Sands and Seas [Semi-Lit Winged Cat RP] Accepting!

[tbow.]

((Sorry for kinda just bursting in, but how can i start? Sorry I'm sick so my imagination has totally left me.))

[duckteeth]

[D'aww, feel better! Just throw them in there. Pere's doing nothing, you could interact with him.]

Peregrine danced on the breeze, his dusky-gray feathers and pelt causing a quiet whistling noise as the wind blew through them. The blue of his eyes was so similar to the blue of the sky above him to an ignorant observor they'd look like two holes in his face, the sky showing through. Suddenly, randomly, he dove down towards the grassy clifftop beneath him. A quiet squeak and crack and he was flying again, a mouse in his mouth.

[FoldєdPapєrHєarts]

Rayven couldn't help but have his eyes dart over to Flicker, towards her shoulders and back. Empty. It always surprised him when Rayven remembered that Flicker had no wings. It was such a common occurance around the area, and plus Flicker didn't seem any different than any of his other friends that did have wings-at least, not to him. He shrugged slightly, smiling faintly at her. "Wings aren't all that great, trust me. They're a pain to clean." He hated seeing her get sad, even if she tried to hide it, when one spoke of having wings. "I'm not sure what Guard I want to be in; any of them will do, really. As long as whichever one I'm in will involve some sort of action and not a lot of sitting."

[duckteeth]

Flicker gave a small smile at Rayven's attempt to make her feel better, "I guess." She look up to the cliffs and saw Mordecai hunting. She wished she could hunt like that. From the air. Ah well, no use being sad over it. "These days there isn't much action going on around here." she bit her lip thoughtfully, "Though I thought I had heard howling last night, near the cliff area. Like, a pack of wolves or dogs howling...not just one." The thought caused her to shiver involuntarily, she couldn't climb or fly. She wouldn't have much of a chance.

[tbow.]

((Thanks, I'll just jump in then XD))
Talon flew close to the cliff he was to guard, he flew down low and landed. He folded his wings on his back and looked around cautiously as if someone would jump out at any moment. He shook his head for a moment to clear his mind and a sigh escaped him as he sat.

[Dream of Eternity]

{I'm just going to jump in, but I was wondering.... Are there any special things you need to do to have a cat in the Royal Flock? I am considering making another character or two (I ge restless with just one) and I was pondering where to place them}

Sparrow slowly limped out into the open. He looked around at the other cats, before spreading his golden, fragile wings. He flapped them tentatively at first, then a bit harder. Feeling his feet lift off the ground, he began to grin. Even though he couldn't soar like the other cats, there was a certain delight in hovering above the ground without his lame leg hindering him. He glided a few feet, now around 2 feet above the ground. A grin lit up his features, and he laughed happily. Flying always made him happy.

[duckteeth]

[Aww, you put the stamp in your siggie :3

Not really, but the king and queen must be mates and the princes/princesses must be their offspring^^]

[FoldєdPapєrHєarts]

Rayven found himself shocked as this bit of information. "Really?" he said, his eyes narrowing ever-so slightly. If this was true, and Rayven had no reason to believe Flicker would lie about something so serious as canines, then this was big. A canine, even just one, was a danger. And if there were more than one of the beasts, then that could mean death to any cats who could not fly. Rayven found himself faintly worried; not for himself, but for Flicker and the other wingless cats. "Do you think they'll find their way into here?" he asked.

[major tom]

[[Just posting so I won't forget to complete these later. . . This looks like it'll be an excellent roleplay; maybe I can actually relax and write posts under one thousand words here. . . Or not. Probably not.
Oh, well. . . I can't wait. I'll most likely finish both of these by Wednesday at the very latest. . . There's also the possibility that I may add another character as well.
Although I do hate to jump in later than it begins. >.>;]]

Username: Roseness
Cat's Name: Altair
Gender: Male
Age: Seven moons
Species: Winged cat
Flock: Training Flock
Position: Student learning to be in the Fishing Flock
Personality:
Physical Description:
Skills:
Weaknesses:
History: See Swift's history.
Family/Kin:
Crush/Mate:
Other:

Username: Roseness
Cat's Name: Swift
Gender: Male
Age: Seven moons
Species: Winged cat
Flock: Training Flock
Position: Formerly of the Training Flock to be a Hunter, but he is currently injured with very little chance of recovering entirely.
Personality: Swift does not quite fit into the "shy, quiet, reserved" stereotype although he appears to suit it rather well to those who do not know him very well. He is the type of cat to wait and watch what others are doing before he acts. While he is a tom of few words, he does have a voice, contrary to popular belief. He merely does not choose to use it very often unless he is around his friends, and, let's be frank, those are few and far between. Surprisingly, he craves the company of fellow felines as much as any other cat, possibly even more so, but he is perfectly content with being alone for a while. He does not need their attention, however; he prefers to remain in the background and observe the actions of his companions rather than socialize with them. He is known to comment on things that interest him, but more often, his opinion is not vocalized. This does not mean that he is timid; he is actually very courageous at times, but he is not boastful. Swift is selfless, but he does not have anything to be modest about; he simply is not very self-preservative and fully understands that sacrifices are extremely vital for life to go on. He will stay loyal to his friends until the end, but he has difficulty developing trust with someone else. When he decides to form a friendship, though, it usually sticks. Swift is an easy cat to get along with. He can make himself dangerous although it is a very rare sight to see him being violent, for prefers to avoid conflicts. He is also watchful and patient, two vital traits that are mandatory for hunting. He is a determined fellow as well, and he pursues his goals with a quiet ambition that nobody ever notices.
Physical Description: Swift is a lean, breezy cat, hence his name. He has a small, almost delicate frame, something that he is frequently being teased about by his brother, Altair. He is rather weak, however; he was the runt of the litter. He has powerful hind legs, though, which are ideal for pouncing. Swift is not particularly fast despite the impression he tends to let on; he is very agile and flexible, instead. His wings are long but slender; they are a silvery gray color with nearly white undersides. His coat color is mainly pale gray with slightly darker blueish-gray tabby stripes with nearly black rings on his tail. Swift is nearly identical to his brother, and he would be if it weren't for size as well as the fact that his tail's rings are barely more closely spaced together. His large, wide eyes are a very light shade of blue that almost appears to be gray; they have a somewhat water-like quality.
Skills: He is very nimble and light on his feet as a benefit of his size. Another physical attribute is his powerful hind legs. Swift is very logical and will not make a decision impulsively; he thinks things through cautiously before proceeding into any situation. He is also quite careful; other cats use the word "cynical." Swift is also observative and patient.
Weaknesses: Swift is not very self-preservative at all. He has a difficult time forming relationships although this does not bother him much. He has always been somewhat emotionally numb; he has feelings, but they are not as vivid as those of his peers. He is also a bit too independent, for he does not like to rely on other cats and prefers to solve things on his own. Swift also tends to overthink things often, and he experiences anxiety frequently.
History: Altair and Swift were born in a secluded forest not far from the Beach Sanctuary. Their parents were both winged, but both of them were perfectly content with their isolated existence away from the colony despite Caspar's, their father's, birth there. Soon after they were weaned at two moons old, the young toms' parents brought them to the Beach Sanctuary so they could grow up normally with a purpose in life other than to stay alive. Since then, the brothers were raised and are currently being trained in separate Flocks. Around a moon or so ago, Swift developed the bad habit of sleep-flying; only half of a moon later, he flew straight off of a nearby cliff and woke up. He attempted to steer himself closer to the rock face in an attempt to find a pawhold since he couldn't see anything, but Swift ended up damaging his right wing irreparibly. He had crashed hard into the cliff and snapped or shattered most of the bones in his wing; he also tore some of the muscle and tendons. That section of his wing had to be amputated once he received medical attention the morning after. The Fishing Flock found him unconcious but still alive washed up on the shore.
Family/Kin: Altair, twin brother, and his two parents, Meda and Caspar
Crush/Mate: N/A
Other:

Username: Roseness
Cat's Name: Gale
Gender: Female
Age: Forty-three moons
Species: Wingless cat
Flock: Training Flock
Position: Protection Teacher
Personality: WIP
Physical Description: She has thick, dark gray fur with a tint of blue to its dull luster. Her coat color is solid and uniform with no stripes or other such markings; its texture is dense and often messy/matted. [She complains about the heat frequently.] Gale is also rather short and squat for her age, but she makes up for that in strength. She is quite muscular and can be a formidable opponent in battle although she does not appear to be much of a threat at first glance. Her underbelly is a lighter shade of gray fur, but it does not vary particularly noticably from the rest of her body. Gale's dull fur makes her eyes stand out even more, however; they are a bright, sharp amber color, and they can usually be described as piercing. Her tail is remarkably short at a grand total of four inches long.
Skills: With a muscular build, Gale is among the strongest cats in the colony. She is also very experienced and has a large assortment of battle moves tucked away to memory. Gale is a good leader [although this does not mean that she has all leadership skills]; level-headed and decisive, she can get her Flock out of a tight spot in a moment's notice. She is also very loyal and dependable. Gale is stubborn, too; she will stand her ground in the face of adversity.
Weaknesses: She is not very agile or particularly fast; her balance started plummeting at the age of nineteen when a fox bit her tail off during combat. She can miscommunicate things at times, including important details and thoughts. Gale has been known to take dangerous risks at times. She can also be over-persistant and pushes herself and others to their limit, occasionally over it. She can also be slightly blunt sometimes. She is not a strong hunter, but she can catch enough to keep herself alive for a few moons if she has to.
History: Gale has had an average life so far, and she does not have the desire to change that anytime soon. She was born into the colony, and her parents treated her and her twin sister [Shale] fairly enough. No one in their family had wings, so she was not the odd one out. She had a brother, but it wasn't for very long. He was in the same litter as Gale, but he died shy of three moons. Gale does not speak of him very often. She had always been captivated by the art of fighting, so life in the Protection Flock came naturally to her. She was interested in little else until she reached the age of eleven moons and learned that, oftentimes, diversity can be a great asset. Her not-so-look-alike sister was currently excelling in the Hunting Flock at the time, yet Lune grew bored of colony life soon after she gained her own consciousness. Her condition diminished, and she was becoming increasingly depressed, irritable, and restless. It was not long before Lune confided in Gale that she "was meant to have wings" and "had a horribly irrisistible sense of wanderlust." She left after that, and Gale never tried to stop of go after her. Her life continued quietly; she made it through the ranks of the Protection Flock through hard work and perserverence, and she eventually made it to Female Commander. This lasted for nine moons until she was injured in battle by a pack of stray dogs. Most cats thought she was going to be crippled forever, but her broken [hind left] leg healed almost miraculously and is now fully functional although she receives bad pains from it occasionally. The injury kept her from rejoining the Protection Flock even as a Guard, so Gale settled for the Training Flock as a Teacher. She has loved young cats throughout her life although she is sterile and will never be able to produce kits of her own.
Family/Kin: Both of her parents died of natural causes. Gale has a sister, though; she lives as a wandering loner and has not been heard of for many long moons.
Crush/Mate: N/A [She is not one for romance, nor does she want to be involved in such a relationship with another cat. She had a brief fling with a tom once when she was still a young she-cat; it lasted for three moons, and she mentions it without grief.]
Other:
Roleplaying Sample:

You are one of the chosen. PowerClans need you know.

The words kept on spiraling in Lightwhisper's twisted mind, repeating and echoing within the confines of the white warrior's skull as she made the journey to Centertree. She had not been expecting a thing last night, on the evening of the full moon. She had not expected anything else to occur at the Gathering except for the usual banal reports with the unusual but still rather trivial addition of Sunstar claiming that SunClan was recovering quickly and would be a strong, formidable rival once again soon. She wouldn't have expected the latter to be expressed vocally, but any cat older than six moons would sense the slightly concealed intention nonetheless. Lightwhisper, the unstable, weak so-called "warrior" from EarthClan who could barely tell the validity of something right in front of her most of the time, let alone battling and winning against a DarkClan minion had been selected by StarClan, every cat of PowerClans's ancestors, to save the forest from the scourge of the shadows, led by Icestar, called by the name of DarkClan. The whole encounter with Flamestar the previous night seemed to have a oneiric quality about it; Lightwhisper almost assumed that she had imagined or dreamed up what could only be a nightmare, yet there she was, padding the long, lonesome path to the epicenter of their valley. With every slight stumble induced by her enrapturing stupor, the warrior knew. The only thing she could do was wonder, Why? Why, StarClan? Why me? She was certain that every other chosen cat was mulling over the very same thoughts. How would they be of any use at all to the big picture of saving the world from darkness? What made them any different from any other cat other than the monolithic burden resting upon their shoulders? If you looked past the sculpted face of newfound responsibility, what would you find? How did StarClan, the predecessors that overlooked every small event of their descendents, that were supposedly wise beyond any forest-, ice-, mountain-, or water-cat's experience on their cramped world of wars and advancing darkness choose which cats were suitable for the task that they desperately needed to be fulfilled? The questions didn't end, nor did Lightwhisper expect them to. They never would; none of them seemed to have answers, and even if a single one had a shred of clarity about it, the green-eyed EarthClan cat would never discover it. She was defined as frail at the very best. She was not particularly clever or very wise at all. In fact, she could barely make decisions for herself. She was not remarkably strong; to be quite frank, she was one of the weakest cats in PowerClans, especially among its warriors. Lightwhisper did not have the element of speed on her side. She wasn't even that attractive, and even if she was, that would be no asset to their mission. The mission of the chosen cats. It was a joke. Surely her starry-furred superiors did not view her disorder as something that would be most desirable for a cat with such responsibility. Whatever it was. . . . Just -- what?

During her frantic, hopeless musings, Lightwhisper paid scant attention to her companion, her fellow EarthClan warrior, Dirtpath. The tabby she-cat was also one of the chosen, and was rightfully one to be so. At least she was a properly-functioning warrior, albeit a gentle, relatively timid one. She could fight decently, and her hunting skills contributed to keeping the Clan fed. Unlike Lightwhisper, or at least how the white-furred feline considered herself. The younger cat's thoughts were once again interrupted by an outside interference. It felt as though a paw were prodding her left shoulder ever so gently. She cocked her head to the side to find that nothing was there. Lightwhisper ignored the brief contact -- she often experienced sensations like this, so how was this feeling any different? -- and was earnest to return to her pondering. In fact, she was currently simultaneously ignoring the illusion of inside-out birds swooping in and out of her vision as well. Yet the prodding sensation wouldn't stop bothering her; its persistence was invoking a series of stabbing pains in her left leg. The one that she had injured the other day. The one that had broken not too long ago when an outreaching tree branch fell upon it. Oh. Right.

Lightwhisper was wrenched out of the dream into a slightly more painful reality. She didn't scowl at the cat who had awoken her; she didn't even bother to give her visitor a withering stare. The injured she-cat merely cracked her bloodshot eyes to take a peek at who it was, holding her breath in case it was Emberclaw. She wasn't so fortunate; a vaguely familiar tabby pelt blended in with the brambles of the EarthClan medicine den. It belonged to Dirtpath, who was mewing something very softly. It took a few moments for Lightwhisper to register what the words were. She groggily processed them before flattening her ears against her head and yawning slowly, feeling no rush to answer. After a few silence-filled heartbeats, she managed a low, subdued, "Yes?" Normally, the thin feline wouldn't have treated another cat in such a rude manner, but the pain pulsating from her injured shoulder -- the one that Dirtpath had been nudging just moments before -- was making it difficult to concentrate on anything else, let alone her usual quiet politeness.

[duckteeth]

[Not much has happened, really, so no worries ^^]