+ [ S A B L E ] - hearted

[r α ν ε η]

the s a b l e - p a w e d !

No raindrops on roses or girls in white dresses
It's sleeping with the roaches and taking best guesses
At the shade of the sheets and before all the stains
And a few more of your least favourite things !

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Aliases include ● Sablepaw
Walked the earth for ● 10 moons
Damned a ● Tom
Loyal to ● NocturnalClan
Numbered an ● Apprentice
My looks ●

I'm no looker. Yeah, I admit it. I mean, I'm not terrible, either, but I've got a long way to go. I'm short and skinny, with long, gangly legs with a distinct still-to-be-grown-into look about them. I never seem to trip over them, though. My pelt is long, luxurious, one might even say - and permanently tousled. Just wind-blown; not tousled, matted, or tangled. It's also immaculately clean. My head is large and wedge-shaped, with a small, blunt muzzle and rounded ears. Most of my features are curved, actually; round, deep-set eyes, a broad forehead, and a jutting-out lip, with an obstinate look. Below the neck, however, I'm a different matter. I seem to be all skin and bone; skinny, rangy legs, a long, thin body, and a ragged, tapered tail. My fur is a dark blue-gray color, with and almost silver taint caused by the pale gray guard hairs tipping each individual follicle of my pelt. Darker gray - but very faint - streaks run across my flanks, shoulders, and back, but are so delicate that they fade before they can really affect my neck, head, and paws. The tip of my tail, muzzle, ears, and paws are, also, the same darker gray color - except the front left one, with is white. A pale silvery-white runs along my belly, chest, and even encircles my neck like some demented fur ruff. My eyes are a dark, hunter green, eye-catching among the chaos of black and white.

My persona ●

I'm a rebel. Wait, pardon that slip. I'm not a rebel; I'm The Rebel. You know; that one, uncooperative and surly kid who stirs disgruntlement and rumors among his companions by simply being there?He's admired; wait, no, that's understating it. I'm practically looked at in awe. Everyone wishes they were brave enough to be as wonderfully obnoxious as I am. If I have a problem with anything or everything - and I always do - I don't hesitate to speak it out loud. In fact, very, very, very loudly. My very presence triggers mutiny; not against me, of course. I don't say anything; I just watch and smirk, and, well, fine, occasionally I insert a helpful nudge and an encouraging shocked gasp here and there, just to ease it along. I have a biting sense of dark humor, which I use very keenly at the slightest provocation. I'm probably the worst enemy to have; although not a powerful fighter, I control the rumors. The gossip. The giggling crowds of apprentices. Every juicy tidbit of gossip was supplied by me; at the very least, approved by me. If I don't like a selection, I stamp my paw down, and instantly, no one remembers it.

I'm magic, they say. But no one dares whisper about me. I don't mind. I just watch and laugh. I watch and laugh, in my safe perch. But I'm not all that bad. Perhaps I've been over-dramatizing. It's my most prominent trait, after all. I'm fiercely cynical, fiercely competitive, fiercely dishonest, and fiercely disrespectful; but for all my faults, I'm... nice. That's why I'm popular. I'm surprisingly even-tempered and tolerant, and if I like someone, I'll kill for them. I'm a powerful ally to have, and one you'll most likely keep, as well. I've got a lively wit, and once I set my mind to something, I can never be changed. Although extremely opinionated, I exercise caution when the need arises, and seems to know when something's serious or not. I may not be all too handsome, but there's something still... attractive about me. Whether it's my voice, my charm, or my power, I don't know, but hey, I'm not complaining. I'm an excellent actor, and brave to the extreme, as well as very sweet [but don't tell anyone]. He has a strong sense of right and wrong, although he doesn't always listen to it, and loves kits.

My past ●

I was born in early Newleaf, as most cats are. At least, I think that's right. Anyhow. My parents were two kittypets, with names that I could never quite remember. Something like The Big Black Hair Ball Left in the Bath Tub and the Small Fat Brown Surprise Left on Master's Pillow, or... or... well, something more romantic, but I was never good at that sort of thing. My siblings were never named. We were, in fact, an accident. The twolegs, a rich middle-aged couple, had thought they had spayed Small Fat Brown Surprise Left on Master's Pillow [if that was her name. Which is isn't.]. So, outraged, they whisked my parents off to the Cutter's, and, ah... well, I won't get into details, but you know what happened. They came home castrated, to put it delicately. My three siblings and I had no idea what was going on, still, and before we were a week old, we were put up for sale. For sale! Can you believe the disgrace and humiliation? We were placed in a cardboard box and left on the doorstep, with black bird-prints reading "KITTENS GOING FREE. TAKE ONE." To this day, I don't know what it means, those odd black bird-prints, but I presume it wasn't good.

Monsters screeched and roared in front of us, twolegs yowled loudly back and forth with words that made no sense, and lights flashed orange and yellow and green against our eyes. We whimpered, and huddled together for warmth in that flimsy cardboard box. We couldn't get out, and although there was a bottle of milk that one of the the twolegs came and re-filled occasionally, it was the most miserable time of my life. We were cold, exhausted, and terrified. I don't know how long I stayed there; it couldn't have been more than a day, or maybe two. My younger sister was taken first by a white-haired couple, and then my younger brother to a teenage girl. The next day, my older sister was grabbed by a sticky, fat-fisted toddler and his beaming parents. I was left, cold and alone, until a twoleg he-kit, who couldn't have been more than 20 or 30 seasons old, clutched me tightly and announced in a high-pitched series of twoleg talk - that I couldn't understand - that he wanted me. His older sister grabbed me, declared me a disgusting rat, and then I was tossed into the back of the car. It started bumping, jolting back and forth, and I was miserably sick all over the carpet. The twolegs were dismayed, and yowled at me. But they loved me, in a rough-and-tumble sort of way - even if they only realized I was male after the first moon or so.

I lived there for about four moons, learning all the twoleg etiquette; relieve yourself in the gravel-box, no biting the twoleg kits, don't scratch up the big, inviting soft things that they sat on, and eat up all your food or they'll take you to the Cutter's. It was a good four moons. But one day, they left the door open. A big, inviting portal to a whole different world. I hadn't been outside since being "adopted". I sat, transfixed, for a few heartbeats, before scrambling to it before the twolegs could return and close it. And then I was outside. Free. And lonely. But I wasn't lonely yet. I skipped around in puddles, finding everything fresh and bright and new. I was blissfully naive, then, so young and innocent and full of wonder - as kits tend to be. But after the first hour, I was wet and miserable and cold. Again. And as most of you have probably suspected by now, I couldn't find my way back. Yeah, perfect, I know. I never saw my twolegs again. I wandered around dejectedly for the first few days, hoping against hope I would be found, but help never came. Gradually, I began to cheer up. I could fend for myself, in this dangerous world of broken glass, disease, and dogs. I learned the tricks of the trade, the gangs to avoid, the best streets for catching prey, where to find the best scraps.

I lived like a king; a king who didn't know how well off he was. I managed in this fashion for about three moons, and it was great. I was good at it, honestly good at it. By then, I knew everything there was to know. I was tough. I could manage well, especially, I discovered, by forming allies. I had friends, and if not that, then at least grudging respect. But it was too sweet to last. The forest was calling to me. Every once in a while, I would see cats emerge from it, and they smelled of adventure. Being the reckless youngster I was back then, I finally left to go there. After looking at the pure air and clean, fresh plants there, I had the idea that it was some sort of idyllic paradise. Of course, it was precisely the opposite. One day, I worked up the courage and went there. It was perfect - at first. I wandered around in some sort of daze, and then of course, NocturnalClan had to find me. I was accepted as a member before long, and I've been in the Clan for about a moon now.

Picture ●

xx

Blah ●

To be Sagepaw's "mate". -cough-

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[» got MiLK ?!]

I never accepted this, did I? o.o

[[It was accepted a while ago, but I never officiallyposted. xD]]