Post by nightfall on Dec 21, 2013 20:38:46 GMT -6
S H A D O W C L A N
I'LL FOLLOW YOU INTO THE DARK . . . . . . . . .
this layout was made by specklized for fidelis strictly.
anyone who steals this template will be reported.
I'LL FOLLOW YOU INTO THE DARK . . . . . . . . .
personality
❝ I love her for what she dared to be, for her hardness, her cruelty, her egoism, her perverseness, her demoniac destructiveness. She would crush me to ashes without hesitation. She is personality created to the limit. ❞
-- anaïs nin
+ emotional, self-assured, confident, loyal, sassy, brilliant, observant, stealthy, curious, tactical, emulous, ambitious
- short tempered, relentless, remorseless, reclusive, morally ambiguous, dark, flighty, destructive, argumentative
Nightfall is 30% sass, 30% primadonna, 30% cold-stoned haughtiness, 10% selfish tendencies. Normally Nightfall is as pretty as a diamond but don't be fooled she's not as see through as she seems because like a diamond she can cut you like a diamond studded surgical knife. She's a perfectionist and believes in traditionalism. Nightfall has a haughtiness about her mixed in with a relaxing quiet calm and determination, that is until you upset her. Then be prepared.
She is a spitfire. But not the fun kind. Instead, she's the sassy sort that no one wants to deal with. She isn't the quiet, soft-spoken cat that her parents would have expected, or more likely hoped. She is tough. She is the kind of girl that leaves prides hurt and egos bruised. The sense of entitlement instilled in her by her parents followed her through her training and she never looked back. She doesn't hold her tongue around her peers. She speaks her mind and never apologizes for anything she says. She specializes in looks that burn, that cut a person down. She fires warning shots but not far ahead of her assaults. But she is never unprovoked. At least in her mind. In her mind, she's nothing but brutally honest, like her mother always said.
It’s always been obvious that Nightfall is brilliant. But no matter what, for all her brilliance and cleverness and intelligence, Nightfall stands somewhat apart from the real world. She looks at the world around her through a veil of curiosity: what does it mean? What does it do? Why are you doing that? What sort of conclusion can be drawn from this observation? She is prone to asking inappropriate questions, often of a hugely personal nature—she can see the details when she chooses for look for them, and has, a few times, looked up with a sly smirk and a devastatingly accurate insight.
Her flightiness is an asset and a liability. She moves from idea to idea, option to option, insight to insight—the problem is that one idea can be less sensible than the previous, and she’s been known to scribble out perfectly good theories and replace them with a new angle of attack simply because she’s exasperated that the problem can be solved so easily.
Nightfall enjoys the human side to human nature, or rather feline nature: the mistake making, the imperfections, the flaws, the hate, the bitterness, the vulnerability. Few really know this, because most can just assume she likes the dark side. She is a Shadow Clan cat after all. But she’s also the product of freethinking. Each one in her family thinks for themselves. From Nightfall's perspective it's boring being good, being the hero. She'd be a hero, be "good" if it didn't come with the stigma of being perfect. Her hero isn't perfect. Her hero has flaws, angst, and suffers from an unknown complexity. Her hero is the antihero because, someone that doesn’t fit stereotypes.
❝ I love her for what she dared to be, for her hardness, her cruelty, her egoism, her perverseness, her demoniac destructiveness. She would crush me to ashes without hesitation. She is personality created to the limit. ❞
-- anaïs nin
+ emotional, self-assured, confident, loyal, sassy, brilliant, observant, stealthy, curious, tactical, emulous, ambitious
- short tempered, relentless, remorseless, reclusive, morally ambiguous, dark, flighty, destructive, argumentative
Nightfall is 30% sass, 30% primadonna, 30% cold-stoned haughtiness, 10% selfish tendencies. Normally Nightfall is as pretty as a diamond but don't be fooled she's not as see through as she seems because like a diamond she can cut you like a diamond studded surgical knife. She's a perfectionist and believes in traditionalism. Nightfall has a haughtiness about her mixed in with a relaxing quiet calm and determination, that is until you upset her. Then be prepared.
She is a spitfire. But not the fun kind. Instead, she's the sassy sort that no one wants to deal with. She isn't the quiet, soft-spoken cat that her parents would have expected, or more likely hoped. She is tough. She is the kind of girl that leaves prides hurt and egos bruised. The sense of entitlement instilled in her by her parents followed her through her training and she never looked back. She doesn't hold her tongue around her peers. She speaks her mind and never apologizes for anything she says. She specializes in looks that burn, that cut a person down. She fires warning shots but not far ahead of her assaults. But she is never unprovoked. At least in her mind. In her mind, she's nothing but brutally honest, like her mother always said.
It’s always been obvious that Nightfall is brilliant. But no matter what, for all her brilliance and cleverness and intelligence, Nightfall stands somewhat apart from the real world. She looks at the world around her through a veil of curiosity: what does it mean? What does it do? Why are you doing that? What sort of conclusion can be drawn from this observation? She is prone to asking inappropriate questions, often of a hugely personal nature—she can see the details when she chooses for look for them, and has, a few times, looked up with a sly smirk and a devastatingly accurate insight.
Her flightiness is an asset and a liability. She moves from idea to idea, option to option, insight to insight—the problem is that one idea can be less sensible than the previous, and she’s been known to scribble out perfectly good theories and replace them with a new angle of attack simply because she’s exasperated that the problem can be solved so easily.
Nightfall enjoys the human side to human nature, or rather feline nature: the mistake making, the imperfections, the flaws, the hate, the bitterness, the vulnerability. Few really know this, because most can just assume she likes the dark side. She is a Shadow Clan cat after all. But she’s also the product of freethinking. Each one in her family thinks for themselves. From Nightfall's perspective it's boring being good, being the hero. She'd be a hero, be "good" if it didn't come with the stigma of being perfect. Her hero isn't perfect. Her hero has flaws, angst, and suffers from an unknown complexity. Her hero is the antihero because, someone that doesn’t fit stereotypes.
history
i -- family
A well-connected warrior of the Shadow Clan and a beautiful tortoiseshell Queen got together, and when they reproduce they created a rare combination of children, so different, morally, ethically, creatively, positively, that there couldn't possibly be another such dynamic in all of history.
Much can be said on the family of six:
The fact that there were six of them. Four kits, enough of them, to be sure. Breezing through apprentice training, they get the "Ohh" nod from the mentors, who each have their own presuppositions based on the previous sibling. By the time Nightpaw came along, they had long since forgone any expectations. It's easier that way.
The fact that her father used connections to climb the ranks of Shadow Clan, rather than by his own merit. But no one would expect less. If you have them, use them.
The fact that her mother used her good looks and charm to have her way about everything. Of course, her mother is mostly morally upright. Mostly.
The fact that neither parents adored one another because they were too busy adoring themselves. Both were vain, conceited, entirely too proud. Yet both were bold and brash. They put up with one another, they bought out the best in one another. They’re were a team. The entire family was supposed to be one, large team. All for the family. If there were a motto for small clan, that would be the theme. But it would be more creative, and in a different language, and they would say it was passed down from one generation to the next. Unfortunately, no one in the family was ever that creative.
They were a busy people. Hunting for themselves and themselves alone, brown nosing, looking out for their own interests—a very difficult job if you’re at all familiar with the workings of social climbing. They were the class of family that keep themselves busy by climbing the social ladder and keeping their hands clean of scandal for the sake of class.
Her litter came in two sets of twins, boy and girl. First came the eldest. A male. Proudly, they rejoiced him, they worshiped him. But then another come, a daughter. Likewise, they did the same. Another son. And another daughter. Two and two. Both mother and father vowed to make them all intrepid and beautiful. They would be their works of art, each one different, each one special.
ii -- death
It was just before they began their travels when Nightpaw heard the news of her parents death. She hid. She didn't want to see anyone. She didn't want people to ask her how she was doing. She didn't want anyone to ask her if she needed anything. She didn't want anyone to talk to her. Full stop. All she just wants to be left alone. She didn't want to hear about what a great cats her parents were. She knew already. She loved them. They were everything to her. Past tense. They couldn't be anything anymore. They were dead. Death by poisoned prey.
Dead.
That cold night the words sat inside her body like a stone, so incredibly heavy. It immobilized her. She went through the motions, followed orders as she left camp forever. But she was empty. Lifeless. A shell. And it terrified her to leave her home, her only source of memory. The only proof her of parents existence was left lying in the wet marsh forever and she had to desert it, desert them. Traveling from camp to camp made her grow cold. Her patience thinned. She became more cruel. The little she cared for other people's feelings completely dissipated. She looked out for no one but herself. She pushed her friends and siblings away. She didn't want to keep anyone close. She decided it was easier for her if she had nothing, if she had no one to lose.
But being apathetic required much more self-control than Nightpaw had. It required a lack of emotion, a lack of passion that she just didn't have. By the time her clan reached a permanent camp Nightpaw was frustrated. Little things caused her to break down in tears. She was argumentative. She wasn't apathetic. It was impossible for someone like her and that just infuriated her more. All she wanted was to not care. All she wanted was to not feel terrible anymore. No such luck.
iii - warrior
Despite it being only eight moons ago, Nightfall’s time as a young apprentice seems lifetime away. She remembers her warrior’s ceremony vividly, despite it passing in a blur of faces and ritual speeches. She was surprised, really, when their leader decided to pass them onto the Warrior rank without the guidance of Star Clan. It was seemed like a scandal to declare someone a Warrior with the powers of Star Clan when Star Clan had no powers in the new world. She remembers her siblings forcing her out of the den for the first time since they arrived to join the ceremony and her two major virtues, intelligence and skill. She remembers the terrible suffix her leader gave her. Fall, how pathetic.
She’s a full-fledged Warrior now, despite Star Clan's lack of approval, and it’s a difficult job. Most of the time, it’s not even a rewarding one. It’s hard work, not to mention dangerous exploring relatively unknown territory. But she approaches it with the same determination and intensity that she applied toward training. She’s good at her job—the fact that she hasn’t cracked under the pressure of guarding new borders and has stayed loyal to Ashenstar is a testament to that fact.
Loyalty has always been one of her biggest strengths, but also one of her biggest liabilities.
When she noticed the disconnect between her leaders and Star Clan she knew immediately whose side she’d stay true to. It was never even a question; she would support Ashenstar just like she always has. No amount of pressure or fighting would change that fact. She knew exactly where her loyalties lay, and she also knew she’d do anything to protect the ones she was loyal to. Her decision was made the minute tension rose. No hesitation, no wavering.
iv -- mentorship
Nightfall still remembers her first moons as a warrior, how it hurt her feelings the first time her apprentice called her fox-hearted. She wasn't even entirely sure what it is she'd done wrong. She did what she’s always done, what her parents told her to while she was still an apprentice; she spoke very little, she held herself high, she didn’t apologize for anything she did or said. She behaved the way any “high-born warrior princess” should. But it hurt her feelings. She dug her claws into the wet marshland. Proper ladies she-cats never started fights, though they did finish them. She remembered that one. But the words stung and bruised coming from her very own apprentice. And she wasn’t even sure what she’d done. She didn’t yell our shout. But she never denied she wasn’t happy. Her face said it all. And her inability to mask her rather expressive face was more often than not her worst downfall. Her jaw tightened. Her jet black tail flicked across the wet grass in a way that came to signal some sort of warning as her nose rose promptly into the air. She thought about how to punish the tiny cat. Her eyes flashed.
Nightfall left training thinking of ways to punish the cat who called her that foul word. She settled on deciding she'd kick him in the face the next time she saw him. That should suffice.
A well-connected warrior of the Shadow Clan and a beautiful tortoiseshell Queen got together, and when they reproduce they created a rare combination of children, so different, morally, ethically, creatively, positively, that there couldn't possibly be another such dynamic in all of history.
Much can be said on the family of six:
The fact that there were six of them. Four kits, enough of them, to be sure. Breezing through apprentice training, they get the "Ohh" nod from the mentors, who each have their own presuppositions based on the previous sibling. By the time Nightpaw came along, they had long since forgone any expectations. It's easier that way.
The fact that her father used connections to climb the ranks of Shadow Clan, rather than by his own merit. But no one would expect less. If you have them, use them.
The fact that her mother used her good looks and charm to have her way about everything. Of course, her mother is mostly morally upright. Mostly.
The fact that neither parents adored one another because they were too busy adoring themselves. Both were vain, conceited, entirely too proud. Yet both were bold and brash. They put up with one another, they bought out the best in one another. They’re were a team. The entire family was supposed to be one, large team. All for the family. If there were a motto for small clan, that would be the theme. But it would be more creative, and in a different language, and they would say it was passed down from one generation to the next. Unfortunately, no one in the family was ever that creative.
They were a busy people. Hunting for themselves and themselves alone, brown nosing, looking out for their own interests—a very difficult job if you’re at all familiar with the workings of social climbing. They were the class of family that keep themselves busy by climbing the social ladder and keeping their hands clean of scandal for the sake of class.
Her litter came in two sets of twins, boy and girl. First came the eldest. A male. Proudly, they rejoiced him, they worshiped him. But then another come, a daughter. Likewise, they did the same. Another son. And another daughter. Two and two. Both mother and father vowed to make them all intrepid and beautiful. They would be their works of art, each one different, each one special.
______________________________
ii -- death
It was just before they began their travels when Nightpaw heard the news of her parents death. She hid. She didn't want to see anyone. She didn't want people to ask her how she was doing. She didn't want anyone to ask her if she needed anything. She didn't want anyone to talk to her. Full stop. All she just wants to be left alone. She didn't want to hear about what a great cats her parents were. She knew already. She loved them. They were everything to her. Past tense. They couldn't be anything anymore. They were dead. Death by poisoned prey.
Dead.
That cold night the words sat inside her body like a stone, so incredibly heavy. It immobilized her. She went through the motions, followed orders as she left camp forever. But she was empty. Lifeless. A shell. And it terrified her to leave her home, her only source of memory. The only proof her of parents existence was left lying in the wet marsh forever and she had to desert it, desert them. Traveling from camp to camp made her grow cold. Her patience thinned. She became more cruel. The little she cared for other people's feelings completely dissipated. She looked out for no one but herself. She pushed her friends and siblings away. She didn't want to keep anyone close. She decided it was easier for her if she had nothing, if she had no one to lose.
But being apathetic required much more self-control than Nightpaw had. It required a lack of emotion, a lack of passion that she just didn't have. By the time her clan reached a permanent camp Nightpaw was frustrated. Little things caused her to break down in tears. She was argumentative. She wasn't apathetic. It was impossible for someone like her and that just infuriated her more. All she wanted was to not care. All she wanted was to not feel terrible anymore. No such luck.
iii - warrior
Despite it being only eight moons ago, Nightfall’s time as a young apprentice seems lifetime away. She remembers her warrior’s ceremony vividly, despite it passing in a blur of faces and ritual speeches. She was surprised, really, when their leader decided to pass them onto the Warrior rank without the guidance of Star Clan. It was seemed like a scandal to declare someone a Warrior with the powers of Star Clan when Star Clan had no powers in the new world. She remembers her siblings forcing her out of the den for the first time since they arrived to join the ceremony and her two major virtues, intelligence and skill. She remembers the terrible suffix her leader gave her. Fall, how pathetic.
She’s a full-fledged Warrior now, despite Star Clan's lack of approval, and it’s a difficult job. Most of the time, it’s not even a rewarding one. It’s hard work, not to mention dangerous exploring relatively unknown territory. But she approaches it with the same determination and intensity that she applied toward training. She’s good at her job—the fact that she hasn’t cracked under the pressure of guarding new borders and has stayed loyal to Ashenstar is a testament to that fact.
Loyalty has always been one of her biggest strengths, but also one of her biggest liabilities.
When she noticed the disconnect between her leaders and Star Clan she knew immediately whose side she’d stay true to. It was never even a question; she would support Ashenstar just like she always has. No amount of pressure or fighting would change that fact. She knew exactly where her loyalties lay, and she also knew she’d do anything to protect the ones she was loyal to. Her decision was made the minute tension rose. No hesitation, no wavering.
iv -- mentorship
Nightfall still remembers her first moons as a warrior, how it hurt her feelings the first time her apprentice called her fox-hearted. She wasn't even entirely sure what it is she'd done wrong. She did what she’s always done, what her parents told her to while she was still an apprentice; she spoke very little, she held herself high, she didn’t apologize for anything she did or said. She behaved the way any “high-born warrior princess” should. But it hurt her feelings. She dug her claws into the wet marshland. Proper ladies she-cats never started fights, though they did finish them. She remembered that one. But the words stung and bruised coming from her very own apprentice. And she wasn’t even sure what she’d done. She didn’t yell our shout. But she never denied she wasn’t happy. Her face said it all. And her inability to mask her rather expressive face was more often than not her worst downfall. Her jaw tightened. Her jet black tail flicked across the wet grass in a way that came to signal some sort of warning as her nose rose promptly into the air. She thought about how to punish the tiny cat. Her eyes flashed.
Nightfall left training thinking of ways to punish the cat who called her that foul word. She settled on deciding she'd kick him in the face the next time she saw him. That should suffice.
this layout was made by specklized for fidelis strictly.
anyone who steals this template will be reported.
