A CRUEL ANGEL'S THESIS ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 FLINTKIT

[POPPYGLOW]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Among the exhausted bodies of the ailing sat two kittens that the stars extended their blessing unto. Poppykit was growing stronger by the day, though their breathing was short and shallow and their body remained fragile and fatigued enough to still be limited to their nest. They are no longer weak enough that their mind is too cloudy to parse through anymore, fortunately.

There were many kittens that lived in the nursery with Poppykit, her siblings, and the others who slept beside them in their mother's nest. However, there were also the kittens that lived in the medicine den, whose mother was the medicine cat, a blessed-pawed she-cat who channeled healing into Poppykit twice now in the past moon. She did not know much about those kittens beside their astringent, herby scent that cloaked their pelts, warding away sickness, surely.

The other kitten is grey, like his father, this can be observed quite easily. Poppykit was in a similar way white in some places like their father, though their paint of red seemed to muddle Poppykit's connection to Frostbite quite a bit. She wondered if the visual closeness the kitten shared with his parent strengthened their connection of mind, or at least flavored them similar enough. Not that she would be able to tell either way anyway, they recognized the grey-furred adult in appearance only. Poppy was more interested in something else in the boy's appearance than his grey-ness.

A star shines between his eyes. What a blessing...

Yep! 'Forehead' over there should be grateful for his gift!

"Friend," A small voice rises above the oppressive miasma of illness. Ghostly pale eyes meet blue and green as she stares at the benediction of fur between them, "What is revealed to you?" They wondered if the bestowment upon his forehead led his eyes toward starlit righteousness yet unseen by the other earthly cats among them. A beat of silence, and Poppykit adds helpfully, "You are blessed with a star kiss..."

PRESENT DAY... ⭑☾༺♰༻☽⭒ ...PRESENT TIME! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• OOC: @FLINTKIT
• 
• 
  — poppykit
  — agender they/she. 3mo kit of shadowclan
  — ??? ; child.
  — a tiny, fluffy white and dark red tabby cat with pale, wraithlike blue eyes
  — smells like mushrooms, dust, and foggy night air
  — sounds like lain iwakura, with a flat yet childlike high-pitched tone
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack, 'poppypaw'
  — icon by mercurial, fullbody and pixel headshot by dejavu
  — penned by eezy
• disclaimer: poppykit is not always operating completely within reality! they are affected by some delusions and may see, hear, react to, and interact with things that are not actually there. most notably, she will believe herself to have interactions with starclan as a whole and specifically, the deceased shadowclan apprentice Poppypaw. these are not reflective of ic reality and are not real interactions with starclan or deceased characters! this is not an attempt at powerplaying, godmodding, or metagaming.

​

 

[FLINTWISH]

Flintkit's recovery is slow, but not for lack of care from his mother. No, she had cared so much, so deeply, that she'd chosen him over Heavybranch– not that he really knows what that entails. He's just a boy cut off from the world, regenerating from his rot in this sick-nest. His siblings are apprentices now, which stings. But at least he is rebuilding; at least he is finally getting stronger so that Granitepelt cannot look upon him with such scorn. When he thinks of the gray-pelted tom's appraisal, there is a flint-and-steel spark of rage inside him. What crime did I commit, he wonders, aside from the simple act of falling ill? But he is Granitepelt's look-alike; Flintkit is a reflection of the tom's pelt as much as he is a reflection of his output, his legacy. Maybe it is a crime to fall ill, then; to grind legacy to a halt; to lay legacy to rest in a bed of phlegm and fever.

But he is not alone in this suffering. There's another kitten sick with him, who is all milk and nightshade berries and icicle-blue eyes. They have invaded Starlingheart's den before and spilled their blood there, and now again they demand her attention. But they're a peer– his only peer, really, since Nettlepaw and Ghostpaw have been apprenticed, even if he didn't talk to them much (or at all). Fever had fogged his mind too much to remember if they'd ever truly spoken. Only now does their voice ring out concretely, calling to him for a question that he doesn't entirely understand.

What is revealed to you? she asks. Flintkit doesn't know how to answer. His blue-green gaze meets theirs in a contemplative squint; he has been refused company for so long he supposes he will entertain this, but what is a star kiss? His blood turns icy at the thought of Poppypaw and Pitchstar, their starry pelts shimmering inches from him; how close to joining them did I get? Alarm pins his ears back to his skull. Did Poppykit see StarClan, too?

Flintkit fumbles for a reply. "I... StarClan visited me," he admits, and he isn't sure why. He'd be afraid to tell Granitepelt, he thinks, to reveal just how close he'd been to succumbing to yellowcough. He'd be afraid to tell Starlingheart too, lest she become consumed with grief for nearly losing her little boy. He's fine now, he thinks; he hasn't seen StarClan in a week or two, and he feels much stronger. No, his parents don't have to know. "Is that what you mean? Did they visit you?"​