Vivica

SHORT DESCRIPTION WILL BE ASSIGNED BY STAFF FOLLOWING APPROVAL

Vivica is a sleek, shorthaired black and white bicolor she-cat that holds a lean and well muscled body structure despite being a domestic cat. Having moved into her home rather recently she didn’t have the time to settle and grain weight on her muscles, however she doesn’t intend to. She takes pride in her long, quick moving legs and her strong white paws.

Her tail and long and sleek, however there seems to always been a tuft of fur at the end of her tail that she never quite reaches during grooming, so it may have the appearance of being a little fuzzy. However she takes good care of her appearance, determined to look her best for anyone she meets. Even if she refuses to let her humans pamper her.

Vivica’s eyes are a dark amber that is rather close to copper at first glance, her eyes tend to glisten like a deep red blaze when the sun hits them, lighting up the amber that the darkness tends to hide away.

Around her neck, lays a collar, a deep red that had black diamond shapes in a checkered pattern across the fabric. The charm is a clover, made from a hard plastic that doesn’t make noise when she walks. Engraved on the plastic is a golden ‘V’ that she would assume represents her name. However she doesn’t exactly know what the lines truly mean.

Two tufts of fur hang down from her cheeks, her humans had dyed these white tufts red with pet safe dye in an attempt to make Vivica look unique and recognisably among the other cats in Whitehart, and Vivica believes they’d disk a fine job of it

Vivica is a cat of contradictions, calm and poised on the outside, but emotionally volatile beneath her polished mask. She clings to control with a quiet desperation, wielding her carefully curated knowledge like a marionette tugging at strings, desperate to bend fate to her will after a life spent being overlooked and discarded like crowfood.

Her love, when it is given, is consuming and intense, possibly twisting into obsession as she seeks to become everything to someone, even if it might destroy them or herself in the process. She resents being seen as replaceable, craving validation through power and presence, and she views bad lack not as cruelty, but justice.

Vivica’s actions are personal, rooted in longing, loneliness, and the haunting belief that if she can’t be loved for who she is, she’ll be remembered for what she does.

• Born in the Moon of Leopard's Rest (2019) 128

Kithood (0-5 Moons)

Nyx was named beneath the damp shade of an abandoned den in a forest with no claim. Her father Sycamore, was the flamboyant leader of the rogue group Nyx had been born too, a tom with a silver tongue and who’s luck was often seen working in his favor. Her mother, Midnight, a washed-up show-cat who had been brought to the rogue group when Sycamore had found her lost and sickly.

Midnight spoke rarely in Nyx’s presence. Neither of them had any real interest in raising a child, and more-so held the interest of continuing a strong bloodline. Nyx was treated as background noise, a half-forgotten shadow in a home full of fake smiles and false promises. Most days, she took to hiding behind under tree roots and behind larger stones, watching and learning how the world worked not through guidance, but through observation and well concealed resentment.

She grew up around fierce spats and arguments, even going as far as to see the bloodshed of her fell group members that got out of line. It brought both a fascination to her mind and a disgust that the cats would have to go as far as to growl or hurt one another to settle an argument. She had always told herself that if she had run the group, that none of her members would dare spill the blood of one another. But she was always dismissed, never heard for her ideas. Hardly acknowledged besides being a mouth to feed.

Apprentice Age (6-11 Moons)

By the time Nyx was six moons of age, she’d become numb to the things that would have scared a kit. Violence hidden behind deceptive smiles, broken promises whispered between traitors and liars, and the way her mother disappeared for days at a time and returned without explanation. Sycamore only acknowledged her when it was convenient, when he needed a ‘helpless kitten’ for tactics of manipulation of other, kinder, weaker cats.

He often boasted about how his kit was ‘as lucky as he was’ when she outlived some of her agemates with careful thinking and small coincidences.

But Nyx knew better. She wasn’t lucky. She had knowledge of what to do in dangerous situations, she pushed things to go into her directions with little, seemingly meaningless acts that later bloom into results she is proud of. It started accidental, not mentioning that she scented a fox on their south border and one of the group members suffering for it.

Then it grew calculated as she grew into herself. Coincidentally, a cruel adult that attempted to attack her got picked up by twolegs kits that she had lead with ‘adorable’ mewing and was never seen again. Another, an agemate mocking her was found snapped in a twoleg snare the Nyx had insisted on hunting near claiming she didn’t know it was there with carefully placed tears. It didn’t take long until she realized she could bend lesser cats’ fates. And she didn’t need to be powerless forever.

Adulthood (12 Moons-Current)

As an adult, Nyx’s bitterness bloomed into ambition, she could fight and hunt adequately now, but she noticed more, and while Sycamore and Midnight were focused on leadership and not being parents, she had been able to learn and observe from under their muzzles.

The rogues in the group had begun to fear her, her anger, however subtle, always followed with loss of group members sometimes seemed too connected to be a coincidence, but there was no proof that Nyx had been the cause, as her mask of innocence was one that her agemates and seniors couldn’t see though without diving deeper into her paws.

She spent her nights watching Sycamore bath in his own pride, treating the cats of his group like possessions he could toss around like they were worth nothing, while Midnight drifted from a distant haze to a sultry indifference. Nyx studied her father’s every move, how he used cruelty and manipulation against cats that weren’t deserving of it, how he controlled others with fear, and how he kept her mother tethered like a broken bird in a golden cage.

Nyx didn’t want to be their puppet. She wanted their empire. And so, she crafted her plan. Slowly… carefully.

The first to go was Sycamore. One night, as he was boasting about his powerful bloodline to his closer friends within the group, Vivica slipped onto an overhanging tree branch that was just a bit to weak from a thunderstorm that morning, the branch weathered and weak, but heavy. She focused her energy onto him for hours, calculating, planning how she would do it, but she finally knew. A few firm jumps loosened the branch until she heard the cracking of the branch.

When she pounced over to another tree, the branch snapped and landed on the back of Sycamore’s neck, breaking his neck with a sickening crack in front of a dozen witnesses. It was ruled as a ‘freak accident’ and she feigned grief with her mother. But she had no clue that she would be next.

No more than three moons later, as Midnight had inherited the leadership of the group through her strength and will, Vivica chipped away at her confidence and sanity piece by piece with off handed comments that enemies would steal their prey, threaten their way of life, until that was all she could think about. Midnight began forgetting things, losing track of how many numbers they had, accidentally missing her strikes when hunting or in battle, making enemies. One night, paranoid and mind dissipated, noticed a plump rabbit across a thick dark thunderpath and bounded towards it, not noticing a large monster barreling forward at a great speed that killed her instantly, sending her flying forward and leaving her limp on the road for another cat to find.

With her successors dead, Nyx would have been the clear leader of the group, however, on her way back to the groups main place of rest, she was picked up by a twoleg, arms too strong for her to squirm free. The twoleg had placed her into a monster and took her away from the destiny she had carefully crafted for herself. And in a day, she had become lost in town of Whitehart, unsure of what had happened to what would have been her domain. The cats that would have been hers to lead. Taken from her grasp in an instant.

Initially, she was furious with the humans that had taken her, but eventually, they had given her the love and adoration that she had never recieved from her family or her original home. The people named her Vivica, and she wore the name with pride. Allowing them to place a diamond checkered collar around her neck and marking her with a unique dye that changed the color of small tufts of her fur but didn’t harm her.

However, Vivica still longed to claim her destiny, and ever since she was able to squeeze out of the window of her new home, she had made it her sole goal to rebirth a new era of rogues under her rule. Ones that would fight alongside her and not one another, cats that wouldn’t resort to simply violence to solve problems. And she will now stop at no obstacle to get to that goal.

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