Honeybloom

**Honeybloom** is an amber tabby cat with pale green eyes.

**Honeybloom** was born as **Honeykit** to unknown parents alongside her siblings Cloverkit and Stormkit.

## Appearance

Honeybloom is a mid-sized long-furred she-cat with pale green eyes. Her voluminous coat, fluffy but relatively sleek, is a potent amber color. Aside from some darker dusting on her rump and some shaded tabby lines, she is almost entirely a rich honey golden, complete with some white on her throat, lips, and the very tip of her tail. Honeybloom is on the quieter side, but she means well. She’s just a bit shy.

## Personality

Sometimes, when the moon is high and the night is quiet, Honeybloom wonders about her name. No, not the prefix; that’s as plain as the color her fur faded into over the moons. No, she wonders about the suffix. Bloom. She wonders if it’s a mockery of some kind, a commentary on a lifetime spent as a wallflower. Timid, quiet, a tuft of fur floating along at the back of every pack. She wonders if it’s a mockery because she’s never bloomed, not really, not once. The possibility of anything else just feels so far away.

Honeybloom’s life has been nothing short of… slow. Vague. Uneventful in most respects, minus a flash or two of pain. She has no mate, no close friends, no kits. No wild memories from the apprentice den, no fleeting memories of friendships born over mossballs as a kit. She’s a loyal, hardworking warrior with a normal life (if sad and quiet), a normal family (if largely dead now), and a normal name (if potentially an insult if she squints). So normal, in fact, she wonders if she really exists at all.

(She remembers Stormpaw and the accident that claimed her. It reminds her to be thankful. She is.)

These days, like all days before, she keeps to herself most of the time. By nature, Honeybloom isn’t a particularly assertive or spectacular cat. She isn’t performative, and she doesn’t really excel at anything. She performs to standard, maybe a little better than that when she pushes herself, and she doesn’t seek after much more than she’s given. She’s… okay. That’s enough for her. Right?

But everyone is starting to fall in love, now. Everyone is noticing each other, having children, raising each other’s and sending them into adulthood. Everyone is growing and connecting, and Honeybloom is alone. She isn’t shaking off first dates or selecting between invitations. She isn’t even an exciting pick to be given mentorship, because she hasn’t done very much—and she’s afraid of heights! A skywatcher who’s afraid of climbing, have you ever heard of such a thing? It’s not like she even fell, she just… got spooked, and yet…

She doesn’t speak much, doesn’t fight for much, she’s…

Complacent.

Which should be good, right? Be thankful for the Clan, for the code, for the food at her paws. Be thankful for her family, which ones of them are left (she ignores that it's really just Cloverfrond). Be thankful she didn’t slip and plummet to her death, that the only thing bruised was her ego. Thankful that she never caught greencough, that she’s healthy, alive, more alive than her sister—

Complacent. As life passes on beside her, Honeybloom wonders if she’s really living at all.

(Maybe Stormpaw should have lived instead?)

## Family

**Siblings:**
Cloverfrond (living, confirmed)
Stormpaw (deceased, StarClan member)