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+------ Thread: I filled the canyons with my ego | Cootbelly (/showthread.php?tid=16390)
I filled the canyons with my ego | Cootbelly - Switch - 07-20-2018
cootpaw
( You put me up here in the penthouse
And painted me in red, white and blue )
[align=center][div style="width: 400px; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1; text-align: justify;"]( You put me up here in the penthouse
And painted me in red, white and blue )
cootpaw / male / 9 months
riverclan / apprentice / mentor @
to be cootbelly
appearance / grey tabby with green eyes
Cootpaw isnt heart-melting beautiful, I'll tell you that. His grey fur sticks out unevenly on his shoulders with his paws uncleaned. The pungent scent of pine. But, perhaps he's handsome in his own way- he's big without being awkward, muscles beat down until lean and powerful, face pointed and sharp and emerald eyes narrowed and gleaming. His frame, broad yet agile, would have been perfect for any warrior; Cootpaw's father looked down on him for a while, wondering why his son would waste time being a lazy arse when his physical attributes were to die for. Some things never change, I'd say. Cootpaw, although normally having a frown on his face, isn't a bad cat to look at.
His eyes. Those eyes are shaped like almonds, wide and round. They are a striking emerald green color, with flecks of gold and a deeper shade of green around the iris's. Rarely does emotion show in his eyes, but sometimes, his eyes are the easiest way to read this complicated tom. And he can't mask everything that comes across his mind, like certain other cats do. Well, there's always that gentle feeling, that longing, where ever cat should tread cautiously.
His fur grows close to the pelt in the warmer seasons, but in leaf-bare, it spindles out so thickly like weeds fueled by healthy soil. The traditional M shaped marking blots his forehead, followed by two arrows of the same shade sinking into his cheekbones. Almost unnoticeable tabby stripes ripple across his back, or perhaps just the ghost of them; they split apart once his fur grows thick. Rainwater drips rapidly from his pelt, which has its uses; he had his fair share of an adventure life: old scars from forgotten scuffles stream under his grey coat, carefully guarded by the fur, secrets that shouldn't be remembered or uncovered.
Perhaps at first glance, the tom does not seem like your average clancat. StarClan does not shine as bright in his eyes as they do with the others, and no mysterious secrets or sparkles hide between his fur. His scent is muddled by pine and sickness, and his aura is his own, not that of some great cat that walks with dead cats in his dreams. He's the real, if real ever was.
personality /
Anyways, yes, I lied; in the previous section, where I said no mysterious secrets hide in his fur, I surface mistaken. He does have secrets, like any other cat; however, Cootpaw does not wear his heart on his sleeve. If you want to uncover those true gems, you have to delve deeper then that.
Cootpaw has his bad points. Perhaps heart-break came once to many times to this grey-furred feline, and when his heart had healed, it had scarred awkwardly. Not that he can't be friendly when he's in the mood, but mostly, he's just a grumpy cat who woke up on the wrong side of the bed. He doesn't like to be annoyed before morning, where he's finally awake and ready to work. If you happen to catch him in a bad mood, do not worry; although your ears will get a fair share of grumbling and complaints, his loyalty to his Clan is strong. He won't ignore you or turn you down, no matter how ridiculous your request is.
He's known to make up his mind very quickly, relying more on intuition then anything. Of course, he has his mistakes, and his fur prickles if you happen to correct him. That was always a flaw of his, being somewhat short-tempered or defensive. With a harsh manner like so, Cootpaw relies on a tongue as prickly as nettles to keep his reputation. He's prone to bouts of sarcasm, or dry humor; somehow, though, this manages to keep the mood lighter then you'd think
If there's one thing Cootpaw does not believe in, it's miracles. His view of the world in practical and logical. An action always has a reaction, the butterfly effect is more real then his own paws, and things don't happen out of the blue. The universe isn't random. While some cats might cry "Miracle!" at the top of their lungs, Cootpaw's eyes narrow and his tail curls around his paws. Yes, he's quite aware of his ancestors' meddling in the living's lives, but things don't happen out of spite. There's always a reason.
There's another thing- he believes in StarClan as much as a cat could, but believing in them isn't the same as having faith. Keep your claws sheathed, of course he has faith; but all StarClan has been doing is disappoint him. Around his leader or the ones of other Clans, it's hard to think that there was a cat that ever had more respect then Cootpaw. He lets his wisdom surface and his temper go down, voice turning from curt and rough to smooth and purposeful. He's your typical apprentice, ladies and gentlemen. This is a façade he's brought up carefully during moons. He knows how awkward things can get when personalities clash and friendliness shatters.
Then there are those normal fears that ever cat has. Cootpaw himself has quite a violent dislike for snakes, perhaps more fear then anything. They were who caused the fall of his brother, may he walk in StarClan. Seeing a snake, he seems like a normal warrior; desperate to save his Clan from any danger, eager for the feeling of fur scales ripping beneath his claws. He also has this weird thing with Twoleg nests; the tom suddenly becomes jumpy and twice as harsh. Why, I wonder?
Footnotes
- Cootkit was named his mother already having his warrior name in mind. Cootbelly. Born on the warmest of summers, Cootkit and Beechkit first opened their eyes to the world. Flicker___ was their proud mother, Russet___ the proud father. The kits were close without being inseparable; perhaps because StarClan was calling them to their destinies, two quite different paths.
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