Post by Shad on Nov 2, 2015 18:32:20 GMT
  general info
APPEARANCE
Dew is not exactly the type to talk about himself too much. He has lilac eyes, yes. Let's get that out there now so you all can get over it. They are not blue. They are not grey. They are not even a deep purple. They are a light, gentle lilac but if you think for one second that means Dew here has a gentle soul you would be wrong so do not even go there. Dew here has a quite distinctive coat. No cat will be mistaking him for someone else any time soon unless they've just been rolling around in catnip and even then they would need to get their eyes checked. Dew has short fur, which means he tires less quickly that his thick furred sister, Spark, in Greenleaf, but it also means Leafbare is a trial. He wears down quickly and cannot tolerate heavily snowed areas as he is highly susceptible to freezing. And his coat is black with white spots. Deal with it.  personality
Dew is not one for showy dramatics. He does not like them, he is not good with them, all in all they simply make him feel uncomfortable. He is quiet, thoughtful, and keeps to himself for the most part. He likes cats that are quiet, thoughtful, and keep to themselves for the most part. He does not like being cold and can get very irritable when he has to deal with frost or snow especially. He is secretly insecure about his eyes and will avoid eye contact when talking to anyone, even his family. He does not make friends much but that is hardly an issue. He is a very open cat, so few worry about him keeping secrets and Dew is not a huge fan of the whole 'friend' thing. He prefers to be on his own and if you can accept that, he does not mind you. If you can't accept that, there might be some problems. Being quiet does not mean being a push over. Dew is living proof of that.
HISTORY Dew was part of a litter of two. His sister, Misty, died just after reaching her first moon. It was very sad. His mother and father were heartbroken and nothing little Dew did could change that. His mother's tongue was sharp and harsh. His father was a nice cat who did not like conflict. His solution? Tell his son to behave, to keep out of his mother's way, and to stop antagonizing her as 'he was only making it worse'. Yeah. Because it's the kit's fault for being born. Dew's family grew almost immediately. His mother wanted to try again. His father wanted to make her happy. Dew was hopeful this new litter would bring peace to the family -and it did. Three bright, healthy kits, hardly younger than Dew himself. Growing up, his parents never talked about the first litter. They never mentioned Misty. Never brought her up. Dew thought it was just his parent's way of putting her to rest. It wasn't until the kits started to grow that he realized he was right, but in a different way than he ever imagined. While playing, he once proclaimed he was in charge, since he was the oldest by so long. His louder sister, Thunder, squealed in protest, that he was only older by a few minutes. Dew was affronted. He was not! He was older by three whole moons thankyouverymuch. Thunder called him a liar. The whole situation got out of paw and then they both were screaming for mom. Once Smokey took in the situation, she chastised Dew for lying and sent him back to the den for timeout. Dew was shocked and furious. What was she playing at? He was older! She knew he was older! Dad knew he was older! Smokey entered the den after him, hardly a few seconds later. Dew rounded on his mother, bristling and frustrated -and was met with a sharp slap to the face. Dew was stunned. He sat, shocked, as Smokey chewed him out for lying, that he should never do that ever again or she would take him out into the forest and leave him there. Dew started to cry. He frantically tried to tell his mother the truth. Somehow she had forgotten but he remembered! Didn't she? Didn't she remember why he was bigger? Didn't she remember Mis- There was a second slap, fiercer than the first and accompanied by a feral snarl. This one sent Dew rolling, his paw clutching his burning check, the skin slightly scratched by barely-sheathed claws. Dew ran to his father, but he found nothing had changed. His father growled at him now, furious that he had brought up 'the past' that he 'couldn't just let it go!'. Of course he could not let it go! Mist had been his sister! As much as Thunder or Spark! Just because she had not lived to grow up with him did not mean he would forget her! Painstakingly he had gone over and over the memories, but he had been too young and almost all of them had faded, but he remembered her smile. Misty had such a great smile -and a really rough tongue from when she tried to wash him that one time. And she was always bossing him around and laughing. Dew remembered all that! Dew remembered her! How could they ask him to forget it? What if Thunder died? Or Spark? Or him? Would they just tell his siblings to forget him too? Would he just get swept under the rug and forced out of their lives like he had never even mattered? Dew stopped talking after that. He was quieter than before. His once soft eyes hardened. There was anger in them now, and bitterness. He watched Thunder and Spark grow with a new perspective now. These cats... they were not his sisters. They were just his sister's replacements. He watched them laugh and smile and grow and all the while he clung to the small fuzzy memories he still had, going over and over them so as not to forget. Thunder was closer to Misty's spirit, but Spark had her smile. They were close, but not quite. They were copies. Those poor, delusional shecats had no idea that was all they were to his parents. Replicas meant to replace what they refused to acknowledge they had lost. Part of Dew hated his sisters, but it was a small part. It was not their fault. But it was not Misty's fault either and look what they did to her. Dew grew further and further away from his family. When he was 8 moons, his siblings where still 5. They teased him for being the biggest. Dew wanted to tell them. It hurt not to. It hurt to be the only one who knew, but his mother's ever watchful eye kept him silent. Unable to connect, cut off at every turn, Dew would wander. The silence of the forest, the shadows of the trees. These were what he grew up with. These were the only things to offer him solace from the troubles no cat would help him face. He met Bird out there. She was sweet and quiet. She just came across him in the forest one day and started walking next to him. That was it. Just... walking. They never spoke. Dew wasn't sure he could. Sometimes she walked with a limp. Sometimes Dew had to slow for her to catch up. They knew nothing about one another. Asked no questions. Gave no names. They simply... were and, after a while, Dew found that he liked it. A whole moon and a half would pass before they even gave each other their names. Another half moon before they started talking. It was difficult at first. Awkward and disjointed. Neither of them talked to others much. Sometimes they'd go days without saying more than three words to one another, but that did not bother them. They walked. They sat. They looked into each other's eyes. It was more than either had ever done for another cat in a long time, and that was enough for both of them. At 11 moons, Bird commented how Dew had grown. Dew comment how she had become even more beautiful. Bird was happy. Dew was proud. Bird had trouble walking nowadays. She had hurt her leg a while back, it was broken and twisted now and would never heal properly. She had been worried at first that Dew would not want to just sit with her. Dew licked her head warmly, informing her that he had never taken Bird as an idiot before. He would enjoy sitting even more if it meant it was beside her. Bird never explicitly said where her many injuries came from. Dew never asked. Something in her eyes kept him quiet. A fear, a shame, that held him back, not wanting her to spell out something that would only be hard for her. It was about this time that Spark went missing. Someone had gone after her and Dew's father. Two someones. Dew could not make it the forest for a few days, too busy searching. Spark had always been a bit of a coward. It was so surprise for her to have run off. However he was surprised then when, instead of waiting for him, the meek and quiet Bird went out and found him. As he told her the tale that had kept him from their meetings, the shecat paled. She thought she knew the cats. She thought... they had come because of her. Because of a warning. Dew knew Bird well enough not to disregard her solemn fears. He forced his family away, knowing it would mean Spark could not find them if she came back, but also knowing his siblings were no fighters. None of his family were save Smokey. Dew had wanted to learn as a young tom, but Bird had begged him not to. She had been terrified fighting would change him -turn him into something crueler. Dew had acquiesced but now he sorely wished he hadn't. He stayed behind, unwilling to leave Bird. It didn't matter. Bird was taken from him. One ambush and heroic last-second shove later, the shecat was dying on the ground. She saved Dew from death. Dew wished they had just killed him. They beat the tom to death, scent marked both their corpses, and left. Except Dew wouldn't die. It was agony. Not physical, but emotional. Just watching Bird lie there. Her beautiful eyes were downcast, as if she had looked away from him, just for a moment, a single moment. She would look back any second now. If he just waited. Just waited a few minutes, hours, days longer she would look back, that smile he knew so well would break out on her face, small, shy and oh so Bird. Just a little longer. Just... Dew moved when the rain fell. He reached out to close his mate's eyes against the cold droplets. He knew time had passed. Perhaps days even. Bird hated the rain. She had a such a gorgeous, thick coat. She complained when it rained it made her look like a drowned rat and no one wanted to look at her. Dew did though. Dew had wanted to look at her for the rest of his life. He brought her away into a cave in the mountains nearby, close to where his family had lived. Bird had always loved the mountains, even though Dew hated them. He had even promised her they could live in a cave some day, which made Bird's eyes light up with joy and excitement. She thought caves were so mystical. Their strong, safe walls comforted the shecat who had only known violence. Dew thought they were just empty and damp, but Bird tsked him and would dream on about the things anyway. She had always wanted to stay in one, now she could. Forever. And no one would ever make her leave. Dew was there for a long time. His fur dulled and his sides thinned. He hunted, but less and less as the days passed. What good was it? What point was there? Bird was gone. He lacked the fighting-knowledge to avenge her and even then he knew that was not what she would have wanted. She would have wanted him to live, but he couldn't. He could not leave her. He was not that strong. And then he dreamed. He dreamed of Bird, of her smiling, joyful face. He dreamed of her holding him close, just one last time, and leading him out, back to the forests, to the life that existed outside her cave. He fought her, unwilling to go, but for all Bird's meekness, she had a backbone of steel and Dew found himself effectively kicked out of his own dream. Some thanks for finding her, her own cave. I tell ya. So Dew left. He could not go back to their old woods though, and he had no desire to return to the mountains. His family had already lost two siblings, one they refused to even acknowledge. It wasn't like they would care if they lost one more. So he walked. He walked and walked and walked but the world around him brought no peace. The simple silence felt wrong without a soft, hazy pelt brushing against his own, their steps and thoughts moving in time. Slowly though, over the next moon or so, he started to refind his old peace. His fur stopped itching at the lack of a velvet soft coat at his side. His tail stopped curling around, trying to catch hers and walk with them entwined. The silence of the forests became more comforting and less painful. But every time a bush moved, every time a leaf drifted across his pelt, every time there was a flash of something in the undergrowth that he thought might be Bird's eyes, sparkling as she played hide-and-seek, the pain came back anew. Dew knew it would never heal. But Bird had kicked him out, the infernal thing. She refused to let him live his life with her death, and he had never been able to deny her whatever she wanted. So he walked. And lived. And waited to finally die. THREAD TRACKER This section is not necessary, but is provided if a member wishes to keep track of the threads that this character participates in. | ooc info  ☆ NAME☆ your ooc name ☆ OTHER CHARACTERS☆ n/a if none |