[lear]

Character Name: Lear
Character Age: 200 moons
Character's Gender: Neutered Male
Character's Sexuality: Heterosexual
Character's Clan: Clanless, ex-kittypet, loner
Character's Rank: Loner
Short description: An elderly tomcat with a strange accent and brown and white tabby markings.

Photo

Physical Description
    Lear, despite his age, is doing all right. He is skinny, and going greyish around the muzzle and tips of his ears. Despite this, his short coat is dense and keeps him from looking too frail. He is a dark tabby with a white chest and a white mark over his nose, stretching up from his chest and neck. His eyes are a yellow-green. He holds himself in such a way that he doesn't take up space or appear very threatening, as he never learned how to properly fight, and attacks at his age can easily be fatal. He is good at walking silently and hiding, which his dark coat and naturally narrow frame lend themselves to. While not overly fast nor strong anymore, his senses are still keen and his eyes are bright. He is no daft old cat. Physically dainty, even frail, but not draft.
    More noticeable than his pelt is his voice. Lear's voice easily betrays his age--it crackles and he sounds far older than Clan-blooded elders. It also has a sharp, 'bark-like' accent very few cats can place; it is not from any of the cats nor the purr of a purebred kittypet. He is heavy on his consonants and the smoother words in Cat are more spit-out and struck than would ordinarily be pronounced. If he feels at ease, a strange posture will also follow the words, with the body language being somewhat atypical for a cat. Not many cats can place what this accent means, and he is deliberately vague about it: his tongue is the only weapon he has.


Personality
    Lear is a very intelligent cat, and observant. He is logical with a long memory, and instead of tooth or claw, it is his knowledge and stories that keep him alive. He can talk himself through many a thing, and having observed the Clans for his entire life, he will often offer a story in trade for his safety when he can. He is aware of his limits, but often is willing to push them. Though watching, he is able to learn, and does not forget a face or paw. Senility is not what will kill Lear, and this is the only certainty he has in his life: his mind, and his ability to speak. He is good at bargaining, at discerning verbal tricks and keeping himself alive by power of his mouth alone. Considering he doesn't know how to hunt very well, and so must scavenge, the ability to talk himself out of a bind is essential.
    However, Lear has also suffered much loss in his life, and it has colored his demeanor. He feels he is on borrowed time, and he feels a deep regret for many things in his life. It is too late for him to go back, and it's too late for him to save his greatest friend. Self-exiled from his home, he knows the good and bad of life as a kittypet, and will not hesitate to share the good and the bad. His life has been a series of good and bad, and that has made for grey. There is never a right answer in Lear's mind: every choice will have ramifications, even if the only ramifications will keep you up at night when you're older than every other creature you've spoken to. He will freely say he once knew what he was, who he was and what he wanted, but he will also add he doesn't any more. What do you know once you've found your goals, or know it's too late to pursue them? What do you go carrying the guilt that maybe--maybe you could have saved your best friend and brother?
    A determination still burns in him, if only for Duncan's sake. If only for the sacrifice his friend gave. He is here, he is alive, and on borrowed time. Perhaps it's a death wish, but perhaps after observing generations of Clan cats, it is time to maybe speak to them. Maybe. He knows he is alive. He doesn't know for how long. He feels it's too late to make a new life, but perhaps that's what he must do.
    Interestingly, Lear has no spiritual beliefs. For a cat who has seen almost everything, he still doesn't know what to believe. He has not been introduced to the concept of StarClan, and while he'd almost certainly be respectful, he'd be unlikely to adopt it unless dogs could go there too. If all dogs go to heaven, Lear wants to go where his best friend will be--only he doesn't know if it's possible, and that scares him.


History
    Lear was born to kittypets, and adopted by them. When he was young, he often mistook his name for "Leer" as in, a glare, but from watching the actions of his house folk, he garnered that isn't what "Lear" means in twoleg. He suspects it has something to do with a great twoleg leader--similar to what a Lion or a Tiger is to a cat--but obviously doesn't know for sure. Like most kittypets, he was taken to the Cutter at six moons and neutered. For him, it's always been a nonissue. He remembers watching Clan cats from the fence, curious but not afraid--but not so brave he would approach one. Instead, he remembers clearly cats long dead, apprentices from literally over a hundred moons ago as though it was yesterday. Leaders and warriors of legend to Clan cats, long dead, were living, breathing warriors that Lear remembers seeing in passing.
    The biggest moment in his life was the arrival of Duncan--also, Lear thinks, named after another twoleg hero. When Lear was 12 moons old, Duncan arrived.
    Duncan was...not a cat. He was a puppy, already the size of Lear. A St. Bernard, Duncan was nothing if not big, slobbery, and initially something very distasteful to Lear, that peed on the floor and tried to lick him but not in a good sharing tongues way. Still, Duncan's arrival offered an opportunity to Lear. Duncan was taken on walks along the twoleg paths on the territory of the wild cats. With twolegs and a dog around, he wouldn't be attacked if he stayed nearby. His twolegs were amused, but allowed Lear to come along, trotting beside them, no leash needed. Duncan was apparently thrilled, and Lear began to gain a knowledge of clans other than the one he deemed "Forest Faction Cats" (ThunderClan) by going on the twice-daily walks with Duncan. He saw traces of the Moor Faction Cats (WindClan) River Faction Cats (RiverClan) and Fen Faction Cats (ShadowClan.) He would never stray too far when he was younger and Duncan a puppy, but time and an unusual development would come to change that.
    As Duncan began to understand Lear's ways, Lear began to understand Duncan's. The two made unusual companions: at first, they only tolerated one another, but Duncan began to understand Lear's body language, and the puppy tried to mimic it. Lear, bemused, would occasionally mimic Duncan's body language in turn. For many moons, the two had an often mistake-ridden nonverbal relationship, punctuated by meows and barks that neither understood.
    This nonverbal relationship eventually set up for much more. The key was in their names. Since their two housefolk were vocal, Lear was often called by name, and as was Duncan. They knew their names and they knew what the other was named. When Lear was twenty-seven moons and Duncan twenty, a new barrier was broken.
    It was Duncan that first made a nonverbal move, but Lear, the more observant, was the first to make a verbal one.
    "Duncan?" was Lear's first word in Dog. Duncan sat up, startled, looking for thehouse folk. It hurt Lear's vocal chords, but he tried again. "Duncan!"
    "Duncan!" Duncan barked back, also in Dog. The housefolk came downstairs to find the cat and the dog barking at one another, had a chuckle, took a video to put on Facebook, and went on their way.
    "Duncan," Lear said again, this time in cat. Duncan imitated the sound. It was an odd sound, a Dog, and a large one, speaking Cat.
    "Duncan!" Lear purred, rubbing against the dog's leg to affirm he'd said it right. The next word from Duncan, in cat, was:
    "Lear?"
    Learning, for both Lear and Duncan, was slow. Lear, even in his older age, cannot claim to be fully fluent, and Duncan could never claim the same of speaking Cat, if only on the basis of different vocal chords and vocal ranges. Still, they began to speak with the accent of the opposite species: Lear's accent, though rarely properly identified by cats, is Dog. Duncan's was smooth and Cat-like. While most of their communications were words or short phrases augmented by body language, the two became inseparable. The twolegs were certainly amused, and let Lear accompany the massive Dog just about anywhere. Even more remarkable was that when Duncan was let off the leash, he'd follow Lear.
    It makes Lear wonder if the Clan cats ever saw the two of them, if any of them remember the odd combination of cat and dog as brothers. If Duncan was in tow, Lear would travel off the footpath for twolegs and examine more of the Clan grounds. They never spoke with a Clan cat, of course--but Lear felt safe knowing if he was attacked, Duncan would have his back. Lear also came to know other Dogs, owned by various twoelegs, who were more than once astounded of the fearless little tabby who'd bound up and, unheard by the twolegs, bark out "Hello, I am Lear!"
    A few dogs reacted with confusion or fear, but most dogs in the dog park were friendly by nature (or else they wouldn't be there) and allowed Lear to be with them. Twolegs found the friendship amusing, and unknowingly to Lear and Duncan, made their twolegs a touch notorious around the dog park, with the St. Bernard and the tabby tom playing together. Duncan was generally less well received cats, and to this day, Lear finds Dog culture to be the more open one: cats, especially what he's seen from the Clans, are insular. Lear had half a mind to walk to the dog park when he left home for this reason, but the Clans had always been an unanswered question.
    Lear watched the rise and fall of Clan leaders from Duncan's side, and sometimes when the snow was deep, from Duncan's back, which greatly amused their housefolk. Duncan didn't mind so much, as long as Lear used his climbing skills to get the dog treats off the highest shelf back home.
    The soft life of a housecat--or a housedog--meant that Lear and Duncan were never hungry, and always in good health for the majority of their lives. When Lear was 100 moons, he still moved and felt like a far younger cat thanks to this. At an age where most Clan cats are slowing down, Lear and Duncan (then 93 moons) were doing just fine.
    As they entered what Lear calls his "middle age" changes were starting to happen to Duncan. He began to slow down. Walks got shorter, and Duncan expressed concern to Lear that he was "slow Lear" and "no see forest Lear Duncan"-- mainly, that they couldn't have their adventures as much anymore. Lear, in turn, promised to "bark good stories" to Duncan, and began to venture out on his own. Perhaps it was the persistent smell of dog, or a possible reputation that this tabby usually was never far from a massive dog, or perhaps Lear's stealth skills, or all of these, that kept him from being mauled by a Clan cat. He would make observations and report back to Duncan. This storytelling, rather than use observing with Duncan, helped expand his Dog vocabulary a bit further.
    By the time Duncan was 120 moons, he had slowed down far more than Lear. While Lear doesn't know it, his housefolk joked that trips to the dog park were not for the dog, but the cat who came with them, and socialized with the dogs. Duncan was by Lear's side, ready to step in if anyone got rowdy with Lear, but roles were beginning to change. Lear kept watch for Duncan, who wanted to run but had bad knees. Lear would chase the ball if Duncan told him it had landed too far away. Lear would have carried Duncan, if he could. They were brothers.
    Of course, Lear was not immune to time either. He began to slow, and runs in the dog park became walks, and his adventures on his own slightly more infrequent. Lear still went on them, if only because Duncan loved the broken stories that Lear brought back about the cats, and they theorized, as best they could, what those cats were like. They tried to talk philosophy like two old men, but abstract concepts were hard to translate, and Lear regrets not knowing what dogs believed. Lear, himself, didn't know what to;believe, but he feared the day that Duncan would die, as both knew that Duncan would go first. He couldn't imagine life without Duncan: but he'd have to.
    When Lear was 192 moons old, and Duncan 185, the unthinkable happened. Duncan, for the last moon, had been eating almost nothing, wasting away, barely able to walk. Lear had not left his side for quite some time, as he too, was now greatly showing his age.
    "Twolegs kill," Duncan said quietly one morning, after their housefolk had given Duncan whatever he'd wanted, whenever he wanted it. Lear and Duncan could both smell something off. "Lear run, Duncan die," Duncan told him. "Promise Duncan."
    "No, no, no," Lear said. "Twolegs don't kill."
    "Twolegs kill. Rufus." Duncan had said, invoking a name of an elderly dog who'd been taken to the cutter and never came back.
    "Duncan-" Lear had said. Then the twolegs grabbed him. Lear had yowled and yowled. "Love Duncan! Love Duncan! Goodbye Duncan!" it set in in a panic and Duncan howled.
    "Love Lear! Run Lear! Bye Lear!"
    Lear was not allowed to the vet.
    Duncan, unlike Rufus, was brought back in a limp bag and buried in the backyard. While his twolegs worked, Lear jumped the fence before they could stop him, and he vowed never to come back. He'd examine the Clans with whatever life remained.
    Survivor's guilt nags him to this day.
    Shortly after becoming a loner, Lear met an elderly junkyard cat named MaoMao, another former kittypet. He saved her from junkyard dogs by exposing his "secret weapon"--that is, his ability to speak dog. He tends to only use this in dire situations, as a shock-weapon against hostile cats to perhaps buy him time to run, or as a way to talk dogs down. The two have been almost inseparable since, but Lear still wanders the edges of the Clans, which he now knows to be Thunder, Wind, River and Shadow. Being too old to hunt and stealthy, he has yet to have any major run-ins with cats, though he did watch from afar the Coven fiasco.


Timezone:MST/Mountain







Tag:THE COAL THAT BURNS YOU OR SPLISH SPLASH

[THE COAL THAT BURNS YOU]

wow! gotta love lear <3 accepted! do your claims.