Halfstar -- fireclan -- leader

Name: Halfstar
Gender: she-cat
Clan: fireclan
Rank: leader
Wild Cat? no
Age: 38 moons

_____________________appearance_____________________

Fur Color: black
Fur Length: short
Build: average, muscled
Eye Color: green
Appearance:
This woman has more of a man-based build. Though her midsection is slim and feminine, her limbs are bulked with muscle. The pelt she beholds is teeming with twilight hairs, and home to numerous scars. Her body is proportional is pretty typical for a warrior-like female. Set within her skull sits two orbs of green. With each shade of the sunlights rays, it emits a different hue of emerald.

_____________________personality_____________________

Likes:
• solitude
• debates
• silence
• knowledge
• waterfalls
• birds

Dislikes:
• ignorance
• arrogance
• recklessness
• disrespect
• mercilessness
• brute strength

Strengths:
• intelligence
• stealth

Weaknesses:
• temper
• obsessive nature
• questionable loyalties

Personality:
The girl stands true to her former calling; Halfheart. She has a soul, but it is split between the very essences of good and evil. She is uncertain where her loyalties stand, whether it be for her clan or for herself alone. It can often be said that she is as cold, or worse so, than all of Fireclan. However, the woman seeks after wisdom and tolerance, even when she thinks herself to be far from either.

When a friend or dear one is made, Halfstar finds herself eager each morning to tail behind them or gingerly lead them. These connections, or relationships, are difficult for her to form, thus she clings on for dear life. The typical ending to these bonds is one of two things; either she chases the companion away with her intense need to be attached, or she pushes them away for fear that she will one day snap and harm them. Either way, her intense emotion is what wedges itself between her heart and the world in the end.

Halfstar does appreciate humor, though she often responds with a lethal stare. Her deepest fear is displaying herself in a vulnerable state, one of which would be joy. So she masks over her smile with a scowl and hides behind her snarls. The girl is unstable and weak, and yet incrediably strong on a multitude of levels. This is one sheila that will be as quick to tear you limb from limb as she would be to simply ignore you. Bottom line is if you are not fitting into her quest for knowledge, then you are not worth a moment of her time. Or so she pleads with herself.

_____________________rp example_____________________

Role-play Example:

Why wipe my tears if I still want to cry?

Alonda caught the stick with ease, holding it awkwardly as her eyes danced between her three playmates. The girl had wrestled as a game when younger, but she had never been one for silly fun as this. Kadan had cracked a quiet grin at Cult's misfortunate lack of a catch, the sibling love that instinct demanded making him forget he didn't care. Alonda dropped her tough guy exterior for the only friend she knew, copying Val's throw and aiming it back to Cult to let the girl try again. There was happiness all around me, even among the prisoner Bidziil. Silent but present. It was a toxic gas that came to fill my lungs.

A new voice broke out and I cared not that both Paradox and Carska carried their attentions to it. An intruder, dandy. Maybe should would be so merciful as to kill off this forsaken pack. These dogs that let me walk with blood on my paws. But why should I be so lucky? Why should a sinner be allowed a blessing? Paradox spoke with her in french. A sibling. Even a merciless killer such as he was granted the joy of kinship. I was far worse than he, I concluded with ease. If fate permitted him such happiness and not I, then I was deemed a worser foe, for I had killed a blooded brother that knew not what he did was wrong.

The woman came to touch me and only then did I react. My paws clambered to be beneath me and I turned to face the woman with heated eyesite. My lip curled up as the tear rolled down my cheek in its lonliness. Don't touch me. I merely stared in quiet anger for moments I could not count. My claws dug into the sundrowned soils, little soldiers in their protected trenches. Each muscle was tense in a position to flee should either beast approach. I did not hate her for selfish reasons. What I hated was that these dogs could not see how dirty I was.

The moments dragging on, I finally let my lip fall to cover those red tinted fangs. Each limb crumbled and I found myself a heap in the soil, paws and legs covering my skull with a resentment so deep within me that a sword could not reach. I wanted to run from this world that I knew, take from myself what I had took from my brother. Life was a privelage and I had lost my right when I denied him his. And yet I could still find a voice to speak.

"I'm sorry. Nice to meet you." On went the sheild as I lifted my head and climbed slowly to my paws. On went the gray to cover the scarlet. The mask, woven to my flesh, snapped into place and I let out the soft words of no emotion. I gave a silent dip of my head to greet this poor dog. I was a monster for killing my brother, and these dogs were righteous for granting me permission to live.

Saints do not get burdened with the griefs of demons.