Mintkit/shade-sting
Francxs
Quiet, thin and sickly, this cat was brought in to springclan by nothing short of a miracle. His thin figure is draped in a white coat splotched with grey, light here, dark there. Isolated from the other cats due to being so sickly he has yet to bond with those around him, preferring the peace and quiet of the medicine or elders den. While there he made it his goal to memorize the scents and sights of all the plants that grew in the territories bounds. This drive gave him the will to keep on living, struggling against his illness, but this cost him the time he needed to socialize with peers. Now grown he struggles talking to others, keeping quiet except when discussing what needs to be done medically. What he lacks in vocalizations, he makes up for in thought, and sometimes if another watches him close enough you can see the thoughts passing in this speckled green eyes, telling stories that may never come out of his mouth without enticement.

Id like to be mca because back when i first started here on wcc2 like 5+ years ago i loved being on the staff teams, helping make plots and run clans and with my surplus of free time id like to start doing that again since im rejoining and wcc2 is also turning a new leaf. My favourite positions have always been on the medical teams and thats where i want to start off again!
Right now my activity is probably a four but thats only because this is my second cat, and i like to limit myself to the mountain clans! (and one is missing in action atm ;x;") I hope to get more active soon!

Edited cause this bio is what id use as his mca bio, its not the one that he has right now on the members page :'0

Cat Name: Whitepaw [hawk]
Username: Blue
Cat Bio:
He’s lucky to have been born to a SpringClan cat, one of the few Clans that would’ve welcomed him and his heritage with open paws. He’s not as lucky to have been born to the specific SpringClan cat that he calls father. Strict and viciously loyal to the warrior code despite everything, the half-kittypet spawn he could call kin was an embarrassment. His father didn’t mean to fall for a kittypet, curiosity and foolish youth driving him to the Twolegplace again and again as he fell for a pretty Japanese Bobtail. It was only when she announced her pregnancy that he, obviously, was the father of that he realized he needed to stop. He convinced himself that his Clan wouldn't accept this half-blooded spawn, didn’t want his Clan to accept them, so he stopped visiting her. She gave birth to a trio of kits and, though her heart ached at her love’s absence, she loved her kits with everything she had. This is where Whitehawk came in. He was given the name Magic at birth with a brother named Houdini and a sister named Mischief. They were happy together for a while, but one day a strange Twoleg came with an unusual box. Dull green leaves were passed from one Twoleg to another and within minutes Mischief was gone. Magic and Houdini panicked, wondering where their sister had gone. Their mother eventually explained this was normal for kittypets, though she obviously was hurt by her daughter’s disappearance. She had hoped her kits would be different, that she’d be allowed to raise her precious children. All she had left of her love. Within a few days Houdini was the next to be taken. All that was left was her precious Magic. She decided she wanted to choose this kit’s fate. She wanted one of her children to follow in their father’s pawsteps, so in the middle of the night she found a pane of ice cracked open a fraction too wide and she slipped out, her little son following in her pawsteps. Magic tried to question what was going on, but his mother quieted him every time he spoke up. They needed to be silent if they wanted to get away. She followed the route she half-remembered from her love’s visits, vague directions that ultimately left her lost and wandering. Magic complained of the hunger hollowing both cats’ bellies. Eventually the complaints stopped, the young kit too weary and hungry to bother voicing either any more. She did everything she could to protect him and keep him strong enough to continue going, but she had no experience in the wild. Surviving off scraps and crowfood, she was the first to succumb, giving everything to her precious son. He was left with little more than names, the name of his father and the Clan he claimed to be a part of. Somehow their aimless wandering led them close to SpringClan, and after several days of surviving on the bare minimum, hardly a sunrise after his mother passed, he collapsed on the border. Clan cats found him, nursing him back to health as he blearily repeated the name of one of their own with no other context. It took him a while to recover, but when he eventually did he revealed how he knew the name. He was scorned by his father who had already began to suspect their relationship, the black-masked tomkit with his dark too-short tail achingly similar to his former love, but the majority decided to let him into their numbers. They couldn’t exactly send the orphaned kitten away, especially when half his blood came from this place, and so he joined as Whitekit. He spent the rest of his early moons in the nursery, learning the ways of the Clan through his incessant questions and insatiable curiosity. Everything had a solution to him no matter how impossible it seemed, and he would not rest until he found it. Mismatched eyes, one dull yellow and the other ice blue, often had an analytical glint in their depths, always searching for something else to learn about and figure out. Rest was for those who found the answers. Or those who were told by the queens that it was time to rest. He was a pretty manipulative kit as well. He would twist cats to sympathize with him, a task not too difficult with his background of a lost mother and uncaring father, though it was rarely entirely intentional. He would often get his way through this, though he tried not to let his way be malicious towards others. Only little things, like begging to be allowed to join in on a game or asking to be allowed just one piece of that juicy prey his denmate had claimed. He didn’t see any harm in it and never saw reason to abandon this habit even as he reached the age of an apprentice. He was hesitant to become a warrior, scared of the prospect of fighting another cat and risking life and limb every day for the Clan. He had never done well in kitten play-fights, never quite possessing the same eager enthusiasm in a game of mossball as his denmates that might indicate a good hunter. He wasn’t suited to being a warrior, but with a little bit of twisting and a lot of endless questions towards Flyingcolors, he found a different calling. That of a medicine cat. At first he was uncertain around the sometimes brutal injuries that would pass through the medicine den, but he eventually fell into the rhythm, his incessant curiosity and drive to find the answer to every problem aiding him as he learned to become a medicine cat as skilled as his mentor. It doesn’t bother him the few cats, his father among them, that may doubt the wisdom in taking on a half-kittypet as the future medicine cat. His blood doesn't effect his ability to mend wounds, doesn't hamper his empathy towards others and his knowledge of how to heal. He could never scorn the kittypet mother that gave her life so he could live the life of a Clan cat.

Reason for wanting to be MCA:
I've always loved medicine cat positions in roleplay. I love the role medicine cats have in the Clan and the potential cats in those positions have. I'm also really interested in all the customs and such that are a part of SpringClan. Honestly I haven't look much into all of it before, though that was mostly because I didn't want to spread myself too thin in too many Clans, but glancing through it all now it's all really interesting and I'd love to be a part of this Clan.

Activity on a scale from 1-10 (10 being the most active):
5 or 6. I haven't been very active at all recently, but I promise my activity is going to pick up as I focus my attention more on fewer cats.