Post by eunsoul은솔 on Mar 25, 2020 20:57:00 GMT
best metaphor poems
(art by me)
Swanstep | 15 moons | WindClan | Air | Tom
General Info
Previous Clan(s): n/a
*Element: Air
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Physical Appearance
*Brief Description: Handsome gray and white tabby tom with long fur and olive-green eyes.
In-depth Description: A medium sized long-haired white tom with gray tabby tabby patches and olive green eyes. Has a small scar on his belly from apprenticehood when a younger apprentice panicked during a mock-fight and scratched him there.
Personality:
A bitter tom who loathes his sister Ashsong. Appears to have jealousy issues. Very stubborn and will cross the line for a cause, but not crazy intelligent. Usually found scowling or ignoring others or flirting. Also usually found grooming himself or sharing tongues with others because his fur is difficult to maintain. He's noted for being a handsome guy who could easily have it all, but he seems more fixated on the things he cannot have in life, rather than what's already in front of his nose.
A bitter tom who loathes his sister Ashsong. Appears to have jealousy issues. Very stubborn and will cross the line for a cause, but not crazy intelligent. Usually found scowling or ignoring others or flirting. Also usually found grooming himself or sharing tongues with others because his fur is difficult to maintain. He's noted for being a handsome guy who could easily have it all, but he seems more fixated on the things he cannot have in life, rather than what's already in front of his nose.
*Trait lists:
*+ A sense of morals, confident, charismatic
*- Jealousy issues, sometimes doesn’t know when to stop
*: Sensitive, picky
Likes: Grooming himself, chasing spiders and hares, flirting, feeling superior
Dislikes: His littermate Ashsong, Thunderstorms (but not afraid of them), feeling inferior, his father (but still wishes for his attention), getting his pride hurt
Combat:
Not necessarily the best fighter, but he can do damage if he tries. Hurls himself at the first cat that catches his eye in a battle.
Not necessarily the best fighter, but he can do damage if he tries. Hurls himself at the first cat that catches his eye in a battle.
Gust
WindRunner
Howling Gale
History:
- born and raised in WindClan
- While he was always in the positive attention of WindClan, not being his father’s favorite made him very bitter
- While he was always in the positive attention of WindClan, not being his father’s favorite made him very bitter
Before Roleplay Relationships
Mother: Brushfire / WindClan / Deceased /
Father: Ravenfoot / WindClan / Alive / Air
Siblings:
Ashsong / RiverClan / Alive / Storm
Ashsong / RiverClan / Alive / Storm
Ebonyshade / ShadowClan / Alive / Fire
Reedpaw / WindClan / Deceased /
Mentor: -tail / WindClan / NPC / Air
Apprentice(s): n/a
Other relationships: n/a
Excerpt:
(him as an apprentice)
“So then Doepaw told me, no way in StarClan is that was going to happen? Of course, I told her that she was being hare-brained, and Wheatpaw was right all along!” Daisypaw gushed, the brown tabby fur on her flank shifting from the cool autumn wind.
Swanpaw twitched his ear, absentmindedly ruffled as Daisypaw swiped her tongue on his neck, smoothing the long fur on it down, but accidently licked a part of his ear, which was just as comfortable as a fly landing on it.
“Yeah!” Breezepaw added, before adding another lick to Daisypaw’s shoulder.
“And I totally agreed with Wheatpaw the first time, so I got a bite of that big rabbit!”
“Mhm..” Swanpaw mumbled, barely listening, rolling a small clump of almost dry moss between his paws. He couldn’t remember what he was thinking about before these two she-cats barged over and just started sharing tongues with him. Well, he couldn’t blame them. His good looks tended to invite random cats to come over and try to talk to him.
What he could do, was pinpoint was he was doing right now. His olive-green eyes narrowed as his gaze zeroed into his father, Ravenfoot conversing with his, ugh, sister. Swanpaw curled his lip. Ashpaw. Ravenfoot’s freaking favorite. Since birth, the wheat of Ravenfoot’s field had been Ashpaw. Swanpaw knew why, of course he knew why.
Because Ashpaw was a storm cat.
In the nursery, Swanpaw had been well liked by the other mothers and expectant queens. But the only thing in Ravenfoot’s sight was Ashpaw. As a very, very young kit, Swanpaw could remember those early envious feelings of just Ashpaw recieving their father’s love.
It always seriously irked him that Reedpaw and Ebonypaw never really seemed to care to the extent that Swanpaw did with only Ashpaw recieving their father’s attention.
Swanpaw let out a quiet huff under his breath, flames of jealousy licking at the back of his throat, fueled by the swirling bitterness feeding and growing inside him.
It just wasn’t fair.
Excerpt:
(him as an apprentice)
“So then Doepaw told me, no way in StarClan is that was going to happen? Of course, I told her that she was being hare-brained, and Wheatpaw was right all along!” Daisypaw gushed, the brown tabby fur on her flank shifting from the cool autumn wind.
Swanpaw twitched his ear, absentmindedly ruffled as Daisypaw swiped her tongue on his neck, smoothing the long fur on it down, but accidently licked a part of his ear, which was just as comfortable as a fly landing on it.
“Yeah!” Breezepaw added, before adding another lick to Daisypaw’s shoulder.
“And I totally agreed with Wheatpaw the first time, so I got a bite of that big rabbit!”
“Mhm..” Swanpaw mumbled, barely listening, rolling a small clump of almost dry moss between his paws. He couldn’t remember what he was thinking about before these two she-cats barged over and just started sharing tongues with him. Well, he couldn’t blame them. His good looks tended to invite random cats to come over and try to talk to him.
What he could do, was pinpoint was he was doing right now. His olive-green eyes narrowed as his gaze zeroed into his father, Ravenfoot conversing with his, ugh, sister. Swanpaw curled his lip. Ashpaw. Ravenfoot’s freaking favorite. Since birth, the wheat of Ravenfoot’s field had been Ashpaw. Swanpaw knew why, of course he knew why.
Because Ashpaw was a storm cat.
In the nursery, Swanpaw had been well liked by the other mothers and expectant queens. But the only thing in Ravenfoot’s sight was Ashpaw. As a very, very young kit, Swanpaw could remember those early envious feelings of just Ashpaw recieving their father’s love.
It always seriously irked him that Reedpaw and Ebonypaw never really seemed to care to the extent that Swanpaw did with only Ashpaw recieving their father’s attention.
Swanpaw let out a quiet huff under his breath, flames of jealousy licking at the back of his throat, fueled by the swirling bitterness feeding and growing inside him.
It just wasn’t fair.
