buckwheat

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well, hello there! you look worn, friend - come, come! this way, right up this hill. see that old wooden barn there? it may not look like much when you think of a kushy pet's home, but it's home enough for me and for the old farmer.

the clans were here long before me, so i respect their borders! i don't stick my nose where it isn't wanted, no, i don't. so rest your paws a bit, lay flat your hackles, i mean no threat! i've lived here for seasons, mousing and keeping the place pest-free. the name's buckwheat, by the way, but please, call me buck! buckwheat was my father's name, ha!

BUCKWHEAT is...

a handsome gold-and-black marbled tabby tom with white ear-tips and dark hazel eyes

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named for his dusky golden tabby coat.

if you're looking for a cat who's reliable, friendly, and accidentally charming, buckwheat's the cat to make your friend. he's lived at the barn north of windclan's moor for most of his life, and is happy to stay there for the rest of his days, mousing and protecting the barn from threats. he's more than willing to offer shelter or food and drink to any cat in need, and if you speak to any cats from the northern twolegplace, they may swoon at his name from what run-ins they've had with the tom in the barn. the guy could charm the fur off of a fox, given the opportunity - without even intentionally trying.

though, with his only other feline companion long-since passed away, buckwheat's a pretty lonely character. he misses his old friend and mentor thatch dearly, and while he loves the old farmer and the animals, it's not the same as another feline friend. so when he meets anyone, he's usually incredibly chummy and talkative, wanting to warm up to them quickly so they may stay a bit longer. there's a palpable loneliness to him, one that you might not notice if you're too quick to accept his sunny words at face value.

▷ while his "full" name is buckwheat, buck prefers to just go by "buck"! it just felt more right; he didn't totally love the sound of that compound syllable. (he thinks the clan cats' names are awfully silly, but he's too polite to say so to their faces!)

▷ buckwheat has been mousing for almost his whole life, brought to the lighthouse at an early age to help the farmer. he's skilled and very confident in his job of keeping the mice away - and often has more to eat than he knows how to deal with by himself!

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FUN FACTS
& TRIVIA

RELIGION.

buckwheat's never been a religious cat; he doesn't really think about what happens after, instead focusing on what he can do in the now. sometimes, though, he looks at the night sky and wonders.

POLITICS.

buckwheat has never been super involved in any kind of group; in fact, he's only left the barn a couple of times, and never stays for long. he's relatively detached from the world outside the lighthouse.

ASPIRATIONS.

buckwheat's happy to chirp that he's totally happy at the farm, but he's lonely. he often dreams of another cat to spend his days patrolling with, or even cats who'd become regular visitors.

L O V E L I F E

buckwheat's been the only cat at the lighthouse since he was a year old, so of course he hasn't really met anyone who's stuck around more than a few days. he's usually very welcoming and charming to all who need a place to rest and eat on their travels, though, so maybe some day!

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F
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L
Y

while he may remember bits and pieces of his comfy kithood with his mother and littermates, buckwheat can't really remember their names or faces anymore, as he was taken away at around just under two months old. he considers the old lighthouse keeper and his former mentor his family now.

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[attr="class","historybox"]KITHOOD

he was born with his two littermates in the backyard of a small cottage. it was a safe space between loose boards in an old shed, protected from the elements and from larger animals. the humans who lived in the cottage were kind enough, always ensuring they had a warm, dry spot to shelter and food and water to drink. his mother named them all: filou, winnie, and stormy.

by the time he was around three months of age, his sisters had been adopted out, leaving he and his mother. until one day when an adult human stopped by and considered him, and filou's morning ended with him being put in a metal crate and placed into his vehicle. after some hours of travel, they arrived at the old lighthouse, where the human surprised the old lightkeeper with a new mouser for his home to keep his old tomcat, thatch, company.

understandably, he was a bit nervous on his first couple of days in the lighthouse; everything smells old and like wet rock and wet hay, but thatch was nonetheless pleasant company who spoke for the both of them. on his first night sleeping in the lighthouse, thatch remarked he blended in awfully well with his golden pelt into the bundles of hay wrapped up on the ground level when he slept - and the name stuck: buckwheat.

for the first week, life was still simple for buckwheat. he grew confident quickly, though, and simple tours and wisdom from thatch kept him from feeling lost or helpless in this new and scary space. thatch would even call him buck affectionately, saying the kit's bold attitude towards anything new reminded him of a stubborn deer - and the nickname stuck, becoming buckwheat's preferred title over buckwheat. not that there's anything wrong with it, he just thought it sounded so formal!

after a month of living with thatch and the old human, buckwheat officially assumed thatch as a mentor figure: learning how to hunt mice, protect their stores, read the seas, and keep the old lightkeeper human company on dark and cold nights.

[attr="class","historybox"]TRAINING UNDER THATCH

buckwheat trained with thatch for many moons, learning every nook and cranny of the old lighthouse and the surrounding cliffsides, and becoming close with the old male walker who tended to the house with them. he was always gentle with them, giving them fresh water and kibble (though both cats vastly preferred hunting the plentiful mice, season in and season out). sometimes the old man would even fish with them and give them some of his catch while they watched together.

while he was still young, learning, and growing, there was a stormy night where the old lightkeeper was struggling to ignite the lighthouse for lost ships; both thatch and buckwheat watched, and a particularly loud crack of lightning frightened buckwheat, causing him to skitter across the wet floor and fall off the side of the lighthouse.

fortunately, cats land often on their feet, but it was still no small height; he landed squarely but pitched forward and sprained his forepaw, as was determined by the old keeper later that night when giving him a mock sling made from twine, cloth, and a stick. buckwheat was bedridden for days, much to his dismay - staying cooped up in the tower made his whiskers itch. thatch kept him company anytime he wasn't working though, playing games with him and telling him about what he saw outside.

soon enough though he was up hobbling around, then limping, and then back to walking.

and then of course, right back to mousing - thatch good-naturedly mumbled about young cats and their bones being like a jelly, able to spring back from even a sprain in so much as weeks.

however, where buckwheat began to thrive, in the weeks following his injury healing, thatch began to slow down. he was a much older cat who had spent much of his days outside in rough-and-tough weather and work, and before long buckwheat was helping him more and more. that that he minded at all - he loved thatch so dearly, like the father he'd never had.

one morning, though, on a wet, cold, and windy morning in the snow-season, thatch was hard to get on his feet. he was awake but weak, and a worried buckwheat meowed and scraped at the door of the lightkeeper's house until the human woke up, groggy and questioning. when he saw the usually affectionate tabby at his doorstep, meowing worriedly and gesturing to the lighthouse, he followed. buckwheat led the lightkeeper to the store where thatch had fallen back asleep, hardly breathing at all.

the lightkeeper took a cloth and wrapped it around thatch, and went to crescent cove that morning, taking buckwheat with him. even the town seemed sleepier and more somber than ever before, the streets absent from wagons and a lack of ships in port due to the bad weather. they stopped in front of a wooden human home buckwheat didn't recognize, and the keeper took thatch in, still bundled up.

buckwheat waited for what felt like ages and ages, but when the keeper emerged with the cloth in his arms, his expression was defeated. buckwheat may not have spoken the human language, but he understood what was happening, despite never seeing death before.

the lightkeeper took thatch back home, and took him inside his home and lit a fire in the fireplace, warming the insides. he settled thatch on a big bundle of worn blankets, and buckwheat joined him at his side - despite the blaze of the fire before them, thatch felt cold as his breathing slowed in the night.

thatch passed away that night beside buckwheat, in front of the roaring fire.

buckwheat was distraught, alongside the lightkeeper, and both mourned the loss of their friend for the next days. the lightkeeper gave thatch a burial by the sea, in a spot where he'd often seen thatch sunbathe.

it took some time, but buckwheat did heal from the loss of thatch. the lighthouse felt emptier and the wind a bit colder without thatch by his side, but life went on.

[attr="class","historybox"]GROWING UP

by the time he was just over a year old, buckwheat was the only mouser of the lighthouse, keeping the old human living there company enough. while he vastly preferred being outside to inside, he understood the human too was sad from thatch's loss (from what buckwheat had been told, the keeper and thatch had known each other for eight long years!), and often spent cold nights with the keeper inside his little den, warmed by a fire.

the days were never boring; every week presented a new challenge, whether it be rodents in the grain, an overly curious coyote or fox, and occasional feline visistors who made buckwheat's acquaintance on their journeys. he was always chivalrous and welcoming, happy to give them a place to rest, hunt, and eat before continuing on their ways. there was always enough to go around.

the second time buckwheat was taken to crescent cove, buckwheat made company with the port and town cats living among the people. ask any cat around when buckwheat first got to town some seasons ago, and they'll laugh about him being quite a hit with the cats his age.

buckwheat will even often bring up how he swears all the fur on his tail that this group of she-cats kept looking at him and giggling at each other when he wasn't looking! 'like i was a funny-looking mouse they wanted a bite out of', he'll say, with only some slight nervousness.

still, he made friends easily with the cats of crescent cove, especially with one port she-cat named gemma, a real firecracker of a cat, but still very amicable. she seemed to know about every little thing that went on in crescent cove, and unofficially offered to be buckwheat's little informant of any drama or gossip around the town. while buckwheat doesn't go to crescent cove often, he does always make time to go visit gemma on the docks when his keeper goes to town.

[attr="class","historybox"]PRESENT DAY.

to be role-played!