pafp the faint sweet smell of green things growing || storytelling

It has been such a long time since Betonyfrost has stepped paw into the nursery. She doesn't break that now; she stops outside the entrance and crouches as if in a hunt. Betonyfrost is, in a way. Her green eyes are sharp and focused; her ears stand at wilted attention atop her head. Inside, she sees one of them—it, her mind supplies. She sees it, she sees its eerily familiar and kittenish face, ever cautious in this still-new place.

"Oh, you poor darling," Betonyfrost shifts into a more comfortable position as she croons; the hunt never leaves her eyes. How relieved she will feel when this thing is dead—it will be her first full exhale in an impossibly long time. The sweetness in her voice feels strange on her own tongue and genuine to her own ears, "I know everyone must be silent about your mother—I know you must be curious. Do you want me to tell you about her?"

The sun is hot against her back with the coming Newleaf. This has always been a hopeful time for Betonyfrost; the smile that finds her face is soft and—despite or because of the world—hopeful.

// @marblekit
please wait until i say this is open >:}​
shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | 29 moons | tags
 
Marblekit sits on the periphery of the nursery, away from the nursing queens and their kits. Her eyes are dull, her movements listless. She’s bored, but she doesn’t want to do anything. For the first time since her birth, her belly is full, of slimy frog and other strange meat that Lilacfur brings her, but the energy goes to waste. She still just wants Siltcloud to come back for her and Sycamorekit, to take her away from this ShadowClan that’s meant to be her home now. While she sits and broods, a shadow darkens the entrance of the nursery, and Marblekit is startled. Her pelt bushes up, and a hiss begins to sputter from between her teeth. She faintly recognizes the cat who had approached—she has big green eyes and very small, bitten ears.

Marblekit’s hide twitches, and she takes a defensive stance, but the warrior’s voice is sweet and placating. “Oh, you poor darling,” she says, and the young kit’s fur begins to lie flat on their shoulders and spine. This warrior mentions her mother—and Marblekit’s eyes brighten, round with curiosity. “You knew my mama?” She toddles closer on hesitant pawsteps. This is the first time since she’d been brought to ShadowClan that someone has mentioned Siltcloud. Even hearing her name sends an ache shivering in her heart, a yearning that she allows to blossom inside of her. “Please tell me,” she mews, sitting at the she-cat's paws.


  • ooc:
  • pcAn1D5.jpeg
  • Marblekit, she/they w/ feminine and non-gendered terms.
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — 2 moons old, ages realistically on the 1st.
    — mentored by n/a ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a
    — shadowclan kit, formerly a rogue. 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.


 

[ ༻ 𐃉 ༺ ] Sycamorekit had been hiding in the thickets and brush of the nursery , green eyes keeping watch of those who came near and then... a stranger had approached his sister and he felt his own fur bristle before slipping out to stand protectively near his sister, green eyes filled with caution and unease at Betonyfrost's presence in the moment. He had seen the faces that have come and gone from the nursery and she hadn't been one of them yet... she promises tales of their mother and that was what made him tuck himself next to Marblekit, his fur brushing against hers as a way of comfort.

"Was she a good warrior? Like Momma?" he asked softly with a tilt of his head, and tired gaze shifting to his sister and then back to the other. He was more wary of the molly than his sister but the promises of hearing more about the mom who left them in a place they were now supposed to call home was... well something he suppose, perhaps it was the hope to feel some sort of comfort from them like the comfort Siltcloud had provided before she left them here.

  • "speak""Thoughts"
  • Sycamorekit 𐃉 He,She, They, Shadowclan kit, 2 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.

 
Marblekit emerges from the nursery with the same shivering trepidation as the first blooming flowers. Betonyfrost finds herself nodding in agreement, the motion so slight that it is nearly imperceptible. Her tail prickles but remains as limp and heavy as a fallen vine—the tips of her teeth tingle. Whatever brightness this thing—these things—see in their mother is unacceptable. That they would be allowed to stay is a tragedy large enough to choke Betonyfrost.

"She was born here," Betonyfrost explains in a soft voice, "Had you known that? She was born in the marsh with her siblings—she had been loved by this marsh, as much as it can love anything." When the first twinges of hatred touch her voice, they do so gently, subtly, and then they take her all at once. It bleeds into her posture—her whole spine spikes, "And despite that she grew into a traitor and a killer. She needed to be run out of this place—her and her brother—because the both of them had killed their peers as easily as I might kill a flea!"

There is a threat that sits on Betonyfrost's tongue. She doesn't stand from her crouch, but the whole of her has leaned forward as if to lord over the kits, had she been standing. The threat, despite everything, doesn't leave her.

"That is your mother, and that is your legacy. Had StarClan been kind to any of us you would have starved before either of us could see the other's face."​
shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | 29 moons | tags
 
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Ferndance had always been honest with her own kittens, there'd never been a need to sugarcoat the circumstances of their birth. It was a miracle they lived, but she'd done her best to make sure the weight of Sprucepaw's sacrifice hadn't made them feel guilty for living their life how they wanted to live it. Shadepaw was becoming a miniature version of herself, Snowypaw was becoming a socialite, Bloodpaw a fighter and Bonepaw a cat more dedicated to family than she'd ever anticipated. She was also aware that she had the benefit of not betraying her home (technically), of not having to worry about two starving kittens in a sea of vicious rogues. Whatever Siltcloud had told her babies had likely been just as fairytale as Ferndance's witticisms, not to inspire joy, but to make sure that her kittens didn't feel the weight of their mortality at such a young age. It wasn't going to last, but the cinnamon tabby had no clue how soon it was going to be.

She listened to Betonyfrost, unbothered at first, until she leaned forwards like a snake poised to strike at ShadowClan's most vulnerable. Her own neck coiled around, ears standing to attention. Betonyfrost's final comment came, perhaps more of a killing bite than what her teeth could've ever given. Ferndance stood and moved closer, positioning herself behind the kittens protectively - she really didn't want to see their faces right now. "We know the Stars can be cruel, you've suffered such imaginable things because of them." It wasn't sarcasm, Ferndance was reminded of her talks with Betonyfrost as she stood over the bitter creature, it'd never been sympathy she'd felt for the other but... remorse, perhaps? It didn't stop her claws from writhing in the soft earth below, the lash of a tail dissatisfied with how events had played out. Her anger had always been a quiet thing, petty at the best of times, destructive at the worst: yelling like leaders did not suit the she-cat anymore than kindness suited Betonyfrost. Ears flatten. "But this isn't punishment, this is... this is good that they live. I don't like what you've said to them." She leaned forward to address the other quietly. "I think you should go away now." The warning was as gentle as the flap of a butterfly's wings, but even the tiniest movement of the insect's body had been known to cause hurricanes.

 
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Hearing the kits clamor to hear about their mother, Minkpaw groaned, looking pointedly away. Even if it wasn't her own parents for once, she didn't want to hear another adult wax poetic about how cool and noble a dead cat was. She didn't care. If she had her way, she would never have to hear that again.

That was not what happened though. As Betonyfrost's tone turned harsh, she regained Minkpaw's attention. "Woah." The apprentice breathed, her eyes wide, arrested by the tale. Her head slowly turned to face the kits, staring at them with far more interest than she had before. While Ferndance and Betonyfrost faced off, she took a step toward them. "YOUR MOM SOUNDS COOL! Much cooler than mine." She laughed as she said it, like it was all a big joke.

Despite the vitriol in Betonyfrost's tone, Minkpaw could not quite bring herself to believe her words. They were too fantastical to be part of the same reality as the safe life she had lived in Shadowclan's camp. It was just a ghost story to her, and she was too old to be scared of ghost stories. It would be awesome to have a ghost story for a mom though.
  • MINKKIT she/her(?), apprentice of shadowclan, six moons. tiny, shorthaired silver tabby with high white and fiery orange eyes. FOXFANG X BADGERFUR peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ see battle info here penned by empyrean@empyrean_heaven on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
 
Sycamorekit comes to sit beside her, and she’s comforted by the brush of their fur against hers. He asks if their mother had been a good warrior, like Lilacfur… she does not know what it means to be a good warrior, but Siltcloud had said it about their other mother so many times. The words have been ingrained in her head like a child’s prayer. The short-eared she-cat bends close, and her voice unfurls softly, delicate as feathers. The words she speaks—Marblekit likes them. Siltcloud had been born in this very nursery, in this mire where she’d been stowed away. It brings her a shard of comfort, to know Siltcloud had once stood in this same spot, had once watched the same ferns bend in the breeze. “Oh,” she murmurs.

The she-cat explains that the marsh had loved Siltcloud. Marblekit blinks; she doesn’t understand, not fully, but it sounds nice, to be loved by your home. And then—then something changes on her tabby face, creases into something like wrath. The nice words she’d been speaking become sharp like the tips of claws, bitter like the sour juice of an unripe berry. “She grew into a traitor and a killer. She needed to be run out of this place—her and her brother—because the both of them had killed their peers as easily as I might kill a flea!”

Marblekit withdraws, startled. A protest bubbles from her lips. “Killer? Mama?” Her eyes are round, stunned by the shift in Betonyfrost’s demeanor, by the vitriol she spews.

And it clicks into place for her. That’s why cats had not wanted them there. That’s why they give her and Sycamorekit looks—looks like they are tummy aches, like bad pieces of fresh-kill left to rot in the sun. Her fur fluffs up, her lips pulling away from tiny teeth. “No! That’s not true! Leave us alone!” She wobbles forward on unsturdy limbs and attempts to shove Betonyfrost with her little paws.

Ferndance—she knows Ferndance, she comes to visit the kits she has with Needledrift, one of the queens—comes, a defense like nettles behind her teeth. Marblekit barely hears her; she feels hot, hot, like her skin is burning behind her pelt, like she might catch on fire. Tears of stubborn anger begin to glow in her blue-tinted green gaze. And then there’s an apprentice—Marblekit doesn’t care to know her name, but she laughs, and Marblekit feels like she’s laughing at her. “GO AWAY!” She hisses, fury beading in the corners of her eyes and slipping down her cheeks. She wants to run away and hide. She wants to find Lilacfur. She wants Siltcloud, she wants to ask her if these horrible things are true, she wants to ask her why she’d left her in this place!


  • ooc:
  • pcAn1D5.jpeg
  • Marblekit, she/they w/ feminine and non-gendered terms.
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — 2 moons old, ages realistically on the 1st.
    — mentored by n/a ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a
    — shadowclan kit, formerly a rogue. 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.


 
Betonyfrost's story, at first, was just a drone in the background to Shadepaw. He was busy grooming his paws, removing pieces of mud that were trying to dry between his toes. Some of it was already embedded with the fur tufting between the pads, making it feel weirdly stiff, and he pulled at it. A vaguely familiar, older voice traded off with kittenish ones in the background. Shadepaw spat mud out. The older voice grew harsher, and Shadepaw looked up, finally tuning in. There sat Betonyfrost, looming, snapping out a story at Lilacfur's kits. Lilacfur and Siltcloud's kits. He rose to his paws as one of the kittens started squeaking, watching as Ferndance did the same.

Shadepaw's mother so rarely had tension pull at her features; seeing her with flattened ears felt wrong, bad, and Shadepaw's dark fur rippled with unfamiliar discomfort. He rolled Betonyfrost's words over in her head. The facts were right, at least as far as Shadepaw knew, but... everything else was rotten. Maybe if Ferndance didn't seem upset, Shadepaw would have felt better about it. He might have even laughed at Minkpaw's reaction, because was so sunny in comparison to the darkness Betonyfrost's narrative spread. But even Shadepaw, who thought everything was funny, could see that Marblekit's outburst was no laughing matter.

He rushed over to Ferndance, standing slightly behind her as if an angled shadow. "Um- um- should I get Lilacfur?" Shadepaw whipped his head around. He couldn't see his mentor's rosetted form at first glance. "Why don't we go find her?" He looked at Marblekit, teary-eyed and bristling, and Sycamorekit, and shuffled a step away from the scene, truly hoping the kittens would follow. When he was scared or sad, he always wanted to be with his moms. Something sharp and cold twisted in his chest at the idea of only having one of them.
 
Marblekit makes a good imitation of a kitten as she pushes at Betonyfrost with what would surely be a large amount of force for something so small. Betonyfrost doesn’t bend away from the shove or the shouted words—she knows better than to be fooled. Betonyfrost looks between Ferndance and those things; the sneer settling over her face only grows more severe. Ferndance is caught beneath the naive assumption that these kits are innocent as any other—she thinks them detached from their blood.

It hasn’t been the stars that have been cruel to me,” Betonyfrost barks. Every unkindness she has ever known has had a face, “And these aren’t kits!” Betonyfrost gestures sharply to Marblekit and Sycamorekit, and then, realizing the absurdity of her statement, backtracks, “We’ve allowed cubs into our nursery—how is it that I am the only one that sees that they will grow into foxes? Or are you to have me believe Granitepelt and Siltcloud both were unlucky coincidences in an otherwise shining family?

Minkpaw—idiotic, foxhearted—speaks positively of Siltcloud, and Betonyfrost feels the blood in her heart curdle, “Say that again—” Betonyfrost cuts off abruptly, momentarily too enraged to speak. When she starts again, her voice comes low, “If you say that again I will strike you. Do you understand?

Even Marblekit protests Minkpaw; Betonyfrost’s attention returns to the true target. “She killed my daughter,” Betonyfrost speaks quickly—she needs to finish her story, and she knows she will be stopped if she doesn’t hurry, “For no reason other than—she had no reason at all. None that I can understand. And now that you two are here—” Hatred is bright and consuming. It has the very same burn as love, “Oh, I want to take something of equal measure from her.

Shadepaw’s uncertainty breaks the spell. Betonyfrost doesn’t stop bristling. She’s larger like this, more of herself.

Get Lilacfur,” Betonyfrost agrees, “Get Chilledstar. Get whoever you please—these kits know their family, and for now that is enough.”​
shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | 29 moons | tags
 
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Lilacfur had trusted the initial spat from her kits arrival would be the last of her Clanmates shoving Siltcloud's past in front of them. She didn't intend to keep it a secret from them forever, but they were far too young, too new to know right now. She brought them prey from her patrols, had Shadepaw switch them fresh moss, but she knew their trust of the Clan was still surface level.

Maybe if their introductions had been kinder, warmer it would be different... She wished her Clan was different. Isn't that why I'm here, on Chilledstar's council?

She hadn't been too far from the commotion, having been in Starlingheart's den to try and talk with her sister but Marblekit's distress could not be ignored. Lilacfur rushed out into the clearing to see Betonyfrost, face gnarled and bristling at her kin. She can feel her heart sink through her chest realizing what the blue mackerel has done. Quickly does that dread turn into fury and her paws stomp forward to stand behind Sycamorekit and Marblekit, trying to sweep them closer with her tail.

"Get out. Get out of this camp." The demand fell from her maw without any hesitation, any thought but to get her as far away from her kittens as possible. "Be thankful its not newleaf or I'd have the frost take the rest of your ears. GET OUT!" What is she supposed to do now? To do about this? Her kittens cannot be hunted down this way, preyed upon as if they were rats spreading sickness. They had a responsibility to prevent creating more cats like Granitepelt and Siltcloud, clearly some learned nothing.

"They're mine too... I'm your mother too." She's not sure who she should be speaking too, she's not sure when she started tearing up but her paws shake from the adrenaline of her rage. "Do not listen to Betonyfrost. No one in ShadowClan will hurt you, I promise." She looked to Shadepaw and sighed. "You can tell Chilledstar to expect me to visit them later... Please." This would not be swept away, this would not go ignored... her kittens would not be threatened.
[ i need the clouds to cover me ]
 
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It's not often Mirepurr feels rage. With all the things life has thrown at them in order to learn from it all, one is always clear, even if not everybody shares that sentiment; there are better alternative methods. Jumping into an argument with hackles raised only leads to more disaster. It's better to take a deep breath, calm your nerves, and only utter sensible things.

Today is different.

Betonyfrost's crouched form right by the nursery entrance had compelled Mirepurr to come and investigate. Perhaps something is wrong- or perhaps a queen needs assistance. What they don't expect is for Betonyfrost to hurl such foul things towards kits who barely understand the weight of them.

She is not wrong, at least about the legacy of these kits' parents - but it shouldn't be talked about, not yet, and the rest of it is tainted with venom.

"You're not striking anyone," they snap, surprised to find their voice level despite the anger bubbling deep within. Mirepurr stands between Betonyfrost and Minkpaw, hopefully shielding the kits as well. As if a physical barrier could block out the noise.

Their whiskers twitch. There's a beat where they simply stare into Betonyfrost's eyes, regardless if she looks back into theirs or not. They remember sympathizing with her back when they were still 'paws, Betonyfrost always moons ahead. Mirepurr can't say they know what she feels, they're no parent despite feeling like that sometimes, but they certainly feel for her.

Now? All they want is for her to shut her maw. "If they turn into foxes, your words will be to blame. Who are you to will them to starve? Is your brain full of fleas?"