QUINCE

[THEA!]

NAME. Quince
GENDER. Male
AGE. 4 years
CLASS. Serf
MONARCHY. Western

APPEARANCE. When it comes to appearance, Quince was never at the top; in fact, he can be considered quite ugly. Though scars do not deform his face, he is remarkably plain-looking (and his expressions and nervous movements make him look uglier than it is). His fur is short and soft, but not very soft; in fact, it has a stiff, almost brittle quality to it and to a paw it's almost like sandpaper. This stiff fur is a common brown color. He is a brown tabby with cream accents. His size is normal, maybe a little thinner than usual, and he has ears that are perhaps a little bit too large for him. His brownish-pinkish nose is never quite still. He has small paws that he still often trips over, long legs, and an average body (though a little bit on the skinny side). Though his body his nothing unusual, it is his eyes that often draw attention; large and round, they are extremely expressive and indeed are windows to his soul. At nights they stare wistfully up at the stars; at daytime they dart around suspiciously. You can always tell what Quince is doing by his eyes.

That being said, if Quince's average appearance and sometimes creepy eyes don't put you off, his nervous mannerisms certainly will.


PERSONALITY. Quince's most obvious character trait is his nervousness. Any cat can see it from a mile away; the way he flicks his tail every other second, the way his eyes dart from here to there, and the way he never looks anyone in the eye. He moves with a certain frailty that cats get when they're old or when they have enough experience to be old. All of these point to the very obvious fact that he is paranoid. His constant expectation of someone to jump out at him and scream at him and try to tear him apart has caused him to be always tense, always jumpy, and always moving.

The simple fact is that Quince is a wallflower. He tries to do his duty quietly and without fuss, trying not to talk to anyone. Some cats have a constant urge to rise in rank, but Quince simply wants to avoid punishment. To those of a higher rank, he is meek and quiet, eyes always cast downward. However, he holds a certain bitterness, a grudge if you will, to those who share his rank. Though he does try not to talk, when he is forced to talk to another serf, his voice is slow and strong, as if he has thought about every word that comes out of his mouth. It's very hard to make Quince lose his temper, as he is very closed off and almost disconnects himself from his daily life.

However, just like any cats, Quince does have quite a couple quirks. There are some things that, if done when you are talking to him, causes him to splutter and suddenly become very nervous and, in essence, freak the hell out. One of these things is being touched. Just the lightest little accidental touch will almost snap him into wakefulness. He will be demanding and shrill and scared. There are also those who are mean to others for no reason. Quince has low self esteem already - he thinks himself a coward and wants to be like his father, though his father was one of the most hated cats in the monarchy. This is because he knew only the good side of his father. He wants to be like his own memory of his father, not like what he is remembered as. However, if another cat of his own rank is mean to him, then Quince will snap at them, even fight them if he is goaded enough. Finally comes the situation if someone touches the dream-catcher he wears around his neck. His dream-catcher is the only thing his father passed onto him except for memories, but it was also a device used to hurt him only one year back. As a result, when anyone touches his dream-catcher Quince says, "Stop, no!" After someone touches his dream-catcher, he is almost disoriented, and he goes into full panic mode. And he will never forgive someone who touches his precious dream-catcher.

Quince also finds it hard to trust anyone. He is paranoid, and almost laughs at the idea that there are those who are kind in the world except for his father, who is now dead. It's extremely hard to get close to him. Complimenting him will only scare him, being flirty will make him run away, and being mean will make him hate you. However, once he does trust you, he will be like a slave to you. Quince does not understand the concept of equality; he doesn't understand that cats who trust each other enjoy each other's company, and nice conversations, and having fun together. He does not understand the concept of being respected as an equal. If he trusts you, it's almost as if you are his owner. Tell him to do something, and he will do it without a blink of his eye. It's quite sad, actually.


HISTORY. When Quince was born, it was thought that he was 'very lucky'. And, frankly, he was. He had a loving father who was a Baron in the Western monarchy. His mother was a beautiful young she-cat who was known throughout the kingdom to be 'an angel'. It wasn't too far off, either. She was a beautiful she-cat who had the most beautiful laugh and who was known to be incredibly innocent and kind. The two - their names were Frederic and Isabella - mated half for reputation and half because they loved each other. They were almost like celebrities. Quince's birth had been looked forward to for a long time. There were four kits. One was a brown tabby she-cat with white splotches, one was a gray tabby she-cat, one was a brown and gray tabby she-cat, and one was a brown tabby tom, named Eleanor, Willa, Ivy, and Quince respectively.

The two kittens were very healthy and grew slowly until their eyes opened and they saw the world. While their father was off doing things like hunting for new narcomancers, their mother would teach them about the world, from hunting to knowing what herbs cure what sicknesses. The kittens' personalities slowly came out. Eleanor was kind and quiet, like her mother. Willa was a fluffball of energy, always needing to do something with her paws. Ivy was a curious one who would always poke her nose in where it didn't belong, while Quince was cute, optimistic, shy, and always smiling. While some sibling groups this large separate into groups in their kit-hood, these were the four musketeers. They almost had jobs: Ivy would tell them what they should explore, Willa would encourage them to explore, Eleanor would be the cautious one, and Quince would, after they inevitably got caught, get them out of trouble.

When they were about six months old, Frederic was promoted to the rank of Council member. The kits' happy lives continued. Little did they know, something far more sinister was happening, and it was all the fault of their father, who seemed so happy and kind when he was with them. Frederic had made a bet three years ago that within exactly two years of becoming a Baron, he would be made a council member. However, there was a problem; Frederic had only been made a council member three years after he was made a Baron. This was a problem, as he had bet his mate. It was meant as a joke, but it turned out his friend (who had a history of violence) thought it was a serious bet. In a panic, Frederic realized that he had to make it seem that he was made a council member a year earlier than he was. The only cat who knew exactly when he was made a council member was the very cat who recruited him. So, on a dark, rainy night, Frederic crept up behind him and killed the very person who recruited him.

When Frederic showed up to the council member meeting, he said that the cat he had killed had made Frederic his apprentice a year ago and that he had told Frederic to take his place, then died of a sickness. The council members trusted their baron, so they allowed him to be a council member. And he was safe for then. But what he didn't know was that the council member's brother was the very cat he had made a bet with. When he went to visit his brother's body, the cat recognized the fur between the claws of his brother. He instantly knew what Frederic had done. Furious, the cat met with Frederic. He was going to kill Frederic when the other council members walked in. The cat left with a hissed threat in Frederic's ear. Frederic, knowing he was going to die, gave his son, Quince, an object that had been passed down from his father. It was the dream-catcher. Then, Frederic waited for his fate.

A week later, the cat appeared. He killed Frederic quickly, but that wasn't the problem. Quince, who saw his father as a superhero, had followed his father, and saw him being killed. He squeaked and ran out to see if his father was okay. He was about one year old at the time. The cat had no choice but to kidnap Quince so that he wouldn't tell what had happened. With Quince, the cat moved back to where the serfs lived. For quite a while, the cat used to 'play' with Quince; choking him with the dream-catcher he still wore about his neck, mainly. Quince's personality slowly developed as it did today. He stayed with this cat for two years until the cat was promoted to noble position. A noble cat was coming to his den to talk to him, and Quince could ruin his chances of gaining the title. He knocked Quince out and brought him to the middle of nowhere, and left him there. Quince awoke not knowing where he was, groggy and disoriented. But he still had his dream-catcher and the cat was nowhere to be see. Quince set off in a random direction, but he starved more every day. Finally, the Western monarchy found him. He was made a slave and lives in fear of being found by the same cat who held him prisoner for so many years.

[/justify]

[abri[elle]]

approved.