pafp AND IVE BEEN PRAYING — watching kitten games

[Briarthorn]

BRIARKIT — hello, my old heart.
The green ball of fuzz goes flying, and while stark hazel eyes never once leave the soaring moss, her paws never make an effort to move.
She is perched just outside the circle of playing kits, one of her siblings undoubtedly somewhere within the screaming and giggling group, but the kitten was content to simply watch on.
It wasn’t that she thought she was better than juvenile games that ended in nothing but a shredded ball of moss and perhaps a bruise or two. Briarkit was simply content to just watch, and lend a helping paw in case it was one of her littermates that sustained the bruising.
Her head tilts, flicking an almost drooping ear as she wondered where the ball would land.
That sharp patch of brambles, perhaps? A warriors head? The fresh-kill pile?
Briarkit thinks over each of the scenarios in her mind, wondering if the clowder of kits would follow in pursuit of their ball despite where it may land.
She finds herself so lost in thought for a moment she hardly notices the other kit that has opted out of the game, too.

//please wait for @swankit !!
"speech"

tags​

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[Swansong]

————— ☾ —————
NOW I KNOW WHAT'S REAL, WHAT'S FAKE

Swankit's perpetual tiredness keeps him far from the games that occupy many of the other kits, the energetic frenzy of the dreaded moss-ball. He watches with eyes half-lidded, a detached sort of disinterest coloring his stare. That is, until his eyes flicker to another - Briarkit, sitting too on the sidelines. A bit of interest colors the pale blue of his eyes as his head tips just slightly to the side. Considering, birdlike, a trace of his name.

More clear is his name's fittingness in the languid grace with which he moves, carefully soft steps approaching the other kit. She seems lost in her own head. "Thinking too much... I can almost hear it," he mumbles, a half-hearted attempt at a joke falling flat due to the unwavering monotone of his voice.

"You don't want to play..." A blink. That's what brought him over. "Me neither," He concludes, settling beside her to watch with a soft smile. He doesn't bother to ask whether he's wanted or not; surely she won't mind.

RATHER SLEEP THAN STAY AWAKE
————— ☾ —————

☾⋆⁺₊⋆ info ; visual

• //
  ​
• SWANKIT named for his pale fur, after his maternal grandmother.
  — he/him. 4 moons.
  — shadowclan kit.
  — quiet and dreamy.
  
  penned by saturnid.​
• "SPEECH"
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• 

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[Emberpaw]

Though she had been made an apprentice half a moon or so ago, Emberpaw didn’t truly feel like one. She felt young, too young, still a child and she found herself feeling more kinship toward the other kits she had barely left behind. Her role in Shadowclan swept her along, a flooded river that knew only forward despite her constant glances back over her shoulder. The games of kits still amused her, still drew her in, and the squeals of joy were what pulled her now. She gazed longingly toward the game, pale green eyes flashing, a war of blistering wind that urged her to give in and rooted soil that told her not to take even one more step.

It was then she noticed two others excluded from the game, though they seemed rather content. She knew one, Swankit, and though they weren’t close friends she thought of him as a warm and kind soul, someone good to be around. He would be an apprentice soon, yet instead of taking advantage of the time he had left, he sat peacefully beside another, content to watch. Both of them. They haven’t been excluded, they’ve chosen to sit out. She didn’t know Briarkit at all, but the young Molly seemed just as pleased as Swankit not to be playing.

“Is there another game you would like better?” Emberpaw meowed, padding over to the pair. She walked slowly, hesitance in her step. She was pretty sure Swankit wouldn’t mind her, but she worried Briarkit might be annoyed by her intrusion.
“I’d play if you did. But sitting is nice, too.”

 

[batpaw.]

"HEAR MY STOLEN LULLABIES"​

If Batkit had to rank his fellow kits, Briarkit and Swankit would be at the top. In a way, he sees himself in Briarkit. Both kits prefer to sit on the sidelines and watch. And Swankit... Well, Swankit wasn't annoying. That was the highest compliment Batkit could give any other cat. Seeing the two kits together, Batkit moved... not close, but closer. He's not hanging out with them, he tells himself. He's simply existing in their presence. That's fine, isn't it? He can handle that. Especially considering as that's what they're both doing. Just sitting and observing.

He doesn't know what to think of the apprentice who approaches. He knows she's Chilledstar's and that she had been in the nursery for part of his time there, but didn't know much more than that. He eyes her as she slowly approaches the other kits. Is she nervous? What reason would she have to be nervous? Oh well, it doesn't really matter to him.​

✦ ❄ ✦​

 

[SCREECHSTORM]

Though he's busy playing mossball with some of the other kits, Screechkit still finds himself aware of Briarkit's gaze from the sidelines. He doesn't understand it - why his sister would rather watch him than play with him. For that reason, the red-patched tom can't help the frustration that bites at him and the over-awareness of hazel eyes upon him. What's so fun about Briarkit's hobby that made it better than running around, anyway?

The clump of moss flies into the air and Screechkit moves to leap for it, but kitten limbs don't gain enough height, and the moss ball flies right over him as the tom lands awkwardly on his paws.

There's a twinge of pain in one of them, but he pays no mind to it as his own gaze is left to watch. The moss rolls towards Briarkit on the sidelines, towards the group that seems to form around her. Screechkit waits for her to move, to retrieve the moss, to do something, but she doesn't, and the tom lets out an annoyed sigh.

Of course.

"I'll get it!" he calls to the rest of the kits actually playing, before bounding towards Briarkit to retrieve the moss. As he nears, he hears an apprentice speak to his littermate, ask her a question. Is there another game you would like better? Screechkit lets out a small snort.

"She doesn't like games. She's too boring," he tells the tabbied apprentice. He doesn't realize that calling Briarkit boring would, by extension, call the rest of the sidelines boring too. But, maybe they are, if they'd rather watch as well. He spots the moss ball, and a crooked smile pulls at his face as he extends a paw to roll the clump toward Briarkit. "Can't you play with me? Just once?"
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