AFTER SUNLIT DAYS 𓇼 MOONPAW

[shellpaw]

shrouded in the evening glow, shellkit wastes lily soft into the earth. watercolor blues fade to a rich, bleeding indigo through the sedge overhead, the first blink of pinprick stars beginning to peer back at her with pity. as if entertaining the child constellations beam bright, the night grown cool to all but her. the heat long taken over, flooded her veins with wildfire that couldn't be doused by honey or lavender. she can't move, not anymore ; every inch of her aches, runs ragged and damp with fever, a scattering of half - dried mossballs dotting the outskirts of a nest grown old with paws too frightened to touch the used greenery. frightened paws, frightened eyes, frightened voices. they seemed to know something she didn't. something they didn't want to tell her.

she doesn't think she can feel fear the same as everyone else.

she faces the otherworld with a sense of inevitability ; finality, introduced roughly to the idea of death and never able to shake its threaded hold. she feels fear like a low simmer, like something to be hidden. she feels her strength sap with each gasping breath, each flutter of her flank like a fish beached, but it was okay. she supposed it had to be okay, didn't it? the fear churns her belly but only as much as a first patrol wouldve, or her apprentice ceremony wouldve. a nervous fear, a tremble in sure paws ; she supposed she wasn't scared of succumbing, not so much anymore. she just didn't want to go alone -- didn't want to leave her siblings, her moms, the clan that raised her. didn't want to be the kit that ran away after she was gone, wanted to prove that she was able, that she was strong. but time was not kind, not for her or any of those lost in her short span of existence ; time was cruel, and had to end. time would not wait on the wants of a kit not meant to survive her first winter.

a sneeze wracks her body hard enough for her body to seize into a harsh curl, a whooping gasp sending her gaze flying towards the exit again. the moon brightens, brightens, forms into something pink - etched and round - eared, lunar glow ruffling into a pale lit pelt. shellkit blinks, blinks again, writhes her paws against the moss sluggishly, ” moonpaw.. “ her voice crackles, willow - breathed and dilated eyes grown grimy with mucus, unsure of how much time had passed since the albino molly had been in front of her. it feels like days, it feels like seconds ; she speaks as though she already had been, engaged in a dreamlike babbling towards the medic's hazy figure, ” do you think.. that, um.. “ she stops, hacks something ugly and weak onto the moss, spittle clinging to her maw despite the way her maw gapes on a brittle, desperate pant. speaking was hard. speaking was near impossible, but she had to -- she had to know.

” do you think.. i will see snowflakekit soon? “ it would be beautiful, she thinks. she hopes, prays they would play on the beams of moonlight that sends him down to her. she wonders if she can bat the stars at him like a mossball, wonders if she would be able to catch her breath when she does. ruddy eyes flutter, butterfly tender where they fix on moonpaw on a slow, sticky blink. moonpaw, moonpaw, with her sad eyes and mouthful of herbs shellkit can't quite place, ” will it.. do you know, if it will hurt? “ worse than this?

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𓇼 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

• i. @Moonpaw :(
  
  
• 
• 
  
  SHELLKIT 𓆉 SHE / HER, KITTEN OF RIVERCLAN. HAZECLOUD xx LICHENTAIL, NIECE TO SMOKESTAR. SIX MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. PENNED BY ANTLERS -------------------------------------------- ° ❀ ⋆
  frail alabaster molly with lilac striping and watery amber eyes.
  
  she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of dovey lilac curls, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore and plush in a way seemingly similar to hazecloud's. tufted elderdown fur conceals a body worn fragile by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with baby fat in others. her face is short - muzzled, framed half mast by eyes coined rheumy, rosen amber. the anemic cold pink - purple at tender paws and nose tell a lifetime of sickness, further made obvious by the feathering weakness in half - whispered tones.
  

  currently HIGHLY INFECTIOUS WITH WHITECOUGH. this includes a running nose, wheezing, sluggishness, and labored breathing. please keep contagion in mind.

​

 

[Moonbeam]

Every day since she had figured out what had ailed Shellkit was one one that struck fear into Moonpaw. She had told Smokestar and Lichentail the day she'd discovered what it was that it was whitecough and for fear of worrying the poor sickly child in her care she had kept it from her, simply stated she was sick and needed rest and that they were going to get the cure. She hadn't known until recently how that cure would come about but she was glad that it had now, though the moors had burned and lives were altered there was the cure, and there was a promise of trade. Quickly she'd gotten back home, moving into the medicine den carrying the doses with her before the sneeze and gasp from Shellkit fill the young feline with worry as paws move quickly over before she dropped down to check on the other.

Name is heard and Moonpaw pauses, eyes seeking out the others before she lays down near her, moving to try and wrap her tail around the other the best she could so they could speak, so Shellkit could feel as though everything would be fine soon for it would be - the cure was there in her paws now - and though she wanted to shove the catmint towards the other she was caught off guard when words were spoken once more.

do you think.. i will see snowflakekit soon? will it.. do you know, if it will hurt?

It took a second to reply, thoughts swirling in her head. She didn't like that one so young was asking about seeing her dead siblings soon, that she was asking if death would hurt, and a frown plastered itself upon her maw then, ears pinning to her head. "I think that it can hurt sometimes, but not all the time, I don't know if this would hurt or not." She'd speak finally, opting to speak the truth to Shellkit in this moment. Though she held the title of a kit she was old enough to learn, old enough to train once she was better, so there was no point in keeping things back - not in Moonpaw's eyes anyway. "What I do know though is that you don't have to worry about that, not any time soon. You're going to see Snowflakekit one day, but it'll be after you're an elder, when you've had enough time to live to be a warrior and then share your stories with other kits and boss around naughty apprentices."

Paws would move then, a small claw grasping onto the dose of catmint for Shellkit before carefully moving it in front of her. "I promised you that you'd get better, and this here is what will do it, you just gotta eat it and get your rest, and you've already been doing half of that." She could have visitors soon, could see her siblings and mothers without having to worry about awkward stares and cats afraid to get too close.

A STRAWBERRY AVALANCHE ꕥ CRASHED OVER ME

• --
• 
  MEDICINE CAT IN TRAINING;
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ FLESH WOUNDS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ INFECTIONS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ ACHES & PAINS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ ILLNESS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ BREATHING ISSUES
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ TRAVELING HERBS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ BROKEN BONES
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ KITTING
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ POISONS
• 
  ꕥ SH white masking cinnamon torbie w/orange eyes & small ears
  ꕥ speaks softly & often found humming
  ꕥ 12 moons old; ages the 17th every month
  ꕥ homosexual homoromantic ; interested in beepaw & redacted
  ꕥ currently being mentored by none
  ꕥ easy to befriend/interact with ; hard to anger/upset
  ꕥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ꕥ easy in combat unless in water, focuses on defensive tactics
  ꕥ peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[shellpaw]

a pause, a flit of thought across moonbleached features ; despite sullen orange eyes and pinning ears, the medicine cat apprentice is honest. an omen wrought lullaby, not placating as some would lean to be in wake of such young, withering life. the alabaster kit is too incapacitated to react largely either way, though her feverish state only seems to latch further into heavenbright intrigue. there is a beat in which she merely sniffs, sucks in shallow breath through a swollen throat and clicks her dry mouth until, ” wish i could.. talk to him. sometimes. “ to ascend the skyline, to know if the meadows ran with stardust for pollen and the rivers trail along brimming constellations ; if there was already a place carved for her in that net of encompassing black. she heaves a breath, flank fluttering before flattening out again, ribs bumping stark under the jut of her shoulder. her gaze rolls around the den wildly before settling on moonpaw again, as well as she could. snowflakekit. one day, moonpaw says as she draws close. shellkit rattles, fire in her veins subdued by the brief suppression of bitter lonliness, ” you'll.. have to say hi. for me, one day. promise? “ another, promises, promises. something to look to.

a sharp scent cuts through the thickness in her nose, the wet plaster of green too stark against the ashen colors of her face. its sweet, somewhat -- a slicing scent, one that electrifies her nose and wrinkles the thin layer of velvety fur over it despite how she leans to look at it. its a thin - stalked herb, small against the white of the medic's paws and serrated at its grey - green edges ; she speaks of being an elder ( the mention ghosts a smile across colorless lips, a brief humor at the thought wrinkles and the lingering scent of mousebile ), of telling stories and chiding unruly apprentices, " ah.. like.. mean old dappleleaf? " there is a whisper of clear disdain in her sluggish voice, a glimmer of amusement still sheening through the milky film in bloodlet gaze despite how genuine that edge seemed to be. humored. its a nice thought ; she ponders on it as her head swims again, feels the claws of fate leave gouges down her side and is unsure when moonpaw says this will do it. a placid blink, a glance towards the herb that, despite it's smell, seemed to be like any other leaf.. save for the faintest hint of smoke lingering somewhere between it and moonpaw's cygnet pale coat.

the lilac child doesn't know if she believes it.

still, she struggles to a half - sit, pauses for the fit of awful hacking ; a vicious bark loud against the cicada thrumming night that sends her doubling over the stalks. a flail, a gasp in which she hangs her head and realizes that the leaf is fuzzy through a fresh wave of force-born tears. her hesitance is clear, though exhaustion and days spent licking honeycomb eases her into a bite far easier than it could have been. small, pale purple petals sprout from its sides, alluring and deliciously scented under her stuffy nose. from this close, it hits her again -- the briefest hint of smoke, of other cats. was it the herb, moonpaw? blood pulses in her ears, " you.. smell.. " like that thing pinekit and i saw on the banks, she nearly says, but thinks better of it even in her bleary state. instead, she choses to stop speaking ; to leave it at you smell and a silent why, placating by lapping a leaf into her maw with curious, leaking eyes. a burst of flavor, of something, and shellkit's pupils flex against the rush in her head. her tail flicks approvingly, ivory cheek dropping to rub onto the fuzz - ridden stems with a sudden rush of low - simmering euphoria ; a merciful breath from the constant pressure - pain of illness. yum.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𓇼 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

• i.
  
  
• 
• 
  
  SHELLKIT 𓆉 SHE / HER, KITTEN OF RIVERCLAN. HAZECLOUD xx LICHENTAIL, NIECE TO SMOKESTAR. SIX MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. PENNED BY ANTLERS -------------------------------------------- ° ❀ ⋆
  frail alabaster molly with lilac striping and watery amber eyes.
  
  she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of dovey lilac curls, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore and plush in a way seemingly similar to hazecloud's. tufted elderdown fur conceals a body worn fragile by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with baby fat in others. her face is short - muzzled, framed half mast by eyes coined rheumy, rosen amber. the anemic cold pink - purple at tender paws and nose tell a lifetime of sickness, further made obvious by the feathering weakness in half - whispered tones.
  

  currently HIGHLY INFECTIOUS WITH WHITECOUGH. this includes a running nose, wheezing, sluggishness, and labored breathing. please keep contagion in mind.

​