One of the four offspring of Damaris, a descendant of the Blind Protector, or so the family likes to claim. Regardless of origin they have been part of the Regime for many generations, possibly back to the start of the Regime. Because of this the Damaris family as they call themselves can be blood purists, though Trevet himself is not one of them. Trevet is perhaps the black sheep of the family, not that against welcoming new blood into the family or working himself to the bone for prestige. It’s not that he doesn’t care, he just never had the desire to be put in a true leadership position. It frankly seems like too much work, of course that doesn’t stop him from judging others who lead the Regime. Trevet led the life he was destined to have, a long and productive career as a raiser. He likes to claim he had a paw in raising every cat that now lives in the Regime, never mind that some of the Regime grew up elsewhere. So he likes to think of himself as knowledgeable in the facts of life. If one is lucky to be in his good graces he can be a fountain of wisdom. Otherwise he is just a stubborn old fool who still lives in the past sometimes. Though he is no longer as sleek and muscular as he once was he is still a sight to behold. His coat is somewhere in the medium length category and silvery white. Darker patches coat his face and legs. Black mackerel stripes wrap around his frame, leaving his chest relatively plain. His plume like tail is darker than the rest of his body, with the gauge hint of raccoon like rings. His once vibrant yellow eyes have faded slightly to match the greeting on his muzzle. Yet his tongue is still sharp and Trevet won’t let anyone forget that.
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