[I Like Bees]

coat suggestion

Tell me about something that this cat struggles with!
You can interpret this however you'd like ^^

Ends November 30th, 11:59 PM CDT

Code: Select all

[b]Username:[/b]
[b]Cat Name:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Rank:[/b]
[b]Clan:[/b] (Please link)
[b]Age:[/b] (1 year or above)
[b]Prompt:[/b]

Name:
Gender:
Rank:
Clan:
Age:
Description: Blue-based-caramel-apricot tortie [carrying
broken mackerel tabby] with high white and green-blue
heterochromia
Edits: [C] Shorter tail, min fur, ear tufts, whiskers,
ear placement, sclera color; [UC] heterochromia
Owner:

[wildfur2202]

Username: wildfur2202
Cat Name: Cloudthroat
Gender: molly
Rank: warrior
Clan: Forum/viewtopic.php?f=103&t=5030649
Age: tbd
Prompt:
As an apprentice, Cloudpaw had no clue what the others meowed about, "padding after" eachother. She tried not to think too hard about her confusion, presuming it was just her nature to prefer the company of friends.

Turns out, it was her nature indeed, but not in the way she had thought. Her mother had softly explained that she had nothing to be ashamed of, just because she was Desireless. It seemed odd, in that Cloudthroat had many desires. To be a mentor, to protect her Clan, to be the best warrior she can be. What else was there?

Kits.

Mates.

Why?

At first, Cloudthroat easily carried her convictions that it was others who were odd, not her. As each friend became too busy with their mates and kits to enjoy time with her, the loneliness began to leech into her. Pushing doubt into the nooks and crannies of her spirit. Was a life Desireless a life of Loneliness? Did it have to be?

Even now, Cloudthroat still wonders if there is something Missing or even Shattered, deep in her heart.

[Ricocheted]

Username: Ricocheted
Cat Name: Pidge
Gender: She-cat
Rank: Rootless
Clan: ❄️
Age: 3yr 9mo (45 moons)
Prompt:

It was cold today, she's to numb to register the harsh bite of winter. Day after day she lays stagnant, tucked in her den where the light can't reach her.

It didn't use to be this way, Pidge was once vibrant so full of life that even her own thoughts couldn't catch her. She's not sure when it happened but she's sure it started slow. Like the steady crawl of a vine or the rhythmic rumbles of thunder before the storm. Inevitable in its arrival, and methodical in its conquest.

Pidge was the prey to herself, caught before she even knew she was cornered.

Now her days are filled with nothing and she can't muster the will to emerge from her still slumber. So she lays there, spiraling, her mind has become a plague that she can't escape. But Pidge feels a flicker of, something, some days. Someone cares, they leave her prey at the edge of the den, and sit with her in silence. She doesn't know them and they don't know her, but they show up. And that's all that matters.