Post by cayran on Nov 30, 2012 23:17:59 GMT -5
Name: Croah (pronounced “Crow” )
Gender: Male
Age: Kitten (12)
Tribe: Jellicle
Tribe Position: N/A
Family: None. He never knew his father, and doesn’t remember his mother. He is a orphan.
Appearance: Croah is just a boy. There is nothing “mature” about his features. It seems he’ll turn out to be a tall tom once he is grown, due to his skinny, lean figure. He’s lanky, and his feet and ears look to be out growing the rest of his body. Croah’s face is round, set with wide blue eyes, big smile, a curved “cherub” nose, and arched eyebrows. His most noticeable feature would be his head fur. He looks like a permanent bed head. His hair is wispy, and it flips in every which direction, giving him that over all lost boy/ Peter Pan look.
Having lived on the streets for the majority of his life, Croah has the scars to prove it. His most noticeable and prominent scar(s) are the ones that run from the top of his left shoulder, all the way down to the base of his back. There are three to be exact that run the length of his back.
Lastly, Croah wears a single red tipped feather in his head fur. It is tied to his hair with a red ribbon that he sometimes fashions as a head band. It all depends on his mood.
Full Body Ref: (one on right) ninoir.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d4rm2d8
Human Appearance:
Personality: Croah is a kitten, plain and simple. And as most know, any child or “kitten” is eaten away with curiosity and a thirst for adventure. Croah seems to have a healthy portion of both, and he has an ungodly amount of energy. To put it frankly, Croah is wild. Not ADHD “bounce all over the walls” wild, but he’s what I would consider a free spirit. He takes the phrase “I do what I want” to a whole new level. He’ll climb any tree, hang upside down from it’s limbs, attempt to tight rope walk across a power line, and will worry about the consequences later. The fact that he could get hurt attempting all that he does never crosses his mind, and Croah wouldn’t worry about such things anyway.
Croah is undoubtably sweet. He isn’t “mature” by any means, but he is very good with kittens younger than he, and provides hours of entertainment to those whom are his age and even a bit older. He’s just tender hearted, and won’t ever turn down a playmate. Whether it be due to the fact that he doesn’t have a family to call his own, Croah craves physical contact. If it is offered, he’ll take it. He wants to be hugged, touched, patted; hell, he’ll even happily take a poke if it means someone is paying him attention. Hugs are his favorite though. Big bear hugs that make him feel wanted. They bring a smile to his face, and if given the chance, Croah would make someone’s lap his permanent chair, or their chest a head rest. He’s fickle about queens though. He likes them yes, but he tends to be more comfortable around toms and will most likely seek out their affection over a queen. He craves a father figure more so than a mother, even if queens offer better cuddles.
Despite being a kitten with developing emotions, most of which he wears on his sleeves, Croah practically refuses to cry. Most kittens his age will cry at the drop of a hat, but not him. He’ll clinch his jaw, hold his breath, ball his fists - anything to fight off the tears. Why? He’s scared. He’s been on his own for so long, that crying to him is a form of weakness. Granted, he doesn’t consider anyone else weak for crying, just him. It’s like his own personal punishment and self conscious behavior. it is quite easy to tell though when Croah is upset. He’ll not talk. Talking makes his voice crack, and voice cracks lead to un even breathing, and eventually tears or sobbing. If he feels tears come on despite his efforts to hide them, Croah will bury his face in his hands, his lap, YOUR lap, anything to mask his eyes. If Croah does crack and he ends up crying, he’ll cry for hours on end, letting go of everything he’s kept built up for as long as he has.
Regardless, Croah will try to mask everything with a smile. He has a smile nearly for every emotion. A smile for when he’s content, a smile for when his sad, a smile to mask his fear, and a smile for when he’s perfectly happy. Croah smirks when he is being annoyingly cheeky, and when he’s about to do something that both him and you will most likely regret. Whatever the smile or smirk may be, Croah will most likely have one plastered to his face.
To sum him up. Croah is a child. He is far from mature, but he’ll learn from his mistakes. He’s got quite a while to go before he reaches adulthood, and hopefully life will be kind to him in the process.
Describing word: Nomad.
History: Croah doesn’t know much about his past - where he came from, nor whom. All he remembers is the faint feeling of being “cold,” and a female’s face looking down at him. That’s it. The rest is a colorful blur.
Unbeknownst to Croah, his birth name was Paris. The name “Crow” developed over the years, and was given to him as a nick name due to his laugh. That being the only name he was ever called, he claimed it. His father had been your basic alley cat - a rounder with no true purpose nor a single care in the world. Croah’s mother had been a one night stand for him, and rather than trying to dispose over her bastard son, she happily gave birth to him and loved him till the day she died. His mother grew sick during the winter months, and she eventually went blind. In her delirious state, his mother was captured by the local pound, and euthanized within 24 hours. Croah managed to survive without his mother’s care thanks to a few gracious and kind hearted street rats like himself, and once Croah was able to fend for himself, he became quite the loner. He was lucky, extremely so. He managed to dodge trouble for the most part, and remain healthy.
Until he turned 8, Croah managed to remain “unscathed” save for a few minor bumps and bruises. He had made the mistake of trying to sneak food from a napping alley cat; one that wasn’t nearly as friendly as those who snuck him food when he was a toddler. No one had told him to never take food from a stranger (food not offered that is), and he received a brute punishment from never learning that valuable lesson. The alley cat clawed him all the way across the top of his neck and shoulders, all the way down his back, giving him the noticeable scars he has today. It was the first time he had really cried, and cried hard. He cleaned his wounds with snow, and laid low for a number of days, dealing with the injury on his own. He pushed past it though. The cuts healed within a number of weeks, and the scars he adjusted to.
It was recent that Croah discovered the jellicles. He happened upon their yard during one of his many escapades, and he continuously returns, watching them in passing. He has spoken to a few, but he hasn’t quite yet found his place amongst them. Old Deuteronomy has made it abundantly clear to the kitten that he was more than welcome to make the yard his home, he considers it more of a “base.” He comes and goes on a regular basis - sometimes leaving for days on end. He’ll linger for a few days, mess around, and be gone again for a few more. Croah will most likely never “settle,” but at least he has somewhere to go if need be.
RP Sample: A bored kitten was a dangerous thing. Boredom meant thirsting for the slightest bit of entertainment, and although Croah seemed relatively calm and mellow, ideas darted through his head like bullets. He couldn’t pick one.
Rolling onto his stomach, the tiny tom picked at the grass below him, cupping his chin with his free hand. The morning wind flicked his feather against his ear, causing his ear to twitch and him to giggle. Swatting at his feather, Croah flipped over and hopped to his feet, eyes narrowly watching leaves rustle by him in the autumn breeze. He watched them intently.
Croah’s body stiffened as the wind died down, and he focused on one particular leaf, ready to pounce as soon as the wind came back around to play. Sure enough, the front whipped back around, and off he went, laughing and bounding after the leaf as if it was a precious gift being swept away. As simple and idiotic as Croah’s little game was, it would keep him entertained for a few minutes at best.
Comments: I’d love for Croah to have a “guardian” or mentor of sorts if anyone is interested in having their character take Croah under their wing. Males preferably, but I am open to about anything! Shoot me a note.
Gender: Male
Age: Kitten (12)
Tribe: Jellicle
Tribe Position: N/A
Family: None. He never knew his father, and doesn’t remember his mother. He is a orphan.
Appearance: Croah is just a boy. There is nothing “mature” about his features. It seems he’ll turn out to be a tall tom once he is grown, due to his skinny, lean figure. He’s lanky, and his feet and ears look to be out growing the rest of his body. Croah’s face is round, set with wide blue eyes, big smile, a curved “cherub” nose, and arched eyebrows. His most noticeable feature would be his head fur. He looks like a permanent bed head. His hair is wispy, and it flips in every which direction, giving him that over all lost boy/ Peter Pan look.
Having lived on the streets for the majority of his life, Croah has the scars to prove it. His most noticeable and prominent scar(s) are the ones that run from the top of his left shoulder, all the way down to the base of his back. There are three to be exact that run the length of his back.
Lastly, Croah wears a single red tipped feather in his head fur. It is tied to his hair with a red ribbon that he sometimes fashions as a head band. It all depends on his mood.
Full Body Ref: (one on right) ninoir.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d4rm2d8
Human Appearance:
Personality: Croah is a kitten, plain and simple. And as most know, any child or “kitten” is eaten away with curiosity and a thirst for adventure. Croah seems to have a healthy portion of both, and he has an ungodly amount of energy. To put it frankly, Croah is wild. Not ADHD “bounce all over the walls” wild, but he’s what I would consider a free spirit. He takes the phrase “I do what I want” to a whole new level. He’ll climb any tree, hang upside down from it’s limbs, attempt to tight rope walk across a power line, and will worry about the consequences later. The fact that he could get hurt attempting all that he does never crosses his mind, and Croah wouldn’t worry about such things anyway.
Croah is undoubtably sweet. He isn’t “mature” by any means, but he is very good with kittens younger than he, and provides hours of entertainment to those whom are his age and even a bit older. He’s just tender hearted, and won’t ever turn down a playmate. Whether it be due to the fact that he doesn’t have a family to call his own, Croah craves physical contact. If it is offered, he’ll take it. He wants to be hugged, touched, patted; hell, he’ll even happily take a poke if it means someone is paying him attention. Hugs are his favorite though. Big bear hugs that make him feel wanted. They bring a smile to his face, and if given the chance, Croah would make someone’s lap his permanent chair, or their chest a head rest. He’s fickle about queens though. He likes them yes, but he tends to be more comfortable around toms and will most likely seek out their affection over a queen. He craves a father figure more so than a mother, even if queens offer better cuddles.
Despite being a kitten with developing emotions, most of which he wears on his sleeves, Croah practically refuses to cry. Most kittens his age will cry at the drop of a hat, but not him. He’ll clinch his jaw, hold his breath, ball his fists - anything to fight off the tears. Why? He’s scared. He’s been on his own for so long, that crying to him is a form of weakness. Granted, he doesn’t consider anyone else weak for crying, just him. It’s like his own personal punishment and self conscious behavior. it is quite easy to tell though when Croah is upset. He’ll not talk. Talking makes his voice crack, and voice cracks lead to un even breathing, and eventually tears or sobbing. If he feels tears come on despite his efforts to hide them, Croah will bury his face in his hands, his lap, YOUR lap, anything to mask his eyes. If Croah does crack and he ends up crying, he’ll cry for hours on end, letting go of everything he’s kept built up for as long as he has.
Regardless, Croah will try to mask everything with a smile. He has a smile nearly for every emotion. A smile for when he’s content, a smile for when his sad, a smile to mask his fear, and a smile for when he’s perfectly happy. Croah smirks when he is being annoyingly cheeky, and when he’s about to do something that both him and you will most likely regret. Whatever the smile or smirk may be, Croah will most likely have one plastered to his face.
To sum him up. Croah is a child. He is far from mature, but he’ll learn from his mistakes. He’s got quite a while to go before he reaches adulthood, and hopefully life will be kind to him in the process.
Describing word: Nomad.
History: Croah doesn’t know much about his past - where he came from, nor whom. All he remembers is the faint feeling of being “cold,” and a female’s face looking down at him. That’s it. The rest is a colorful blur.
Unbeknownst to Croah, his birth name was Paris. The name “Crow” developed over the years, and was given to him as a nick name due to his laugh. That being the only name he was ever called, he claimed it. His father had been your basic alley cat - a rounder with no true purpose nor a single care in the world. Croah’s mother had been a one night stand for him, and rather than trying to dispose over her bastard son, she happily gave birth to him and loved him till the day she died. His mother grew sick during the winter months, and she eventually went blind. In her delirious state, his mother was captured by the local pound, and euthanized within 24 hours. Croah managed to survive without his mother’s care thanks to a few gracious and kind hearted street rats like himself, and once Croah was able to fend for himself, he became quite the loner. He was lucky, extremely so. He managed to dodge trouble for the most part, and remain healthy.
Until he turned 8, Croah managed to remain “unscathed” save for a few minor bumps and bruises. He had made the mistake of trying to sneak food from a napping alley cat; one that wasn’t nearly as friendly as those who snuck him food when he was a toddler. No one had told him to never take food from a stranger (food not offered that is), and he received a brute punishment from never learning that valuable lesson. The alley cat clawed him all the way across the top of his neck and shoulders, all the way down his back, giving him the noticeable scars he has today. It was the first time he had really cried, and cried hard. He cleaned his wounds with snow, and laid low for a number of days, dealing with the injury on his own. He pushed past it though. The cuts healed within a number of weeks, and the scars he adjusted to.
It was recent that Croah discovered the jellicles. He happened upon their yard during one of his many escapades, and he continuously returns, watching them in passing. He has spoken to a few, but he hasn’t quite yet found his place amongst them. Old Deuteronomy has made it abundantly clear to the kitten that he was more than welcome to make the yard his home, he considers it more of a “base.” He comes and goes on a regular basis - sometimes leaving for days on end. He’ll linger for a few days, mess around, and be gone again for a few more. Croah will most likely never “settle,” but at least he has somewhere to go if need be.
RP Sample: A bored kitten was a dangerous thing. Boredom meant thirsting for the slightest bit of entertainment, and although Croah seemed relatively calm and mellow, ideas darted through his head like bullets. He couldn’t pick one.
Rolling onto his stomach, the tiny tom picked at the grass below him, cupping his chin with his free hand. The morning wind flicked his feather against his ear, causing his ear to twitch and him to giggle. Swatting at his feather, Croah flipped over and hopped to his feet, eyes narrowly watching leaves rustle by him in the autumn breeze. He watched them intently.
Croah’s body stiffened as the wind died down, and he focused on one particular leaf, ready to pounce as soon as the wind came back around to play. Sure enough, the front whipped back around, and off he went, laughing and bounding after the leaf as if it was a precious gift being swept away. As simple and idiotic as Croah’s little game was, it would keep him entertained for a few minutes at best.
Comments: I’d love for Croah to have a “guardian” or mentor of sorts if anyone is interested in having their character take Croah under their wing. Males preferably, but I am open to about anything! Shoot me a note.
