sensitive topics these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever // kitting


wordcount: 672
cw/tw: implied kit death


And you'll never see the reasons I had
For keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you —


As flanks heave and teeth grit tight against the pain, it's all she can do to hold onto consciousness. Green eyes flutter, vision blurring, and Siltcloud allows her mind to wander for a moment. Are Loampelt and Poppypaw watching her no, looking down upon her from the stars? Ghostpaw and Tornadopaw and Pitchstar - are they up there, cursing her for her silence, for her complacency. Surely - starclan must scorn her for her foolishness, for her choices. Must take joy in her pain.

But she cannot blame the - can only give silent prayer in the confines of her mind, even as groans and whimpers and screams leave her lips; senseless sounds with no meaning other than pain.

'I do not care if you loathe me - if you take my life from me - but please, don't take it out on my kits,' she knows that if things had been different - if she'd known where her paws would lead her, she'd have chosen differently. There is no guilt, only regret - her selfishness has cost not only her but her children.

The dust hued molly isn't sure how much time passes before they finally arrive - treading that fine line between consciousness and sleep; the pain sapping her of her strength. The first child arrives in a rush; a wave of blood filling her mouth as teeth graze her tongue in surprise - body moving on autopilot.

It's instinct that guides her paws - carefully cleaning the shivering form that lies before her, licking and licking and licking until they at last stirr at her side. There nothing she can do but nudge them closer to herself, skin-and-bones figure already overcome by another wave of misery. Each passing moment is like hell on earth, but still she must persevere - she cannot rest until she is done. Until all her kits are born and safe at her side.

By the time dawns light creeps across the sky, bathing the twoleplace streets in shades of pale gold - five bodies lay curled up beneath her resting place; swaddled into makeshift nest of rubbish and scraps of fur best they can to stave off the cold leafbare chill.

"My babies," she murmurs - voice soft and heart fluttering.

Four perfect little kits - the culmination of her and lilacfurs love, however short and bittersweet it'd been. A hacking cough slips past her lips even as breathing begins to even out, and dull green eyes can only stare in wonder and bewilderment.

"I - Names... they need names..." she mumbles almost incoherently, half delirious with her efforts and waning strength. She hadn't thought so far ahad - had never truly expected this moment. It takes a while to wrack her mind, but in the end long past conversations come to mind, whispered words not meant for their clanmates ears entering her thoughts. "...Pebblekit," she decides, blinking down at the first, pale coat littered with leopard spots and freckles with white like the stars. "And chirpkit, because she would've liked that," she adds, staring down at the blob of brown at pebblekits side.

The names that follow take longer, sleepiness creeping in and clouding her mind. "gravel-no, marblekit," she mumbles - the pale she-cat looking so soft and so small against the swell of her stomach. "And sycamorekit," she says - the last little kitten a perfect hybrid of them, named after a space important to them both. The landmark siltkit had named herself, where they'd trained as apprentices, where they'd laid under the stars as warriors. As... lovers, even if they'd never quite used those words.

With her job finally done, she can no longer fight the pain. She doesn't notice in her exhaustion the way they go still as the minutes pass, the way one never moves to suckle from her, the way one cries itself into silence. She is simply too tired - eyes fluttering close as she finally slips into exhaustion.

It'll be too late when she awakes - she's too weak, her kits to sickly, the leafbare wind too strong. The stars have already taken them from her.


— I am selfish, I am broken, I am cruel,
I am all the things they might have said to you

 
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[ ༻ 𐃉 ༺ ] Everything was cold, so cold from the bitterness of leaf-bares sting to that of the snow beneath him. Weak, and the only thing that Sycamorekit could do was shriek to allow the world to know he was here named after something his parents loved, where it fester. His weak shrieks and cries would be the only thing that would let Siltcloud know he was there. Though soon they became fainter as he would squirm closer to his mother's body in attempt to gain more warmth, pushing through his other siblings to try and snuggle up to them as well. His small coughs and faint cries while he continue to move before finding a spot to settle.

He felt weak, yet he was unaware. Unaware that he would lose two of his siblings, and unware of how close he himself would be to death's door. All he could do was mewl weakly to his sleeping mother, to let her know he was still there. Fighting with whatever ounce of strength he had. His eyes shut closed, blind to the world he was born to. Soon enough Sycmorekit would too fall asleep tuck in his mothers warm embrace, the only thing that was let known to him still being there was the laboured breath and his small coughs in his sleep.

  • "speak""Thoughts"
  • Sycamorekit 𐃉 He,She, They, rouge kitten , 1 moons.
    LH Rosetted Cinnamon Tabby with low white and green eyes, has an extra set of toes
    Lilacfur x Siltcloud
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted (ask first) / / underline and tag when attacking
    see battle info here
    penned by Ryn@/Rynnaro on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 
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Marblekit breathes her first faltering breath on a cold, shoddy bed of Twoleg rubbish, held together by scraps of fur and a mother’s love. Beside her, a sibling squeaks, protests a rough existence; in comparison, her snuffling noises are quiet and muted. She burrows her way into Siltcloud’s tawny flank, unknowingly bumping against the cooling bodies of littermates who would never take their first steps or say their first words.

The air feels bladed against her tiny fawn-colored body; she whimpers as the wind exhales icy breath onto her backside. Her movements are firm, strong at first, but they begin to weaken as the life slips out of her siblings. She will not die with them, no—although the fire flickers, it does not go out. The exile’s daughter will survive, and she shows it when she begins to tentatively nurse against her sleeping mother.


  • ooc:
  • Marblekit, she/they w/ feminine and non-gendered terms.
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — 0 moons old, ages realistically on the 1st.
    — mentored by n/a ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a
    — rogue kit. siltcloud x lilacfur, gen 3.
    — currently mated to n/a.
    — penned by Marquette.

    sh fawn tabby with dull green eyes. bossy, brazen, outgoing, conniving, mischievous, skeptical, spiteful.


 
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