Post by Binx on Nov 13, 2016 16:06:17 GMT
Honeypaw
clan and rank
ThunderClan Medicine Cat Apprentice
age
7 moons
gender / pronouns
female she/her
sexual / romantic orientation
heterosexual
image credits
short appearance description
a ginger she-cat with green eyes.
personality
Honeypaw is a vain creature. Not a whisker nor strand of fur out of place, if you please. Appearance is important to her, and not just her own. If she can get away with it, she'll try and harass others into giving themselves a quick grooming or threaten to do it herself. To see her Clan-mates looking as if they've just tumbled from their nests drives her absolutely crazy. Critical eyes are laid on every cat, and snide thoughts are thought regardless if others care or not. Honeypaw judges fairly harshly on appearance and won't enjoy those that don't take some care of their pelts. She has a great deal of pity for those with long, fluffy fur. After all, as a relatively short-furred cat, she has less to untangle and keep clean. This critical nature of hers doesn't just stay with physical appearance.
This she-cat isn't easily appeased by small gestures or baby-steps. Well, not truly, in her own mind. She'll take them as peace-offerings or perhaps even stepping stones to things she'd prefer happen or things to be given. If Honeypaw sees something, chances are she'll have at least one opinion waiting in her, one in her mouth and one in her mind. One is pointedly less cruel than the other. This lack of easy appeasement and her critical nature leads to a she-cat who tends to always want. Satisfaction seems to be always far from her grasp, and she feels as if she's chased it to all boundaries. Honeypaw tends to, surprisingly, keep the ruder thoughts in her head and away from others unless she knows she's in like-minded company. However, if a back-handed compliment slips from her from time to time, well it happens.
Despite the uglier parts of her personality she is, by nature, an approachable cat. She's easy to talk to, with an open air about her. Honeypaw seems to have an ear for anyone and everyone who wants to talk, and though she might judge you privately, she's not going to gossip about them to whoever stops by. She holds a deep, intense loyalty to her Clan-mates, and her Clan in general. This unyielding, unwavering loyalty, cannot and will not be shaken. She believes her Clan is a step just below StarClan. For them, she will do anything and everything she feels she must. Even if just that, may not be the easiest path to walk. Honeypaw has a hard time tolerating those who put others before the Clan, and a worse time letting them get away with it. She knows she has the leader's ear, and she has no problem in whispering when she feels the need for it. With her tendency to hold the Clan above all, asking for help from other Clans is incredibly difficult for her to do.
With such loyalty to ThunderClan, it is perhaps unsurprising to realize that she has little sympathy for other Clans. Oh, being friendly and talkative with other medicine cats is just dandy, if not expected. A good front is a thing one must strive to always maintain. However, her friendliness towards them only extends so far. She has little sympathy for wounded warriors of other Clans, and if they need her aid, she's willing to provide basic aide. It'd be a fight to get her to let them near the medicine den. Likewise, she's willing to provide her ways of dealing with certain injuries and illnesses with other medicine cats, but the locations of them are private. Worse yet, another Clan that might be going through a problem with illness or injury, will find less aid than they imagine with Honeypaw. She won't deny them completely the herds they need, but most certainly she's not going to turn over all they can possibly spare. Her sympathy only extends so far.
While her tendency to quietly give what she thinks acceptable to other Clans may not be surprising, other things may be. In time of duress, in times of extreme illness and shortage, she believes in saving those that can be saved. Honeypaw isn't going to pour resources into a cat who is just going to die a few suns from now. She'll comfort them, sit with them, and let them pass in peace. However, wasting resources better used on those who will survive is more important to her than the weak. Unlike some would say, she's not hypocritical. Should something happen to her where her use vanishes and she's nothing more than a hindrance to the Clan, she'd prefer not to burden them. She comforts herself by thinking others would understand.
This she-cat isn't easily appeased by small gestures or baby-steps. Well, not truly, in her own mind. She'll take them as peace-offerings or perhaps even stepping stones to things she'd prefer happen or things to be given. If Honeypaw sees something, chances are she'll have at least one opinion waiting in her, one in her mouth and one in her mind. One is pointedly less cruel than the other. This lack of easy appeasement and her critical nature leads to a she-cat who tends to always want. Satisfaction seems to be always far from her grasp, and she feels as if she's chased it to all boundaries. Honeypaw tends to, surprisingly, keep the ruder thoughts in her head and away from others unless she knows she's in like-minded company. However, if a back-handed compliment slips from her from time to time, well it happens.
Despite the uglier parts of her personality she is, by nature, an approachable cat. She's easy to talk to, with an open air about her. Honeypaw seems to have an ear for anyone and everyone who wants to talk, and though she might judge you privately, she's not going to gossip about them to whoever stops by. She holds a deep, intense loyalty to her Clan-mates, and her Clan in general. This unyielding, unwavering loyalty, cannot and will not be shaken. She believes her Clan is a step just below StarClan. For them, she will do anything and everything she feels she must. Even if just that, may not be the easiest path to walk. Honeypaw has a hard time tolerating those who put others before the Clan, and a worse time letting them get away with it. She knows she has the leader's ear, and she has no problem in whispering when she feels the need for it. With her tendency to hold the Clan above all, asking for help from other Clans is incredibly difficult for her to do.
With such loyalty to ThunderClan, it is perhaps unsurprising to realize that she has little sympathy for other Clans. Oh, being friendly and talkative with other medicine cats is just dandy, if not expected. A good front is a thing one must strive to always maintain. However, her friendliness towards them only extends so far. She has little sympathy for wounded warriors of other Clans, and if they need her aid, she's willing to provide basic aide. It'd be a fight to get her to let them near the medicine den. Likewise, she's willing to provide her ways of dealing with certain injuries and illnesses with other medicine cats, but the locations of them are private. Worse yet, another Clan that might be going through a problem with illness or injury, will find less aid than they imagine with Honeypaw. She won't deny them completely the herds they need, but most certainly she's not going to turn over all they can possibly spare. Her sympathy only extends so far.
While her tendency to quietly give what she thinks acceptable to other Clans may not be surprising, other things may be. In time of duress, in times of extreme illness and shortage, she believes in saving those that can be saved. Honeypaw isn't going to pour resources into a cat who is just going to die a few suns from now. She'll comfort them, sit with them, and let them pass in peace. However, wasting resources better used on those who will survive is more important to her than the weak. Unlike some would say, she's not hypocritical. Should something happen to her where her use vanishes and she's nothing more than a hindrance to the Clan, she'd prefer not to burden them. She comforts herself by thinking others would understand.
history
Rowanfur and Spottedfur were quite the pair. As a couple of ordinary warriors, they weren't special or outstanding. They were merely cute together, loving and patient with one another. What surprised some cats, was that Spottedfur was ten moons older than her beloved mate. Oh, when Rowanfur had first insisted he loved her, it was as a joke. The second time,
was after she had saved his sorry pelt from falling out of a tree with a dead limb. The third time he told her he loved her, they had been hunting together and this time, when he told her, the softness of his tone made her stop and stare rather than scoff and laugh it off. That was the beginning of the end of their single lives.
A few moons later, and Spottedfur was growing round with kits. When the kits came to be born. The queen give birth to three kits, a tom and two fine she-cats. The pale ginger tom they named Duskit. Their tortoiseshell daughter was Emberkit. Their third, dark ginger she-cat daughter, Honeykit. Like most parents, they were obnoxiously cheerful, waving over any passing warrior, apprentice, or elder to take a look at their little balls of fur that could do little other than squeak and wiggle around. Most of the Clan took it in stride, not concernedwhen new life was the result.
Kit-hood
Honeykit, Emberkit, and Dustkit had a relatively normal time as kits. They played all the normal games one would expect of them. Their father came by to shower them with affection, and their mother loved them dearly as could be expected, which was just this side of smothering. Emberkit and Honeykit seemed to always drag Dustkit into games and situations that he complained about, and when there were heaps of kits, he was at the bottom. It was odd, considering he was the largest kit of the three of them. Their mother correctly assumed that it was simply his affection for his sisters that he let them do what they wanted. Dustkit began to show the signs of being a gentle sort, even at that young age.
All three of them dreamed of becoming the greatest warrior the Clan had ever seen. They dreamed of being leaders and deputies. When younger kits were born, the trio would pretend they were their mentors and show them all the tricks and tips about living in the camp. The queens would watch them with amusement, before unfailingly calling the roving group back to the nursery and out from under everyone else's paws.
One fine day though, the other half of being a warrior came crashing back into camp. Rowanfur, with a deep, bloody bite between his shoulder-blades and slowly bleeding scratches returned to camp one day. Before Spottedfur could round them up, all three kits had raced towards their father and the medicine cat den. Stormfrost was tending to him, mushing up the herbs and leaves, pressing cobwebs on the wounds.
It was horrifying to the young kits, and they offered no protest when Spottedfur swept them back to the nursery, gathering them close and covering them with licks as she purred soothingly at them. It was Emberkit who asked if Rowanfur was going to die. Honeypaw had wailed that she didn't want him to die, and Dustkit stared in horror up at their mother at the sheer idea of death. Spottedfur tried to calm the trio, and the other queens offered their own comforts to the kits. They finally slept through the night, if painfully fitfully. The next morning, a stiff, rough looking Rowanfur woke them with some kind amusement. It was a challenge for the parents to keep the kits from climbing all over him in their joy.
Rowanfur refused to tell them the story of the patrol he'd been in that a disagreement had gotten out of hand. He told them how he had fought with honor and skill to protect them and the Clan. To say the kits were in awe of their father would be an understatement. In a way, they couldn't wait any longer to become apprentices. Spottedfur and Rowanfur began to realize a parent's worry over their young growing up, and what it might mean. The closer the trio grew to becoming apprentices, the more it seemed their parents wished to treat them as small, defenseless things again.
Apprentice
There are a few sure signs that one is going to be apprenticed that day. Being woken by not only your mother, but the entire nursery in a form of smiles and purrs, glinting eyes. Then, most likely your mother and father will each grab a kit and give them a firm grooming, slicking back any stray tuft of fur. The kits will then get firm orders not to mess their fur up or get dirty or roll around playing. For Dustkit, Honeykit, and Emberkit, this was precisely what happened. As Dustkit was released from his mother's clutches, he sulked about with his sisters who watched two smaller kits playing with a moss-ball just outside the nursery.
Just pas sun-high, Rowanstar called for a Clan meeting and the three were ushered to join the rest of their Clan-mates. Dustkit was called first, and apprenticed to a gray and white tom by the name of Smokespot. Emberkit was called second, given to a lovely tabby she-cat named Mousenose. Honeykit fought to keep her ears from flattening in nervousness as eyes slowly came to rest on her. Her fur fluffed up, tail swishing across the ground until her mother quietly put a paw on the tip to keep it still. A few chuckles and mrrow's of laughter had permeated the meeting. Then Rowanstar had flicked her tail, motioning a cat forward. The large gray form of the medicine cat had moved forward. Honeypaw, to say the least, had been surprised.
The first moon as an apprentice to Stormfrost was a rough one. She felt more tangled up with the idea of what she had to learn, rathern than what she was actually learning. Mistakes one would expect of those new to learning were made more than once. Honeypaw would find herself watching her brother and sister a little enviously. They didn't have to learn all the names and uses of herbs in the den. They didn't have to have the Clan riding on their shoulders. At the moment, neither did she, but always fond of dramatics, it felt that way. Honypaw's first meeting with StarClan was typical. The ceremony of a new apprentice accepting the responsibility laid at her paws. Seeing the Clan's ancestors for herself. When she woke, there was more certainty to her steps. That first meeting hadn't answered any questions for her, but it did untangle her doubts from her fears, letting her see them for what they were.
Honeypaw is still new to the position. Her doubts and worries still get to her at times, but with time, they'll fade as she learns how to chase them off herself. The longer she spends learning at Stormfrost's side, the more her confidence grows.
was after she had saved his sorry pelt from falling out of a tree with a dead limb. The third time he told her he loved her, they had been hunting together and this time, when he told her, the softness of his tone made her stop and stare rather than scoff and laugh it off. That was the beginning of the end of their single lives.
A few moons later, and Spottedfur was growing round with kits. When the kits came to be born. The queen give birth to three kits, a tom and two fine she-cats. The pale ginger tom they named Duskit. Their tortoiseshell daughter was Emberkit. Their third, dark ginger she-cat daughter, Honeykit. Like most parents, they were obnoxiously cheerful, waving over any passing warrior, apprentice, or elder to take a look at their little balls of fur that could do little other than squeak and wiggle around. Most of the Clan took it in stride, not concernedwhen new life was the result.
Kit-hood
Honeykit, Emberkit, and Dustkit had a relatively normal time as kits. They played all the normal games one would expect of them. Their father came by to shower them with affection, and their mother loved them dearly as could be expected, which was just this side of smothering. Emberkit and Honeykit seemed to always drag Dustkit into games and situations that he complained about, and when there were heaps of kits, he was at the bottom. It was odd, considering he was the largest kit of the three of them. Their mother correctly assumed that it was simply his affection for his sisters that he let them do what they wanted. Dustkit began to show the signs of being a gentle sort, even at that young age.
All three of them dreamed of becoming the greatest warrior the Clan had ever seen. They dreamed of being leaders and deputies. When younger kits were born, the trio would pretend they were their mentors and show them all the tricks and tips about living in the camp. The queens would watch them with amusement, before unfailingly calling the roving group back to the nursery and out from under everyone else's paws.
One fine day though, the other half of being a warrior came crashing back into camp. Rowanfur, with a deep, bloody bite between his shoulder-blades and slowly bleeding scratches returned to camp one day. Before Spottedfur could round them up, all three kits had raced towards their father and the medicine cat den. Stormfrost was tending to him, mushing up the herbs and leaves, pressing cobwebs on the wounds.
It was horrifying to the young kits, and they offered no protest when Spottedfur swept them back to the nursery, gathering them close and covering them with licks as she purred soothingly at them. It was Emberkit who asked if Rowanfur was going to die. Honeypaw had wailed that she didn't want him to die, and Dustkit stared in horror up at their mother at the sheer idea of death. Spottedfur tried to calm the trio, and the other queens offered their own comforts to the kits. They finally slept through the night, if painfully fitfully. The next morning, a stiff, rough looking Rowanfur woke them with some kind amusement. It was a challenge for the parents to keep the kits from climbing all over him in their joy.
Rowanfur refused to tell them the story of the patrol he'd been in that a disagreement had gotten out of hand. He told them how he had fought with honor and skill to protect them and the Clan. To say the kits were in awe of their father would be an understatement. In a way, they couldn't wait any longer to become apprentices. Spottedfur and Rowanfur began to realize a parent's worry over their young growing up, and what it might mean. The closer the trio grew to becoming apprentices, the more it seemed their parents wished to treat them as small, defenseless things again.
Apprentice
There are a few sure signs that one is going to be apprenticed that day. Being woken by not only your mother, but the entire nursery in a form of smiles and purrs, glinting eyes. Then, most likely your mother and father will each grab a kit and give them a firm grooming, slicking back any stray tuft of fur. The kits will then get firm orders not to mess their fur up or get dirty or roll around playing. For Dustkit, Honeykit, and Emberkit, this was precisely what happened. As Dustkit was released from his mother's clutches, he sulked about with his sisters who watched two smaller kits playing with a moss-ball just outside the nursery.
Just pas sun-high, Rowanstar called for a Clan meeting and the three were ushered to join the rest of their Clan-mates. Dustkit was called first, and apprenticed to a gray and white tom by the name of Smokespot. Emberkit was called second, given to a lovely tabby she-cat named Mousenose. Honeykit fought to keep her ears from flattening in nervousness as eyes slowly came to rest on her. Her fur fluffed up, tail swishing across the ground until her mother quietly put a paw on the tip to keep it still. A few chuckles and mrrow's of laughter had permeated the meeting. Then Rowanstar had flicked her tail, motioning a cat forward. The large gray form of the medicine cat had moved forward. Honeypaw, to say the least, had been surprised.
The first moon as an apprentice to Stormfrost was a rough one. She felt more tangled up with the idea of what she had to learn, rathern than what she was actually learning. Mistakes one would expect of those new to learning were made more than once. Honeypaw would find herself watching her brother and sister a little enviously. They didn't have to learn all the names and uses of herbs in the den. They didn't have to have the Clan riding on their shoulders. At the moment, neither did she, but always fond of dramatics, it felt that way. Honypaw's first meeting with StarClan was typical. The ceremony of a new apprentice accepting the responsibility laid at her paws. Seeing the Clan's ancestors for herself. When she woke, there was more certainty to her steps. That first meeting hadn't answered any questions for her, but it did untangle her doubts from her fears, letting her see them for what they were.
Honeypaw is still new to the position. Her doubts and worries still get to her at times, but with time, they'll fade as she learns how to chase them off herself. The longer she spends learning at Stormfrost's side, the more her confidence grows.
extra notes
