Flowingbrook

[sky]

[glow=blue,2,300]Name:[/glow]
Flowingbrook

[glow=blue,2,300]Age:[/glow]
20 Moons

[glow=blue,2,300]Gender:[/glow]
She-Cat

[glow=blue,2,300]Clan:[/glow]
Brookclan

[glow=blue,2,300]Desired Position:[/glow]
Warrior

[glow=blue,2,300]Personality:[/glow]
Flowingbrook is probably the most sensible cat living. She doesn't hold with any nonsense from anycat, regardless of age or rank. She always thinks before she speaks, and sometimes decides after consideration that nothing really need be said. Other times, though, she will decide that some cat needs a taking-down. Then she will attack them verbally, coming out with the most caustic speeches imaginable. Mostly she tries to monitor her sarcasm, but some days that little tendency gets the better of her. Still, other than her scorching tirades every once in awhile, she is slow to anger. When she does, she doesn't do it like other cats, either. First she will try to defend the cat in question (in her head, of course), trying to excuse their behavior. If they prove themselves beyond redemption in her eyes, she still endeavors to keep her outrage inside. There it simmers, hidden, until the cat in question addresses her. Then it springs into action, emerging as a stony frigidity towards them. This has only happened a couple of times in her entire life; again, she is slow to anger. Either that, or Flowingbrook manages to justify them in her head. That's happened.

You could say Flowingbrook is a perfectionist, a chronic worrier... the list goes on. This cat obsesses over the things she does wrong, or that she could do wrong. Not other cats' mistakes, just her own. This is sort of backwards, seeing as she is incredibly cautious in her speech and deeds. Even so, she doesn't see it that way. All she can ever see is her own failings and weaknesses. For everything that goes wrong, she finds that somehow she is to blame. This particular fault doesn't come without its gifts - it has made her a lot more willing to help out in an emergency than she might have been otherwise - but it has also given her more than her fair share of sleepless nights and worry headaches.

[glow=blue,2,300]Physical Description:[/glow]
The closest thing Flowingbrook could be compared to is a stream, or perhaps the brook she was named for. First of all, she is thin and fluid, moving with the essence of the liquid grace that is the hallmark of her species. Her pelt ranges through all the hues of gray in the world, rippling from steely silver to ashen to thunderhead and back to silver. A few premature white hairs grace her scarred muzzle. Since she is not the sort of cat to make grooming a priority, sometimes small tufts of her fur stick out, exposing strangely white undersides. But the tufts are rare; Flowingbrook's fur is lank and shiny, making her look eternally drenched. There are a few scars on her body, small dented or raised lines in her fur. They look a little strange on such a smooth pelt, but they aren't really large enough to be remarkable or seen from far away. Flowingbrook's limbs and tail are just a little longer than most; not enough to make you think she was unusual, it's just perhaps a centimeter or two at a stretch.
From this description, you'd probably expect Flowingbrook's eyes to be silver or maybe green. They are none of those. Instead, they are enormous orbs of gentle sky-blue. There is even a tinge of brown in them around the pupil. When contrasted with her blindingly white teeth and bright pink tongue, those optics are even more surprising.

[glow=blue,2,300]Picture:[/glow]


[glow=blue,2,300]History:[/glow]
Unhappy is not the key word in Flowingbrook's history. In fact, she has known little of it but the worries she inflicts upon herself. Her mother, Swiftriver, was a loving and joyous cat. She didn't die until Flowingbrook was well into adulthood, and then she died rather painlessly in her sleep. The only thing Swiftriver ever did that might have changed Flowingbrook was not tell her who her father was. That has caused some questions in Flowingbrook's mind over the moons, but it isn't really a big issue for her. Many cats have no clue who their father was. There are no betrayals in Flowingbrook's history, no devastating losses or dramatic episodes. The only thing really worth mentioning is that she has always been just a little bit lonely. Her personality isn't the kind of bubbly, cheerful demeanor others are attracted to. As well, there really weren't any other cats in her generation to have grown up with. She was the only apprentice going for most of her apprenticeship. There were two others, who came in just as she was being made a warrior. One other was made a warrior the same day as her apprentice ceremony. She decided that StarClan had somehow ordained that she was to be alone, and never really made an effort to connect with the older or younger cats as an apprentice. She was shy then, and more than a little frightened to make the first move. By the time she wised up enough to know that sometimes you have to try first, it was a little late. The other cats already had best friends and cliques and such. She made friends with some cats, but, to this day, most cats don't count her as anything more than a friend. So she decided to dedicate herself to the Clan. Well, you can see how that turned out.

[glow=blue,2,300]IC:[/glow]
She knew she probably shouldn't - she was on hunting duty, after all - but the smooth water looked so inviting! The sun beat down from its place high in the brook heavens, its rays merciless in their heat. And the river, she knew from experience, was cool. The bead of sweat that dropped down her forehead to sting her eye made the decision. Flowingbrook slipped into the water, smooth as a snake. Her limbs moved without pause as she maneuvered herself into the deepest part of the river. Once there, she treaded water, sometimes dipping her head beneath the surface whenever it felt like it was getting the least bit dry. For what felt like ages she swam in the river, sometimes treading water, sometimes touching her paws to its pebbly bottom, and sometimes heading up it against the current to try her strength. One time she splashed a paw down on the water's surface, sending a spray of drops up into the sky. Watching one, she saw rainbows and even stars in its minute depths before it plunged back into the greater mass of its origin. Then she remembered that she was on hunting duty. Reluctantly she crawled back up on the bank, but refused to shake off. The sun would dry her off more quickly than she would like, she knew. That invisible skin over the water had just barely resettled than she saw a glint of sun on scales beneath it. One capable paw flashed, and the fish was flopping on the beach before her. A single blow to its head killed it. Another glimmer of silver came past, and another. She'd gotten lucky - a school of them was swimming through. One after another she flipped them out and killed them. A cooling swim, a successful hunting duty - a perfect day.

[glow=blue,2,300]Code:[/glow]
Whisper

[glow=blue,2,300]Other:[/glow]
None

[±∞STREAMY∞±]

'cepted.

BTW, Leafpaw can be Silkstar's apprentice. If she isn't taken. Once I make Silkstar =)

[sky]

Sure!

[±∞STREAMY∞±]

Yay! lol