Post by Shad on Sept 22, 2015 1:40:08 GMT
 general info
APPEARANCE
Ink is a long haired cat with a dual layered cat. The underside of his coat is white, the outer layer is black. It gives him a smokey, shadowy appearance. If he washes it one way, he seems more grey. Wash it back the other way and he seems more black. His eyes are both green. ... What? You were expecting more? Honestly, that is pretty much it. Ink is an average cat. He is no taller or shorter, no fatter or thinner, no stronger or weaker than any other cat. This could even be called his most interesting trait. Every cat has something different to them. They each have a smile, or look, or walk, or coat -something about them that sticks in a cat's mind, something that defines them. Ink's defining feature, it could be stated, is his sheer undefine-ability. He is there, and when he leaves he is quickly forgotten. Not important. Not remembered.    Diana, his mate, and Splash, his son. personality
Ink is nice enough. Very quiet. It is easy to forget he is there. It is easy to write him off as a cat that does not matter. Almost every cat does this. Every time. Without fail. Ink seems to be no worse for the lack of attention paid to him. He muddles along through life. He does what he is told. He sometimes asks questions, but they are so mundane they are soon forgotten. He likes somethings. He dislikes others. He is quite agreeable but has his moments of stubbornness, like any cat. He is sometimes bloodthirsty. He is sometimes saintly. He is mostly just... there. No one really questions it, or what is going on behind those green eyes simply because he is just so... normal. He exists, but that seems to be all he is and all he does. It is ungodly boring for pretty much any cat. The sheer blandness of his personality is off-putting for most and they set out to find more interesting cats to talk to. Likely without even realizing Ink is still there.
HISTORY Ink was born with a very distinctive coat, black on grey with a hint of white at the base. In most families it would be a mark of pride. In his it was not. His father was a Spy Master for Crimson Peak, a large group of Rogues that ruled the Southern Forests with an Iron Fist. Ink learned early on to be a shadow, a ghost. He learned how to be in a room and yet make it feel empty to other cats. After all, a spy is no good if he cannot blend in. Those cats died quickly. Ink's siblings died quickly. Their father did not believe in softening blows for learners. He sent them out on dangerous missions, missions where the punishment for failure was death or torture. Ink never failed. About the time he reached 8 moons, already a veteran Spy, he met his first Weakness. Every spy ran into a Weakness at one point or another. It was fated to happen and could not be avoided. A Weakness was a cat that struck a cord with the Spy, someone they bonded with unintentionally. -Someone who would recognize them later. A Weakness was a deadly liability and Ink knew what he had to do. He only had two options: Kill the liability or, if he could not, report the Weakness to his superior (his father) so that he could kill the Weakness himself. Ink chose option 3. He did nothing. He pretended the incident had never happened. He moved on, did his job, and went about his normal life. This lasted for 2 moons before his Weakness found him. Except, rather than finding him on a job or at a crucial moment, the Weakness found him in his home. The tom was nothing less than flabbergasted when he found the shecat that was his Weakness, sitting outside his den one day, happy as a cat with prey. She explained to him that she thought he was cute and wanted to be his mate. She had, apparently, tracked him down over the last two moons using her exceptional scenting abilities that had been able to uncover his real scent through all the false trails he had left behind. He realized with mounting dread that his life was over -quite literally. He had known the price for not killing his Weakness when he found her. He had just never thought she would be so mousebrained as to go looking for him and stumble right into a Spy Headquarters! When his father appeared out of the shadows he was not surprised, but when he smiled and congratulated his son, Ink's jaw dropped. It seemed this shecat, this Diana, was their Princess. Oh. Well. Did that mean he would not be dying then? It seemed so. He and Diana were mated young, as was the tradition at Crimson Peak. Ink had to give up spying (he was a prince now, sort-of, so he could hardly run around in dark alleys). It vastly increased his life expectancy and he began to wonder just what a future would be like. He had never thought about it before but now that he could he found... he liked it. He even loved it! The dens were nice. The prey came easy. The young crown prince, Dustin, his brother-in-law now, was always kind to him, even though Ink often spotted dark circles under his eyes and bruises he would never explain. The reigning king was a tough old buzzard that did not think much of Ink, but he did not seem to think much of his own children either so Ink supposed that was alright. The thing that held his attention the most though, was his mate. Diana was a whirlwind the likes of which poor Ink had never experienced. She was a bright ray of sunshine when she was happy. She was a terrifying bundle of briars when she was irritated. She was a twittering flock of birds when she was surprised. She was a banshee when she was sad. In essence, she simply was, more so than any cat Ink had ever known. However, Ink was still a Spy at heart and it did not take him long (only a few days actually) to realize all was not well in his new home. The tiny prince was too small, almost malnourished, and moved with jerky, forced steps that bespoke bruises lurking beneath his kingly fur. His Diana clung just a bit too closely to him for no reason at all, her eyes always shifting, as if looking for monsters in the shadows. Not one to beat around the bush, Ink demanded the truth from his mate. Was there some unseen threat to her and her brother? Had she only sought him out to be her bodyguard? Diana was shocked, but quickly removed his fears of such a lie -and replaced them with far darker truths. The King was the one who injured the prince. He had done as much to Diana many a time. He blamed his children for the loss of his wife, who had died in childbirth to Dustin. He hated them. Ink once again demanded if he had merely been brought into the picture to act as a shield for the two young cats. This had brought a heavy blush to Diana's cheeks. No, he had not been brought for that. She had been caught by him when she first saw him lounging around at a formal gathering. Ink recalled the event, and the tom he had been shadowing. Diana told him how just earlier that day she had been beaten by the King's guard as 'payment for her sins'. Every cat had told her how beautiful she looked even as her head spun from the pain. Her side had been a spiderweb of bruises and her face slightly swollen from being slammed into the ground repeatedly. Diana asked him if he remembered what he had said to her. Now it was Ink's turn to blush. He had gone two full days without sleep and was running on fumes. Every cat could recognize the royal family's distinctive coat, but he had been just too tired to notice anything that did not strictly relate to his target. He had felt his strength flagging and accidentally bumped into the shecat. He remembered bumping into Diana's side and the wave of tension that shot through her body. Having been hurt several times in the past himself he, foolishly, apologized and jokingly commented how broken ribs sucked, didn't they? She should try brushing her fur the wrong way when she washed. It usually helped with the worst of the sting and kept them from stiffening up. Ink felt his embarrassment triple as he realized just how out of it he had been. Diana only laughed. She told him that was the first time since her mother's death a cat actually bothered to take care of her. She fell for him right then and there. Ink admitted that afterwards he had been unable to keep his eyes off her, curious about the noble shecat who carried herself like a princess even with a few broken ribs. Go figure she actually was a princess. It explained a lot honestly. Diana laughed. She sobered when she explained why she always kept so close to him, why she always searched the shadows. She did not fear for her life, but for his. Diana had been promised to a powerful tom far older than her mere 10 moons since her birth. She had gone against the king and embarrassed the tom by choosing Ink in his stead. The King was furious. When he asked why she would take such a foolish risk, Diana was firm in her answer. She had only one life, and if she should die, she would rather have lived first, and lived with a tom she loved. What could Ink say to that? The pair had their first litter not long after. Now that Ink was 'in the know' he did his best to run interference between the King and his children. He took the young Dustin out for long hunts when his father was in a killing mood. He hung close to Diana and made sure she was never alone with her father as much as he could help. But he was still only a 'royal' by matehood, not blood. He could not protect them always. A small part of him broke every time his mate was summoned to the King's den and returned limping. His tail sank when he woke in the morning to have breakfast with Dustin and saw the stiff way he walked, the ghosts that haunted his young gaze. Ink hated himself for not being able to protect the only family he had ever known. Dustin told him once that it was okay. That before, the tiny tom had been the only one that could protect Diana. He told Ink how he used to actively provoke his father so that the King would focus on him and leave his older sister alone. Compared to the hell that had been, things were much better now thanks to Ink's efforts. So he could be happy, right? Ink had pulled the boy close to his thick fur and shook his head. Knowing the cats he loved had suffered even more than they currently did, did nothing to ease his heavy heart. The situation came to a head mere weeks after Diana had given birth to their first litter. There had only been one kit, but Ink could not have been prouder of his son. After much debate over names, they decided on a commoner's name, Splash, rather than a royal name. Ink positively beamed with pride and Diana teased he was worse than a peacock the way he strutted around. Then the King had summoned their son for the first time. Ink had vehemently protested such a thing. He vowed to fight tooth and claw before he let such a monster touch their young child. Diana knew the truth though. The King could not be denied and, for all Ink's skills, he was not a fighter. She, instead, went with her son. Dustin kept watch with Ink that night. Partially to make sure Diana and Splash came home safe. Partially to keep his beloved brother-in-law from doing anything stupid that would get himself killed. Diana returned, alone, in the morning. She was too shaken to even speak and passed out as soon as she fell against her mate's flank. She was beaten and covered in blood. Both toms ached to know what had happened, where young Splash was, but did not have the heart to wake their Princess up when she so desperately needed sleep. Together they washed her bloody fur as she slept. Ink's rage boiled over when he saw how much blood was dried around a very... specific part of the shecat's body, his mate's body. There was no question about at least one thing that had been done to her that night. Poor Dustin had to do all he could to keep Ink in the den and not out hunting for the King's head. Only his young brother's terror of being left alone and Ink's own reluctance to leave his injured mate kept the tom from barging out into certain death. Diana woke two days later, a scream of terror strangled from her throat as she burst through the veil of a nightmare to find her mate at her side. She dug her claws into Ink's fur, latching onto him for dear life, as she cried for hours. Splash was dead. The King had claimed he was unfit to represent their royal bloodline. He told his daughter that her choice in mate had been a failure, that she was a disgrace to their family. He told her she could not breed such low, crass creatures and the Royal Guard had... Diana could not choke out the words of her shame but both toms knew and held the shecat close. Ink was a wreck, perhaps even more than his mate. He had never felt so useless, so helpless to protect those close to him. Then, a few days later, Diana realized she would have another litter. And they both knew the kits were not Ink's. The tom's soul screamed out in agony but even more painful was watching the light leave his mate's eyes, and being unable to stop it. He swore to her that it did not matter to him. He swore he would love the kits just as he had loved Splash. He swore that he had never doubted her feelings -that he never would. Nothing worked. Diana did not smile like a ray of sunshine anymore. She did not bring light into their world or play games. She walked like the dead, only coming alive in fits of rage and agony where she would set upon her stomach like a fiery demon and Ink had to hold his mate's paws back to keep her from gutting herself by her own claws as Dustin cowered nearby. In short, it was hell for all three of them. Then Dustin took Diana to the lake. Ink had stayed behind, worried his mere presence would upset his mate and increase her guilt over what had happened. He had just wanted her to have one happy afternoon. He had thought if she spent some time with her brother it would give her the chance to laugh again. He woke to Dustin screaming as he ran into their den. The young tom's pelt was soaking and his eyes were wild as he latched onto Ink's fur and frantically dragged him toward the exit, trying to explain through his panting breaths. Diana was swimming into the middle of the lake and not coming back. She had just swum out, farther than Dustin could, and... stopped. She had gone under. He could not get to her. He was too young, too little. Ink's mind fractured as the realization of what his mate had done came crashing down. He ran like a cat chased by demons to the lake shore, but he knew he would be too late. He came to the muddy beach and saw a pale lump floating on the waves far out in the water. Frantic, he leaped into the lake, clawing his way to his mate, knowing with every inch closer he swam she was already gone. He screamed out her name, sputtering water and trying to keep his head above the surface. Diana's body did not move. He sunk his teeth into her scruff and hauled her back to land where a terrified Dustin waited. He collapsed on the shoreline, exhausted, while Dustin set upon his sister, trying anything to wake her. Ink slammed his fist against the earth and roared in agony as the truth stared out at him from two, sightless blue eyes. Diana was dead. Dustin held Ink close, or maybe Ink held Dustin, as their whole world fell apart. Ink made his choice then. No more. He would not let what had happened to Diana happen to her brother, his brother. He would not let Dustin face the same miserable existence that had destroyed the will to live of the brightest, sweetest creature he had ever been lucky enough to know. Ink had been well trained in the art of disappearing. He used that now. He smuggled Dustin out of Crimson Peak. They left the Southern Forests and headed North, always North. Dustin became Dusty. Ink taught him how to keep his fur dirty and half-cleaned, so cats could not pick out his royal pattern or his scent. They traveled for moons. Dusty was almost an adult and had been running for a third of his life by the time things changed, in a most unexpected way too. Dusty fell in love. Frosty was an idiot. Honestly. The cat was dumber than paste and twice as useless -but she made Dusty smile. For that alone, Ink would have given his life to protect the shecat. The two mated young, but Ink had his own experience that claimed youth had nothing to do with love. After all, he and Diana had been younger. Ink was delighted by his nephews when they were born. He played with them often as kits, but with age he began to keep his distance. He never wanted to risk some cat putting two and two (or Ink and Dusty) together and alerting Crimson Peak. The chances were so small, but Ink did not care. Nothing was worth risking Dusty's hard-fought happiness. Moons passed. The two kits, Spots and Dots, grew and it came to light that Dots would never be able to protect himself. Dusty was terrified. What if Dots turned out like Diana? Ink would snort and proclaim his mate had never been as weak as the soft-headed kit. Diana might have been a princess, but she had a fire inside her that could not be matched. Dusty would snap that his brother-in-law was not helping. Ink would apologize... sort of. Dusty feared Dots would be hurt. He feared the day when Dots would grown up, move away, and not be able to defend himself. He was eaten inside constantly by the nagging terror that Dots would be just as Diana had been - powerless to defend herself in a world full of hatred and pain. Ink recommended more stringent training. When that failed, he suggested that Dusty simply pour all of his training into Spots, to teach Spots to be Dots' protector. The plan seemed to work, but still Dusty was fearful. Having lost his mother, his nephew, and his beloved sister, he could not stand the idea of losing a son as well. He did everything he could think of to discourage Dots' from ever putting himself in danger. He preached the wisdom of cowardice, focused only on Spots for offensive training, and even went so far as to tell his more fragile son he could never fight, that he would only fail if he did -which was Dusty's greatest fear. Then the war happened. Ink kept to the shadows as he helped the family survive, not willing to risk outing their long kept secret, but not willing to leave them alone either. Dots attempted to fight in their first battle and was nearly killed by an attacker. Dusty just about lost his head. It would have been funny if not for how stressed Ink could see the tom had become. When Dots started taking to heading out at night, Ink would follow him to a shecat's place to ease Dusty's peace of mind. He started pitching in for Spot's training. The sprout was a quick enough learner. The raider attacks became more frequent. Ink found himself sticking closer and closer to the small family, made one smaller with Dots' frequent nightly escapades. Then, the real attack came. In the middle of the night Ink had been woken by the sound of silent feet, his ears honed by years of spy work and years more of living in hiding. He had woken the family -minus one AWOL Dots- and shuffled them out before twenty rogues descended on the nest. It seemed they had not taken too kindly to the family constantly fighting off their advances. Ink, Dusty, Frosty, and Spots fled in the night as far as their paws would carry them. Frosty was expecting another litter so it was not very far but the pushed onward further the next morning. Dusty was half-mad with fear, ranting he had to go back for Dots, he had to save his son, but Ink held him back. Dots had that shecat helping him and he would be safer where he was unknown. If Dusty went back now, he only risked the chance of the rogues following him and overtaking both him and his son. They had to wait and, for now, they had to run. And they did. They ran for two whole moons, until Frosty could not possibly go any further. Confident that they had lost the trail, Dusty returned for Dots while Ink watched over the family. He helped deliver the new kits, two sweet young shecats and one rambunctious tiny tom. When Dusty finally returned, the newly grown family rejoiced - but faltered when they realized a crucial fact: The father had returned alone. Dots was no where to be seen. His face haggard, he explained how he had run across Dots' shecat friend outside their den late at night. She told him how Dots had moved on. She told him Dots wanted to live with her now, not the family that had left him behind. Dusty had tried to explain, but the shecat caught him with a single question. If they really had cats that were after them, did he want to drag his son back into that life? Did he want to subject the tom to an old wound that she had already healed? Dusty had left without another word. But Ink saw the pain in his younger brother's gaze. He saw the way he looked longingly out at the horizon, worrying for a son that had cast him away like dust on his heels. Finally, when Ink could take no more, he made his choice. He vowed to go find Dots, and spend the rest of his days watching over the tom, so Dusty would never have to. Both Dusty and Frosty violently protested, along with Spots. They would never give Ink such a sorrowful task that would keep him away from his family, but the black tom only smiled. He laid his tail on Dusty's shoulders and met his green eyes. Ink told him how he had been unable to save Diana, how he regretted never being able to protect the two of them for so long when he should have just run when he first heard of their father's evil. He regretted the decision to stay with every bone in his body every day of his life, -and so now he would go. He would go and spend each of those future days without regret, knowing he was finally making amends to the young kit he had never been able to protect. To watch over Dots and give Dusty peace, would be his atonement, -and would bring him peace. The tom, still a young price in Ink's eyes, said goodbye to his brother, wishing him the happiness Diana died too soon to give him. Ink said his farewells to Frosty, Spots, and the kits, then set out to find Dots and quietly protect him from any that darned to harm the son of the crown prince of Crimson Peak. Ink found it fitting. He had been born in the shadows, and it was now the path he chose to walk until his dying days. 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 |