[Age] 13 Months
[Breed] Ragamuffin / Asian Semi-Longhair / Mutt
Soft-furred, white tom with brown calibby markings scattered about his pelt. His eyes are a very light, soft green. He is fairly short, and while he may look slightly fat, he's half-fur, half-cat.
Mother | Daisy | Dead
Father | Fennel | Living in the West
Sister | Love | Stillborn / Dead
Sister | Hoot | Living in the West
Brother | Basil | Living in the North
( Message me if you'd like to be a sibling! We could work something out C: )
Sexuality Pansexual | Leans Towards Females
Looking For Not Exactly Looking
Preferences Someone who will look after him and protect him extra carefully with his deafness. Someone who will try their best to understand and communicate with him and will respect him.
Confident | Bashful | Observant | Suspicious | Dishonest | Clingy
Dock may not be able to hear things, experience things, and live his life like most normal cats, but that doesn't stop him from being confident in himself. His lack of hearing deems him no insecurity. Dock is confident in himself, whether it be hunting, running, or even sometimes talking. He believes he's capable of anything. Being deaf doesn't slow him at all.
Dock is a very shy cat. He often shies away from others, his cheeks to his ear-tips turning red in a blush. This tom takes compliments to heart (when he can understand them anyways!) and will most likely swoon over them for days, his cheeks burning. It doesn't matter who it is, his brother, his friends, or even a /trustworthy/ acquaintance. Dock is very bashful and skittishly shy around others.
Dock is very observant of his surroundings. He'll take in an entire scene through his eyes before he even thinks about making a move. You can never be to careful when you're deaf and always in danger. Because of his observation skills in every day life, whether it be hunting, reading lips, or hiding from danger, Dock has become quite the observer. He's good at reading emotions on other's faces. He's good at predicting weather or when a flower will bloom. He's good at watching for small details that, usually, others wouldn't notice.
Dock is a very suspicious cat. Not by other cats, but he suspects everything and everyone around him, aside from family or close friends, to be a danger. Dock is very distrusting of strangers, and even some friends. He'll often study others carefully, searching their faces, their movements, their lips, for any sign of a lie, any sign of danger. He's very skeptical of strangers, especially when they talk (or move their lips) too fast.
In order to protect himself and his brother, Dock has taken up the bad habit of lying. It's rare that he'll tell the truth to someone who isn't close to him. Dock rarely shares his true feelings on anything with anyone who isn't his brother. He's very reluctant to tell the truth to strangers. Dock has sometimes been caught stealing prey or doing other terrible deeds, and he lies through his teeth to get away from it.
Dock rarely takes the time, energy, and heartache to get close to other cats. So when he does, he is extremely clingy to them. Cats who he trusts are his stronghold. He's very protective of them, and expects them to be the same with him. But Dock's clingyness is obsessive. He will literally obsess over another cat that he loves at times.
Fennel knew from the beginning that he shouldn't have a mate. Because like his father and his siblings, he had bad genes within him. Fennel had 3 brothers and 1 sister, all born weak and sickly. They all, but one of his brothers, passed away within the first two weeks of their birth. His only surviving brother was blind and deaf. After Fennel's own parents left the two remaining kits 12 months later, his brother shortly followed after their deceased siblings.
Bad genes didn't stop Fennel, though, when he fell head over heals for a she-cat named Daisy. Daisy was a sweet as honey, lovable she-cat. Her fur was a lovely black, dappled with shades of orange and brown. Fennel, with his dull tabby-brown fur never thought in a thousand years that she would even spare a glance his way.
So naturally, when Daisy was the first to start a conversation with him, Fennel nearly had a heart attack. The two became fast friends, and survived many years in the dangerous wilderness by having each other's back constantly. It was really no surprise when Daisy became pregnant with Fennel's kits. Fennel became extremely protective of the she-cat, but around the same time, he became skittish. What if something happened to their kits? What if something went wrong?
After several long moons, Daisy gave birth to four little kittens. One, though, was a stillborn. The couple mourned, but named the deceased kit 'Love', deciding it the least they could do to make up for her lack of life. Daisy and Fennel watched expectantly as the kits suckled and moved and played at their mother's belly in their first few days. Though he was relieved that his kits were healthy, Fennel's heart ached to see the sad face of his mate who still hurt over the lost life of their stillborn kit. He did all that he could to make it up to his mate, bringing her extra prey- prey which was quite scarce at the time, picking her flowers, staying up all night to protect her and their kits.
Fennel's most worrisome thoughts were stolen by his smallest, last born kit (or last born living kit), the little tom they'd named Dock. Dock was a little green-eyed calibby kitten. His white fur was patched with brown, calico-like splotches, that had soon come to reveal tabby stripes.
Dock was first off; a very small kit. He looked healthy if you didn't take in his size. He could see, he could play, he could eat. But there was a trait about the young kitten that was all to familiar to Fennel.
Dock was unresponsive when his name was called. Dock didn't talk to his siblings. Dock didn't listen when others spoke to him. Dock didn't listen to the calls of his parents when it was dangerous outside and he needed to come in or be dragged in by force.
Dock was deaf.
Fennel began to feel guilt when the realization struck him. He'd made the same mistake as his father. But it was that moment that Fennel decided to do what his father hadn't. He would teach Dock how to live.
Dock, at only three and a half months old, began taking lessons from his father. Fennel would bring the young kitten out to the woods, away from his siblings and distractions, and work with the young kit, showing him how to move his mouth with words. Dock never took much mind in the matter, not really understanding yet that the world wasn't supposed to be as silent as it was.
It wasn't until Dock was just over his 5th month that he really began to notice that something was wrong. Something was wrong with him. He slowly began to cooperate with his father's exercises, moving his lips with the motion of his father's words. He would attempt to communicate with his movements, lashing his tail, flicking his ears, or even just making faces. He slowly grasped meaning of a language. Not one he could hear, but one he could see.
And one day, one he could speak.
Dock sat next to his father, watching his mother as she mouthed the word 'Dock' to him. His moss-colored eyes watched her lips carefully, taking in every movement they made. He watched her nose twitch with satisfaction, and her eyes twinkle when she saw recognition of a name - his own name - click in his gaze.
Dock's own smile grew with his mother's and he opened his mouth. He felt his throat vibrate with what his parents would know was sound and moved his mouth the way he'd seen his siblings do several times before when addressing their parents.
"Mmma…mmy." He spoke. "Da…iiddee." The words drifted from his lips choppily. He hoped it sounded right to them. He'd worked so long to study his sibling's mouths as they spoke. He wanted to speak. Perhaps he couldn't hear, but maybe, if he worked hard enough, he could speak real words to his parents.
When his own thoughts had subsided, he looked up to see both his parents, staring in what he assumed astonishment. Suddenly, their mouths started moving at such an excited, fast pace that he couldn't even read them. He flattened his ears in embarrassment, but smiled shyly to himself.
He felt his mother's nose on his cheek, and when he raised his gaze, she spoke slowly again, moving her lips so he could read them. She mouthed, 'You…can…speak.'
A happy air took over the family after Dock's spoken word accomplishment. His siblings were soon allowed to join in on Dock's lessons. Basil, Dock's brother, became a large help to Dock. He learned quickly that his brother was deaf, and what it meant, and would do all that he could to work with him. Because of Basil, Daisy and Fennel could leave the cave every so often to hunt or even have alone time while Basil, sometimes joined by their sister Hoot, played with and watched over Dock.
One day though, Fennel returned to the cave dragging Daisy by her scruff. Daisy had been killed by a hawk. The bird had swept in and grabbed her while they were out hunting. Distressed, Fennel began screeching after it. The hawk screeched back, drawing attention from other birds of prey, which attacked it. Daisy was dropped from high in the sky, and with a spine-shattering smack, she hit the ground and passed on impact.
Fennel's world collapsed. Without Daisy, his mind went numb with both grief and guilt for his now motherless kits. Fennel, unable to take the guilt of looking at the kittens, the products of his love, abandoned his kits. He left Dock in Basil's care. Hoot, however, followed her father West, determined to keep the broken tom from harm.
Dock and Basil, at only 10 months old, were left to fend for themselves.
Since then, they have learned to work as a team, and Dock has become able to stray from his brother without endangering either of their lives too much. However, the two stay together at night, and usually hunt together.
() Unsure , Wary
( ) Dislike / () Hate, Despise, Wish Death Upon
() Good Friend / () Best Friend
() Attraction / Lust
() Crush / () Love
() Admire, Respect
Tybalt gave an upset huff as he raised his head from the mud. He could feel the squishy substance all over his cloths, his face, his paws. The tom heaved a sigh, and began to push himself to his knees, when he felt something kick him in the side. He collapsed again in the mud, rolling around like a pig, and heard the splash of someone else hitting the ground beside him.
The cook grunted in agony. More ruined cloths! Gah, more chores for tomorrow... Tybalt flicked his ears, hearing the cat who had also fallen give an angry shout at him. He quickly bolted upright, his eyes smoldering with blue flames. "Calm your whiskers, lad! You're the one who kicked me!" He snarled, baring his teeth in a snarl.
"You're not the only one who dropped your stuff!" He growled, but his eyes slitted slightly as he scanned the ground. "Though, these are palace books, are they not?" He murmured, recognizing the stamps on the covers. His eyes landed on the book in the hands of his fellow mud-crawler, and they lit up. "I-is that a cook book?" He asked, slightly surprised that another tom would be interested in such an art. It was usually a woman's job to work in a kitchen. He quickly shook his head. This book probably wasn't even for him, perhaps his mother, or even wife.
Slowly, he tried to gather a few of the books that were nearest to him, before her got to his paws. Feeling the slightest sense of guilty now, he reached out a paw, a meager offering to help the cat up. "This was my fault anyways, I can help you out with the funds to repay these." He offered, muttering just loud enough so his voice could be heard over the thunder of rain on the ground, as well as thunderous booms in the sky.
Or you could look above for a specific roleplay sample. Up in the bio.
Art & Dock © Me *TurkFish
Dock's Design © =PastelKuki