Previous Clan(s): Born a Loner, taken in by RiverClan hours after birth.



*Element: Water



Sexuality: Asexual







*Brief Description: Pale grey-eyed, seal lynx point, grey classic tabby with white.



In-depth Description: A cat of medium-build, WaterSong is average in height and average in muscle mass. They are not particularly large nor small, neither thickly built nor thin. From a distance, they may appear to have a slightly larger, heavier build due to their thick fur, but being drenched in their element removes this appearance and renders them as distinctly average.

At first glance, their most prominent coat pattern is that of the classic tabby that adorns their flanks, and the next to be noticed is the white that encircles their throat, dapples down their chest and stomach, and wraps about their back paws, only scarcely touching their front toes as if the dipped their paw in to test the temperature. At their head they are a seal point lynx, with pale grey eyes.

The most unique feature about this individual is a birth defect, and one that is not always obvious at first.

At first glance, most cats have difficulty telling whether they are male or female, as they are androgynous in build. This is because of a genetic deformity that caused them to never properly develop genitalia, neither internal nor external, so they never developed any secondary sex characteristics. As a result, they are infertile, and are neither male nor female in the classical sense, as what is between their legs in unclear to even the most knowledgeable of cats. They choose not to side with either sex as a result of this, and when asked what they are, the classical response is, 'A cat.'ect.









*Trait lists:



*+ Patient, Understanding, Diplomatic, Can spin a tale on the spot



*- Passive/Non-Confrontational, Devil's Advocate, More often a follower than a leader, Has difficulty picking a side



*: Distant, Introverted, Enjoys the small things in life, Observant


Personality description: WaterSong is not a bad cat, and at heart, one would call them a good cat. But they were not born a Clan cat, and it shows in their very nature. They were born to be a Loner, to be a wanderer without the violent tendencies of a Rogue. They were born to simply live and let live, to passively walk by when others hissed and spat with but a distant nod of their head. They are non-confrontational as a result, not being born with the same need for violence that seems to plague the cats of the Clans.

It is not that they do not understand why the Clans do what they do. They were raised within their walls, after all, and raised with their stories and teachings. They do get it, they do. The cats have a peculiar loyalty to their chosen faction, and are willing to fight and shed blood in order to ensure not only their own future, but the future of their clanmates. They fight because they worry for the future, they worry that one day something will happen, and if they are not prepared and do not have the secured resources to make it through, they will perish. The more resources they can claim, the more secure their future.

WaterSong understands that, they really do.

But they still cannot at heart understand the constant worry these cats have, even if the Clan cats do not often acknowledge it, and hide it behind bravado and doing what is right. Let the future care for itself, and enjoy life while you have it, enjoy the small wonders that you may never know you miss until they are gone. Do not fret over what is to come, for you cannot always change what is to be. Just stop, smell the roses, and watch the birds fly. Be patient, let destiny come when it may, for all the worries in the world cannot force time to move faster.

As a result of this passive, observant nature, WaterSong is a fine wordsmith, able to spin a tale on the spot and fabricate a story to, in a sense, 'cover their clanmates asses when they do something so very Clan-like again.' They do their best to be the diplomat of RiverClan, and to use their calm and easy-going nature to balance some of the more hot-headed warriors. Despite their exasperation with them at times, they are family, and WaterSong will stare the Clan Leaders in the eyes and lie through their teeth with a smile if that is what it takes to soothe tension.

Of course, they often find themself in this situation as a result of their more pushy clanmates overpowering them, and WaterSong, patient and understanding, but not necessarily with the grit to back it up. They may hiss a their clanmates and play the devil's advocate, telling them why their mouse-brained idea could get them all killed, but when push comes to shove, they were raised in a democracy, and when the majority outvotes them, they simply hang their head with a heavy sigh, resign themself to fate, and become the follower of the masses, rather than a leader.

It makes it so hard to pick a side, when their heart whispers that this might be wrong, but the rousing voices of their clanmates cheer to a brighter future. They see both sides, and understand both, so how can they ever choose?

And when it's all too much, when it's all just too much commotion for their introverted heart, they just steal away to lie by the riverbank. To listen to the water's song, and talk to those who have already crossed the river to the other side.



Likes:

The stars, time to themself, watching the world go by, peace

Dislikes:

The cold, conflict, tension



*History: What story is there to tell, when it was over before it was done?

No cat ever knew her name, that poor Loner Queen in the midst of the cold. Steam puffed from her breath as she resolutely tried to make her way closer to Clan territory. She had heard that there were cats there, cats who might take in one like her. One without a den to call home, without a mate to watch her back, and with contractions already ravaging her belly to deliver her kits.

She never made it.

The exhausted Queen gave birth in the midst of the cold and empty expanse, RiverClan scent on her tongue but none close enough to hear her cries for help.

The kits were never destined to make it through the night.

The Queen tried to stand, tried to carry at least one to safety, but she could not even find the strength to bring her own body off the ground. She had been on her own for too long. Without help to hunt, without food, starved, cold, and alone. She sobbed for her children as she pressed them closer to her belly, trying to keep them warm for as long as her skeletal form would allow. She knew they would be left to die with salvation so close yet unreachable.

She sang through the pain and the darkness that encroached upon her vision as the cold sapped the life and strength from all their bodies.

She sang them to the final time they would lay their heads down to rest, as small spirits began to wander towards the stars.

But not all of them.

The one in the very middle, the one surrounded by siblings and frail mother's body, was found by a border patrol that stumbled upon the dead Queen. The kit was small, barely clinging to life, but alive.

They rushed the child to the Clan, and with caution and love, they made it through the night. And the next. And the next.

They grew powerful and strong, a cat of the Clan, but with their history not untold nor forgotten.

And sometimes, on the darkest of nights, when the sky is clear and even the faintest of stars shine in the sky, one can look beyond Silverpelt to a small patch of sky, where a faint star hangs in the black, other, smaller, even fainter ones hanging about it as if they followed it faithfully to the very skies.

And if you close your eyes, and listen carefully enough, you might catch the distant melody of a lullaby, and of a mother's one, final song.