Snowfall--LightClan

[™SMOULDR.!]

Name: Snowfall
Moons: 20
Gender: She-Cat
Clan: LightClan
Rank: Warrior [Troops]
Short-Description:

Gorgeous white she-cat with astounding cyan eyes; blind.

Picture:

None.

Description:

I am a pure white she-cat. My eyes? The most gorgeous and outstanding blue you'll ever see. Some compare them to Stormpool's exsquisite and breathtaking jewls. I am long-legged, very tall and skinny. My tail is slim at the base, and fans out like a wolf tail, though it's very long; it drags the ground. I have hair that is soft and sparkles in the light, medium in length. I have perfect round ears, that come to a tip at the top. My nose is a wonderful shade of pink, whiskers a gray barely visable from my pelt. My claws are perfectly sharp, and are pearl white like my teeth, which I have extra of. My eyes are almound-shaped and gorgeous, the image of a goddess.

But I'm blind.

Personality:

I'm nice. Sure, you can call it that. But I'm also very wise. I know more than any elder could possibly fathom. I can speak to any sort of animal; except two-legs. But I know how to get what I want from them. My knowledge expends even that of StarClan almost; yes, I seem like a perfect cat. But still, I'm blind. I can fight, and I'm better than a lot of warriors. I can take on many at a time and come out with only bruises, but I don't flaunt it. I hate being blind. I've accepted it as a part of me, but still it hurts, and kills me to know I'll never see a sunset again, or a handsom tom, maybe even my true love. I'll never know the beauty of the world again, but so? I'm intellegent. I can speak to badgers, foxes, racoons, birds, mice, dogs even. But only because I have nothing else to do. I've heard all the stories from the elders, I know the tales. Big deal. I'm very sarcastic, and mean in general. Because I'm blind doesn't mean I'm a perfect angel who'll sit back and make idle chat with you.

I'm not happy...

History:

I wasn't blind from birth. I remember sight, and how gorgeous it was. I even remember how it happened.

Wren loved the sea. That's what our mother called him. Wren... and my other sister. Her name I can't remember. She called me Snow. My mother called me Snow. Naming us before a special ceremony was illegal though... the rouge band didn't want mothers to get attached.

And the ceremony. I was called Asterein. It was an unusual name; my mother still called me Snow. I loved that name. I was her Snow.
Hers.

That rose bush. Its scent is burned into my mind so clearly. It was fate that lead us to be born there, I think. My mother always said my eyes were the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, after they had changed color as we grew up. My father had citrine eyes, full of knowldge and pride. I idolized him, loved him. But we were different, me and Wren. Our eyes were magnificent blue.

He always wondered why, our father did. Eventually... he smelled him. That scent, too, scars my mind like sinister wings. My father hunted him down to a meadow patch. A tabby with blue eyes mirroring Wren and mine. My father murdered him.

Words etched into my mind, memories that shriek in my nightmares. "I thought I could trust you. I thought I was the only one. I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME." The blood spattering about the lifeless body. He went for my sister.

Pain attacked me like a rabid adder, blood staining my fur. I couldn't see; I didn't know I would never see again. Wren attacked him, throwing himself valiantly upon the one I thought to be my father's back. He screamed at me to run, and so blindly I did. I heard him follow soon after. Sometimes its better to have never been born.

I wish I had never been born.

Role Playing Example:

I got up and walked to him, my eyes bearing down on him. I wasn't angry; tears were pouring down my cheeks, I could feel it. I knew it. I dropped like a sac to the ground next to him, pressing myself against him. I put my puzzle on his paws, my tears and his mingling as they fell to the ground. "That's horrible... it's awful...." I waited for long moments, just sitting there and begging him not to shove me away, and call me a freak. Everyone else did. "Even my mother called me a freak. I was the worse thing to happen to her; a deformed outkast kit. She told me daily she hated me when no one was around, just glaring at me, insulting me..." I coughed, and choked on my own breathe. When I was able to breathe again, I sighed, "I'm sorry I called you anti-social... you have every right." I would hate to live with that pain; I don't think I could stand it. I probably would have given up.

Other:

For the Larkspur plot.

[Sunrise.]

Accepted!