Post by tansythorn on Apr 18, 2014 11:39:44 GMT -6
tansythorn
this template was made by dannimarie for darkened skies
stealing is not tolerated and will be reported.
i am a warrior. i carry the blood of thunderclan within me.
fear me.
fear me.
APPEARANCE
Tansythorn is a she-cat with pale yellow tabby fur, light yellow-amber eyes, and the cobby build ubiquitous among random-bred house and field cats of Europe and the United States--in short, she looks like a Clan cat. Her legs are sturdy and well-muscled, and her head round and wide. A certain number of scars mark her flanks and chest, mostly small ones from sparring with her mate, but there is a very long one across her left side from a deadly serious fight that was almost deadly to her, and a lopsided V-shape on the top of her head dating back to her escape from the Twoleg nest where she was imprisoned.
PERSONALITY
Proud, stubborn, and more than a little sharp-tongued, Tansythorn seems like the sort of she-cat about whom the common wisdom would quickly be, "she will never attract a mate." However, no cat in TreeClan has been able to say that about her, because she arrived together with her mate already in tow--and for that matter, they were attracted to one another because they were both given to an acid wit. She and her mate are close and deal well with each other, but Tansythorn can be very hard for other cats to live with sometimes if they do not have such a bond or insight. She is particularly loath to take advice in difficult situations, even if she herself would benefit.
Of course, Tansythorn would hardly be able to dispense acidic tongue-lashings at need if she were not intelligent. She is clever and quick-witted, able to think around a problem into a solution, and spending her adolescence and young adulthood as a loner allowed her to cultivate her natural aptitude for keeping her head in a crisis.
She keeps dreams and ideals in her heart, a love of honor and a bright spot of optimism that flourishes despite her seemingly dark, cynical sense of humor.
HISTORY
Tansy may have been born a kittypet, but that life never suited her. Part of that may have been the influence of her mother Rosethorn, who had been born a loner and only become a kittypet when she was trapped at twenty moons while pregnant with the only kit she ended up ever having. The Twolegs who had taken her captive insisted on calling her Demeter, which name Rosethorn refused to acknowledge. Her true name followed the same pattern as those of the cats in the stories she had heard and memorized as a kit, for Rosethorn was descended from the cats of ThunderClan. Her daughter Tansy, who was called Persephone by the Twolegs, learned all the stories of ThunderClan that Rosethorn knew, and learned likewise to hate the way of life that she had (against her mother's wishes) been born into.
When Tansy was four moons old, the Twolegs decided to separate her from her mother, and they never saw each other again. Tansy was taken away to a new place, one where she had never been before. Her chief complaint was that her mother was not there, but she had others: everything smelled funny, and there were dogs there. The dogs were harmless, but annoyed her. However, they were regularly allowed out of the nest, and after watching them for a period of time she considered that she might find a way to gain such a privilege too. From there, she could perhaps escape and try to live according to the way her mother had taught her about!
The Twolegs proved to want her to be an indoor cat, so Tansy set out to find another way to get free. Eventually, when she was about six moons old and starting to worry that she would suffer the indignities that were said to come to kittypets who were in a house after that age, there came a day when one of the ground-floor windows was left unlocked and slightly open while the Twolegs were in a different room. That was enough for Tansy. She tried to fit herself out through the window, only to find that there was a sharp edge to it that cut into the top of her head. In a panic, she pulled herself back inside, but even then she didn't want to give up yet. She pushed the window open just a little further, which was all she could manage with her small size, and managed to get out. Her head was cut again with the same protrusion, but she barely even cared; she was free!
Tansy immediately set out to put as much distance between herself and that place as possible, in the hopes that her captors would not be able to find her. She traveled out in a straight line for as far as she could before she found herself surrounded by bushes and growing hungry. Remembering her mother's attempts at lessons--the best that she could have managed, given that they had been trapped inside--she set out to catch some of the rodents that she could hear and smell all around.
She missed, the first time she tried to pounce, and was hailed by a derisive yowl of "That was pathetic!" Another kittypet might have quailed, but Tansy turned to face the new arrival and snarked back, "Do you catch everything you stalk, then?"
The other cat proved to be a light-brown tabby tom about two moons older than herself. He was a loner. His name was Briar. He was impressed by her courage in mouthing off to him when he would have expected her to be intimidated. He could hunt much better than she could, since he had been hunting for himself for a while already. Over the next several moons, he became her best friend. They wandered around together, looking for places to hunt. They never stopped trading insults. Tansy did discover, however, that Briar too had some Clan ancestry, though he didn't know which Clan.
They had been friends for nearly six moons, and had reached maturity, when Tansy and Briar began to realize that their feelings for one another were not only of friendly rivalry. As a result of this, Tansy ended up giving birth to kits a few moons later: two little pale-calico she-cats, whom the new parents named Fleck and Flax.
Fleck and Flax were about three moons of age when the rumors started coming by about cats talking about the Clans. Cats trying to build up the Clans again. Bringing their daughters, the couple went to investigate the matter.
They entered the company of a group of cats led by one named Tree. The rest, as they say, is history, for they became part of TreeClan. Tansy earned the warrior name of Tansythorn (and had she ever earned it, given her nature), which reminded her of her mother in a bittersweet way--she wished that her mother could have joined the Clan too. Briar, meanwhile, was granted the name of Briarstorm. Fleck and Flax became Fleckpaw and Flaxpaw upon reaching six moons, and Tansythorn began looking at Briarstorm in a certain way soon after which suggested that they might end up with another litter...
SAMPLE
Note: This is set in the waaaaay-distant future, because that was the only thing I could think to write that would really show her personality. Obviously, this future will not necessarily happen here, but it's drawn from a history I wrote for a character on a previous site.
Tansythorn had heard the rumors. She couldn't have missed them, especially since the medicine cat had sat her down to tell her to her face what every cat was saying: that she was getting too old to keep having more kits.
Tansythorn had heard the rumors, all right. She just refused to believe them.
Across the camp, she saw the two kits from her most recent litter, apprentices now, sharing tongues. Hawkpaw was almost ready to be a warrior now. He was strong, and often brought back plenty of prey to feed the Clan, and Tansythorn had heard excellent reports of how well he did at fighting practice. But Tansythorn knew her kits well; she knew that Hawkpaw would likely stall for a little while longer.
Because of Thawpaw.
Right now, while the tabby-splotched white apprentice was engaged in the ritual she shared with her brother every evening, it was almost possible for Tansythorn to believe that her youngest daughter was just like any other apprentice. But of course, Thawpaw was eleven moons old, while the coordination she showed in the much-practiced motions of grooming her brother suggested that of a six-moon-old.
The rumors held that Thawpaw was like this because Tansythorn was so much older than any other queen. That having more kits would be a risk. No cat expected Thawpaw to live as long as most warriors; she was just too clumsy, too slow to understand, a cat at a disadvantage too great to survive. But she was so sweet, so good-hearted, and Hawkpaw was her devoted protector.
What would happen if Tansythorn had another kit? Would it be like Thawpaw? She doubted it; it just seemed so unlikely. Besides, Hawkpaw was the same age as his littermate, obviously, and he was perfectly normal. Aside from his devotion, but that was surely a good thing.
From the outside, no cat could see what Tansythorn was meditating on. She looked like any mother watching her kits. And then, suddenly coming to a conclusion, she rose stiffly to her paws--her old, well-used paws--and padded out towards the edge of the camp, where she expected that Briarstorm would be coming back from patrol any time now.
Let the Dark Forest take the rumors. Tansythorn was going to have a night with Briarstorm.
Tansythorn is a she-cat with pale yellow tabby fur, light yellow-amber eyes, and the cobby build ubiquitous among random-bred house and field cats of Europe and the United States--in short, she looks like a Clan cat. Her legs are sturdy and well-muscled, and her head round and wide. A certain number of scars mark her flanks and chest, mostly small ones from sparring with her mate, but there is a very long one across her left side from a deadly serious fight that was almost deadly to her, and a lopsided V-shape on the top of her head dating back to her escape from the Twoleg nest where she was imprisoned.
PERSONALITY
Proud, stubborn, and more than a little sharp-tongued, Tansythorn seems like the sort of she-cat about whom the common wisdom would quickly be, "she will never attract a mate." However, no cat in TreeClan has been able to say that about her, because she arrived together with her mate already in tow--and for that matter, they were attracted to one another because they were both given to an acid wit. She and her mate are close and deal well with each other, but Tansythorn can be very hard for other cats to live with sometimes if they do not have such a bond or insight. She is particularly loath to take advice in difficult situations, even if she herself would benefit.
Of course, Tansythorn would hardly be able to dispense acidic tongue-lashings at need if she were not intelligent. She is clever and quick-witted, able to think around a problem into a solution, and spending her adolescence and young adulthood as a loner allowed her to cultivate her natural aptitude for keeping her head in a crisis.
She keeps dreams and ideals in her heart, a love of honor and a bright spot of optimism that flourishes despite her seemingly dark, cynical sense of humor.
HISTORY
Tansy may have been born a kittypet, but that life never suited her. Part of that may have been the influence of her mother Rosethorn, who had been born a loner and only become a kittypet when she was trapped at twenty moons while pregnant with the only kit she ended up ever having. The Twolegs who had taken her captive insisted on calling her Demeter, which name Rosethorn refused to acknowledge. Her true name followed the same pattern as those of the cats in the stories she had heard and memorized as a kit, for Rosethorn was descended from the cats of ThunderClan. Her daughter Tansy, who was called Persephone by the Twolegs, learned all the stories of ThunderClan that Rosethorn knew, and learned likewise to hate the way of life that she had (against her mother's wishes) been born into.
When Tansy was four moons old, the Twolegs decided to separate her from her mother, and they never saw each other again. Tansy was taken away to a new place, one where she had never been before. Her chief complaint was that her mother was not there, but she had others: everything smelled funny, and there were dogs there. The dogs were harmless, but annoyed her. However, they were regularly allowed out of the nest, and after watching them for a period of time she considered that she might find a way to gain such a privilege too. From there, she could perhaps escape and try to live according to the way her mother had taught her about!
The Twolegs proved to want her to be an indoor cat, so Tansy set out to find another way to get free. Eventually, when she was about six moons old and starting to worry that she would suffer the indignities that were said to come to kittypets who were in a house after that age, there came a day when one of the ground-floor windows was left unlocked and slightly open while the Twolegs were in a different room. That was enough for Tansy. She tried to fit herself out through the window, only to find that there was a sharp edge to it that cut into the top of her head. In a panic, she pulled herself back inside, but even then she didn't want to give up yet. She pushed the window open just a little further, which was all she could manage with her small size, and managed to get out. Her head was cut again with the same protrusion, but she barely even cared; she was free!
Tansy immediately set out to put as much distance between herself and that place as possible, in the hopes that her captors would not be able to find her. She traveled out in a straight line for as far as she could before she found herself surrounded by bushes and growing hungry. Remembering her mother's attempts at lessons--the best that she could have managed, given that they had been trapped inside--she set out to catch some of the rodents that she could hear and smell all around.
She missed, the first time she tried to pounce, and was hailed by a derisive yowl of "That was pathetic!" Another kittypet might have quailed, but Tansy turned to face the new arrival and snarked back, "Do you catch everything you stalk, then?"
The other cat proved to be a light-brown tabby tom about two moons older than herself. He was a loner. His name was Briar. He was impressed by her courage in mouthing off to him when he would have expected her to be intimidated. He could hunt much better than she could, since he had been hunting for himself for a while already. Over the next several moons, he became her best friend. They wandered around together, looking for places to hunt. They never stopped trading insults. Tansy did discover, however, that Briar too had some Clan ancestry, though he didn't know which Clan.
They had been friends for nearly six moons, and had reached maturity, when Tansy and Briar began to realize that their feelings for one another were not only of friendly rivalry. As a result of this, Tansy ended up giving birth to kits a few moons later: two little pale-calico she-cats, whom the new parents named Fleck and Flax.
Fleck and Flax were about three moons of age when the rumors started coming by about cats talking about the Clans. Cats trying to build up the Clans again. Bringing their daughters, the couple went to investigate the matter.
They entered the company of a group of cats led by one named Tree. The rest, as they say, is history, for they became part of TreeClan. Tansy earned the warrior name of Tansythorn (and had she ever earned it, given her nature), which reminded her of her mother in a bittersweet way--she wished that her mother could have joined the Clan too. Briar, meanwhile, was granted the name of Briarstorm. Fleck and Flax became Fleckpaw and Flaxpaw upon reaching six moons, and Tansythorn began looking at Briarstorm in a certain way soon after which suggested that they might end up with another litter...
SAMPLE
Note: This is set in the waaaaay-distant future, because that was the only thing I could think to write that would really show her personality. Obviously, this future will not necessarily happen here, but it's drawn from a history I wrote for a character on a previous site.
Tansythorn had heard the rumors. She couldn't have missed them, especially since the medicine cat had sat her down to tell her to her face what every cat was saying: that she was getting too old to keep having more kits.
Tansythorn had heard the rumors, all right. She just refused to believe them.
Across the camp, she saw the two kits from her most recent litter, apprentices now, sharing tongues. Hawkpaw was almost ready to be a warrior now. He was strong, and often brought back plenty of prey to feed the Clan, and Tansythorn had heard excellent reports of how well he did at fighting practice. But Tansythorn knew her kits well; she knew that Hawkpaw would likely stall for a little while longer.
Because of Thawpaw.
Right now, while the tabby-splotched white apprentice was engaged in the ritual she shared with her brother every evening, it was almost possible for Tansythorn to believe that her youngest daughter was just like any other apprentice. But of course, Thawpaw was eleven moons old, while the coordination she showed in the much-practiced motions of grooming her brother suggested that of a six-moon-old.
The rumors held that Thawpaw was like this because Tansythorn was so much older than any other queen. That having more kits would be a risk. No cat expected Thawpaw to live as long as most warriors; she was just too clumsy, too slow to understand, a cat at a disadvantage too great to survive. But she was so sweet, so good-hearted, and Hawkpaw was her devoted protector.
What would happen if Tansythorn had another kit? Would it be like Thawpaw? She doubted it; it just seemed so unlikely. Besides, Hawkpaw was the same age as his littermate, obviously, and he was perfectly normal. Aside from his devotion, but that was surely a good thing.
From the outside, no cat could see what Tansythorn was meditating on. She looked like any mother watching her kits. And then, suddenly coming to a conclusion, she rose stiffly to her paws--her old, well-used paws--and padded out towards the edge of the camp, where she expected that Briarstorm would be coming back from patrol any time now.
Let the Dark Forest take the rumors. Tansythorn was going to have a night with Briarstorm.
koko
this template was made by dannimarie for darkened skies
stealing is not tolerated and will be reported.