Post by madhatter on May 8, 2011 17:28:47 GMT -5
monarchpaw
she writes such a pretty story -- but life is no fairytale.
she writes such a pretty story -- but life is no fairytale.
NAME... monarchpaw -- monarchflight
AGE... seven moons
GENDER... female
CLAN... CheetahClan
POSITION... apprentice
SPECIES... cheetah.
APPEARANCE...Strong-boned but nimble, Monarchpaw is skinny. Scratch that, she’s lean; sleek even. Perfect for flitting and dipping through their territory. Her size and powerful hind legs makes her an amiable fighter and, being a cheetah, able to outrun many. When she runs, she looks as if she is flying. She’s willowy, really. Long and strong. Her body is evenly proportioned, with a sharp, angular jawline and a triangular head. Her ears are average, rounded and somewhat like a teddy bear’s. A tail to match her long body, it is heavily furred and, at the end, dipped in brown. Her hind legs are also bony and jut out when she sits
Covering this body is a relatively thin coat, a disadvantage in leaf-bare. The base color is a darker, pinky-hue of a brown. It’s borderline orange. Black, bottomless spots dot her entire body, becoming sparser at the face and the underbelly. Her mouth is covered in snow white and it travels down her heck and reappears, rimming her black-outlined eyes. Her nose is dipped in black. Her teeth are of average length, and are in remarkably good condition given the circumstances. She does not yet have any scars, but really, it’s only a matter of time.
As for Monarchpaw’s eyes, they are pretty slanted. Almonds turned at the apex. Their color is a dark, warm brown. In bright light, they look to be near red and can sometimes be startling. At night, they gleam as if glazed.
PERSONALITY...Monarchpaw is, above all else, headstrong. She will forever follow her heart and quite often forgets about her able brain. She often doesn’t think before she leaps and takes dramatic jumps towards what she may think is right at that time. Monarch often doesn’t understand the extent of the damage her actions until they actually happen, nor does she consider the feelings of others until it is too late and the heartbreak is done. She is remarkably free-spirited, like a butterfly. A monarch butterfly. She tends to flit from place to place, never hovering for long. If only the butterfly wasn’t so perfectly free.
Despite her young age, she’s managed to make wrong decisions countless times. Reckless decisions that get her in substantial trouble. She was that mischievous kit that snuck out of camp, who fearlessly leaped over clan borders, and messed with the herb placement. She was devil in the eyes of the older, and a hero in the eyes of the young. She was constantly scolded for being a bad example, but it didn’t deter her. A cat either likes her, or they hate her. And she takes it like that just fine.
Being young, Monarchpaw is still pretty naïve about life in general. It’s a curse as much as a positive trait. She can look at a senior warrior with that innocent look, ears perked, eyes wide, and head cocked to one side. One that says ‘I am ready for anything’. It’s charming, really. On the down side, this look also says ‘I can do anything. I can be anything I want to be.’ In other words her determination and stubbornness is near legendary. Room for failure? Zero.
She truly has a gift to sweet-talk to toms in her pretty little life. She loves to net males, and if you’ll refer to paragraph uno, you’ll recall that she quickly tosses feelings under a bus. Falling for her is a risky business, despite her airy and promising front. Be not afraid though, because Monarchpaw does have a good heart. It just takes a while for it to actually take wind and blossom. She’s sort of like an infection. As much as you wish to stay far from her, she catches up with you anyways, spreads, and takes root. Just hope that the harmless bug doesn’t turn into a full-fledged cancer.
As can be guessed, this cheetess has a hot head. She speaks her mind, gives everything she has, and never looks back. She never glances back over her shoulder and always has the last word. Her tongue is as sharp as knifes. Along with this is her competitive- deeply, deeply competitive- nature. She hates losing. She hates backing away from things. Therefore, well, she doesn’t. It is very scarcely that you see this feline sitting in a corner, or shying away from a good fight. Even giving up on a spirited argument. It’s against everything she is. Which is relatively confident. But not egotistical. Oh, and it should go without said, but she hates authority.
So prepare yourself for a loyal butterfly. But a challenging, frustrating, forever looking, free-winded monarch butterfly, who, as you may know, you’ll see for a few months, and then wave good-bye as it leaves to warmer places. And you don’t ever really know if you’ll see it again.
HISTORY...
Monarchpaw, despite her arrow-sharp personality, was not born first. In fact, she was born last, underweight and very unhealthy. She was a sickly kit for a moon, and with thoughts that she was contagious, many cats stayed away. Her mother, Goosefeather, was not a compassionate queen. She was a grumpy, irritable old one that should never have had another litter of kits. Some leopards blamed Goosefeather for Monarch’s illnesses at first, saying that she never should have conceived in the first place. Without a second thought, she huffed and marched to the elders’ den, with no scheduling whatsoever for her two kits- Monarchkit and Harekit. A boy and a girl. Luckily, the clan had a surplus of caring mothers, and in a split second the two were taken in, fed, and given a warm spot beside Jadestorm’s mewling kits, a moon older and curious to the new additions.
Jadestorm was a kind-hearted queen and with careful nourishing her and her brother came over the sickness, blossoming into healthy kits. They forever considered Jadestorm as a mother and when Goosefeather passed, they respectfully said their dues. Harekit was an exact opposite of Monarchkit. He was calm, careful. Thoughtful. Dreamy. A conflicting factor when all his sister wanted to do was run from camp and tackle him into the dust.
Even as a tiny age of three moons, little Monarchkit refused to stay out of trouble. She would saunter around camp, pester the elders, sneak into the leaders’ den, and toss moss balls at unsuspecting passer-bys. She escaped camp at 4 moons, Harekit tagging behind timidly. She was ridiculously lucky that they did not fall into the plummeting crevices of their territory, or be eaten up by a passing rouge. Or get squashed by a passing gazelle stampede. When she returned, the camp was in a fret, and Jadestorm was angrily shouting at a young warrior, asking for her kit’s whereabouts. Monarchkit answered all of their questions with a simple sly smile and an ‘I don’t know.’
When Harekit decided to take up the medicine cat career path, the two siblings grew apart. Monarch wanted to fight and learn and Hare wished to save lives. It was an unspoken breakage, and she flitted from it before it could bother her. She still performed her escapades of bravery, leaving camp to stand upon a mighty rock and look over the prairies, bringing a troupe of kits with her to chase an antelope. She wasn’t scared of the unknown. She was on one of these runs when the lynx broke through the nursery wall. In fact, she was just returning. A chorus of shouts broke out, but it was too late. Jadestorm, heavy with another litter of kits, couldn’t move in time to avoid the deathblow to her neck. Harekit had attempted to jump in front, but had been flung aside, his poor hind leg crushed at an odd angle.
Of course, Monarchkit didn’t see this firsthand. This, she will never forgive herself for. Her adopted mother, gone and her brother crippled because she couldn’t be there for them. And she was confident she could have stopped it. In some ways, she was really happy for his decision to become a medicine cat. At least he picked it before he had to. At least he had some say in the matter. The pair mourned their lost mother for weeks, but eventually moved on. Life goes on. Now, at seven moons, she has only just begun her training and is on her way to excelling.
And that, my friends, is this butterfly’s boring past.
