The Eterna

Although her current proportions sport the typical kitten gangliness, albeit, on a subtler scale, Oriolekit will grow into the beauty expected of her breed. A well-balanced, somewhat muscular cat with a long tail and large, pointed ears. Although still growing, when Oriolekit reaches her adult size she will stand around 10 inches at the shoulder, 12 inches in length excluding her tail, and likely weigh around 9.5 pounds.

The most favored and most common Somali appearance, Oriolekit's fur is mostly a deep ruddy hue, looking from fiery orange to a deep red-brown depending on the lighting, dusted with black ticking that paints a line from forehead to tail-tip, wandering over her shoulders and along her hips. Her nose is a dark pink, tinted brown on the sides with dark pink paw-pads to match and white fur around her muzzle. What sets her apart are her eyes, dilated and eerily reflective, rimmed with the vibrant green they ought to be.

As is natural to her breed, Oriolekit's more unique skill is amazing paw dexterity, to the point she can pick up and manipulate objects a lot easier than most cats can. Beyond this and general agility, most of Oriolekit's physical abilities are relatively evenly spread. Her senses and wit, however, are especially sharp, her hearing, touch, whiskers, and sense of smell being put to good use every day as she works toward being a warrior apprentice.

Born with retinal dysplasia, a form of early-onset progressive retinal atrophy, Oriolekit's vision had never been clear or focused, but the deterioration was rapid and noticeable all the same not far from her second moon. By now, her vision will not deteriorate much further, and she is almost fully blind. Although she can identify day or night through the subtle change in brightness and can have a general idea of the sun's position on a clear day, her world is quite like living with her eyes closed.

+ Inventive + Perceptive + Determined + Brave + Perservering + Adaptable

Oriolekit is feisty, sarcastic, and brave. Despite her disability, she will not let anyone push her around, and will not back down and appease others. When she sets her mind on something, she will achieve it, and no one can stop her. At least, that is the front the young one puts on. A mask - a defense. Who would suspect timidity beneath that?

But she is not all brave and all fire. There is a sensitivity beneath the surface, a constant flow of doubt and mistrust. Her pivotal moments in the outside world were miserable ones, and they ingrained a belief that the world is a bad place, and that everyone is out for themselves. She expects the worst from others and has a tendency to believe the worst in herself. But she covers it up. Oriolekit refuses to let anyone trample her, and she believes that letting her apprehension and upset show through will only give the bad things an opportunity to strike.

Yet with those few she lets her guard down around, or in those moments where she feels a little more confident or a little less wary, she isn't all fear or snark. She may maintain her sarcasm, but she is inventive and resourceful. She can spin wild tales and make use of whatever she has on paw. She has learned to get creative when it comes to making up for her disability, and her perseverance does have the capability to serve those beyond herself. If she feels indebted to someone or wishes to prove she cares, she will go above and beyond to make good on it.

From the moment she was conceived, perhaps even as far back as the intent of her conception, the young kit was meant to be a star showcat, like her mother, and her parents before her. A perfect, purebred Somali, with a future of preening and ribbons. Her twoleg did not realize he had been duped when he sent his prized molly away to be bred. That was until the litter turned out to be a failure. A sole surviving kit, a beautiful little molly who seemed perfect in every respect - but hardly more than halfway to her second moon, it became clear to him that her vision was not developing normally. Her first visit to the place of strangely touchy twolegs and far too many smells had been frightening. The visits from then on were hardly much better. By the time she was two and a half moons old, the twoleg's irritation became palpable, but no further explained.

Mama had tried to help her understand. With sweet comfort, she pried out what happened at these odd little sessions that unsettled her so much and made their twoleg so angry. She explained to her that it seemed the twoleg was worried about her eyes, tried to help her understand that the world did not look the same to her as it did to others, growing steadily darker with each passing of the sun, and it upset him. She told her that the twoleg could be a very kind creature, but he had high expectations and was easily upset when these were not met. Mama tried to tell her that she would just have to prove she was perfect in every other aspect, that she would not be held back by what her world looked like.

Mama was so much nicer than their twoleg. The kit wished she would name her, rather than the temperamental creature, but Mama refused. Softly whispering 'baby' and 'dear' into her ears, telling her one day the twoleg would name her, and that name was the only one she ought to ever respond to. Neither mother nor daughter had expected that she would be cast into the dark and cold outside without one. Part of the kit had wondered if the twoleg had somehow understood their conversation, had been angered that she did not want his name.

The kit had apologized for this. Crying to the unforgiving door, she had apologized for many things. She had apologized for her temper, for her eyes, for scratching him one time when he startled her. She had pleaded, promised she would be perfect, she would try harder to see right - Mama had tried to tell her once that this was one thing she would likely never achieve. Her pleas and promises and apologies alike fell on deaf ears. Eventually, she gave up.

It had only been a few sunrises after she had been thrown out, but it had felt like a lifetime to the helpless kit. It was as though every cat around there was nasty. One tom had chased her off from an odd piece of cold meat she had sniffed out after two measly bites, a heavy-sounding molly had refused to show her where she got so much food, and a cat only a pawful of moons older than herself had taunted her from somewhere up. Presumably, the top of a fence.

And then there was the beast. Oh, how alluring its food had smelled, tantalizingly left half-eaten in the bowl, drawing her in against her better judgment. Desperate beyond common sense, the kit had ventured close. The beast's smell was not horrid like crow-food or the twoleg carrion-bins, but nor was it pleasant. The snuffling rumbled snores had her imaging some huge creature that could swallow her up in one bite. It was a bad idea, she knew that. But the kit had snuck a few careful mouthfuls anyway. And then the beast had snapped. Literally snapped, jaws clacking shut barely a whisker away as she all but jumped out of her fur. Somehow, the kit had managed to dart away in her stumbling haze. Left trembling against the fence as the beast’s restraints rattled in protest, the kit had numbly realized her quest for food had nearly turned her into a meal herself.

The beast, she later discovered, was called “mutt.” At least, that was what the twolegs screamed at it. Their anger was painfully familiar.

Her salvation came in the form of a vaguely familiar scent. It had taken her a bit to recognize it, and even longer to let him near her despite the tantalizing mouse he brought, but she was glad she gave in.

The young kit had encountered the scent several times around the den as she was growing up. It was faint and grew ever weaker by the day, but it still lingered in a few of her favorite places, as well as her mother's own favored nesting spot. Naturally, the kit had assumed it was her father, a tom who she had never met, and heard ever so little about. But upon asking this, her mother revealed in fact, it was her own brother. Naturally, with the innate curiosity of a kitten, she asked why she had no siblings. It appeared the wrong question to ask. Her mother's shadowed figure had shrunken down before her straining eyes, into what the kit assumed was a huddled crouch, judging by the tone of her voice.

"You were meant to have two," Mama had admitted sadly. Although the kit had wanted to question further, the melancholy note to those six words was enough to trample the topic. She never did ask again what had happened to these mysterious siblings, although she terribly wanted to.

Her uncle - Redsnake, he told her - was...different. He walked a little odd, and he smelled like so many different things and cats at once that it overwhelmed her. But he brought her food, and he was surprisingly nice, asking about her mother and what had happened once the pair had puzzled out who they were to each other. Family. It was an odd thing to think about when it had only ever been her and Mama.

How Redsnake - who she had taken to calling Red - had been able to speak with Mama from outside the den had been beyond the kit, but he had confirmed to her what she had already learned. She would not be able to return. He guided her up to a precarious ledge to say goodbye to Mama in turn, and then they were gone. Half a moon went by like forever, in the miserable cold and damp, eerie caves.

The darkness was fine, with what little she could distinguish of light, to begin with, but the noises...there were sounds she had never heard before, and to face them without Mama was frightening. But Red was still kind. Red cared about her, although she could hardly comprehend why because no one but Mama had ever cared. The kit had begun to trust him by the time they reached his home. Coyoteclan, he called it; a place where everyone had those same long, strange names.

She suddenly felt so very out of place, not having a name of her own.

Oriolekit, one queen had named her, upon hearing she had never been given one. She told her that she was as pretty as the black and orange bird. Oriolekit did not have the heart to tell the sweet molly that ‘pretty’ was something she had no concept of. It took a few sunrises, but the young one came to terms with the fact she rather liked the strange new name, even if it blatantly pointed out her young age for a reason she could not fathom. Even after a moon, she is still wrapping her head around the fact this is what she ought to be responding to, but it felt nice being someone.

Bullying became commonplace in Oriolekit's life over the moon. Of course, there were kind cats or cats who seemed indifferent or far too busy to pay her any mind. But there were also those not unlike the young tom atop his fence who had taunted her on her second day alone. It brought about sour memories, and to deflect those sour memories, an equally sour disposition would broil over. She was a clan cat now, she had a name, and she was not going to let that name go down as the kit who always cried.