Winter Nightlife

[nightlife]

Name ; Winter Nightlife Gender ; Tom Date of Birth ; December 11th, '07 Height ; 19 cm. Sexual Orientation ; Heterosexual Status ; Unneutered Pelt Colour ; Dirty white Pelt Pattern ; Grey / brown tabby markings along the top of his head and back Eye Colour ; Amber Fur Length ; Short Appearance Extra ; n / a History ; Winter was born to two proud parents. Tiger and Tinker were his adoring servants for a blissful year. Winter and his two sisters, Summer and Autumn, were Tinker's first litter, and the poor she-cat didn't know yet how she'd grow to take kits for granted. She practically worshiped them, and so did the bemused but proud father, Tiger. Winter belonged to a "crazy catlady"; one of those reclusive old widows who live on the edge of a small town in London in an enormous house, alone in her nightshirt and slippers with about fifty cats, multiplying by the minute. Breeding wasn't controlled, and neither was feeding, precisely; although their owner, Naomi Pierce, did her best to keep her beloved felines under control, one eighty-year old woman wasn't much good against a growing army of half-feral cats. Of course, she loved every single one of them, and somehow, she knew each of them by name. Winter lived in blissful harmony with his "big, happy family" for a year. It was a good, full life, if a little too full. Cousins, uncles, aunts, nephews, and grandparents waited at every turn, and every square foot was populated with yowling cats. {well. Perhaps that's an exaggeration. But not by much!} And then, one day, Mrs. Pierce died. Just like that, everything Winter's life had been built on crumbled. There was no more food, placed in giant tin dishes by the door every evening; there was no more warm lap to retreat to when the rain came pelting down. The RSPCA arrived soon afterward, after hearing worried reports from the townspeople as the cats began to forage deeper into the heart of the town in search of food. Although most of them were perfectly content, spending their days draped over the moth-eaten, abandoned sofas of the dusty old house, the committee was shocked at the cramped conditions and the lack of care, and whisked them off to a pound - where there truly was "cramped conditions" and "lack of care". Cats were shoved into cages and given signs like "Abused kitten. Wantz home!!1! Plz call INSERTTELEPHONENOHERE. I will be eternally grateful. lolol." In other words, they were doomed. Winter and his family were separated. He was a nondescript cat, not a cute, cuddly kitten or a showcat with impressive ancestry, so he waited in his cage for weeks. They fed him, kept him watered, and he was sated. It was terrifying, though. Every minute of it was etched into his memory. The screams of kittens leaving their parents never stopped, and then there were the cats who were carried away, and never came back. By the end of it, Winter was one of the lucky ones. He wasn't a quivering, wild-eyed, nervous wreck. He was picked by a young girl picking her birthday gift, who clearly thought that his misfortune was cute, and that she was being charitable and would form a magical bond with an abused creature. The reality was quite the opposite. As soon as he was in their house - and had taken his first breath of fresh air in over a month - he escaped through their open door. He wasn't in England any more, though. The family who had adopted him had taken the plane back to their home in America. He was alone in the big city of New York. He lived on his own for nearly a year, and he was surprised to discover that he was at home in the conditions. The streets suited him. He got by rather well, and even earned himself a reputation. It all changed when he recognized the scent of his sister, Summer, and followed it with interest. What was she doing here? He found her - just managing to stop her before she got herself run over - and it was a happy reunion. She had, apparently, done the same thing he had. The little girl had been on her summer holiday in England, visiting her aunt, as she did every summer, and had been to visit the pound that she had adopted her "old kitty" from. Summer and Winter were very similar in appearance, and the girl had chosen Summer from the pound. They had flown back to America, and although they had taken more precautions than they had with Winter, Summer had managed to squeeze out a window on her third day there. Winter was overjoyed by the presence of his sister, and went around to start showing her the city. It was a great place, he explained to her. It was his home now. She wasn't as keen on it as he was, but followed along dubiously. He promised to meet her at the same place tomorrow, to talk. They agreed, but Winter arrived the next morning only in time to witness his sister being run over by a passing truck. Enraged, he had flung himself after her - even though she was already dead - and was hit by another car. It was a glancing blow, and he blacked out, subsequently losing the memories of his life; but he was alive. He came to inside a human's house; an elderly couple who had been driving from their friends' house in Maine back to their home in Nenbrook. As is Winter's wont, however, he escaped from their car as they paused to fill up on petrol, and was all alone, lost and confused, in Nenbrook. Personality ; Winter is a streetcat, through and through. Although perhaps not born in the streets, he was raised there, and certainly acts like it. He won't hesitate to fight dirty; that's one of the things about him that helps him thrive where others have lost it all. He has no rules. Honour, to him, is a fairytale; and it's just as well, for he'd probably be dead by now if he hadn't kicked a few enemies when they were down. He doesn't mind lying or cheating in the slightest, and is quite the cynic. He knows about the harsh realities of life, and won't waste time in broadcasting it. He's seen by some as bitter, but what does he have to be bitter about? He can bear grudges for decades, and has an annoying tendency of resilience, as well as one of convenient deafness {"So, Winter, I heard about you and ____ the other night." "Whaaaat? Speak up!"}. A bit of a womanizer, too, but doesn't flaunt it too openly in public. But he's quite the philosopher, as well. Despite being a suave smooth-talker {free with witty comebacks, crooked grins, and all - although batteries come separately}, there are moments when he displays a ridiculous lack of diplomacy. Indeed, he would prove to be a terrible politician, with his blunt tactlessness. There's something very likable about him - k'risma, his father called it, but Winter himself seems unaware of it. He's loyal, as well as intelligent, and fiercely competitive; although whether these are good or bad is up to you. He doesn't warm up to others immediately - although he's moderately friendly to strangers - although he leaps to conclusions at the speed of light and is amazingly accurate at stereotyping others. He tends to be awkward around delicate social situations, but has stopped making coarse jokes during awkward silences ever since his sister trained him otherwise. Nightlife also has a mild mental issue {the surprises never end, do they?}. Every other part of his mind is intact, and is, in fact, in fine working order, but for some reason, he thinks that he arrived from the heavens about two years ago. Barely no one knows - not because he keeps it a secret, but because the topic never really seems to come up in conversation that much - but it's quite a prominent facet of his personality, once one gets to know him. He won't be swayed, either; he's firm. He says that he should know his past better than anyone else, shouldn't he? Well, no, not really, if he has brain damage. But he's convinced otherwise. He has an explanation, too, of how he can't remember the first five billion years of Earth; well, he was asleep, of course! ... Yeah. Of course. He has this vague idea that he was sent down because he misbehaved, and as a punishment, had to look after the feline race. It hasn't been working, evidently. The really odd thing is that, contrary to common belief, Nightlife doesn't believe in some higher power. No celestial body. Who knows who "sent him down to Earth", then, but he's firm. He finds it hard to trust others, and a few others find it hard to trust him, as well, for all of his charisma; it's probably his ever-constant sarcasm. He never lets it down, and has often ruined a sentimental moment with some snide comment. For his credit, he does loathe sentimentality, and will often leave the she-cats he's mated with before they wake up, so they can't give him a guilt trip or whatever. He's a terrible hunter, and is always suspicious of evidence; despite this, he's a fair fighter, and fast when it comes down to it. He doesn't run much, though, and prefers to follow the excitement. Yes, he's that kind of fellow. Image ; xx Your OOC Name ; Raven {Rav, Ravey, Ravii}, Prospekt {Spektra, Spek, Spekto}, or Winter {Wint, Winty} - I've been deemed all three Other Characters On This Site ; n / a Other ; I understand if the History is a tad far-fetched. (: I'll be glad to change it.