Post by sammykins on Nov 6, 2011 1:50:13 GMT -5
darklight
'THERE'S A CALM SURRENDER
TO THE RUSH OF DAY
WHEN THE HEAT OF A ROLLING WIND
CAN BE TURNED AWAY
AN ENCHANTED MOMENT
AND IT SEE'S ME THROUGH
IT'S ENOUGH FOR THIS RESTLESS WARRIOR
JUST TO BE WITH YOU...'
name,Darklight
age,33-34 Moons
gender,male
clan,Stormclan
position,Warrior
appearance,As a warrior and hunter, it is expected that Darklight appear the part. Which he does, leaving nothing to the imagination. He is the quintessential warrior male - virile and strong, imbued with his own brand of silent pride. Tall of build than a great deal of his kin, though of it is leg, he is hard and immovable with muscle trained over the many moons of his life thus far, the cords and tendons of his form stretched out over his lengthy body so that, while he is obviously given over to muscularity, he is just shy of appearing blockish and bulky. Powerful hindquarters are appropriately proportionate to his form, though laced with scars of past encounters, and a wide chest plays the part of stamina by housing a strong set of lungs and what is, despite his outward demeanour, a big heart made of naught but honour and gold.
He is perhaps what one would consider an all-rounder, neither weakened too greatly in speed or stamina. However, in frankness, he is stamina over speed, as the moons of experience have taught him that he will last longer practicing patience on the fringes and pacing himself with every hit taken. Swift rushes with speed are all good and well, but 'light tires quickly if he does this too many times or for too long, so while the force behind them would be brutal if he made contact, if he didn't...it'd be nothing short of a waste.
As for the rest of him...a head of surprisingly well-defined features for a tom is forever held high, wide, angular cheekbones tapering to a nose scarred lightly but heavy enough for the fur to grow back shorter and skewy, pale grey against the odd white marking that has splashed itself over the tom's face, dribbling from a star like blotch on his forehead to dribble over his left eye and down his nose until it stops amidst the pink amongst an otherwise black nose. The rest of his fur is as black as his name suggests, with little else to break the pattern - this suits him perfectly fine, as by now, it may be obvious that his preference is to linger patiently in the shadows at dusk. Eyes shaped an almond that appears permanently narrowed, and often is in sternness or silent thoughtfulness, are intense and somewhat disconcerting, the dark amber apparently inscrutable, yet to those familiar with him, the teller of his true feelings on a subject. A tear in his right ear though somehow manages to soften his appearance where even the odd splotch on his face cannot, causing the twitching limb to droop slightly in a manner both comical and endearing. A less comical scar would be the one found amidst the fur over the left side of his neck and the juncture of shoulder and chest - not noticeable lest one be up close, but for those who know it to be there, a chilling reminder of a time where he was nearly lost to them.
personality,
"Being brave...doesn't mean you go looking for trouble."
You certainly wouldn't have expected Darklight to have been awkward in his youth with others, though he was. In fact, he still is a lot of time lest he is extremely familiar with them or they speak of matter such as the hunt or strategy or, at a stretch, philosophy of the world in general, infinitely choosing to stay quiet or elude the conversation entirely - not because he's rude, he just...has trouble leaving his reticience alone long enough to identify with frivolous, more trivial matters.
Fortunately, age and experience has made him do a much more passable job at assimiliating and hiding this shyness, ultimately giving way to and allowing him to foster his better traits. Those that make him the quintessential hunter-warrior tom - a sensible, grounded, patient and yes, even intimidating presence. He is understandably stern a lot of the time, but though restrained, not entirely cold so as to avoid dealing a sound beating or a ruthless swipe if his temper is spiked. He is one, ultimately, that only fools would deliberately attempt to antagonise.
Strangely, it's not so much what he does that makes him a presence to be aware of; it is more what he *doesn't* do. Or at first, anyway. Being of such a patient, practical disposition on the outside, Darklight is *very* good at playing the waiting game. He could probably wait summers upon summers to get revenge or enact punishment if he absolutely needed to, though he is blessed with sense enough to know when to discard a matter and when to hold to a grudge. It makes him rather unsettling at times, really - you never know when he's going to pounce, and it takes a lot of time wasted studying him if you're not close his heart to take note of the subtle nuances that would give away his prowling irritation.
His trust is, understandably, difficult to earn, and he is definitely the type who will remain suspicious until proven otherwise. He's also horribly stubborn at times, and will literally stick his claws into stone and balk if he doesn't want to do something. However, if ordered by a superior, he's not stupid enough to do anything but grit his teeth and bear it lest it be absolutely extreme, though one would hope, especially if they are younger and less experienced than he, that they keep an eye on their tail for a time. He's very well aware of honour and integrity, yes, but honour is a double-edged dagger, and as he's aware of his own summers of considerable experience, his own good prowess, his personal sense of pride never takes too well to young upstarts encroaching about.
That aside, his usual practicality means that he is capable of putting a situation into perspective, if a little too bluntly at times. It's a useful trait to have, such honesty, however, if you're a little on the sensitive side, his lacking ability to really identify with a more fragile reciever's mood will definitely make him come across harsh, even brutal.
Darklight isn't without his good qualities, though. In fact, his harsh honesty aside, he's hardly a bad tom, by any stretch. His patience means that he is more than content to wait something or someone out, and it balances his discomfort out on more awkward occasions...like when he is dealing with kits. Kits really do send the poor creature on a bender; he genuinely doesn't know how to deal with them a lot of the time. Not because he doesn't like them - he adores his own progeny - he just...they're the very epitomy of the frivolity and unchecked emotion he finds hard to deal with naturally, which is probably why if anyone is, Brightkit and her more sensible nature is his favorite, though he secretly prides in the growing beauty inherent in Rosekit. He is also, amusingly, prone to letting himself be lost in thought when his guard is down, and it'll take a firm tug to the ear or tail to bring him back to earth.
He's also not without acknowledging courage, integrity and all those wonderful things where they're due, even if his praise is sparse. He'll also do as close as he can to doing anything asked of him by his own little family, provided it's not silly or selfish, and he's certainly good for a chat if you get him on a good day. His loyal nature can certainly not be faulted, either, as he's stuck close to Bluevine despite the feline norm. suggesting otherwise. He is too, surprisingly, a considerate and gentle mate, always amusingly wary of his large build, and one could say that he genuinely does love *his* queen, as she is very much the only one he will willingly, if grumpily, roll over for and listen to, even for displays of affection in public (though they embarrass the hell out of him if they do occur).
history,Darklight was born Dusk-kit, approximately thirty five moons ago to the Stormclan and named for his dark fur and the fact that the pale splotch on is face appeared, to his rather romantic mother, like a last sliver of light in the early twilight before the day gives sway to the night. It proved to be a perfect name, anyway, as from the moment he could open his eyes and shuffle about, Dusk-kit infinitely seemed to gravitate towards the darkest corners possible, setting himself apart from the other kits despite his mother's best attempts to integrate him and divest him of his shyness.
In fact, it proved to be rather a bad idea to force him to do anything from a young age, though in Darklight's defence, it actually wasn't he who started the fight with one of the older male kits that left him with the scar across his nose. They'd been stupid enough to start shoving him around, and he'd responded in kind, certainly dealing his fair share in before the weight of the older male kit predictably had him beaten. Despite this, though, his father, took the opportunity for what it was. It helped that Dusk-kit had never much envisioned much beyond following in his sire's footsteps as a shadowy warrior, and thus, when he was old enough, he willingly became apprenticed to the guild of warriors within the Stormclan, taking the name Shadowpaw.
Though it was far from easy, the moons spent as an apprentice passed fairly uneventfully for Shadowpaw. He grew tall, he filled out, he learnt and studied hard, and the lack of close friends was hardly a bother to him, as it meant as few could be aware as was possible of his social awkwardness, hidden only by the thin veneer of aloof warrior he was carving for himself. He could even avoid the attraction of the young she-cats flitting about, and the ones he couldn't avoid, like that blasted scrap of blue-tinted fur and her infuriatingly gentle smiles that just weren't right on a warrior, he just labelled a nuisance and was done with it.
With maturity, he finally graduated, and for a summer or two, life was good. Or as good as could be for a warrior. He ate, he slept, he patrolled, he scrapped when he had to, and in his spare time, stretched out in the largest bit of grass or tree bough he could find, pondering the world and just enjoying the warm sunlight in general. Actually, he probably spent more time sleeping then, as he was, predictably, an incredibly nocturnal creature. Life was good indeed.
And then that blasted scrap of blue-tinted fur turned up again. And she was still blue-tinted and still irritatingly gentle and she still smiled her infuriatingly gentle smiles and how dare the little chit pounce him off his feet...and...and...he was in love. Well, curse it all for having a quiet, unbothered existence. Bothersome, and that didn't even describe how embarrassing it was for the reticient tom. He didn't even know *how* to charm acquaintances, so how in hell was he to charm a female? The fact she was warrior too made it that much sweeter and that much more agonising; she was obviously capable of looking after her own hide, but on the same token, she would understand his own dedication to his duties. It was a difficult position indeed, and one he spent many hours in the day beating his head over.
Ironically, 'light's 'regard' was given away by the very thing he had never let himself be victim to - emotion. Never emotional as it were, and certainly not jealous. But he was, and as far as he was concerned, that *idiot* Dustflint would not have been worthy of Bluevine even if he had not been the very same kit of moons ago that had left Darklight with the scar across his nose. Not that he considered himself better by any stretch, just...not Dustflint. Telling Bluevine this was another matter entirely, though, and one he didn't go about with any finesse; it was probably the first and only time 'light had and would ever raise his voice outside of battle. It likely would have been lost then, too, if his temper hadn't loosened his tongue...probably not the most romantic way for a female to find out, but at least then, Bluevine knew even if Darklight fled like a coward afterwards.
It all worked out in the end, though, clearly. Kits are a good example of things working out, after all, though poor Darklight proved that if he was awkward before, dealing with babies was a whole new matter entirely. As much as he adored his Bluevine, he plain didn't know what to do half the time with kits, who were epitomies of everything that got him uncomfortable. Still, he did his best, and even he couldn't avoid the surge of paternal protection that came forth, though it was well suppressed until Brightkit was born. Whatever it was about her still escapes even he, but from the moment he laid eyes on the small, sickly runt, he was irrationally stubborn in his belief in her survival. And is to this day.
His own survival was called into question, though, not too long ago. Though the rest of Darklight's summers thus far have proved as blaise as the rest of them, he's already had his first true brush with fear and death. It was a rogue hunt that went somewhat wrong for him - a scuffle, a fight, and in the slickness of the stormy night he was patrolling in, Darklight slipped, enough so that the rogue tom found his neck and would have very well bitten through the jugular had Darklight's broad body not unbalanced him, and a second attempt had not been thwarted by the miraculous arrival of 'light's precious Bluevine. Gentle she was, but also warrioress, and not taken to kindness for one who had dared take the life of her mate.
The rogue tom wasn't killed, but he was scared off. T'wasn't over then, though - Darklight was still badly injured, and would hover dangerously close to the brink for several days. Whether it was the finesse of the clan's medicine cats or his own resolve, though, or even the pull of need from his mate and those kits that, while so blastedly discomforting, were still *his*, he did pull through to live to this day in the present, though he still carries the traces of proud flesh forming into scar where teeth punctured his neck-shoulder.