private A CYNICAL AND MISERABLE HIGH ✧ smokethroat

In newleaf, she had become a warrior—she had left a long and brutal apprenticeship behind her and had come into her own at last. Since then, she has made mistakes, the mistakes of a young warrior with too much hubris. She has loved, lost, floundered in the uncertain gray space in between. Iciclefang is the same cat she had been when she’d trained under Smokethroat—and yet, the necessary and natural distance between them now has her feeling distinctly different. She has not spoken to him the way they had, once, in many moons, before the swell of his belly had announced his and Cicadastar’s kits.

Iciclefang is not one to seek others out. But today, she does. She hesitates outside the stone housing the leader’s family, her hesitance subdued in the face of strident confidence. “Smokethroat? May I enter?” She will wait, rigid, until she is given permission to breach Cicadastar’s den. The leader is not present—some duty had needed tending to outside of camp, and she can hear only the quiet snores of their children sleeping.

Still, she thinks with a small smile, better to be patient than get a blow to the face like Mudpelt did.


  • @Smokethroat
  • iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
    — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
    — lesbian ; single
    — short-haired tortoiseshell with white and ice-blue eyes
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — penned by Marquette
    — chibi by Pin
 

The kits wore him out even when they didn't try, he didn't like the exhaustion that clung to his frame most days and knew it was from lack of moving around as he once did before. The second they were apprenticed he intended to return to his usual regime of patrols and hunting, get his muscle tone back and put his head back into the joy of duties as it once was. He missed roaming the territory, he missed stepping his paws in the deeper waters of the river far out near their border and staring off into the distant clans. Mostly, he missed the company of others - something you wouldn't catch him dead admitting to, but being stuck in camp meant he had less interaction outside other kits and their queens with the occasional passing warrior coming and going. His trio slept, curled in their nest together in a heap, Cicadakit's long legs taking up most the edge of the moss while Beekit's fluffy form encompassed most of Starlightkit's face as she strewn herself atop them both. He still got a knot in his stomach at the youngest's name. It would never not feel unatural to say.

He had only just made the decision to step out when he hears his name, ears flicked upward and head turning to the den entrance, the familiar tone earns the tortie a calm smile in greeting though he hadn't the slightest what would bring her here.
"Of course..." Nevertheless, he wouldn't turn away his former apprentice. It was rather warming she'd sought him out, he expected most apprentice were absolutely tired of dealing with their mentors by the time they earned their warrior name and she was no different; the distance was expected and she had her own life to live now once unburdened from his scrutinizing eye. Three dark paws and one dipped white turned him fully about and he stepped lightly over to the mouth of the den to feel the breeze, "Is everything alright?"
 
Within heartbeats, the RiverClan deputy has shuffled his way through the kits tangling about him in their nest, single burning eye calm and half-lidded. Iciclefang’s smile is slight as she greets the tom who’d trained her. “I figured you could use an adult conversation with someone other than Cicadastar.” She tilts her head just a fraction to the left. “Am I wrong? Perhaps the prattling of kits is more to your liking these days…” She flicks an ear to indicate she’s teasing.

Around them, the bustle of camp is slow in the sluggish, humid heat. Leaf-fall is upon them, but today had been unseasonably warm, and there’s a swollen laziness to everyone’s movements. Iciclefang idly watches a dragonfly zoom through the air, admires the glasslike frailty of its wings, and says, “Are you ready for them to be apprenticed? I think I’d be going mad if I were you.” There’s genuine curiosity in her tone now. Smokethroat was never the type to enjoy being stuck in camp, and now he’s been secluded in Cicadastar’s den with a swollen belly and then with kits for many moons. She pities him, though she’s sure he wouldn’t appreciate that knowledge. “Having kits is like being sick.” A blunt but truthful observation.


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  • iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
    — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
    — lesbian ; single
    — short-haired tortoiseshell with white and ice-blue eyes
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — penned by Marquette
    — chibi by Pin
 

He laughs, short and surprising even himself with its suddeness and immediately chokes it back down with a raised paw, "Company other than Cicadastar and the kits would be nice. He's been especially..." He trails off, not exactly knowing the word to describe the eccentric tom and his mannerisms that wasn't going to sound insulting even if he didn't mean it as such. He loved him, but even Iciclefang surely knew their leader was as mysterious as the day he'd carried himself into the camp and declared himself leader, never once changing from his ethereal presentation and exposing his heart. What they saw of his truths were in bursts of emotions sporadically scattered over the course of several moons. Overpowering grief, extreme lethargy, prickling and hot rage...he was a cat who took every feeling one could feel and escalated them into something explosive.
The dark tom's ear flicked and he huffed a snort of amusement to her jab, "I'll take the prattling of my kits over some of our clanmates any day but it is always nice to see you." His apprentice, practically his own shadow still despite having well-earned her name. "I DO look forward to them being apprenticed though, I'd like to get out again. Being stuck in camp has been a trial." She was probably familiar with it somewhat, when she'd been hurt during Ashpaw's incident she had even missed the gathering where her warrior name was announced.

"...it is like being sick in a way, I suppose. A willing sickness at least. They were worth it though..." A quiet murmur bubbled up despite himself, "...the names aside..." Smokethroat's expression tightened into a more grimace than anything and he wondered how he was going to manage using those blasted names going forward still, Beekit was fine and hilariously enough the only one Cicadastar had seemed bothered by given he named one after himself and the stars themselves; but obviously the issue was honoring their former medicine cat. Sure. His mate was a strange man, but perhaps he was still grieving in his silent way. It was hard to tell and he was never the type to pry.