Re: Biographies by Jynx
Ochre - A History
History
- Ochre was born in an old fox's den
- His mother (NPC) passed away minutes after giving birth to him, but she never blamed him, even in her last moments.
- He was an only kit
- His short-tempered father (NPC), who loved Ochre's mum a hundred times more than he ever loved his own son, blamed him for his mom's death
- His father hated Ochre for causing the death of his mother and didn't try to hide it
{ Excerpt from his memories }
Ochre blinked his eyes open, the pale dawn light filtering in the old fox's den. The scent of the wild, red animals had all but faded, but his dreams were haunted by the stories his father told of them. As Ochre lay in his nest, still waking up, a shadow crossed in front of the entrance. Ochre small body shuddered as he heard his father enter. His large tabby shoulders pushed inside, and the dark tom's green gaze glared balefully at his son. Ochre's stomach twisted; he could tell immediately that his father was in a bad mood. His paws shook as his father crossed the den in two swift steps and shoved him roughly with a paw. Ochre grimaced as his father's paw struck one of his many bruises before hurrying out of the den. However quick he was, he was never quick enough. The small tom felt sharp teeth meet his hind leg, and he scampered faster into the sunlight, wincing at his sore muscles.
"Come on," his father growled in his ear, his voice harsh and venomous, before picking up the pace to a run. Hurrying to catch up fast so as to delay another one of his father's anger fits, Ochre followed him towards the twoleg place, it's yellow lights shining in the distance. This was one of his better mornings, to Ochre's relief. Some other days were worse, much worse.
- He constantly yelled at Ochre and belittled him to the point of abuse
- Started having hallucinations when he was 6 moons old
{ Excerpt from his memories }
He was six moons old when it first started happening. The sun was low in the sky, and it had been a long day. His pelt felt like it was on fire after his father's 'training' practice. More like punishment... Ochre mumbled to himself as he hobbled to a mossy patch on the ground. The dark brown tom flopped down and began lapping tenderly at his pelt. A moment later, the young tom broke off. Something had flashed at the edge of his vision. Tensing, Ochre whipped his head to the side, then immediately regretted it as a hot flash of pain shot through his neck. He spotted a glint of dark red fur and a bushy tail whipping behind a grey boulder. Ochre's pelt sparked with fear. His father had told them that they'd come. The foxes. Terror washed over his thoughts, a roar in his ears. The tom cat stood up shakily and gave a small squeak of terror as his gaze met the amber ones of the fox. It let out a fearsome snarl, and Ochre stumbled back. The six moons old feline knew he was no match for the animal, and it knew that, too. The fox leapt towards him, and Ochre shut his eyes, hair on end. However, the sharp prick of teeth at his neck didn't come. Instead, a voice broke through his terrified thoughts.
"Ochre! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ochre's eyes shot open as he stared up at his father's towering form, his growl forced through gritted teach. His tabby pelt was ruffled and his sharp, dark green gaze flashed, piercing the smaller tom witheringly.
"I-I thought I saw something..." Ochre stammered, trailing off when he realized that there was nothing to worry about except his father, who was nearly as dangerous as a fox himself. Had he really imagined the whole thing? Desperate for an answer, but not so that he would ask his father and get a rebuke in return, the skinny black tom remained silent, eyes downcast and heart pounding.
"Thought you saw something," his father snorted, contempt and mockery sliding from his tongue like poison. "I've heard that one before." Rolling his eyes, the massive tabby gave his son a shove, nearly toppling the smaller cat onto his side. "I'm going hunting. Stay. Put." Nodding mutely, Ochre watched his father disappear, his heart heavy and his mind racing. What was happening to him?
- Paranoia set in when he was 8 moons
{ Excerpt from his memories }
Heart thudding wildly, stomach clenching painfully, hot breath on his tail. Ochre ran, ran, ran. His eyes were blinded with terror, his breaths coming in short, erratic spurts. Snarls, curses, hate, all chasing him. Claws catching him, grabbing him, hurting him. Running for fear, for escape, for desperation. Never leaving, always chasing, chasing, chasing. Dreams filled with claws ripping, voices snarling, fur snagging. He was being hunted at night by him. Always him.
- Killed his father after he went into one of his rages; still haunts him
{ Excerpt from his memories }
"Ochre!" His father's deep growling voice sounded at his ear. Ochre woke with a start, the year-old tom jumping to his paws and whirling to face his father. The dark tabby faced his son, lips pulled back in a snarl. "You killed her." His voice shot through him like ice, and he felt the familiar wash of shame surround him. His father told him at least once a week how he had been the reason his mother was dead. Not once did he ever get used to it, but he let it go and didn't retaliate. He was done being the submissive one. Done taking the abuse. Done with being the object of his father's hatred.
"Shut up!" He shouted, black fur standing on end. Though he was more than 24 moons younger than his father, Ochre was his same height. Maybe not more muscular, but he was still able to look his evenly in the eye. His father's eyes gained the crazed look they so often carried, and a lightning-fast paw lashed out, catching Ochre's muzzle. He gave a shriek of pain and agony as his claws sliced across his face. His father had hurt him, yes, but never on his face before. He didn't want any suspicion when they were around others, so he always made sure to hurt him where one couldn't easily see.
A fearsome snarl ripped through Ochre, and he leapt forward, claws outstretched. His father let out a caterwaul and met him mid-jump. Ochre felt agony sear his ear as his father clouted him sharply with an unsheathed paw. Quick as a snake, the black tom lunged forward, knocking the muscular tabby backwards. His father battered his soft belly with thorn sharp hind paws, and Ochre lurched back, head reeling and stomach burning like an open flame. An echoing ring in his ears and a haze swept over him as he threw himself forward blindly, claws and teeth connecting without any sense of aim. A moment later, his teeth sunk into his father's neck, and he felt him go limp. Shock engulfed the black tom as he staggered backwards. He didn't mean to kill him!
"Damn it! Damn it!" Ochre cried to himself, panting hard. His head spun and his stomach heaved as he fought down the weight of what he had done. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, he repeated over in his head. No matter how cruelly his father had treated him, he never wished him dead! Guilt twisted through his body, and, whirling around, he ran unsteadily from his father's dead body only to collapse a few minutes later. His pain, moments ago dulled by shock and terror at what he had done, came back full fury. I need to get out of here. The thought raced through his mind, and he got up, limping towards the twoleg place a hundred or so yards away. the ground dipped beneath him, and Ochre fell into blackness beside a twoleg nest.
- After killing his father, he was taken in by twolegs. They had taken him to the vet, but his scars would never fully heal. The twoleg kits had tied a rope around his neck to symbolize that he was theirs, as humans do sometimes, and he never took it off, despite its fraying ends. They had saved his life, and he was, deep down, grateful to them. But still, he escaped their home as soon as he had regained consciousness from the anaesthetics.
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