This is my entry. <3 Enjoy!
Lucas
My name...
is Lucas. I prefer Luke, though, so please mind that... if you can find it in your heart.
I am...
a tomcat, of course. Male, if you wish for it to be called that.
Luke can...
be described with many words, or none at all. He is a very simple tom on the outside, an introverted cat who tends to gravitate toward loneliness. His eyes always seem to contain a certain sadness that most look right over, though, and that sadness is his loneliness. Though he does spend a lot of time with his mate, Veta- the only cat he's ever really connected with -he stills feels that his connection to the world is lost, that some aspect of himself is missing... and that something bigger lies ahead for him.
Luke will rarely talk to others. When they approach him, his eyes travel to his paws and he tends to fidget- twitching his tail, flicking his ears, shuffling his paws -until the cat gets tired of trying to coax an answer out of him and goes away. That is, except for Veta... and the reason for this can be found in his history. Underneath the silence, Luke is a completely different tom. A complex, angry, hurt, burdened tom, that somehow still contains the purity of innocence and a longing for peace all the same.
Underneath, Luke is also exceptionally smart. He tends to use his cleverness to trick and tease Veta when they're alone, but only when they're alone. He's gotten them out of more than one situation with his vast knowledge and is constantly working to expand his horizons, searching for any bit of information he's missed out on and in turn sharing it with Veta. As is quite obvious, he shares everything with Veta, and in return she shares a trust and bond with him. As mates, they are unusually happy, something most cats don't believe can ever happen.
Luke's history...
is very dark. It all began in a breeder's home, when a gray Oriental Longhair tabby she-cat sneaked out of her breeding area and into the 'unknown'- otherwise known as the city streets. She was unusually curious, too curious, most of the resigned older she-cats of the home grumbled. Her name was Arabella.
Arabella soon met a broad-shouldered, tall rogue with a slightly squashed-looking snout, frazzled black fur, and small, malicious yellow eyes. To him, Arabella was nothing more than one more beautiful she-cat, and a gullible one; the kind whose emotions he loves to toy with, and toy with her emotions he did. She stayed away from the home for days on end, listening to the fantastical stories he told her, letting him seduce her until she was absolutely certain they were soul mates. The tom had no certain name, but he told her he was known as Blackie, a sneer on his face as he relayed the commonly used name.
However, 'Blackie' didn't expect what was coming to him when Arabella rushed to him one day after staying away for a month and three quarters of the next, crying that the breeders had locked her in a special cage with another tom... and that she was pregnant, but not with that tom's kits. She was pregnant with the rogue's kits, and her sides bulged with them.
No, the next part is not 'and then, tragically, Blackie attempted to kill Arabella who almost died but had kittens first'. No, that's too unrealistic. Blackie accepted the news with a dark look, a slash across her muzzle that left her bleeding, and told her to leave and never come back. Stricken and shattered, Arabella went back to the home sporting the ugly scar and slipped in her secret exit, laying quietly with the other pregnant she-cats who gazed at her with cloudy-eyed concern. Arabella was easily the youngest there by about two years, and all the rest of the she-cats showed no hope- no, just grim acceptance of the fact that Arabella had learned her lesson the hard way.
They didn't even show much emotion when she almost died during her kitting. She had three kittens- two looked almost exactly like her, with long faces, long, luscious silver tabby fur, and obviously large ears, even though they were still folded down. Both of them were big, healthy females, certainly great future breeders... so, Arabella thought grimly, two of the kittens actually were the other Oriental Longhair tom's. They bore resemblance to him, too. However, the third was not James's kit. His muzzle wasn't long, like an Oriental Longhair's was, but it wasn't squashed to his face either; and his coat bore thick black tabby stripes over a dull, dark gray. He looked like your everyday tabby tom, and if the breeder saw him... he was dead. That was how it worked with mixed kittens in the breeder's home.
So she gathered every last bit of her strength and took the small tom to Blackie, struggling through the pouring rain and sheltering the best she could. When she finally reached the black rogue, she dropped the small bundle and then gazed up at the rogue with the same clouded look of lost hope and disinterest the other she-cats wore.
"Take care of our kit, Blackie." She mumbled, her low, fierce voice barely audible over the smacking of the rain against the pavement. "He's all you have now."
Arabella returned to her secret exit and collapsed halfway through, soaked to the skin and barely breathing. However, the breeder patched her up and sent her back to care for the two little she-kits, and she went on from there...
but she never, ever went outside again.
. . .
"Dad, can I play with her?" the energetic, young dark tabby asked, his brilliant yellow eyes bright as he gazed up at the black rogue, who opened one eye- exactly like the kitten's -and grunted, closing it again.
"No. We don't do anything with strangers."
Luke stared longingly after the tiny tawny she-cat as she slunk into an alleyway and disappeared. "Mommy, I'm bored," he complained when he padded back over to the rugged little tortoiseshell she-cat- called Mollie -his mother. She blinked kindly at him and blew on some grass, catching his eye immediately.
"Use your imagination," she said kindly. "Just don't get on your daddy's nerves."
Just don't get on your daddy's nerves.
. . .
Luke cringed as Mollie screamed again, but he couldn't tear his gaze away as his father stalked after her, the weak pregnant tortoiseshell tottering unsteadily as she continued to back away, sobbing with fear.
"Please, no, just go away!" she wailed, and Luke found it within himself to look away and Blackie lashed at her, a low growl lingering deep in his throat.
"You nursed the monster that you call 'my son', you stupid biddy! It's your fault he lives, and your fault that he's so eager to attract the attention of those stupid house cats!" the black rogue roared, and Mollie screamed again, a scream of agony and desperation. Luke closed his eyes and took a trembling step out of the bush, then opened his eyes to see Blackie, his face dark and stony as he stared at the tortoiseshell, who was on her side and wailing for help.
"You're the monster!" Luke shouted, his eyes misting over with overwhelming pain. His voice cracked, and he leaped at his father, even though he was at least half his size... but he caught the large tom by surprise and pinned him back, then finding himself standing back- staring at the limp black form -and turning with only blurry, half-vision to the bleeding tortoiseshell she-cat called Mollie, crouching over her. "No," he whispered simply, and Mollie struggled to open her beautiful green-blue eyes, containing pain but mostly a bright, sparkling love.
"I... love- you." She murmured, putting her small, quivering paw on is and staring at him for another moment, her eyes shining with that love... the pain in them dimming, dimming, dimming until she finally closed them.
Her paw quit quivering.
. . .
Luke woke up to look into the light orange-tinted brown eyes of another she-cat, who was light tan with darker brown markings around her eyes and faint stripes on her sides. She made a small sound in the back of her throat when she saw the motion and flicked her dark brown eyes.
"You took long enough," was all she said. Blunt, simple, painful, but true. Then, she turned away from him and continued what she'd apparently been doing before; eating a fat mouse. There was a whole assortment of uprooted plants sitting next to her.
Luke frowned... but he didn't speak.
"Of course, you're probably wondering who I am, what I'm doing here, and what these plants mean... you just won't say anything. I get it, you know. I'm not stupid." She paused in her chewing, having talked around a mouthful of mouse, and glanced up at him; when he merely gave her a slight nod, she snorted and continued chewing. "Though I'd question whether you are."
Luke's gave shot down to his paws and they sat in silence for a whole moment before the she-cat made another noise, but it was soft and slightly apologetic this time.
"Aw, come on... whatever your name is. I'm sorry if that was a bit too harsh for you... I guess I'm just used to cats being used to me is all." She said in a slightly dismissive tone. He continued to stare at his paws. "My name's Zaveta- yes, zuh- vay- tuh- get it right if you ever get the guts to say something -but if you do, then call me Veta, not my full name. It's a bit less of a hassle. I specialize in healing the wounds of other cats, as your body has ever-so-ungratefully found out, so most cats come to me after they have their fights. I'm just a tiny bit too quick when it comes to cats who want me gone, and I do use my human's house as a useful tool for evading those bloodthirsty idiots. I was a bit too late on your step-mom, though... sorry about that, whatever-in-the-world-your-name-is. You know, I wonder if you'll ever tell me," she prompted, looking up at him, but there was still no response. She scowled, flicked her tail, and continued on stubbornly. "I was dropped when I was tiny at my human's house- she a cat healer -so my step-mom told me. It's really sort of coincidental that she had a thing with my father, but she wasn't allowed to have kittens, so I was all she got. A pathetic reward for such an incredible cat, really," Veta rambled, and Luke glared at her, the agony shining bright in his eyes. He just wanted silence...
"Don't you understand?" he said aloud unintentionally, quietly, shutting Veta up like he wanted to. She stared at him, anger flaring in her orange-brown eyes for a moment before she dropped it with a quiet sigh.
"I can't understand what I don't know,...?" she prompted him again.
"It's Luke." He said, then he turned around, lay down, and put his paws over his ears.
. . .
Veta was intrigued by Luke. She followed him when he traveled, telling him about her past and teaching him what she knew; she laughed and talking in his silence until he finally joined in the one-sided conversation one day, making it his own as Zaveta listened in horrified wonder to his life story, and she told him how she knew his half-sisters Lily and Starr, who he didn't want to meet, despite her offers.
Soon enough, Luke found himself in love with the quirky, stubborn, blunt, sociable Veta, and she found herself in love with him. They have a very tight relationship, and currently (currently) do not have any kittens.
My name...
is Lucas. I prefer Luke, though, so please mind that... if you can find it in your heart.
I am...
a tomcat, of course. Male, if you wish for it to be called that.
Luke can...
be described with many words, or none at all. He is a very simple tom on the outside, an introverted cat who tends to gravitate toward loneliness. His eyes always seem to contain a certain sadness that most look right over, though, and that sadness is his loneliness. Though he does spend a lot of time with his mate, Veta- the only cat he's ever really connected with -he stills feels that his connection to the world is lost, that some aspect of himself is missing... and that something bigger lies ahead for him.
Luke will rarely talk to others. When they approach him, his eyes travel to his paws and he tends to fidget- twitching his tail, flicking his ears, shuffling his paws -until the cat gets tired of trying to coax an answer out of him and goes away. That is, except for Veta... and the reason for this can be found in his history. Underneath the silence, Luke is a completely different tom. A complex, angry, hurt, burdened tom, that somehow still contains the purity of innocence and a longing for peace all the same.
Underneath, Luke is also exceptionally smart. He tends to use his cleverness to trick and tease Veta when they're alone, but only when they're alone. He's gotten them out of more than one situation with his vast knowledge and is constantly working to expand his horizons, searching for any bit of information he's missed out on and in turn sharing it with Veta. As is quite obvious, he shares everything with Veta, and in return she shares a trust and bond with him. As mates, they are unusually happy, something most cats don't believe can ever happen.
Luke's history...
is very dark. It all began in a breeder's home, when a gray Oriental Longhair tabby she-cat sneaked out of her breeding area and into the 'unknown'- otherwise known as the city streets. She was unusually curious, too curious, most of the resigned older she-cats of the home grumbled. Her name was Arabella.
Arabella soon met a broad-shouldered, tall rogue with a slightly squashed-looking snout, frazzled black fur, and small, malicious yellow eyes. To him, Arabella was nothing more than one more beautiful she-cat, and a gullible one; the kind whose emotions he loves to toy with, and toy with her emotions he did. She stayed away from the home for days on end, listening to the fantastical stories he told her, letting him seduce her until she was absolutely certain they were soul mates. The tom had no certain name, but he told her he was known as Blackie, a sneer on his face as he relayed the commonly used name.
However, 'Blackie' didn't expect what was coming to him when Arabella rushed to him one day after staying away for a month and three quarters of the next, crying that the breeders had locked her in a special cage with another tom... and that she was pregnant, but not with that tom's kits. She was pregnant with the rogue's kits, and her sides bulged with them.
No, the next part is not 'and then, tragically, Blackie attempted to kill Arabella who almost died but had kittens first'. No, that's too unrealistic. Blackie accepted the news with a dark look, a slash across her muzzle that left her bleeding, and told her to leave and never come back. Stricken and shattered, Arabella went back to the home sporting the ugly scar and slipped in her secret exit, laying quietly with the other pregnant she-cats who gazed at her with cloudy-eyed concern. Arabella was easily the youngest there by about two years, and all the rest of the she-cats showed no hope- no, just grim acceptance of the fact that Arabella had learned her lesson the hard way.
They didn't even show much emotion when she almost died during her kitting. She had three kittens- two looked almost exactly like her, with long faces, long, luscious silver tabby fur, and obviously large ears, even though they were still folded down. Both of them were big, healthy females, certainly great future breeders... so, Arabella thought grimly, two of the kittens actually were the other Oriental Longhair tom's. They bore resemblance to him, too. However, the third was not James's kit. His muzzle wasn't long, like an Oriental Longhair's was, but it wasn't squashed to his face either; and his coat bore thick black tabby stripes over a dull, dark gray. He looked like your everyday tabby tom, and if the breeder saw him... he was dead. That was how it worked with mixed kittens in the breeder's home.
So she gathered every last bit of her strength and took the small tom to Blackie, struggling through the pouring rain and sheltering the best she could. When she finally reached the black rogue, she dropped the small bundle and then gazed up at the rogue with the same clouded look of lost hope and disinterest the other she-cats wore.
"Take care of our kit, Blackie." She mumbled, her low, fierce voice barely audible over the smacking of the rain against the pavement. "He's all you have now."
Arabella returned to her secret exit and collapsed halfway through, soaked to the skin and barely breathing. However, the breeder patched her up and sent her back to care for the two little she-kits, and she went on from there...
but she never, ever went outside again.
. . .
"Dad, can I play with her?" the energetic, young dark tabby asked, his brilliant yellow eyes bright as he gazed up at the black rogue, who opened one eye- exactly like the kitten's -and grunted, closing it again.
"No. We don't do anything with strangers."
Luke stared longingly after the tiny tawny she-cat as she slunk into an alleyway and disappeared. "Mommy, I'm bored," he complained when he padded back over to the rugged little tortoiseshell she-cat- called Mollie -his mother. She blinked kindly at him and blew on some grass, catching his eye immediately.
"Use your imagination," she said kindly. "Just don't get on your daddy's nerves."
Just don't get on your daddy's nerves.
. . .
Luke cringed as Mollie screamed again, but he couldn't tear his gaze away as his father stalked after her, the weak pregnant tortoiseshell tottering unsteadily as she continued to back away, sobbing with fear.
"Please, no, just go away!" she wailed, and Luke found it within himself to look away and Blackie lashed at her, a low growl lingering deep in his throat.
"You nursed the monster that you call 'my son', you stupid biddy! It's your fault he lives, and your fault that he's so eager to attract the attention of those stupid house cats!" the black rogue roared, and Mollie screamed again, a scream of agony and desperation. Luke closed his eyes and took a trembling step out of the bush, then opened his eyes to see Blackie, his face dark and stony as he stared at the tortoiseshell, who was on her side and wailing for help.
"You're the monster!" Luke shouted, his eyes misting over with overwhelming pain. His voice cracked, and he leaped at his father, even though he was at least half his size... but he caught the large tom by surprise and pinned him back, then finding himself standing back- staring at the limp black form -and turning with only blurry, half-vision to the bleeding tortoiseshell she-cat called Mollie, crouching over her. "No," he whispered simply, and Mollie struggled to open her beautiful green-blue eyes, containing pain but mostly a bright, sparkling love.
"I... love- you." She murmured, putting her small, quivering paw on is and staring at him for another moment, her eyes shining with that love... the pain in them dimming, dimming, dimming until she finally closed them.
Her paw quit quivering.
. . .
Luke woke up to look into the light orange-tinted brown eyes of another she-cat, who was light tan with darker brown markings around her eyes and faint stripes on her sides. She made a small sound in the back of her throat when she saw the motion and flicked her dark brown eyes.
"You took long enough," was all she said. Blunt, simple, painful, but true. Then, she turned away from him and continued what she'd apparently been doing before; eating a fat mouse. There was a whole assortment of uprooted plants sitting next to her.
Luke frowned... but he didn't speak.
"Of course, you're probably wondering who I am, what I'm doing here, and what these plants mean... you just won't say anything. I get it, you know. I'm not stupid." She paused in her chewing, having talked around a mouthful of mouse, and glanced up at him; when he merely gave her a slight nod, she snorted and continued chewing. "Though I'd question whether you are."
Luke's gave shot down to his paws and they sat in silence for a whole moment before the she-cat made another noise, but it was soft and slightly apologetic this time.
"Aw, come on... whatever your name is. I'm sorry if that was a bit too harsh for you... I guess I'm just used to cats being used to me is all." She said in a slightly dismissive tone. He continued to stare at his paws. "My name's Zaveta- yes, zuh- vay- tuh- get it right if you ever get the guts to say something -but if you do, then call me Veta, not my full name. It's a bit less of a hassle. I specialize in healing the wounds of other cats, as your body has ever-so-ungratefully found out, so most cats come to me after they have their fights. I'm just a tiny bit too quick when it comes to cats who want me gone, and I do use my human's house as a useful tool for evading those bloodthirsty idiots. I was a bit too late on your step-mom, though... sorry about that, whatever-in-the-world-your-name-is. You know, I wonder if you'll ever tell me," she prompted, looking up at him, but there was still no response. She scowled, flicked her tail, and continued on stubbornly. "I was dropped when I was tiny at my human's house- she a cat healer -so my step-mom told me. It's really sort of coincidental that she had a thing with my father, but she wasn't allowed to have kittens, so I was all she got. A pathetic reward for such an incredible cat, really," Veta rambled, and Luke glared at her, the agony shining bright in his eyes. He just wanted silence...
"Don't you understand?" he said aloud unintentionally, quietly, shutting Veta up like he wanted to. She stared at him, anger flaring in her orange-brown eyes for a moment before she dropped it with a quiet sigh.
"I can't understand what I don't know,...?" she prompted him again.
"It's Luke." He said, then he turned around, lay down, and put his paws over his ears.
. . .
Veta was intrigued by Luke. She followed him when he traveled, telling him about her past and teaching him what she knew; she laughed and talking in his silence until he finally joined in the one-sided conversation one day, making it his own as Zaveta listened in horrified wonder to his life story, and she told him how she knew his half-sisters Lily and Starr, who he didn't want to meet, despite her offers.
Soon enough, Luke found himself in love with the quirky, stubborn, blunt, sociable Veta, and she found herself in love with him. They have a very tight relationship, and currently (currently) do not have any kittens.
- I'll do Veta later, but her's will be shorter than Luke's... her past isn't nearly as interesting as his, and I think anyone can get her personality from their history together.
