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-=Ragged of the Peak Colony=-
A one moon old molly kitten with tabby ticked, wiry red cameo fur, a white tail tip, rounded ears, and green eyes. Unsure of her pronouns.
[ARTWORK TBA]
+Positive+
| Creative | Introspective | Inquisitive |
Ragged's imagination is seemingly boundless, in both problem solving and her stories about the cats around her. Having found it much more comfortable to communicate her feelings through metaphor and tales, she's almost constantly dreaming up something new and finding wonder in the Peak Colony's world.
=Neutral=
| Independent | Earnest | Shrewd |
In light of struggling to communicate her clanmates, Ragged has made self-sufficiency something she strives for; she works better by herself, doesn't sugarcoat the truth, and takes unfamiliar situations in stride.
-Negative-
| Withdrawn | Short-Tempered | Untrusting |
As happy as she is to fantasize and turn the stories of her clanmates into art, Ragged has a hard time forming and keeping relationships. If a cat is in her way, she's quick to harsh correction. A fear of rejection seems to be what keeps her from connecting closely with her peers, and thus is very averse to putting trust in them.
[ARTWORK TBA]
Peak Colony is a young clan, only a few generations old. Young enough it hasn't had the chance to nurture prejudice to the outside. So, when a tiny, ragged-pelted kitten was found in a burrow on a night when the wind thrashed through the high mountain pines and the cold bit through even the thickest pelt, it was taken in.
Ragged, and other kittens found abandoned like herself,
spent their first moon somewhere they couldn't have dreamed they needed. With walls stained with time and the paintings of past kits in fading pigmented dust, she had quite the sight to see when she would first open her eyes.
She'd dream incessantly, as a kitten would. And slowly but surely those dreams followed her into her waking hours, where she could almost make those paintings move. As she heard stories from the elders, old tales from the queens, and distant reports from the rangers, she could soon put words to that movement. Then it came to her like she'd been born with it, all at once, in a crashing wave.
Stories.
Ragged began to tell everything she could see, and then the things she couldn't. She'd tell the queens, tell the elders, beg the passing rangers to hear what she could offer them back; making stories, pushing the limits of what her clanmates believed, that brought her a kind of purpose a kit could only imagine when so young. Each new day she seemed to go a hundred times faster, so caught up in her own games of pretend she'd forget to come back to the real world. Too busy to bother to play, too busy to eat with her denmates- just her and the company of her stories. Which... she'd soon convince herself, was satisfactory. But how much longer could this go on?
[ARTWORK TBA]
[TBA]
| Character Name | Owner | Rank |
[Opinion]