Ghost NightShade

[isilzheha]

Name: Ghost NightShade Gender: Male Date of Birth: Feb. 12, 2003 Height: 22.1 cm Sexual Preference: Straight Status: Not Neutered Coat Color: Silver Coat Pattern: Tabby Eye Color: Green Fur Length: Medium Appearance Extra: A diagonal scar across his chest, and one down his side that curves toward his left flank. Many dot around his flanks and upon his legs. History: He was born into a veterinarian hospital, for his mother Soul NightShade, and his father Metal NightShade, were both taken in from the streets. So Ghost spent at least two to three confined but pompous months with his two siblings and lazy mother and father. He was always running around the little area, or picking upon his brethren, seemingly never satisfied with just laying in wait. He always had to be moving. He was always upon his toes, you could say, and watchful when the pale faces of many came and went. He thought it a mere happening of most felines' lives, but it was not. He had a more wild streak, as well. For his mother and father were abandoned themselves, and practically lived their whole lives striving upon the streets, so he was raucous. Not to mention slightly more aggressive. Though one fateful day, at three months at the least, a smirking little boy wanted him, and have him he would. Soul was more or less a lazy cat, finding no will to fight against the pasty humans as they took him from the tiny little steel cage and into another. Away from his family. He was torn, and mewed much, but was hushed with a bang of the carrier against something. Or someone hitting it. Never could tell. So he was taken from them, and brought into a rather different home. One with a newly reached teenager by at least thirteen years old. And two little ones by the age of two and ten months. Not a very acceptable bunch to be around. He was trying to assess where he was and how he was to get around, when he was constantly bugged by the observant thirteen year old. The little brute would press on his back, and instinctively he'd crouch low and slink across the ground to avoid the hand. Other times the little babies would pull him back by his hind legs until he mewed and ended up making the babies cry, which only got him a swift smack on the back. Which usually led to him cowering away. It was all so weird and new to him, and he wasn't exactly ready to go through with fitting in yet. Which he most certainly didn't do right away. Days went by, weeks went by, and those quickly turned to months. Ghost soon became settled, and tried to get used to the constant attention, but always he would be pestered by the ever annoying thirteen year old whom always wanted to touch him. Mostly to push him over onto his back or to press him flat. That and the factor of the babies. They would cuddle him and be quite fun and welcoming, but other times they would drag him back by his haunches or sometimes his legs. They just didn't understand pain, or the concept of hurting another creature. Their mother was hardly home, and when she was, she was either in her room relaxing or elsewhere. The thirteen year old was ruthless. Ghost put up with it for some whiles, and lived with them until he was only about one year of age. Still young. He has many scars upon his legs and haunches where the children would drag him back with unclipped nails. He tolerated it for a while, then began to get moody and intolerant for such antics. He would hiss and growl his warnings, but they all thought it fun and games, being immature as they were at their age. So they would continue to think he was playful and happy, a cuddly little kitten. But he outgrew it all. So he resorted to light nipping. Of course, his teeth were sharp by nature, and thus it resulted to bruisings, and he was slapped harshly or picked up and thrown a bit of ways. Which is partly how he learned his flexibility and reflexes. The thirteen year old picked him up one day, laying him across his arms as if a baby, and began to walk around the house. Of course, Ghost felt simply helpless and ridiculous when his paws were above him and not under him. He felt uncomfortable. So he twisted and jerked, and clawed the clothing a bit. But he caught skin at one moment, and the boy dropped him. He fell against the corner of an entertainment center and then twisted out of instinct to catch the fall sort of, and then the slash went across his left side, curling toward his already scarred flank. When he landed, the mother tended to her son, and blamed him, taking out a slap or two. He cringed and moved away, his own wound bleeding, and tended to it. He was taken to a vet soon enough, but all that could be done was bandaging. So it was done, and Ghost was left to his own in the house he disliked so. They were only the beginning of his molding. He felt confined again. suffocated and hurt was inflicted upon him around every corner. He needed to get out. It was easy, it was. He slipped through the door when the father was taking out the trash, and he sped off like a bullet, ignoring the hesitant but pleading tones of the man. He didn't care. One might think he'd turn out like a trapped cat in a tree while he was out alone, much like old stories, but this was reality. He survived maybe a couple of months, and the bandages annoyed him a week earlier, forcing him to gnaw through it. It had been done healing, and was already scarring permanently. He was found by a kindly looking fellow whom tried to nourish and tend him, but he was far too vigilant and haughty to be touched nor fed through ways of hands. A mere two days later he was claimed by the mother and father of the never ceasing to annoy children, and was taken back home. He knew where he was, and seemed almost to go crazy. He had been out. He hissed and snarled, growled and bristled, looking much like a large cotton ball. Of course, he was a quite deadly cotton ball. The kids thought it funny, and he lashed out without a care, and scratched them, and nipped at the thirteen year old who seemed to want to beat him like a punching bag. He was stalking around him when the mother came in with a broom. Ghost never saw it coming until the bristles stabbed at his legs. He moved back, but the broom kept coming. He was herded into a carrier, for he wouldn't allow them to touch him. The carrier was rattled, banged, flipped over. Sticks were poked in. Pens. The thirteen year old wanted to see how mad the kitty would get. Ghost tried getting at him, but it wasn't exactly possible. Soon enough, the carrier was chucked out of the window after being unlocked. Ghost was rattled around with what could be a sprained hind leg. He was a little demon to the humans. He was abandoned on the Old Road, it seemed, left to fend for himself. He was hassled alot, fought alot. Thus he learned another lesson of the streets; Look out for anything and everything. You have to be one with yourself. Quick and deadly, else you be killed. So he's been on the streets ever since. Personality:A sleek and quiet one at times. He's the ghost as his name implies when he is fighting. A merciless lack shadow, waiting for the moment of the death strike. He's fierce in his own way, and by far a more intelligent creature than he had ever been before when within the household of the humans. He's quick and hardly goes out on a whim. He either finds enough information, or he simply backs away from it. He's cautious and also vicious at times. Watchful and observant, Ghost is always ready to handle many situations that fall before him. He never goes out of his league. He's determined and skilled at getting what he feels determined about. Or, another way he goes about it is that he rounds around it first and then doubles back to collect it. He likes to look ahead and make sure nothing lies to bar his way. He's straight forward, and speaks his opinions when he knows it matters. Otherwise he is quiet and always watching. He never lets anyone get too close to him or he gets crowded and uncomfortable. He's protective of his emotions, for he feels everyone should be for themselves, and hardly shows anything unless he's having a bad day or merely just not tolerating any of it. He's fierce and wicked when angered too much to contain, or whenever he feels cornered or pushed too far. He's heartless when it comes to love, and he knew no playful manner. He's wild and like a snake at times, but calm and collect at another. A truly changing one, he is. He's never angry, but he's never exactly calm. Monotone and devote of emotion. Cold and blank. Eerily so, some say. Or comment before they attempt to kill him. Although he's not exactly happy, he can get chaotic. He's a temperamental one when caught on the wrong day. He has an unusual change in things though, and he hardly lets any emotions slip past him. Nor does he work well with other emotions. Love doesn't come easy for him, and he doesn't take to flirting about. A part of him tells him to try and find a mate, but this part of him he fights, for he thinks it's every creature for themselves. He's blank when he's thinking or is just simply hiding things. He's hardly ever sad, for he's hardened from that. He's sort of the cat that you might see looking sort of dull on the streets. Even though he's very much lively and always upon his toes, if you could call it that. He can be merciful when he's on his good days, and sometimes even kind. He has a different way of expressing himself, and he doesn't like too many felines around him, for then he feels uncomfortable and suffocated. Like he's trapped and cannot move around. He's suspicious of the cats that might actually take an interest in him, so tread lightly. Image: Click. Your OOC Name: Josh is good to be listed. ;] Other Characters On the Site: None.