Flurrykit

**Flurrykit** is a white cat with amber eyes.

**Flurrykit** was born to Dovegaze and Willowstorm.

## Appearance

Flurrykit is a notably small pure white she-kit, and the runt of her litter so-to-speak. She is officially short-furred but has a fair bit of feathering and fluff. Her nose and pads are all a soft pink, but her eyes are vibrantly orange-amber. Flurrykit has a delicate, flexible frame best suited for nimbleness and not at all for contact or roughness. Her facial expressions tend to be polished, pointedly hard to read, and almost always intentional. She tends toward quiet, assertive speed tones.

## Personality

What do you think of when you picture snow flurries? Soft, light, a flutter of pristine little pinpricks of sky. Maybe a dancing thing, a perfect fluttering of snow. Peaceful, elegant, a cold that feels almost floral and lovely. A wonderful and poised sort of thing, if you will. The very best moment of leaf-bare.

Flurrykit strives to live up to these expectations, bestowed upon her by both her name and the people who gave it to her before she opened her eyes. She steps with softness, but not with fragility—speaks with thought, but not hesitation. A fierceness lurks behind Flurry’s poised posture, as if nature’s force itself is held back only by some… anticipation of beauty. She has a gentleness about her that feels frozen to its core. Her sharp eyes are always judging, never shy. Her tongue is always barbed and never stuttering. Her movements, from the greatest pounce to the smallest glance, are always calculated to the point of seeming rehearsed (because they are). Flurrykit speaks rarely, but her words are always confident, well-chosen, and empowered with particular meaning—else-wise, she does not speak at all, preferring action (or lack thereof) as an answer. Her honestly is brutal, even frigid, no matter how fleeting her quip. Flurry’s words kiss like snowflakes—tiny and sharp when it suits her, but always with the threat of a blizzard on her tongue.

Her vice is her temper, a short thing that becomes much shorter in the face of incompetence (or, and she’ll never admit this, but a competence that is much greater than her own). She doesn’t just crave perfection, she lives by it, embodies it, has woven it into her identity. She takes more pride in herself than any other cat is liable to, and more-so than she does in any other cat—even and especially with respects to her parents. Their expectations are lofty and softened only before a public face, and she holds those standards personally to both herself and her siblings. Incompetence, disruption, laziness—they are practically sinful in Flurrykit’s eyes. She was raised to be perfect, so she is. She must be, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Those with patience—a lot of patience—could find a cat who is… well, not sweet, perhaps never sweet, but immensely thoughtful at the very least. She’s the type to give boldly, to sacrifice her own kill and claim she’s watching her figure. Flurrykit, when the moment strikes, can be the most inanely and recklessly considerate cat alive. She has the potential to show love as strong as her will, loyalty as vast as her ego, all with an incredibly yet subtly tender touch. But she isn’t there yet, not even with her kin. For now, she loves quietly, and she loves alone, with extraordinarily little warmth to show for the affections.

Because that’s what flurries are supposed to be, right?

Soft, and silent, and pretty, and cold.

## Family

**Parents:**
Dovegaze (living, confirmed)
Willowstorm (living, confirmed)