+ dancin' in the [ R A i N ]

[r α ν ε η]

the r a i n d a n c e r !

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 ● Raindancer
Walked the earth for ● 13 moons
Damned a ● Tom
Loyal to ● NocturnalClan
Numbered a ● Deputy
My looks ●

I'm a handsome tom. Not gorgeous, or anything, but not bad-looking. My pelt is short, sleek, and soft. It permanently seems to retain its ruffled, wind-blown appearance. It's probably my fault. I never groom it. It's a tawny, dusky gold color, with darker guard hairs. I have long legs, a broad chest and shoulders, and a long body; the build of a runner. My paws are large, retaining their kit-like disproportionate size, but I never seem hampered by them. My head is large, as well, with angular features and large, bat-like ears. The term that comes to mind is "exotic". I have a long, narrow muzzle, and the fur on my face is noticeably shorter than on any other part of my body. My eyes are large, almond-shaped, and vibrant shade of amber. They have faint black outlines, often referred to as tearmarks, that trace down to contour my muzzle as well. The black doesn't only feature on my face; it's on the tip of my tail, my paws, my ears. My belly, on the other hand, is a faint, dusty white color.

My persona ●

I'm proud of my purebred Clan heritage. I'll use my demonic side to my advantage whenever I can, and it's a rather dangerous part of me. I'm known as proudly irrational, proudly proper, and proudly... well, fine, a tad insane, as I tell them that I sauntered down from the skies from StarClan, and that I've been alive and fine for... well, since the beginning of time, I saw. Of course it's not true, but I won't be swayed. Despite this minor lapse in common sense, I'm an odd mix. Prim, proper, and neat, I know all the latest news, and am rather mysterious and aloof in many situations. I hate - well, perhaps that's too strong. I dislike Clan cats of impure blood, and I see it as a way of clogging up the Clan with filth. I am fiercely loyal to NocturnalClan, although this does mean that I'm rather cruel to the other Clans at times. I could be called the biggest oxymoron in the history of NocturnalClan. I am perhaps a little too proud, and I constantly refuse to accept charity or even kindness. Still, with my dashing good looks and undeniable gallantry, I'm a hit with the ladies, despite my marked eccentricity.

I'm out-going to any cat of the Clan, and a compulsive risk-taker and daredevil through and through; in human terms, I would be the first one to go on the most dangerous ride in the amusement park, or to accept the wildest, most outrageous dares - all without a second thought. I'm most likely the least self-conscious person, or cat, you'll ever meet, and my oddity has earned me respect - albeit often grudging - in even the highest social circles. I'm different, refreshing, and I know it. I love to flirt, and I do it very well; with my irresistible eloquence, I'm quite the dashing young suitor. I am oddly child-like, though, at the same time - probably because I never really grew up. I'm also curiously honest. It's hard to imagine me lying. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and many of my interests aren't exactly typical of a warrior my age, but then again, I do think I fell out of the sky. I'm just viewed as wildly eccentric. I do, however, have an odd lonely air if you catch him at the wrong time; as if underneath this childish innocence, I know more than I let on. It's as if I knows what's going to happen. I'm speedy for a cat of my size, but my real talent lies in battle. You don't want to get in a fight with me. I'm young to be a deputy, and not completely in the right frame of mind; but I was chosen for my unswerving loyalty.

My past ●

I, myself, don't actually know my own history. Or I do, but I prefer to block it out, to drown it underneath memories. By now, I've fooled myself into believing my feeble excuse - that I fell from the sky. The real story isn't that simple. My mother was a beautiful - but shy - NocturnalClan she-cat, named Ivypaw. Yes, Ivypaw. She was only just over 10 moons old when she became pregnant with kits. My father is some shadowy figure whose name I never learned; not that I would like to. The sharper the memories, the more painful it is to relive them. He was a NocturnalClan warrior, that I know, and he force-mated poor Ivypaw when she was out for a quick hunt one warm early Newleaf evening. Her whole life went into a downward spiral, after that. She didn't tell anybody, hoping desperately that she wouldn't get pregnant, but it wasn't hard to observe. Finally, she was forced to take to the nursery, where she had four fine kits. Me, Rainkit; Goldkit; Specklekit; and Duskkit.

It wasn't a dramatic birth, but it meant everything to Ivypaw. She was terror-stricken by the scene of the four suckling kits - her own! - and something snapped in her mind. In other words, she went insane. She stumbled out of the nursery, mere minutes after she had given birth, with all four kits clutched in her jaws. She took them out to the river, where she mechanically began to toss them in, one by one. My feeble, desperate mewlings died soon enough, as me and my siblings were carried down the current in the icy, iron grasp of the river. Ivypaw, after she was certain all four of the kits were dead, began systematically to kill herself. She had been a dutiful apprentice, and had learned all the plants to avoid from her parents. She had known it would come in useful, sometime, but she had never even imagined in this way. She swallowed some death berries, and then it was just a matter of time. Her agonized yowls were heard all the way in NocturnalClan camp, and they found her, half-dead and crazed, by the shore of the river. They dragged her back to the medicine cat den, and did their best to revive her. But it was too late; she was too far gone. Ivypaw was dead.

Meanwhile, the four corpses of her kits had been found, washed up on the bank a quarter-mile or so from where Ivypaw had tossed them in. Or rather, two corpses and two bedraggled, miserable, but alive kits. My brother, Duskkit, had survived along with me. We were barely alive, but apparently more so than our mother; the medicine cat pumped some herbs into our systems, and then we were handed over to the capable paws of a nursing queen, who had two healthy kits of her own. Graykit and Splashkit grew up as my "littermates", and never did I know that I wasn't related to them. It was only when I was deemed an apprentice did the queen, Springflower, break the news to me and Duskkit. Duskkit took the news harder than me, but neither of us went into some teen-angst scenario. We nodded, and went on with our lives; but we were never quite so close with Graykit or Splashkit again. My brother and I became much closer; we told each other everything, and we were never seen without the other. I still wish I had been even closer to him, though. One fine Greenleaf morning, he went on a trip with his mentor to the border, and Duskkit was killed by a monster. His mentor came dashing back to break the news, and I never completely recovered.

Duskkit was my closest friend in life, my shadow. Like my mother before me, I turned a little towards insanity; but my case was not quite as extreme as Ivypaw's. I simple began to deny that I had ever known Duskkit, to refuse to acknowledge the fact that I was an illegitimate kit. Neither would I admit that Springflower was my foster mother, and that Splashkit and Graykit were my step-siblings. I avoided the three altogether, in fact, and came up with a laughable tale as an excuse; that I had come down from StarClan. Soon enough, I had told it so many times that I had fooled myself. And here, my tale picks up.

Picture ●

xx

Blah ●

-cough- Hey, what's a piano doing over there?!

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[» got MiLK ?!]

Vewy Nice. <3 I'm sure you'd hate any picture I made for the side boxes, so you can make one or have me make one....whatever. *shrug*