Post by Deadlily on Feb 11, 2007 18:46:20 GMT -5
Name of Cat:
Deadlily
Age of Cat:
14 Moons
Rank of Cat:
Warrior
Gender of Cat:
She-cat
Appearance:
A quite lanky she-cat, with a physically larger and stronger build than several of the other warriors of Littleclan. Her body gives her more of advantage in fighting, but it can be restricting in speed. Her fur is black with white splotches and her eyes are gold.
If she didn't wear a noticeable grimace when around others, she might actually seem a bit pretty. Usually she looks quite nervous, however, and thus gives herself a rather negative demeanor.
Personality:
Easily influenced by the opinion of others, Deadlily is often discouraged. She lacks the ability to take charge, and usually only follows tasks when ordered to directly.
On occasion she can get quite irritated and usually refuses to be around others, though in most scenarios she has already left the camp and is out sulking on the plains. Because only these sides of her are shown to other cats, most don't mind letting her go about her own way, and Deadlily herself doesn't seem to mind the obvious alienation.
History:
"Call me Cherry," The angel she-kit would purr, "Just Che-rry." She would turn, her blue eyes pools of mock and scorn, "And call her Dead. Just Dead."
Dead. It was the perfect name. She was deadweight. She was a body to be trampled. She was an existence that vanished. Yet she was not something to mourn- not something to fear; she was just dead. Just Dead.
Sweetflower had always been a pretty she-cat. So pure white; so clean, so slender. Her fur seemed to draw everything just and good, like how the light bounced off it and made it even brighter, and how her eyes were crisp pools of infinite blueness.
Every tom wanted her. Every tom simply needed her. She took them and left them as she felt needed going from the strongest to the quickest and then to the most handsome. How quickly they fell into her paws, and how mercilessly she threw them aside like forgotten toys.
And because they came so quickly, it was no surprise when she announced she was kitting. It was, however, a mystery to who the father (Or fathers), were. And that was just how Sweetflower wanted it.
Three kits had come; the first two had been stunningly white just like their mother. The last... Not so much. The final kit was mostly black, with huge gaping splotches of white. It was almost as if all of the whiteness had been layered on the other two, leaving the last kit half-painted.
"Cherrykit," The mother named her firstborn. "And Sunkit." She dubbed the second, nuzzling them affectionately in turn. "And the last?" The tentative medicine cat asked, pushing the needy thirdling forward. "That one is..." Sweetflower looked at the kit for several minutes, and shook her head. "That one is dead. It won't live. I can tell."
Yet the kit did not die. In fact, the one named Sunkit was the one who didn't last the night. Distraught and ill tempered, Sweetflower announced she was leaving the nursery because it was too cramped and disgusting. "And the other queens can look after my kit." She told the medicine cat matter-of-factly.
"You mean kits," The medicine cat corrected, "You still haven't named the other one."
Sweetflower's eyes shot daggers at the medicine cat as she snapped, "I told you that one was dead. A dead kit."
A dead kit. A Deadkit. Deadkit. The name, unfortunately, stuck with ease. Obviously from birth forward Deadlily had been nothing more than a complication to her family.
Their mother had left with some slick loner shortly after the siblings' apprenticeship. It was to be expected; Sweetflower was that kind of selfish cat. Her mirror-copy daughter, Cherryblossom, was the same. And then the one called Dead, was just a troublesome nuisance who was only recognized as Sweetflower's daughter to those who had been present in the nursery at that time.
Her sister excelled in absolutely everything through apprenticeship. Deadpaw had been the clumsy, awkward sibling that usually settled for unrecognized. She didn't stand out much in hunting or fighting, and if anything, she had been quite slow as an apprentice. It's not like she had minded being contradicted or constantly reminded of proper warrior techniques, but when Cherrypaw got her name a good two moons before her, that was when Deadpaw became more serious, more determined, to gain a little bit of status for herself.
Deadlily had never really talked to her spiteful sister, and was both pleased and disappointed when Cherryblossom suddenly went missing. She was pleased that the cat who had criticized her from birth had left, but depressed her only family had abandoned her without saying a word.