I would like to adopt!Number: 5
Picture:
Name: Ciqala (pronounced see-KA-la; means 'My Little One')
Species: Domestic Cat
Personality: She's very quiet and shy. She doesn't really like a lot of people, but once she knows you well, she gets a bit clingy. She doesn't like kits, either. In spite the fact that she is one, she finds that she has different intrests. She likes talking. She does enjoy being cuddled, though since she had a rought first month. Her best friend is Taeser, and nothing will ever change that fact. Her earring is very special since it was her father's before he left, and she never takes it out. She won't let others touch it, not even Taeser. Besides that she's often shy and reserved, she can get very nasty and feisty if provoked. If she doesn't like you, she doesn't like you. She hates it when people point out her smallness, and will probably tear you up pretty badly for just metioning it.
Likes: Taeser, her earring, being by herself, small things, being cuddled. ^^
Dislikes: Large groups of people, loud noises, bullies, tall things, being singled out, being short
Background: I was wandering the streets alone. I've been finding myself doing that a lot. When Kaycie came, she dragged in a bunch of other creatures, stole my almost-mate, had kit with him and now I'm alone. Even Jack, my best friend, has been playing with other people in our bizzare group. It's not fair. Why do I have to be alone?
Anyway, I was wandering the streets alone when I heard noises from a cat fight. As a cat myself, I know what fun they can be, and they're even more fun to watch. So naturally, I ran over to watch. The bigger cat was the colour of midnight with no moon, and the other was petite, and a bright, vibrant orange like myself. I didn't understand what the fight was about until I saw a small kit behind the orange one. It did not belong to the black one, that was obvious since the kit was orange and sand coloured. In spite that I loved cat fights, they weren't any good when they were over kits. So I jumped into it. I tore up that black cat pretty good, almost as good as when I attacked those dogs for Jack. When I looked over at the orange one, she was licking the kit.
"Please don't take my kit." she said. She was tiny. I could probably kill her in seconds if I wanted to. "I won't." I promised. She continued licking her kit. She stopped breifly and looked up at me. "Thank you. I couldn't have taken that cat." she said, smiling. "I'm Ekila. This is my kit, Ciqala." I smiled at the small thing. It looked so small and breakable. Ciqala was a strange name, but you could say the same thing about Ekila or even Taeser... maybe not Taeser. I smiled. "My name is Taeser. I'm glad I could help. If you need help again, you can ask." she smiled. "How much help can you provide?..." and from then, I became a slave.
Well, maybe not a slave. I was happy to help her. But I did everything, from fought off other cats to finding her food. She was my best friend. And I loved her kit almost as much as she did. I cuddled the kit when Ekila had places to go and soon Ciqala was an even better friend than Ekila. Ciqala was always there and always wanted to listen to my problems and play with me. She didn't care that I was six years older than her. I didn't see any of my other friends hardly. Not even Jack. I didn't need them. I had Ekila, and more importantly, I had Ciqala. Then, she came back.
I was leaving my home to go see Ekila when I heard the sounds of cat fight. I ran to see her, knowing that Ekila was not nearly strong enough to take on anyone. It was the black cat. Ciqala's face was stricken with fear. "Mommy!" she kept yelling. I snarled and the black cat looked at me. Her face was scared for a moment before it hardened again. Ciqala squealed again. I attacked the cat and she pulled out quicker than last time. I growled again as she ran before turning to Ekila and Ciqala. Ciqala was sobbing while cuddling into her mother's neck. Ekila did her best to cuddle the kit, but she was worse than the first day I met her. She looked so fragile and delecate. It reminded me of shattered glass. Ciqala was even worse. She was sobbing so much she practically ran out of tears. She was even hyperventilating a bit. I wanted to cuddle my friend and tell her that her mother was fine and that she would get better. I also didn't want to lie to a kit. So I just sat there and cried with her. Finally, Ciqala climbed into my lap and said, "She's not coming back, is she?" I watched Ekila for a minute or two before saying quietly, "No." I grabbed the kit's scruff and carried her to my house. Both of us were still crying as I walked through the open window of the abandoned apartment.
* * * 6 Months Later * * *
Sometimes I wonder why Ekila had die to prove that Ciqala should have been mine in the first place. I wish that she was still here, but that Ciqala had always been mine, too. We were ment to be friends. She is my very best friend, along as my daughter. My adopted daughter. I take amazing care of her. She has three kits to play with, but she doesn't really like them that much. She's different. She likes to just talk most of the time instead of playing. She the smartest seven-month-old I've even met. And I love her.
A picture you drew:Just need to draw something... I might now since I'm being lazy. >.>