The Eterna

Saffronsky is a relatively large and well-proportioned cat, standing 13 inches at the shoulder, 20 inches long excluding his tail, and weighing around 16 pounds. He is muscular and a little thicker set, with dense medium-length fur.

Saffronsky is a genetically female cat, displayed through his scent and natural female characteristics, as well as the pelt coloration that males rarely show. His fur is a mottled patchwork of brown and orange, marked with black and darker red stripes. He has white on his chin, chest, and between his front legs, as well as on the tops of most of his toes. His tail is especially thick and fluffy, and his eyes are bright yellow.

Saffronsky is built more for physical power than speed and agility. He is muscled and well-proportioned for strength, balance and endurance. He is a heavy hitter and quite resilient, but not particularly fast. His skills in stealth come down more to his caution and practice than any natural prowess.

+ Paternal + Empathetic + Respectful + Equable + Reliable

There is very little that Saffronsky does not put his heart into. With a deep caring ingrained in him despite his own hardships in life — or perhaps because of them — Saffronsky wants to make sure everyone in his circle, anyone who needs it, feels they had a shoulder to lean on. A rock. He wants to be there for them, supporting, reassuring, and loving them no matter what. He is especially drawn to youth or those struggling with the views of others or themselves — but he does not limit his empathy. Unfortunately, he can be a little too giving.

So set on helping others and with a low opinion of his self-worth, Saffronsky will give until he has little left to spare. He will let others trample over him if he believes it will help them, and he is not nearly as firm as he ought to be. Despite this, he does not always give, nor does he willingly take. Instead, he chokes down the feeling of wanting that love and companionship in return until it festers into something needy and jealous. It is unhealthy, but part of him foolishly believes he does not deserve to receive as much as he gives. Part of him thinks it would be selfish.

Beneath all of these conflicting emotions, likely at the root of them, are deep feelings of guilt, discomfort, and loneliness. The loss of his litter ate away at some of his resolves, and the guilt of knowing he could have stopped it makes him feel less than deserving. But the distress toward the way his body and the perceptions of others far from reflect his inner self drove that choice. The divide between his gender dysphoria and his desire for kits and a family of his own leaves him teetering on his worst days, and even on his best he cannot help but try to wish it away.

Born first in a litter of three to two perfectly ordinary Coyoteclan warriors, Saffronkit's start to life was as peaceful and normal as one could get; in the midst of a war, that is. Her parents were straight-laced and strict, but supportive. There was no denying they sought for their kits to become strong, loyal warriors, but it was not for the sake of sculpting new soldiers for the ongoing war. They did not say it often, but their hope matched that of almost every other parent. That the war would be over before their kits came of age. That all their strength and loyalty would be needed for would be hunting and the occasional border skirmish.

Saffronkit knew this, she was warmed by this, but she promised she would fight hard and make them proud all the same. They were close, relatively speaking — so it hurt all the more when the future came to pass.

Saffronkit had known from a relatively young age that her gender didn't feel quite right. She had always felt more comfortable with her tom friends, had even confessed to them that she wished she was like them. It had started as an off-paw suggestion, one of her closest friends suggested that maybe she should just be a tom. His brother had quickly latched onto the idea though; especially once he realized how much happier she seemed being referred to as such.

The idea did not remain simple kit-play for long. It became normal for them. It felt right. And so it was no surprise that Saffronkit eventually sought to tell her — his mother.

This was his first taste of betrayal. Supportive and close, Saffronkit had expected his mother to understand. To, at the very least, help him figure out why he felt this way. He was wrong. So very wrong. She shut him down in an instant, whiplashing Saffronkit into silence. She explained to him calmly, but firmly, that he was a molly and would always be a molly. She told him that claiming otherwise was absurd and dishonest. Her reasonings seemed so logical, but they became things he could only hate about himself. His anatomy, his scent, even a pelt color that was almost never seen on toms — and those toms, she claimed, were not proper toms.

Saffronkit never did tell his father after that. In fact, he told no one. Instead, he slunk back into silence and never mentioned it again. Only his friends kept the knowledge and maintained their ways of referring to him as a tom. But it was more secretive, and it left him feeling wrong. Dirty.

It was not until his second moon of apprenticeship that another found out about his hidden male identity. His mentor was a kind soul, and although he pushed him hard sometimes, it was never anything beyond his capabilities. He was always there for him. Always supportive — never pushing for an explanation whenever Saffronpaw would come to him upset. He made him feel safe. And so it was only a matter of time before Saffronpaw opened up despite his fear.

It was after a particularly tough argument with his mother. She had overheard his two friends — thick as thieves now — referring to him as a tom and had confronted him. As always, his mentor only prodded gently for an answer, quick to recede when Saffronpaw denied it, to comfort him in silence. So Saffronpaw broke. His mentor was...surprisingly calm about it, as though he had been expecting this. It would be several more moons yet before Saffronpaw found out his mentor had known all along; had merely been waiting for him to come out at his own pace.

With the aid of his mentor and best friends, Saffronpaw finally came out to the rest of the clan a couple of moons later. He received mixed reactions. His father for one had been upset; but not for the reason Saffronpaw had expected. He was upset that Saffronpaw felt he could not come to him with this — upset to find out how his mother responded to it. Saffronpaw blamed himself for the way their mateship fell apart after that, but his father assured him it went beyond that revelation.

With the support of all the close toms in his life — along with the queen who had often cared for him when his parents were off in battle and a particularly gruff elder — the clan became accustomed to Saffronpaw's gender. The rest of his apprenticeship and into his warriorhood as Saffronsky was spent more comfortably. But that feeling of wrongness never ebbed entirely. Still rooted within him was the strong desire to be rid of everything that made him seem female. Everything that wasn't him. Those feelings seared him whenever he caught sight of that pelt so similar to his own.

Eighteen moons. That was how old Saffronsky was when he came to terms that his fondness for his two closest friends had delved deeper than friendship. Deeper than brotherhood. With the war having fallen into a shaky truce, they finally had the chance to just...relax together. Saffronsky had felt foolish at first when he acknowledged the split crush he harbored. He was not oblivious — he knew a crush when he saw it, felt it. But they had always been like brothers. How was he to know? They still were, truthfully; it was how everyone saw them. Like littermates, inseparable. Saffronsky was so certain neither would ever feel the same.

So he was beyond surprised to be proven wrong.