oSaC: Crosspaw Application

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|Name| Bucephalus Crosspaw Cross???
|Age| 7 Moons
|Gender| Tom
|Breed| Purebred Javanese
|Appearance| Tall and thin framed, with long legs and a soft tufted coat. His tail is almost disproportionately long and fluffy, normal for his breed, and his ears tall and pointed to frame his long oriental type face. Pale cream in color, with darker chocolaty points but not to the extent of a Siamese and ticked with faint stripes in areas. His eyes are huge and deep blue, and are pointed in a just slightly crossed way which is what led to his name. His paws are almost a bit too small for his body, exaggerating his dainty build and graceful stride. A human might refer to him as somewhat feminine. He also has just the slightest nasally lisp to his voice, making it even more difficult to seem intimidating.

|Rank| Apprentice
|Clan| AspenClan

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|Personality|
|Innocent| A cat his age in the wilderness should know quite a bit more about the way of the world than he does; harsh lessons tend to go in one of his large ears and straight out the other. He is the sort of cat to catch a mouse and, realizing it is time to make the kill, set it loose to keep from having to hurt it. Naturally after only a short time outside of captivity this particular worry has left him, but all the same he is much more likely to take the sweet and childishly kind route over violence or harsh reality. This also affects him in other ways, being entirely oblivious of the opposite gender. It would likely take a great deal of pushing for him to notice any sort of advances, romantic or otherwise. He even refuses to say anything profane, replacing normal swears with things like names of berries and birds and random things that happen to match phonetically. Of course, this is all only exacerbated by the fact that he's not the brightest of cats.

|Scatterbrained| Though not outright stupid, Crosspaw has a terrible habit of misunderstanding, misinterpreting, and sometimes simply not remembering things told to him even moments before. He at times gives a blank stare, crossed eyes gazing out into nothing as he loses himself in thought and tunes out the world around him. He can get so completely stuck in that state that he needs a claw across the cheek before he snaps out of it, but when he needs to be aware he's fairly good at keeping himself that way. This is probably a bit attributable to the fact that his parents, being purebred show cats, were likely related. All the same, even with his deep and sometimes impressive foolishness, he can break through with sudden bursts of wit and cleverness when needed. This is especially noticeable when the situation calls for a creative replacement for a curse or obtuse thinking.

|Sweet| Always eager to lend a paw, assist in difficult or menial tasks or simply to listen and understand, Crosspaw is one of the sweetest and most kind cats you could possibly come across. Though he has trouble understanding the subtleties of wild cat society, what he does understand is that sometimes everyone just needs an ear to talk into, a shoulder to cry on, or a good friend to sit in silence with to while away the hours, and he is the first to offer any of these. Despite his obliviousness he tries his best to make friends and amends with every cat he meets, even those he doesn’t particularly like. He would have sincere trouble telling anyone what to do or scolding them, even if it were an intruder on their lands. He would much rather kindly ask them to leave than bark a threat. This also makes him wonderful with kits, never taking offense to small wrongdoings and happy to guide with kindness to the right path.

|Eager| Though home is always where his heart is and he is more than happy to stay there doing domestic chores, there is little he wouldn’t do to impress or assist and he always accomplishes tasks quickly. Born a pampered kit as he was, the woods are strange and fascinating to him. He is almost desperate to hear all the older cats have to say, absorbing information and holding onto it as much as he can. Though he tends to ask questions twice and forget things, he is never bored or frustrated and would happily sit calmly and receive a lecture if he felt it would help him understand better. Though not the greatest at any one task, whichever is given to him is sure to be done well enough and very quickly.

|Faithful| Inside the home of a kittypet, nothing is beautiful or sacred. The plants are potted, the food is long dead and the toys are quilted and sprayed and washed and scentless. It is a sterile existence, and one that makes the realities of life and the stories of the past breathtaking to him. He had only barely known of Starclan in his home, but the stories of them passed on to him through the window were what egged him on to leave the safety of human care, and every night he takes the time to look up and thank them for bringing him to the beautiful life he now has. He dreams of one day meeting a cat of Starclan, and that he might join them in the end is something that fills him with hope for even the far future.

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|History| Crosspaw was born as Bucephalus, son of Orion and Mercury of Tabitha’s cattery, a small breeder of Javanese and Siamese cats in the city. It was a rich life, wet food on platters and fine toys, a huge cat tree to climb and explore and all the treats he could ask for. He was pampered, the pick of the litter and destined for showing across the country and running in agility trials. As he grew he was trained for this, his sweet and amiable temperament and fast paws encouraged with clicker training and adoration from his owners. He was perfectly happy to live this life, never wanting or expecting anything different.

It was at the large window one night when he wanted to know more, long tail draped about his paws as he looked up instead of down. Between the towering buildings he could see just a sliver of sky, and in that sliver the tiny white lights far away and glittering, signaling to him. He was mesmerized by them, not even noticing as the smell of a strange cat wafted between the mesh of the window frame, a large tabby body lighting on the sill and staring at him with a single reflective yellow eye. His innocence brought him only to a jump, ears flicking in confusion as he stared back at the huge old alley tom, hardly even understanding why there was another cat not in the house. “A night to remember, hmm kittypet?” He growled, voice harsh with many long years in the grit of the streets. The kit nodded just lightly, blinking and tilting his head slowly to the side like a dog. “There aren’t usually… Lamps in the sky.” He replied, sounding so weak and young in his own ears. A rasping laugh left that white and grey throat, old yellowed teeth bared for just a moment. “Stars, kit. Don’t you know what a star is? Or are those eyes ‘o yours too crossed to see ‘em?” The tom laughed again and was gone before anything else could be said, the silky banner behind the younger cat’s rear flicking about in curiosity.

The old cat named Biscuits, a name he’d taken from a young girl that had once wanted to care for him, returned every few nights, the rapidly growing kit meeting him there every time. They spoke long and low about the wild and Clans, places where cats ran free and hunted for themselves. He told stories about great leaders and the Warrior’s code, and finally about Starclan and the legend of where they lived on earth. “Every one of us sees Starclan someday, Crossy. In our own time or before it. But not here, inside the walls of a house. To be a Warrior… that’s how you get to know them personal. That’s how you become like them. Live a good life.” Biscuits shook his head slowly as he leaned a bit, old bones creaking with age. “Old tom like me… wouldn’t make a lick of difference to a Clan. You on the other hand, you know. You’re round that age.” Crosskit’s eyes lit up, sparkling with desire. “You think I’d be able to find a clan? If they still exist? If they’re near?” He asked desperately, standing up as though willing to leap through the screen right then and there. The old cat chuckled and sighed, ears relaxing slowly to either side of his head. “Maybe. A hard road, that one. Don’t take kindly to kittypets… but you call yourself Crosskit instead of that… Boocy whatever, and they might. Just might.” His mumbling trailed off into the sound of a car’s screech, the honking wailing off into the night as the clamour of the city retook their conversation. Razor talons flashed for just a moment, hooking into the fine mesh of that window and ripping it through, a hole just big enough. “You find your way, Crossy. I’ll look out for you.” The old one said, one last smile before disappearing into the night.

Crosspaw never managed to find his old friend, paws faltering every so often as his soft and manicured nails slowly grew and his paws became calloused with use. It was a few hungry weeks as he struggled to find his way out of the city, following the stars and the tug deep in his belly to find the home he’d never known but was certain was the place for him. With a little luck, and the faith beaming through him, he knew he would find his way, and one day be a warrior. His ambition and faith never left him, holding him true to his path even as his skin grew taught across his ribs and his fur dragged with dirt he didn't know how to clean himself. Learning was slow, rarely able to sleep for the growling ache in his belly and the terrible sounds of the forest around him. The smells and sights of it overwhelmed him, earth and grass and flowers, the scents that had only ever come to him in faint falsified whiffs through potpourri and candles. Two weeks, three weeks, a month, he found his steps slowing and his heart weakly begging him to turn back. He'd only ever caught vague hints that any cats lived here, let alone the great clans he'd once been told stories of. Beneath a tall tree he felt his thin young legs give out beneath him, stung by nettles and fed only by insects.

The young cat rolled to his back lightly to try and soak up the light of the moon, breath straining as he focused his gaze past the white and brown notched bark of the tree at his side and onto the glimpses of stars between the branches. He couldn't help but feel that swell of desire again, distant flickering only making him sorry he'd never made it to where he was going, just one hope in his heart that those stars would show him some pity and let him watch them if he couldn't find his paws again. That was when the sharp scent hit him, foreign and strong, the acrid but safe smell of a tom in his prime. His huge ears twitched as he turned his head, huge crossed eyes barely settling on the seemingly massive and glowing golden cat before him, the weakness in his eyes blurring reality and his imagination. A tiny smile pulled over his muzzle as he blinked, scenting the air as that strong and proud clan leader approached him and he knew he had found his way. "... Are you... Starclan?" He asked weakly, tail lifting slightly before his energy left him and he went limp against the forest floor.

When he awoke he found himself surrounded by the smell of cat kind, head spinning from it. Struggling to his feet he was surrounded by so many others, close and near, some staring at him and others going about their daily lives. A place of beauty and warmth like he'd never known, even in the safety of his youth. He could still feel the rattling weakness in his bones from the cold, but beneath that was a raging desire to prove himself worthy of this miracle, and to join their ranks as a Warrior.

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|Family|
|Mother| Tabitha’s Mercury- Alive, kittypet
|Father| Tabitha’s Orion- Alive, kittypet
|Siblings| Paris- Alive, kittypet
Caesar- Alive, kittypet

|Relationship tracker| (Link to the meme will go here when he’s started to have relationships)

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|RP Example| (New writing, just a little excerpt from his memories to get myself started.)
It had been that unnatural but oh so sweet smell of cat food drifting on the low breeze, a beacon that dragged his small paws along against his will and set just a bit of drool threatening to run over his chin. He couldn’t remember how many days it had been, sniffing through dumpsters, clawing through the trash and hopping on cockroaches, but nothing so far had proven to be actual food. He nimbly vaulted over an old rotting pallet and atop a garbage can, haunches wiggling just lightly as he prepared and then hopped up to the top of a high cinderblock wall fencing in a backyard. Surely an expensive building, not even an apartment complex, with real grass and a stone walkway down the center. He blinked a few times to focus himself, huge blue eyes flickering around until they rested on the white plastic bowl near the back door, a small porch light illuminating the lumpy brown treasure within.
Just a moment to gauge the distance, claws gripping into concrete until he finally leapt and hit the floor with a thud, wincing at the distance but quickly recovering his balance and nervously heading towards the bowl. He couldn’t imagine he was the only one to sniff it out and that was what made him nervous, body still suffering from the lanky and ungainly affliction known as youth. He was only feet from the bowl, heavenly scent dragging him in with slow footsteps, jaw hanging loose to draw in as much scent as he could and nearly taste it, when the telltale croon of a streetcat’s growl met his ears. His head shot up and he glanced around, eyes wide and nervous until they fell upon the dark furred she-cat, his stomach dropping in fear but holding his ground. He needed this food, and perhaps she would be accommodating… though her hiss said otherwise.
“We… we can share! My name’s Crosskit… what’s yours?” He asked weakly, the true friendliness in his words a bit jarring compared to the nature of the other cats in the neighborhood, but he still wasn’t quite capable of fighting for his meals, and open kindness was his only chance at a full stomach.