~•SoиgCłди•~Д Сдт Сłди ЯP. DEPUTY POSITION IS OPEN!

[The Turken Lady]

Here's my form. I had to re-write some of it.
Name: Bluepaw
Tom/She-cat: She-cat
Rank: Apprentice
Appearance: Bluepaw is a small Russian Blue she-cat with green-blue eyes.
Personality: Bluepaw is usually optimistic,adventurous,and caring. But,at times she can became a little too excited. She just started her apprenticeship,being 8 months old.
History: Bluepaw was found in the forest as a small kit,resting in the hollow of a tree. No-one knows where she came from,not even herself. She believes that she was born in Songclan.
Other: None
Breed(If any): Russian Blue
BYC username: The Turken Lady

Here she is-

 

[DuckyGurl]

Jasminesong stretched.

 

[NixNoodleNumbat]

(Ducky, did you get my PM?)

 

[DuckyGurl]

Quote:
(Yes, I don't think so...not now.)

 

[NixNoodleNumbat]

Quote:
(Yes, I don't think so...not now.)

(What did I ask?)

 

[DuckyGurl]

Quote:
(Yes, I don't think so...not now.)

(What did I ask?)

(If Jasminesong would be Whitekit's mentor-?)

 

[NixNoodleNumbat]

Quote:
(What did I ask?)

(If Jasminesong would be Whitekit's mentor-?)

(Oh, right. So that's a no then?)

 

[DuckyGurl]

Quote:
(If Jasminesong would be Whitekit's mentor-?)

(Oh, right. So that's a no then?)

(yep)

 

[BirdNut]

Silent humming could be heard nearby, a tune that lacked melody. The soft pitter-patter of feet could be heard approaching, a long, fluffy tail swaying left and right above the foliage as the shape queitly moved about.

"Gotcha," he said, a grin winding itself on one side of his mouth. He rose to his full height, revealing himself, propping himself up on his hocks. He raised a paw to his vision, a little gray mouse flailing it's tiny pink paws about in vain attempt to escape the deadly grasp of his sharp, wickedly jagged white claws. He cackled under his breath as he looked it over with narrow eyes, one eye was a pale ivory in color and the other an intense cerulean like the cloud-dappled heavens above.

 

[Dutchgirl]

Sun shone down, warming the sleeping cat. Still, even in her sleep, she was on guard.

The patter of a sleepy weasel's light pawsteps could be heard by the most sensitive of ears. The she-cat heard them.

Instantly she was on her feet, smelling, listening, watching. Then, in a quick motion, she lunged into the undergrowth and twisted her claw. With an uncanny sixth sense she had located the weasel in a heartbeat. A death shriek confirmed that she had hit her target.

Then, having no taste for the weasel, she trotted off in search of better game.