Hello and welcome to Purrgatory! We are an 18+ Warrior Cat Roleplay set in an AU where the clans were unable to leave the forest territories and perished!
It has been 100 or more years since then, the clans of the forest are but distant memories to any cats still alive, stories passed down to kits of strangely named wild warriors and leaders with nine lives but the time of the clans is upon us once more and the stars shine yet again.
persimmonswirl
keep your bliss
PERSIMMONSWIRL is a WARRIOR of THUNDERCLAN. THEY identify as POLYGENDER and use ANY PRONOUNS. THEY are polyamorous and are single.
PERSIMMONSWIRL was CREATED 11 / 03 / 2024 at 45 moons. THEY are currently 48 moons and age every 13TH.
PERSIMMONSWIRL is written by @vulture and can be contacted through DMS or DISCORD.
PERSIMMONSWIRL was CREATED 11 / 03 / 2024 at 45 moons. THEY are currently 48 moons and age every 13TH.
PERSIMMONSWIRL is written by @vulture and can be contacted through DMS or DISCORD.
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PERSIMMONSWIRL is a RED TABBY with HAZEL EYES.
Persimmonswirl is a cat of untamed beauty, their fur a wild, curling mass of rich warm hues, as if they were sculpted from the very heart of a forest deep into autumn. Their pelt is a tapestry of deep russet, warm caramel, and golden honey, swirling together in intricate, natural patterns that ripple with every movement. Darker, cinnamon-colored patches scatter across their back like fallen leaves, while their underside fades into a soft, creamy beige, the transition smooth as dusk melting into twilight. Their fur is dense and plush, prone to tangling, giving them a perpetually unkempt, windblown appearance—whether they've just rolled out of their nest or spent hours weaving through the undergrowth, they always look as though they belong to the wild more than the camp.
Their tail is a spectacle in itself, long and thick-furred, curling at the tip like a plume of smoke. It drags behind them like a sweeping brushstroke, its pale underside swirling with faint caramel spirals. When they move, it fans out behind them, giving them a certain ghostly elegance, like a spirit drifting between worlds. Scattered across their pelt, tangled within their fur, are bits of nature—leaves, twigs, and burs that cling stubbornly, as if ThunderClan's forest refuses to let them go. They never bother to remove them all, letting the debris remain as unintentional adornments.
Persimmonswirl's face is sharp and expressive, their features full of mischief and mystery. Their eyes—narrow, foxlike—gleam with an unreadable intensity, shifting between shades of amber and gold depending on the light. They always seem to be smiling, even when they aren't, their muzzle set in a knowing, almost mocking curve. Their ears are tufted, their fur curling at the tips, adding to their perpetually ruffled look. Their whiskers are long and slightly uneven, one side curling more than the other, furthering the impression that they are not a cat shaped by careful grooming, but by the chaos of the world itself.
When they walk, they do so with an effortless grace, their steps light and almost lazy, as if they have all the time in the world. And yet, there is something unpredictable about them, the way their body language can shift in an instant—one moment lounging like a sleepy house cat, the next coiled like a predator ready to pounce. They are a creature of contrasts, of contradictions, a being caught between elegance and untamed wildness, between comfort and something just a little unsettling. Their appearance echoes both their beauty and their rot.
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Persimmonswirl moves through the world like an autumn wind—restless, unpredictable, and carrying the scent of something both sweet and rotting. They are the kind of cat who never fully settles, always shifting, always adapting, as if their paws refuse to stay rooted for too long. Their presence is a contradiction: they are warm, yet distant; affectionate, yet unknowable. They can curl around a friend, pressing their nose into soft fur with a hum of contentment, only to be gone by dawn, slipping away into the undergrowth with no explanation. Some call them flighty. Some call them unreliable. Persimmonswirl doesn't care. They exist on their own terms.
They have an almost eerie ability to read others, as if they can peel back a cat's fur and see what rots underneath. And yet, they are not particularly kind about it. Persimmonswirl does not comfort with gentle words or soft reassurances. They dig claws into wounds, prod at the ugly truths others try to bury. "You're lying to yourself," they'll say, eyes half-lidded with something between boredom and amusement. "Do you want to hear what I see?" They play with honesty the way a kit plays with a beetle—flipping it over, watching it squirm. This is not cruelty, not exactly, but an insatiable need to know. To understand. To see what happens when they push a little harder.
It is difficult to say whether Persimmonswirl truly cares about anyone. They can be deeply affectionate, draping over their Clanmates with lazy purrs, licking stray leaves from their fur. And yet, their loyalty is fickle. They do not believe in unconditional love; everything is a game of give and take, and Persimmonswirl refuses to give too much of themselves to anyone. They disappear when they are needed most. They laugh when others cry. They love, but only in ways that keep them untangled, always with one paw in and one paw out the door.
Some warriors find them insufferable. They do not take orders well, often twisting commands into something just barely acceptable enough to avoid punishment. "You told me to bring back prey, not when I had to bring it back," they'll say with a grin, depositing a limp squirrel onto the fresh-kill pile long after the sun has set. Their laziness is infuriating; they do only what interests them, shirking patrols in favor of watching the way sunlight filters through the leaves or tracking the slow, sluggish path of a caterpillar across a rock. And yet, they are clever—when forced into battle, Persimmonswirl does not fight with strength or speed, but with trickery. They feint, they deceive, they turn their own weaknesses into weapons. They may not be the strongest warrior, but they are unpredictable, and that makes them dangerous.
They are drawn to things that are broken. A warrior nursing bitterness like an old wound, a loner lurking at the border with sorrow in their eyes, a kit too quiet for their own good—Persimmonswirl circles them like a vulture, fascinated by what has made them this way. They do not try to fix others, because they do not believe in fixing. Instead, they watch, they prod, they test. Sometimes, this leads to something almost like friendship. Other times, it ends in disaster. Above all, Persimmonswirl is a cat who does not belong—not entirely. They exist within ThunderClan, they fight for their Clanmates, they sleep in the warriors' den, but they always feel like a visitor. Like something passing through. They do not know if this is by choice or simply their nature. All they know is that one day, the wind will shift, and they will leave. And they will not look back.
They have an almost eerie ability to read others, as if they can peel back a cat's fur and see what rots underneath. And yet, they are not particularly kind about it. Persimmonswirl does not comfort with gentle words or soft reassurances. They dig claws into wounds, prod at the ugly truths others try to bury. "You're lying to yourself," they'll say, eyes half-lidded with something between boredom and amusement. "Do you want to hear what I see?" They play with honesty the way a kit plays with a beetle—flipping it over, watching it squirm. This is not cruelty, not exactly, but an insatiable need to know. To understand. To see what happens when they push a little harder.
It is difficult to say whether Persimmonswirl truly cares about anyone. They can be deeply affectionate, draping over their Clanmates with lazy purrs, licking stray leaves from their fur. And yet, their loyalty is fickle. They do not believe in unconditional love; everything is a game of give and take, and Persimmonswirl refuses to give too much of themselves to anyone. They disappear when they are needed most. They laugh when others cry. They love, but only in ways that keep them untangled, always with one paw in and one paw out the door.
Some warriors find them insufferable. They do not take orders well, often twisting commands into something just barely acceptable enough to avoid punishment. "You told me to bring back prey, not when I had to bring it back," they'll say with a grin, depositing a limp squirrel onto the fresh-kill pile long after the sun has set. Their laziness is infuriating; they do only what interests them, shirking patrols in favor of watching the way sunlight filters through the leaves or tracking the slow, sluggish path of a caterpillar across a rock. And yet, they are clever—when forced into battle, Persimmonswirl does not fight with strength or speed, but with trickery. They feint, they deceive, they turn their own weaknesses into weapons. They may not be the strongest warrior, but they are unpredictable, and that makes them dangerous.
They are drawn to things that are broken. A warrior nursing bitterness like an old wound, a loner lurking at the border with sorrow in their eyes, a kit too quiet for their own good—Persimmonswirl circles them like a vulture, fascinated by what has made them this way. They do not try to fix others, because they do not believe in fixing. Instead, they watch, they prod, they test. Sometimes, this leads to something almost like friendship. Other times, it ends in disaster. Above all, Persimmonswirl is a cat who does not belong—not entirely. They exist within ThunderClan, they fight for their Clanmates, they sleep in the warriors' den, but they always feel like a visitor. Like something passing through. They do not know if this is by choice or simply their nature. All they know is that one day, the wind will shift, and they will leave. And they will not look back.
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PERSIMMONSWIRL was born to NPC and NPC and is a FIRST generation ThunderClanner. THEY are a sibling to TBD, TBD, and TBD.
PERSIMMONSWIRL is SINGLE, and is a PARENT to NOBODY.
THEY were not mentored by ANYONE. THEY are currently mentoring TBD.
PERSIMMONSWIRL is best friends with CHARACTER. THEY are friends with CHARACTERS. In general, THEY like CHARACTERS. PERSIMMONSWIRL admires CHARACTER for x reason. However, THEY do not get along with CHARACTER, and hate CHARACTER. THEY would consider CHARACTER as an enemy.
Persimmonswirl treats relationships like a game of push and pull, never quite letting anyone get too close, yet never allowing themself to be truly alone. They weave through social circles with an effortless charm, leaving behind a trail of half-truths, teasing remarks, and the lingering warmth of someone who seems to care—just not quite enough. To them, intimacy is a dance, thrilling and unpredictable, but commitment? That's where things get messy. They adore the idea of love, of devotion, of something that lasts, but the moment it becomes real—when emotions grow heavy and expectations settle in—they find themselves itching to run. It's not that they don't want to love. It's that love, true love, demands a level of vulnerability that terrifies them. They're more comfortable in the in-between, in the almosts, in the maybes. They have a habit of toying with affection, testing how much someone will give before they reach their breaking point. And yet, for all their aloofness, there is a quiet, desperate part of them that aches for something real—something that won't slip through their claws the moment they stop chasing it. Friendships come easier, but even then, Persimmonswirl is selective with their true loyalty. They enjoy companionship, the easy exchange of banter, the fleeting moments of closeness—but only a rare few ever get to see beneath the performance, to the tangled, restless heart beneath. Those who do? They are met with a devotion so fierce it's almost frightening—because if Persimmonswirl truly loves you, it's with the force of something wild and untamed, something that refuses to be controlled. And perhaps, that's the real reason they hold others at arm's length. Because once they let someone in, they don't know how to let them go.
PERSIMMONSWIRL is SINGLE, and is a PARENT to NOBODY.
THEY were not mentored by ANYONE. THEY are currently mentoring TBD.
PERSIMMONSWIRL is best friends with CHARACTER. THEY are friends with CHARACTERS. In general, THEY like CHARACTERS. PERSIMMONSWIRL admires CHARACTER for x reason. However, THEY do not get along with CHARACTER, and hate CHARACTER. THEY would consider CHARACTER as an enemy.
Persimmonswirl treats relationships like a game of push and pull, never quite letting anyone get too close, yet never allowing themself to be truly alone. They weave through social circles with an effortless charm, leaving behind a trail of half-truths, teasing remarks, and the lingering warmth of someone who seems to care—just not quite enough. To them, intimacy is a dance, thrilling and unpredictable, but commitment? That's where things get messy. They adore the idea of love, of devotion, of something that lasts, but the moment it becomes real—when emotions grow heavy and expectations settle in—they find themselves itching to run. It's not that they don't want to love. It's that love, true love, demands a level of vulnerability that terrifies them. They're more comfortable in the in-between, in the almosts, in the maybes. They have a habit of toying with affection, testing how much someone will give before they reach their breaking point. And yet, for all their aloofness, there is a quiet, desperate part of them that aches for something real—something that won't slip through their claws the moment they stop chasing it. Friendships come easier, but even then, Persimmonswirl is selective with their true loyalty. They enjoy companionship, the easy exchange of banter, the fleeting moments of closeness—but only a rare few ever get to see beneath the performance, to the tangled, restless heart beneath. Those who do? They are met with a devotion so fierce it's almost frightening—because if Persimmonswirl truly loves you, it's with the force of something wild and untamed, something that refuses to be controlled. And perhaps, that's the real reason they hold others at arm's length. Because once they let someone in, they don't know how to let them go.
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intelligence ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
confidence ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
empathy ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
humor ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
emotional ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
wisdom ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎confidence ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
empathy ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
humor ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
emotional ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
charisma ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
creativity ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
luck ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
logic ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
strength ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
stamina ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
offensive ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
obfuscation ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
physical health ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
dexterity ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎stamina ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
offensive ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
obfuscation ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
physical health ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
endurance ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
defensive ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
observation ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
mental health ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎
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PERSIMMONSWIRL will not start fights BUT will end fights. THEY will not flee AND will show mercy.
In battles, PERSIMMONSWIRL excels at EVASIVE TACTICS, but is poor at SUSTAINED COMBAT.
Persimmonswirl treats battle the same way they treat relationships—like a dance, a game, a carefully controlled performance. They rely on speed and precision rather than brute strength, dodging, weaving, and frustrating their opponent with unpredictable movements. Instead of engaging head-on, they toy with their foes, striking fast and retreating before retaliation can land. They are not an endurance fighter; prolonged, drawn-out battles wear them down quickly. Instead, they prefer battles of wit—turning an opponent's aggression against them, baiting mistakes, exploiting hesitation. If a fight can be won with words instead of claws, all the better. Deep down, Persimmonswirl has a complicated relationship with violence. They don't fight out of honor, nor do they seek glory in bloodshed. They don't mind hurting others when necessary, but unnecessary brutality makes them uneasy. They know how to be ruthless when backed into a corner, yet they avoid that place at all costs, preferring evasion over confrontation. Despite their playfulness, there's a cold, calculating side that emerges when survival is on the line—one that doesn't hesitate. And afterward? They'll brush it off with a grin, like the fight never mattered at all, even if something about it lingers just beneath their skin.
PERSIMMONSWIRL is inspired by INSPIRATION, voice claim, etc. THEY often smell like SCENT.
Character speech is BOLD. Peaceful powerplay is allowed, but reaction to such may differ depending on the situation.
In battles, PERSIMMONSWIRL excels at EVASIVE TACTICS, but is poor at SUSTAINED COMBAT.
Persimmonswirl treats battle the same way they treat relationships—like a dance, a game, a carefully controlled performance. They rely on speed and precision rather than brute strength, dodging, weaving, and frustrating their opponent with unpredictable movements. Instead of engaging head-on, they toy with their foes, striking fast and retreating before retaliation can land. They are not an endurance fighter; prolonged, drawn-out battles wear them down quickly. Instead, they prefer battles of wit—turning an opponent's aggression against them, baiting mistakes, exploiting hesitation. If a fight can be won with words instead of claws, all the better. Deep down, Persimmonswirl has a complicated relationship with violence. They don't fight out of honor, nor do they seek glory in bloodshed. They don't mind hurting others when necessary, but unnecessary brutality makes them uneasy. They know how to be ruthless when backed into a corner, yet they avoid that place at all costs, preferring evasion over confrontation. Despite their playfulness, there's a cold, calculating side that emerges when survival is on the line—one that doesn't hesitate. And afterward? They'll brush it off with a grin, like the fight never mattered at all, even if something about it lingers just beneath their skin.
PERSIMMONSWIRL is inspired by INSPIRATION, voice claim, etc. THEY often smell like SCENT.
Character speech is BOLD. Peaceful powerplay is allowed, but reaction to such may differ depending on the situation.
last updated 02 / 18 / 2025