jon's character cabinet

[laf]

hello there c: this is my cabinet, where my characters' forms will go.
please do not post.

[laf]

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ᴊᴀᴇʜᴀᴇʀʏs

Aɴᴅ ʜᴏᴡ sʜᴇ sᴍɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴡ sʜᴇ ʟᴀᴜɢʜᴇᴅ,
Tʜᴇ ᴍᴀɪᴅᴇɴ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴇᴇ.
Sʜᴇ sᴘᴜɴ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ sᴀɪᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ,
"Nᴏ ғᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀʙᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇ!
I’ʟʟ ᴡᴇᴀʀ ᴀ ɢᴏᴡɴ ᴏғ ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇs,
Aɴᴅ ʙɪɴᴅ ᴍʏ ʜᴀɪʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɢʀᴀss,
Bᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ᴍʏ ғᴏʀᴇsᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ,
Aɴᴅ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴏʀᴇsᴛ ʟᴀss.”
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“ᴡʜᴀᴛ's ɪɴ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ? ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴀ ʀᴏsᴇ ʙʏ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴍᴇʟʟ ᴀs sᴡᴇᴇᴛ.”
Jaehaerys. One does not see such a name often. It is an ancient name, coming from the time before time. It is a name to be worn proudly as a badge, a symbol of status. It is not something one simply flaunts. A wolf must live up to her name, as proven by this one. The kings long ago cherished the names they believed to come from the mythical dragonlands. Jaehaerys, as a title, has not one single meaning. It is a name given to the descendants of the one great king, Aegon of the Targaryen. Wolves bearing the names from his line were treated with immense respect and honor, as they are believed to be the blood of the long-dead dragons. Jaehaerys can trace her own name back to the fair queen Jaehaerys, from Aegon's time. She was believed to be a dragon in a wolf's skin, a fearsome creature who defended her own with everything she had. Some legends say the so-called Dragon Queen could even spit fire on her enemies. Though this queen has since faded into memory, this youthful fae's journey has only just begun.

“ᴀɴ ᴀᴛᴛɪᴛᴜᴅᴇ ᴏғ ᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜᴘᴇʀɪᴏʀ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ.”
Jaehaerys may be named after a noble queen, but this fae is one who will write her own story. Powerful in both mind and body, Jaehaerys will not do anything she does not wish to. Her stubborn nature does not permit much resistance from the wolves around her, as this fae will do what she wants. She will leap in paws-first, thinking only of the adventure now and not the results later. Jaehaerys lives in the moment, using every moment of the day to hunt or run or do anything. She is not one to sit idly by while others do the heavy lifting. Jaehaerys tries her best to live life to the fullest. While she maintains a positive outlook, Jaehaerys's tendency to act without a second thought can get her into trouble. She does not always think of her pack first, try as she might. Jaehaerys is not terribly open-minded, as she always believes her opinion to be right. Often times she will refuse to think otherwise. Jaehaerys is very intelligent, however, and quick to learn. She tries her best to do what she is expected to do. Jaehaerys is not prone to going against the rules simply to anger others.

“ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛs, ᴊᴇᴇᴠᴇs, ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀsᴋs ᴏɴᴇsᴇʟғ, ᴅᴏ ᴛʀᴏᴜsᴇʀs ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ?”
Jaehaerys is a wolf of a certain imposing appearance. She is not a graceful, slender thing. She is a powerful creature, tall and broad-chested. Her shoulders and hindquarters are well-muscled and thick with fur and bone. Though she is not built for speed, her strength has been known to take down elk with a single powerful blow to the shoulder. That being said, Jaehaerys will not use this to her advantage against another wolf unless it is absolutely necessary. With her thick winter pelt it is hard to get through to the skin and truly hurt her. Though it is short in the summer, Jaehaerys is well-protected in the winter. Her fur is a mixture of colors: dark woody brown on her back fading to light mahogany then a pale creamy color. Her cream face is framed by grey and brown. A darker brown blaze runs down from the brown on her head across her snout to her nose. The backs of her ears are a distinct red color. Her dark, almost black grey eyes miss hardly a thing.

[laf]

work in progress.

[laf]

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ʀʜᴀᴇɢᴀʀ

Aɴᴅ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ʟᴏʀᴅ sᴀɪᴅ,
ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴍᴜsᴛ ʙᴏᴡ sᴏ ʟᴏᴡ?
Oɴʟʏ ᴀ ᴄᴀᴛ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴄᴏᴀᴛ,
ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ I ᴋɴᴏᴡ.
Iɴ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴀᴛ ᴏғ ɢᴏʟᴅ ᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴀᴛ ᴏғ ʀᴇᴅ,
ᴀ ʟɪᴏɴ sᴛɪʟʟ ʜᴀs ᴄʟᴀᴡs,
Aɴᴅ ᴍɪɴᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴀʀᴘ, ᴍʏ ʟᴏʀᴅ,
ᴀs ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴀʀᴘ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs.
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“ᴡʜᴀᴛ's ɪɴ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ? ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴀ ʀᴏsᴇ ʙʏ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴍᴇʟʟ ᴀs sᴡᴇᴇᴛ.”
Rhaegar is a name that reverberates with power and demands respect from all who hear it. Few wolves have carried this name, as it is bestowed only to those of pure blood. This Rhaegar is the fourth of his name. His ancestors were wolves of great honor and courage. To be named after them is considered a privilege. These are the wolves of the time of Aegon, the age of dragons. These are the dragonslayers, the kings of the stone castles, the wolves of legend. The name Rhaegar is carried with pride. Rhaegar the First was a great and noble king, the heir to the throne after King Aegon and Queen Jaehaerys. He, the firstborn of the Targaryen blood, ruled his kingdom with strong grip and a thirst for dragon's blood. Unlike his mother, who was said to be a dragon in a wolf's skin, Rhaegar did not hide his fury. It took little to set him flaming, and when he was angered, it was said the entire kingdom shook in the power of his bellows.

“ᴀɴ ᴀᴛᴛɪᴛᴜᴅᴇ ᴏғ ᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜᴘᴇʀɪᴏʀ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ.”
Despite his ancestor's red-hot temper, Rhaegar the Fourth is one of calm demeanor and quiet determination. A wolf of few words, he chooses to speak with his actions and not his voice. If he does truly become enraged, which happens very rarely, Rhaegar can destroy and howl and roar with just as much power as Rhaegar the First. He does not let his emotions get the better of him very often, however, and normally is only watching over his fellow packmates with a silent yet observant gaze. He follows the rules to the death, though he is one that could be swayed by a very powerful force. Such a task is difficult, though, as Rhaegar is not a wolf of lust. He does not want who and what he cannot have. The passion he bears is for his pack and for his role in it, and such a fire does not burn out easily.

“ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛs, ᴊᴇᴇᴠᴇs, ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀsᴋs ᴏɴᴇsᴇʟғ, ᴅᴏ ᴛʀᴏᴜsᴇʀs ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ?”
Rhaegar is, to put it simply, massive. He is tall and powerfully muscled, as much a dragon as any of his predecessors. But yet he does not exploit this power to his advantage. His thick pelt can add to his size, though in the summer it sheds its winter layers and leaves him noticeably less puffed. This fur can be used in battle, however, as with lots of it the task of getting to the skin beneath is difficult. Rhaegar's pelt is snow-white, radiant in the sun and luminescent in the moon. His eyes are calm and quiet, not something one would expect from an imposing brute such as him. They are light brown, a sort of caramel, and so pale they could be mistaken for amber.

[laf]

••♕••
ᴍᴇʀᴇᴅɪᴛʜ ᴀᴍᴀɴᴅᴀ ᴡᴀᴛsᴏɴ
Meet Miss Meredith Amanda Watson, better known as Merry. Born and raised in a small town in Kentucky, Merry is currently eighteen years of age. She is most certainly female and only finds herself attracted to males, thank you very much. Merry is a natural brunette and has blue eyes. Shape wise, Meredith has curves in a manner resembling that of an hourglass. Generally Merry can be found wearing a t-shirt with jeans and boots. She has no noticeable scars, though she certainly has a few insignificant ones. Both ears are pierced, though she usually only wears studs. On special occasions, she can be swayed to wear something nicer. Upon meeting Meredith for the first time, one will notice her outgoing nature. She loves to meet new people and try new things, as is her adventurous side. Put in a competition, though, and Merry will be bent on winning only. She is competitive to a fault and often lets that get in the way of other things. Other than these most noticeable traits, Merry is loyal, determined, and even occasionally flirty. At the moment, Meredith is single and has her eye on no one. She rides Western and competes in barrel racing and pole bending. In both she excels, but she is not so talented in cutting and roping. She owns three horses: Rye, Cherokee, and Panther.

Catcher in the Rye is a nine-year-old Quarter Horse gelding. He is Meredith's primary horse, and is used for both barrel-racing and pole-bending. In the barn, he is simply called Rye. He is a calm, gentle horse with a fair temper and trusts Meredith completely. They have been a team since Merry was eleven years old. Rye is 15.0 hands and of buckskin coloring. He has a star on his forehead and a snip on his nose, though neither is very noticeable.

Cherokee Midnight is a ten-year-old American Paint Horse mare. She stands at 15.0 hands and has a She is a barrel-racer exclusively, though Meredith often rides her on the trails for pleasure. Cherokee has a bubbly, frisky temperament and can usually be found nearly bouncing around the pasture. She has trained in barrels her entire life, though Meredith has owned her for only three years.

Crow's Eye is a six-year-old American Quarter Horse gelding. He is 16.5 hands tall and bears a coat of black. He is a pole-bending horse only and was trained by Meredith and her father. Crow is indifferent around other horses; he does not mind their presence, but will not acknowledge them. He has a star on his forehead and both back hooves have white socks.

[laf]

..........

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ʀʜᴀᴇɴʏs

“ᴛʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ sɪɢʜᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ sǫᴜᴇᴀʟᴇᴅ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ
sʜᴇ sᴀɴɢ: ᴍʏ ʙᴇᴀʀ sᴏ ғᴀɪʀ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴏғғ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇɴᴛ
ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀʀ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɪᴅᴇɴ ғᴀɪʀ”
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“ᴡʜᴀᴛ's ɪɴ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ? ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴀ ʀᴏsᴇ ʙʏ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴍᴇʟʟ ᴀs sᴡᴇᴇᴛ.”
Rhaenys. Not a name one hears often. When this title was common, great mammoths and wolves the size of small horses still roamed the land. Its exact origins are unknown, as the first bearer of this name has since been lost to history. There are legends, though, that say Queen Rhaenys, if she even was a queen, was a fearsome and deadly fighter. Others insist that the Duchess Rhaenys was a kind and noble woman. Whatever her history, the name Rhaenys has been passed through the ages. It has become a rare name, one remembered only by those who grew up on tales of dragons and great kings. In this rather unique case, the god Camulos bestowed this name upon his only daughter. She carries it with pride.

“ᴀɴ ᴀᴛᴛɪᴛᴜᴅᴇ ᴏғ ᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜᴘᴇʀɪᴏʀ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ.”
Rhaenys may be named after a lost queen, but this woman is one who will write her own story. Powerful in both mind and body, Rhaenys will not do anything she does not wish to. Her stubborn nature does not permit much resistance from the people around her, as this one will do what she wants. She will leap in head-first, thinking only of the adventure now and not the results later. Rhaenys lives in the moment, using every moment of the day to practice or run or do anything. She is not one to sit idly by while others do the heavy lifting. Rhaenys tries her best to live life to the fullest. While she maintains a positive outlook, Rhaenys's tendency to act without a second thought can get her into trouble. She does not always think of her duties first, try as she might. Rhaenys is not terribly open-minded, as she always believes her opinion to be right. Often times she will refuse to think otherwise. Rhaenys is very intelligent, however, and quick to learn. This can set her apart from the other warriors, which are typically bull-headed brutes bent on killing and not focusing on the strategy behind it. She tries her best to do what she is expected to do. Rhaenys is not prone to going against the rules simply to anger others.

“ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛs, ᴊᴇᴇᴠᴇs, ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀsᴋs ᴏɴᴇsᴇʟғ, ᴅᴏ ᴛʀᴏᴜsᴇʀs ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ?”
Though Rhaenys is sometimes regarded as the maiden fair amongst a horde of bears, she uses her beauty to her advantage. When in enemy territory, Rhaenys can flirt and charm her way out. Though she might look slender Rhaenys is more than capable of wielding a battleaxe, if it comes to that. Her frame is slender, but the real power is in her shoulders and thighs. Years of practice plus some help from her father have turned this maiden fair into a dangerous warrior. She carries a weapon better than most men, except her brother. Rhaenys has a head of red hair, which falls past her shoulders and to her chest. Her face is round and has an innocent look to it, though that can be misleading. Height-wise, Rhaenys stands at about five feet nine inches. Her eyes are light blue, her skin a dark porcelain. These features together give the warrior maiden an unmistakable appearance.

[laf]

Frost crunches under the thick leather of the heir of Winterfell's boots as he walks. Robb Stark had never given much thought to the idea of winter. Not this, what was called summer, but real winter. Blizzards, ice, snow. Robb had heard the words Winter is Coming all of his life, seen his father's greatsword Ice take off countless heads, but never had he felt the wind nip at his nose as it does now. He brushes back his heavy cloak of fur and deerskin irritably. The thing used to be his father's, but it was too big for Robb and he often finds himself stepping on it. Once or twice it had even hit Grey Wind, the direwolf pup, in the face, which earned a yelp of surprise. Much to his mother's disapproval, Robb and his four siblings plus Jon had kept the pups they found in the forest. Robb is nearly knocked over as Arya and Nymeria go racing by. Septa Mordane follows, running in a lumbering gait with her breath coming out in puffs in the chilly air. The Stark chuckles to himself. Sansa may have all the makings for a perfect lady, but she would never be nearly as entertaining as Arya.

Robb himself is avoiding the feast preparations for the visit of the king and his court. He knows that King Robert and his father won the war together, though Ned would've made a considerably better king than the Baratheon has. Silently, he wonders what it would be like to be in King's Landing, instead of Winterfell. Lost in thought, Robb pays no attention to where his feet take him. He returns to reality only when he collides with another person. He recognizes the round face and dark hair of house Liviana, though he can't remember much else about the small house besides their history of thieves and rogues. Robb shakes his head. "No, it is my fault. I ought to have been paying attention," he says politely, Grey Wind halting at his side. He finds himself stooping over ever so slightly, as he towers over the girl by what seems like half a head.

[laf]

ʀʜᴀᴇɴʏs
Here stands the lovely Rhaenys, born into a herd. There, this mare was foaled seven years ago and raised. She has one brother, though he has long since disappeared, and parents that have since gone to the fields of infinite spring. Rhaenys knows little of them. Currently, she has affections for no horse.

Rhaenys is a horse of a certain distinct appearance. She is light grey, fleabitten to be precise. Though her pelt is pale it darkens to black on her legs down to her dark ivory hooves. Her mane and tail are light as well, a sort of grey-cream mix. She has a muzzle sporting a dark grey color and brown eyes. Rhaenys is sturdily built and well-muscled in her shoulders and hindquarters, suggesting bloodlines from a mustang or a quarter horse. She stands at the notable height of 16.5 hands. Thanks to this strong build, Rhaenys can jump farther than some and higher than most. Though she may not have speed, Rhaenys certainly has power.

Rhaenys genuinely enjoys life. She doesn't take it too seriously, which can work to her advantage. While anything from a predator attack to some harsh words can negatively affect any other horse, Rhaenys simply brushes them off. She doesn't let things get to her. Playful and immature at times, this mare is known to tease her herd mates and have a little fun with them. That being said, Rhaenys makes sure she never truly hurts any of them. She knows what lines she cannot cross and does her best to keep on the right side of those lines. Honest in her joking and sensitive to the others, Rhaenys won't do anything that could cause a different, potentially bad reaction than what she was hoping for. She won't let these restrictions discourage her, though. Rhaenys can typically be found relaxing with the other band mares, grazing, or even swimming. If there's enough water, that is. An easygoing horse, Rhaenys is content with letting others take charge and making the decisions. She is perfectly fine with being bossed around a little, unless she dislikes the instructions being set for her. Then, Rhaenys will simply toss her head and trot away.

ʜᴏʀsᴇ #16 ᴀᴇʀʏs
In this age of deceit and betrayal, a small ray of hope still stands. Behold Aerys, one of justice and grace. He has a mate, #28, and a sister, #5. Both his sire and dam have long since died. Aerys followed his father's path and is currently the lead stallion of the herd of autumn. He was born there eight years ago and raised to one day take his sire's place.

Aerys is a horse who does not value his appearance. He is chiefly bright chestnut, with large white splotches on his shoulders and neck. All four legs have stockings that are also white. His mane is chiefly white, with a black forelock. Some of this color extends back a short distance into the mane itself. Aerys's tail is white at its start, but this white darkens to black about halfway down its length. His face bears a blaze, and his eyes are brown. Aerys is is stocky, though not overly so. Such is common for his breed, and his features are well-proportioned on his body. Mustang lineage is easily seen in this stallion. He is not a towering brute and stands only at 15.0 hands. This stature helps keep him steady in the winds that the autumn brings and in the swollen rivers of spring. Aerys bears no exceptional speed or agility, though he is strong.

Aerys is not what one would expect as a lead stallion. He is gracious and kind, almost distant from the affairs of the herd. When it comes to his little sister, he is protective, but his aggression does not span much farther from there. His mate is the light of his life. She is like the sun to him, the highest and brightest being in existence. Aerys allows this mare to have an unusual amount of power in the herd. Of the four lead mares on the island, this one is certainly the one given the most influence and control. Aerys is a team player, not a solo act. He would be lost without a group to support him. This is, however, only if he gets to call the shots. Gentle as he may be, Aerys is still in charge, and he doesn't plan to let many forget it.

ʜᴏʀsᴇ #11 ᴊᴀᴇʜᴀᴇʀʏs
Behold the lovely Jaehaerys, mare of the herd of summer. She has no mate, but lucky #18 is who she has her eye on. Neither sire nor dam remains. She was born soon before they died, six years ago. Jaehaerys remains in the summer herd as a simple mare in the band, not anything she thinks to be special.

Jaehaerys is a horse that is not easily missed. Some of her is white with a black leopard pattern. Her pelt darkens to ashy grey and the spots fade as the color goes down her forelegs. This unique color contributes to a sort of beauty this mare has. Her eyes are light brown and her mane and tail are silver. Jaehaerys is graceful and slender, almost like a deer. She is not overly skinny, though, and what muscle she has contributes to her speed. This mare loves to run and does so often, so long as she doesn't stray too far from the herd. She stands at 15.5 hands and shows lineage of mustangs and perhaps some thoroughbred, in a distant ancestor.

Jaehaerys is the classic example of femininity. Innocent and beautiful, she holds very little ill will against anyone, if at all. She is trusting, but sometimes too much so. It does not take much to gain it, as she gives it willingly to most. Though she may be outwardly beautiful, Jaehaerys is completely oblivious to this. She does not hold herself to a higher standard than any other, nor does she act with superiority. Jaehaerys is as innocent as a newborn filly and as pure as the spring's rain. She does not care who you are or where you are from, so long as you are kind.

[laf]

♏
ᴍᴀᴘʟᴇᴘᴀᴡ

╔......................╗
........ʙᴀsɪᴄs

➸ maplepaw
➸ she-cat
➸ ten moons
➸ apprentice

.......ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ

➸ ten pounds
➸ fifteen inches long
➸ nine inches tall
➸ slim but strong

.......ᴄᴏʟᴏʀs

➸ dark amber eyes
➸ medium length fur
➸ champagne pelt
➸ tabby markings

.......ғᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ

➸ mapleflight
➸ warrior
➸ hopes for kits
➸ wants a mate

╚......................╝

When Maplepaw was born, she was the among the few survivors of a blackcough epidemic. Her mother, a warrior named Aspenheart, had fled ForestClan as soon as her mate, Blacktail, died from the illness. His last words commanded her to run as far as possible, and that she did. Aspenheart crossed the forest and the meadows until she approached the neighborhoods. These parts were notoriously crawling with twolegs, though in this case Aspenheart didn't hesitate to allow herself to be adopted by one. When her kits were born, the renamed Aspen raised them to one day return to the wild. Her plans were cut short when the kits were given to other twoleg families when they were only a moon old. Her only daughter, Maple, was given to a woman with seven other cats. Maple disliked this home, wanting back with her mother and brothers. But, alas, she was alone for the first time in her life. In a stroke of luck, Maple managed to squeeze out of the door as her owner was walking out. She escaped to the forest, though at only a moon and a half old Maple was unable to defend herself. Hungry and lost, Maple wandered through the area until a group of cats stumbled upon her. Soon after, she was taken to camp and given a new name: Maplepaw. To this day, Maplepaw doesn't like to talk of her history. The legacy of her former clan has been lost forever, as this she-cat won't look back.
Maplepaw has demonstrated her strong sense of determination and wit, managing to keep herself alive in a strange land at a young age. Her loyalty and quiet strength was given to her by her mother, who left her mate and family behind so that her kits could live a good life. Her curiosity and bravery was that of her father, though she never knew him. Maplepaw does very little without consideration. She isn't the type to leap in paws-first, just to see what will happen. She prefers to be the sidekick, the one in the front lines rather than the one leading the charge. With great curiosity comes great risk, as proven by the dozens of scrapes and gashes Maplepaw has gained over the moons. She loves to explore, and this adventurous spirit can overcome even her cautious nature. Maplepaw is often one with a bold sense of daring when it comes to prowling the territory. Her friends can attest to her bravery, even if it is often stupidly brash. Maplepaw may not be the most intelligent cat in the clan, but she's got guts, and sometimes the willingness to take the blow for someone can overpower having the brain to plan a battle strategy.

[laf]

♒
ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴᴘᴀᴡ

╔......................╗
........ʙᴀsɪᴄs

➸ oceanpaw
➸ she-cat
➸ five moons
➸ med. cat apprentice

.......ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ

➸ seven pounds
➸ ten inches long
➸ seven inches tall
➸ petite

.......ᴄᴏʟᴏʀs

➸ sea blue eyes
➸ short fur
➸ black pelt
➸ silver flecks

.......ғᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ

➸ oceanbreeze
➸ medicine cat
➸ can't have kits
➸ can't have a mate

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Oceanpaw is a born and bred clan cat. Her mother, Forestflare, had a single litter of kits with her longtime friend and mate, Snakeheart. Oceanpaw was born with two sisters, but they were born a moon early. Only Oceanpaw lived to see the end of the night, though she feels the lasting effects of her premature birth. Oceanpaw is small for her age and incapable of running for more than a few seconds before she is out of breath. Snakeheart died of an adder bite before the kits were born. Forestflare, already unstable after her mate's death, was driven to insanity and depression after two of her three kits died. Forestflare lived long enough to see her only kit become an apprentice before dying herself. Oceanpaw chooses not to think of her mother and instead prefers to look ahead to her future as the clan's medicine cat. She tries hard to forget her past, though not always successfully. It is because of her family's fate that Oceanpaw chose to train to be a medicine cat. She believes that no cat should have to deal with what her mother had to, and hopes to one day find a way to save a snake bit cat or kits born before their time. Oceanpaw is determined to change the world one day, and she may very well do it.
Oceanpaw was born with a shy, introverted tendency that had once belonged to her father. Though she may be timid at times, when a sick or injured cat comes in for her and her mentor to deal with, all fear is swept aside and her entire being focuses on helping the other. Quick to learn and creative, Oceanpaw not only remembers what herbs she must use but occasionally tests out some combinations of her own. More often than not, her mixtures don't do much good, but she has found a way to mix yarrow and honey to make a cat throw up without burning his or her throat. Oceanpaw, while resourceful, doesn't like working alone, and can freeze up if her mentor is not there to guide her. As hard as she tries, Oceanpaw can't venture very far into the forest due to her weak respiratory system, and a long journey could take several days for her to complete. Her determination and will to live is what has kept her going all these moons, with her mother breathing down her neck for her first six and other kits making fun of her for her small size. Oceanpaw's unstable mother taught her to be cautious around other cats, as she has a chronic fear of them lashing out as Forestflare did. The apprentice tries her best to be brave, but there are times she wishes she could have a steady, strong mother and a brave, loyal father to lean on in her times of trouble. They are both gone, though, and Oceanpaw has gotten independence she does not want. Her desire for another life can be destructive, if she lets it go too far. Oceanpaw is often lost in thought, watching the kits with their siblings and mothers playing in the camp. Her envy of these kits is well-hidden to all but those that know her tip to tail. Oceanpaw will never let her true feelings show.