Peachpaw - Meadow

[Tonners]

Name | Peachpaw

Gender | She-cat

Age | 9 Moons. // Updated: Nov, 4th, '10

Rank | Apprentice

Clan | Meadow

Beliefs| Peachpaw has a rather firm belief in Starclan, or at least some sort of heavenly body. She believes that it is too long-thought-of for something not to exist- if it didn't exist, who would have thought to come up with such an idea? Surely, at some time, there was some proof, right? To her, it provides a border line between good and bad values, right and wrong. It is a source of courage, hope, and self-confidence, and without at least Starclan to look to at the worst of times, Peachpaw isn't so sure what she would do.

Parents | Father; Brokentail (NP). Mother; Patchedfur (NP).

Siblings | First born- Graypaw (NP), Third born- Stormpaw (NP), Fourth born- Twistedpaw (NP; Broken paw; deceased), and her youngest sister, the fifth born, Maplepaw.

Other Kin | Grandmother Whitefur, NP.

Mate | Not yet

Crush | Not yet

Kits | Not yet

Apprentice/Mentor | Not yet

Appearance |

Peachpaw has grown quickly over time, and looks about two months older than her true age of eight moons. Until a few more moons pass, however, she probably won't experience a growth spurt. Once full grown, she will probably be about the average size of an adult female feline, but the fluff from her medium-length fur and rather hefty build will add to her weight, if nothing else does.

From head to tail, she is rounded, with ears just a tiny bit smaller than most, giving her a rather feminine appearance. Now, about this hefty build I've mentioned- she does have muscular tones, as if a maine coon or some such breed runs through her family line, but her figure has a more delicate approach to things. Keeping herself in home now instead of just close to home, she has been spending time working on a carefully planned, graceful step, and smooth gaits. Peachpaw moves rather slowly, usually too cautious to run, and yet too afraid to get left behind.

Her fur is white with ginger, although it is not quite the bright orange you usually see. The coloration seems to have a beige or brown undertone, as the orange is pale but pretty. Tabby lines mark her cheeks, where the color is visible; the orange lines an upside-down V on her forehead, barely grazing her right eye, and then covering her left. The white reaches to her shoulders, runs along her side, and underside of her tail, the only part of her with orange as an island being that of the left side of her chin. The rest is covered in a rather peach-colored hue, the look from which her name is from. All around feminine in looks, she is quite a pretty thing, with her eyes a mixture of olive and amber.

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Personality |

• "Who ARE YOU?" •

Introverted, Sensing, Feeling, and Judging. INFJ, that is the personality group she would choose. No, no, no test necessary- careful observation and several hours of self examination would tell her so. And, anyways, doesn't your choice reflect something about you, too?

• INTROVERTED •

When Peachpaw is alone, she is usually comfortable; there is no one she needs to impress, no one that might judge her, no one that might make fun of her. She can trip, or say things to herself to see how they sound, and simply be herself, no pressure. And yet, to be souly introverted is to be so terribly alone. She is no social butterfly, but Peachpaw embraces what few, solid friendships she is brave enough to find. She'll press herself to the edges of a crowd, a thoughtful listener, but quiet, and is shy when attention is drawn to her. She avoids the spotlight if she can, and will be as modest as she can, to stay that way. Given attention, Peachpaw is uncomfortable in a crowd, and yet is terrified of being alone. But in a crowd, without attention, she thinks she could handle that- maybe.

• SENSING •

Sensually speaking, Peachpaw is too fearful to be dominated by her imagination, although one would think otherwise. She is quite intelligent, almost to the point where common sense has diminished. However, she takes in sights, smells, sounds, and other sensory details that keep both intelligence and common sense sharp. Such behavior also affects her observatory skills, seeing as how they are what senses are made of, in her opinion, making them stronger to the point of being instinctive. And, well, they are her, as a Sensing sort of cat, so to speak. She focuses on the now, trying to avoid awkward and confrontational situations while her memory vividly preserves day to day life and the faces and choices in it. The best choice to make is to follow the best outcome from a previous successful experience, after all. Peachpaw doesn't appreciate guess-work or assumptions; if you can't see the path ahead, why follow it?

• FEELING •

I have mentioned she is not ruled by her imagination; the same can be said about her mind, however logical the idea would seem. She is a professional question-asker, in imaginative respects, although limited; she lives to analyze, which leads to being overly critical of herself. No, instead, she is dominated by her heart- and it deserves a medal in making a mess of things for her. A cat of logical explanations and facts (despite her love for Starclan), she'd probably be brave, if not for her heart. She would probably carry out any duty or task asked of her, especially if asked by a clanmate. If it weren't for her heart, maybe she wouldn't be so sensitive or wish for acceptance, for surely it makes her look needy and gullible. Then it wouldn't matter to her what other cats were going through; it wouldn't tug at her heart. What they said or thought about her wouldn't matter. Maybe then she'd be a pretty she-cat, admired and looked up to and sought for. Yes, Peachpaw could dream those her mind came up with; but the ideas and dreams of others made hers feels so unoriginal, dull, average. Peachpaw's dreams always had something to do with her silly, tender, self-doubting heart. It wouldn't let her mind forget the image of a heroine stealing the villain's heart and turning him to good.

• JUDGING •

No doubt on this one. She likes to take her time with what she does, making as many preparations as her comfort level deems fit. She doesn't cope with stress well, so she does her tasks one by one. Peachpaw strives to keep ahead of the events of the clan (which means following her own agenda to do things satisfactorily). Goals, timelines, and standard routine keeps her happy. And, anyways, if something were to go wrong- as it most surely will -she'll be better to come up with a backup plan (for whatever it is) if she's ahead of the game.. Right..?

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• "THAT'S JUST WEIRD!" •

A self-doubting, other-loving, everything-questioning romantic, there's no real easy way to detail her personality.. except in anal detail, and that she can do very well. A cat that could be teased for being too innocent, naive, gullible, and a goody four paws, Peachpaw is one to follow the rules and might pipe up for others to do the same. And yet, she wants others to like her- she needs others to like her. So what now?

She is afraid of water, bees, and spiders. She doesn't mind getting dirty, but she hates the way mud feels on her tongue when its cleaning time. It doesn't take much to get her heart to pound; if she wasn't so high strung, she'd probably be quiet the laid back sweetheart. Peachpaw does enjoy pet names, rather any sweet nickname she can think of, and will adore you if you let her.

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Skills |

Naturally, her sweet, shy, timid personality makes her a good listener; her need for everything to have a reason, and reliance on experience and history of herself and others, may make her one with good advice. Now, if only she had some to give to herself now! Despite feeling more comfortable on her own, and feeling awkward with conversation as much as silence, she can feel desperately alone and can become depressed. Now, if only we could work on that friend-making skill...

A strange acceptance of that personality 'rule' she has stuck in her head, is with kits. She has no problem playing mother with youths, but the older they grow, the more she has, to a cut-off point, and could leave a kit-friend, now apprentice-friend, hurt or confused, and she has to start over, with a view that the individual is not a kit any more. She adores them, and wishes for the perfect family of her own, but heaven knows, a defect like her could never be so lucky.

With time, training, careful self evaluation and overall tact examination, Peachpaw may become at least a decent hunter. Her timid heart makes her a terrible fighter to the point one would have to make her at least defend herself. It will take time to coax her to even fend for herself. The young she cat fears hurting others, but her need for the clan and to protect and aid the clan is stronger; this can be used against her fearful heart in training, and make her more cooperative.

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History |

Her birthclan was, and perhaps still is, located to the northeast on the outskirts of a small two leg community. One of three clans, counting the city cat clan, it was (is) perhaps one of the few areas were felines are not usually dumped or lost. Quite in the midst of nowhere, clan cats usually jumped at chances to increase their numbers, and if they could not, a cat would likely die. Inbreeding was common in the smaller clan on the northern part of town; Peachpaw's clan ran along the southern wooded lines of the county.

The clans hardly had gatherings; their Starclan was rather different, as was their entire way of life, for the most part. From their names, and their beliefs, to their values and morals and daily ways of life. They were too focused on survival to keep a close eye on one another, let alone practicing the same values, ideas, and friendships over and over. Leaders with nine lives, and medicine cats with three, and a gathering per season. The city clan did not always show, unless they felt like it; the northern clan was too preoccupied with showing off their numbers. And, naturally, Peachpaw's had their own problems - or, they did, in her eyes.

Her father had been a senior warrior, his elder status prolonged only by the fact that they were the clan on the in-betweens as far as size went. Three other cats, two toms and a female, also endured this extended duty; one of the toms and the she-cat also died horrific deaths because of it at a gathering gone wrong.

But, this had happened while our young apprentice was too much of a youth to know about what was happening, when she and her siblings were first starting to speak and walk about on their own. All they cared about was tumbling around with each other, why their father was never around, and ignored them when he was, and why their mother was so quiet, listless, was gone or sleeping. It had been such a tight community, but something was happening that unsettled her clan, at least, so much as she knew.

Her kithood seemed to last forever. Graykit and Stormkit were relentless on she and her sisters, Whitekit (Twistedpaw), and Maplekit. The three eventually became bonded together, as they were only brave with the three of them, and nothing without one another. They avoided their brothers as much as they could, even past their apprentice ceremony.

They had each their own mentor, who they turned to cling to, although Peachpaw sorely missed her sisters. Whitekit, cheerful but timid, was much like their grandmother, whom she was named for, faired the best of the three. Little Maplekit was afraid of practically everything, and usually talked only in a whisper, but did well enough with her mentor, a tom by the name of Redfur. Graykit was the first to abandon such an attitude; her mentor had no room for it. Peachpaw's own was a rather awkward second year mentor, being a new warrior herself, but well meaning, and gave in when Peachpaw pleaded to hunting lessons instead of the frightening fighting lessons.

The three had gone off to the borders of the training grounds, closer to the town than they should have. They had been approached by two young clan cats of the community, and there was an accident that sent them all scattering to their homes. A twoleg had found the confrontation, and the three sisters had used the excuse to boogie on back home... All except for Whitepaw, the bravest of the three. They had scrambled because the twoleg had chased the five of them, country and town youth, and Whitepaw had moved to draw it's attention to her instead of her siblings. She had lost her balance, fallen on a crate, and broken one of her paws in the process as the young two leg tried to yank her out.

When they had finally returned to camp, all three had been in serious trouble; for once, their mother worried over Whitepaw, until pushed aside by their grandmother, Patchedfur's mother. With time, it had healed, but her name was changed to Twistedpaw.

Only moons after it had finally healed, Twistedpaw had been attacked by a fox, again while they were on the borders of the training ground.. And again, she had been defending her sisters. They had finally escaped and fled back to camp, Twistedpaw being supported by her siblings. Maplepaw had been terrified, and for once, Peachpaw was forced to take the lead, frightened badly herself, and terribly hurt. Twistedpaw's whiplash about how she was not to blame hurt almost as badly; of course it was her fault. Twistedpaw had been attacked, had attacked, to protect them. It was their fault.

Later in the evening, Twistedpaw had died; Maplepaw and she had sat vigil all night, and it had taken both Maple's and Twisted's mentors to keep them from following the other cats to her gravesite. After that, both of the sisters did what they were told, and again succombed to their brothers' torments and gibes.

When they were almost eight moons old, the entire camp was attacked by both town clan and the northern clan. Their own was disorganized, although none of the three clans were all that functional. Most cats had fled in the confusion; Peachpaw had tried to stick close to her sister, but they had become seperated.

Now, terrified, alone, hungry, exhausted, Peachpaw finally caught on to signs of clan life after several suns. Finding the meadow a peaceful place, she had wandered fearfully closer, and pleading to Starclan for one more chance to be a better apprentice. No more rule breaking, no more exploring without a grown-up, she had told herself, sending promises to Starclan. Its my last hope. Whi-Twistedpaw hoped. And without hope, what is there? I won't wander off any more. I promise.