories she told. Stories of cats that walked the path of the old religion, StarClan. She refuses to tell how she has heard these stories, but those who have been given her hints surmise that she dreams them in some manner- which does not account for the fact they had heard stories like these before, and makes her version of how she came by such knowledge invalid.
She only smiles and tells a new story.
Now that the clans are reformed and she finds herself drawn to joining them, she is on ground zero as far as the stories that erupt in her mind go. But since the rebellion, the barrage of visions has lessened, as if the spirits have clamed, assured their stories would be told.
The four kits learned how to hunt very quickly. They knew they would never eat fish. Fury was already living up to his name. He brooded, paced, seemed trapped in his own mind. He defended them from older cats, his pure rage and anguish warning off the aged strays of the city. Soon, though, the city crackdown on the cat population that took their parents' lives reared its head at them.
Singer was the only one to escape, watching as her litter mates were swept away in boxes made of shiny, solid twigs. Fury was going insane. Valiant, Singer knew in her heart, was soon to earn his name just by looking in his eyes. Peace, she might never really know how her name was meant to serve her, but she was docile as ever as she was taken. Singer escaped the city.
Twelve moons of wandering and starving, and Singer found herself on the border of Sithis' kingdom. She was not the same cat that had left the city so long ago. Now she was aged far beyond her moons in her mind, and she was given to moments of complete loss. Some called it insanity, as she would babble names that no cat had dared spoken in generations, but these moments, while she often could keep them in control, were painful, and terrifying.
Some say she makes them up, and others say they've heard much the same, but Singer finally earned her name by the stories she told. Stories of cats that walked the path of the old religion, StarClan. She refuses to tell how she has heard these stories, but those who have been given her hints surmise that she dreams them in some manner- which does not account for the fact they had heard stories like these before, and makes her version of how she came by such knowledge invalid.
She only smiles and tells a new story.
Now that the clans are reformed and she finds herself drawn to joining them, she is on ground zero as far as the stories that erupt in her mind go. But since the rebellion, the barrage of visions has lessened, as if the spirits have clamed, assured their stories would be told.
by Ticky
