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𝕋𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕟 𝔻𝕖𝕡𝕦𝕥𝕪
Mate: on hold for Fea Line
Apprentice: no one currently
Loyal 🌟 Giving 🌟 Serious
History:
Many seasons ago, practically another life entirely, he'd been called by another name. Not that anyone in the clan knew it, save one. Still, not something he ever thought on if he could help it; though once in awhile it seemed he was haunted in his dreams forced to relive what was best forgotten. Tonight was one of those accursed nights. Awaking with a jolt, his tail thrashing in anger at a long-gone enemy, IceWatch was already on his paws before he could realize he was just dreaming. Again. A couple of cats close to his nest in the warrior's den blinked at him in irritation, settling back down as he muttered an apology. A newer warrior looked at him in bewilderment, having never seen one of these nightmares of his before, until she too decided to roll over in her nest and sleep again.
Picking his way past the dozing forms of his clanmates, IceWatch slipped out of the warrior's den and sighed in the chilly night air. There was little chance of him getting back to sleep, especially with adrenaline still singing in his veins. Frustrated, he flexed his claws in the dirt recalling both the nightmare and the past. The way his claws had sunk into that raccoon's hide. The feel of teeth scraping bone in his leg. Grimacing in a silent snarl, IceWatch flicked his tail in agitation and looked across the clearing towards the cat on watch. It was a quiet, peaceful night. So why the memory? A shudder went through him as he recalled the pain. Limping away, victorious but at such a cost. He thought he was going to die that day, protecting the two legs he'd once loved. Had been loyal to. Not that he'd ever been a kittypet, no. Not him. Not in his mind. Sure, he'd steal through an open window and sleep on that little two leg female once in awhile. Brought her fresh kill from time to time. But he never stayed in their nest during the day and never ate those dusty pellets they left for food. A can of fish once in awhile, sure. But it's not like he was owned, more like they had been a clan of sorts. Loosely. He'd even brought his mate to show them once, and his kits once they were old enough. It had been a good thing, for a time. They had saved him, back when he was just a mewling kit himself. He'd felt... loyalty.
All things he could never say to his clan now. A mark of shame, a kittypet collar in it's own way. They wouldn't understand what it was. Or why it hurt when he was betrayed. Still hurt, if he was honest with himself.
Sighing as he got up to pace in front of the den, he tried to get his muscles to relax, tried to shrug off the past. Anger kept pricking at him though, like burrs in his pelt he couldn't get out himself. His nightmare had been the worst of it, all over again, and his mouth tasted like crowfood and bile. The bloody mess of the dead raccoon. His own destroyed body. Dragging himself between two leg nests until he found the one his mate lived in. Yowling for her, hoping to say goodbye before the end. See his kits one last time. Her two legs wouldn't let her out though and he didn't have the strength to wait. Instead, he'd curled up beneath a bush in an abandoned lot, expecting that when he closed his eyes it would be for the last.
That wasn't what happened though. Not that he could remember the next few days, just pain and hunger. Not even wonder at the fact he was still alive. Stealing kittypet food left outside, trying to go back to the nest of his two legs to find it empty. They were gone. Left him for dead, he could only assume. Waiting outside his mate's nest, waiting for her two legs to let her see him. Only they never let her out again. Once they left a window open, but with that thing in the way, like a fence but much finer. He'd gotten up on the ledge to talk to her and she'd been so despondent. They'd taken her to the cutter, she said. Had taken their kits away. Maybe to new nests, she didn't know, she hadn't seen them since. He'd tried to claw his way in then, but got shooed away by her two legs. That didn't stop him from watching and waiting though, even long after she no longer came to the windows to look out at him. Even when the ground grew cold and the snow came back. He stayed, and waited.
IceWatch sat down by the remains of the fresh kill pile, looking up at the first hints of sunrise. His torn ear turned back and forth, listening to the stirs of the camp as the early risers were just beginning to wake. It was foolish to think on the past so much, there was nothing he could change about it. He'd survived. The raccoon, the loss of his two legs, his mate, his kits. He survived getting caught and being put into that moving box with a lot of other cats from the street, and had made a break the moment the back door opened again, though he was lost and alone. He'd survived the streets and the fields, and coming to the forest. And now he had a home again, a clan to fight for, worth dying for. To be loyal to. Friends and family that wouldn't betray him. A life to be proud of.
If only he could forget his old life and his old name.
Picking his way past the dozing forms of his clanmates, IceWatch slipped out of the warrior's den and sighed in the chilly night air. There was little chance of him getting back to sleep, especially with adrenaline still singing in his veins. Frustrated, he flexed his claws in the dirt recalling both the nightmare and the past. The way his claws had sunk into that raccoon's hide. The feel of teeth scraping bone in his leg. Grimacing in a silent snarl, IceWatch flicked his tail in agitation and looked across the clearing towards the cat on watch. It was a quiet, peaceful night. So why the memory? A shudder went through him as he recalled the pain. Limping away, victorious but at such a cost. He thought he was going to die that day, protecting the two legs he'd once loved. Had been loyal to. Not that he'd ever been a kittypet, no. Not him. Not in his mind. Sure, he'd steal through an open window and sleep on that little two leg female once in awhile. Brought her fresh kill from time to time. But he never stayed in their nest during the day and never ate those dusty pellets they left for food. A can of fish once in awhile, sure. But it's not like he was owned, more like they had been a clan of sorts. Loosely. He'd even brought his mate to show them once, and his kits once they were old enough. It had been a good thing, for a time. They had saved him, back when he was just a mewling kit himself. He'd felt... loyalty.
All things he could never say to his clan now. A mark of shame, a kittypet collar in it's own way. They wouldn't understand what it was. Or why it hurt when he was betrayed. Still hurt, if he was honest with himself.
Sighing as he got up to pace in front of the den, he tried to get his muscles to relax, tried to shrug off the past. Anger kept pricking at him though, like burrs in his pelt he couldn't get out himself. His nightmare had been the worst of it, all over again, and his mouth tasted like crowfood and bile. The bloody mess of the dead raccoon. His own destroyed body. Dragging himself between two leg nests until he found the one his mate lived in. Yowling for her, hoping to say goodbye before the end. See his kits one last time. Her two legs wouldn't let her out though and he didn't have the strength to wait. Instead, he'd curled up beneath a bush in an abandoned lot, expecting that when he closed his eyes it would be for the last.
That wasn't what happened though. Not that he could remember the next few days, just pain and hunger. Not even wonder at the fact he was still alive. Stealing kittypet food left outside, trying to go back to the nest of his two legs to find it empty. They were gone. Left him for dead, he could only assume. Waiting outside his mate's nest, waiting for her two legs to let her see him. Only they never let her out again. Once they left a window open, but with that thing in the way, like a fence but much finer. He'd gotten up on the ledge to talk to her and she'd been so despondent. They'd taken her to the cutter, she said. Had taken their kits away. Maybe to new nests, she didn't know, she hadn't seen them since. He'd tried to claw his way in then, but got shooed away by her two legs. That didn't stop him from watching and waiting though, even long after she no longer came to the windows to look out at him. Even when the ground grew cold and the snow came back. He stayed, and waited.
IceWatch sat down by the remains of the fresh kill pile, looking up at the first hints of sunrise. His torn ear turned back and forth, listening to the stirs of the camp as the early risers were just beginning to wake. It was foolish to think on the past so much, there was nothing he could change about it. He'd survived. The raccoon, the loss of his two legs, his mate, his kits. He survived getting caught and being put into that moving box with a lot of other cats from the street, and had made a break the moment the back door opened again, though he was lost and alone. He'd survived the streets and the fields, and coming to the forest. And now he had a home again, a clan to fight for, worth dying for. To be loyal to. Friends and family that wouldn't betray him. A life to be proud of.
If only he could forget his old life and his old name.
Goals:
Currently IceWatch's life feels rather full with the looking after of the whole clan. He doesn't have much time to think of his future... or his past. And that's how he likes it, to be honest. Once in awhile he does wonder what will happen once LostStar is gone, though when he thinks about becoming clan leader himself it's with a sense or responsibility and mild dread. At that point he often shoves the thought away and reminds himself that it might not ever happen anyway.
Though he isn't actively looking for a mate, and in his heart of hearts doesn't want to betray the memory of his first love, it would probably do him some good to find someone to settle down with. She would have to be a one-tom kind of queen, as he wouldn't accept anything else.
He might enjoy being a mentor as well, though he can't imagine fitting it into his schedule at the moment. Having a rambunctious youth underfoot sounds like a headache to him, but would probably be very rewarding in truth.
RP List:
None
