sensitive topics AQUA REGIA [ birth | open! ]

[claythorn]

// a tw for heavy blood, blood loss, and a stressful birth! please be safe!

Its near dawn when pain splits through her side. A pain that felt familiar in a strange way- the air smelling of copper, her eyes narrowed against dim light and a hiss leaving her teeth as her head rose. It wasn't so close to getting pummeled in the stomach- which is where the briefly familiar feeling came from- but as the next wave rose and crashed, the pain grew in crescendo. Stars burst behind her eyelids as she tried to remain quiet, teeth grit tightly and her ears pushed forward.

A sharp inhale followed, ragged as the pain came to a breaking point. Her head turned, teeth grit together again before her eyes opened. Mismatched goldens were sheened over and glossy, near filled with tears of pain indicating that this was no normal birth- no, something was wrong, and it hurt, it hurt bad. A weak croak left her first, then a louder one- and finally a rousing shout that cast over a camp just barely beginning to wake. She didn't care if the night guards or the dawn patrol heard her, but someone needed to get- "Moonbeam- Otterbite!" She called before falling quiet.

Whimpers are what followed. Claythorn was known for her stoic self, upstanding and prideful in how she kept her tongue shut even through destructive pain. This had reduced her to whimpers, curled in on herself. Hopefully the other kits in the nursery weren't too scared- she didn't want that. She didn't want to hurt, too, but she'd rather them be okay then her painless. Ears twitched and turned, presumably hearing either her mate or Moonbeam arrive- and possibly even Robinheart herding kits out of the nursery.

Mismatched goldens lifted towards Moonbeam first, who offered her a stick. She barely managed a noise of appreciation before she was biting down, jaws tight around the only thing that could relieve her pain for the next few hours. If Otterbite did grow close, she would slump into him briefly before another contraction racked her, body stiffening right away again.

-><-

It took time. It took longer then normal, and her jaw ached nearly as much as the rest of her body from clamping down on the stick that she had been holding onto. It was akin to a lifeline. As she had progressed, blood had been all but incredibly intense. The longer it went one, the more her head sagged, the less she could move. Was this the edge, she was teetering on? Did she ever make it off the side of the gorge, before Ferngill had saved her? Hovering over the precipice of water spray from far below, eyes closing and opening in exhausted movements.

Black approached, and she stayed within it for a long few moments. It was.. cold, too cold, and she hated that- she hated being cold, hated how snow dwelled on her thick fur. She was appreciative of it, and as her mind wandered, two things became immediately obviously to her. The sharp smell of herbs was sudden, and someone was shouting. Who, she couldn't tell. It came close, the voice- and it was sharply obvious all of a sudden who it was. Her eyes slid open, straight into seafoam ones. Panicked, by the look of it, and confusion spread. Why was he so afraid?

Copper. The air smelled of it, tasted of it. Blood. Her blood. Her head lifted, turning towards where Moonbeam hovered, realizing the bitter taste of herbs wasn't just a scent, it was a taste on her tongue, and she swallowed again. It didn't work instantly, but the bleeding did slow, and her pain dissipated. "I'm.. m' awake. Sorry." She whispered out, voice rough and her tongue dry. Another thing became obvious to her, and she slowly sat up with someone's help- hopefully it was Otterbite- and her vision swept to her stomach.

Three kits, licked clean, and... healthy. They squirmed and cried, and Claythorn's eyes blinked once, then twice. Bewilderment spun out confusion, and replaced the exhaustion near demanding for her to rest with.. wonder. Wonder- at what she had created, at what had spawned from her body. Pelts pressed to her stomach. Their kits- her kits. Two darker, one slightly lighter. Three bundles for her joy, for her amusement, to nurture and grow. Eyes swept up towards Otterbite, rasping out, "Names. They need names." They need to know who they are. Who they will be.

Her vision dropped back towards the first kit, and her vision blurred. Perhaps Otterbite knew that she was dizzy, or he thought she was lagging with names. He is quick to name the first- a deep hued pelt with dark fur swathing her neck. As her vision cleared and she focused on the kit who was determined to get to her stomach, Onyxkit is spoken to the air. Her head drooped gently, then nodded in agreement. Glimmering, like night. "Yes." She whispered.

She is steadier as her vision sweeps towards the next two. The next with a pelt darker then Onyxkit- the name makes butterflies spread all over her (kits, her own kits, really her own,)- and a quieter disposition. Her great, flame-pelted her leaned down, tongue rasping over her kit's head. She reveals patches of fur that are pale in color, but warmer toned then white- a smile, weighed down by the weight of what just happened, and she chuffed quietly as she spoke. "Sparrowkit." She knows that Otterbite might not love that name. It wasn't Riverclan, or strong- but the coloration was too close to her favorite collected feather color to ignore.

And as she looked towards the last, the most ruddy out of the lot of them, her head tilted slowly. Beneath the stripes, the cowl of dark, is where the brown tones sat- closest to her own deepest colors. Her ears twitched gently. A cowl of dark, like the ink of shadows cast. She looked up towards Otterbite as she spoke this one into the muggy air of the nursery- "Dark-kit." Her voice was firm on this one- and the last, as well. It was not up for argument.

Her head lays down slowly, a long breath leaving her as her eyes closed. "Not... 'sleep. Just.. resting." She uttered quietly, ensuring that neither Moonbeam or Otterbite flung themselves into a panic.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ┌── THOSE FIVES WORDS IN MY HEAD ⋅❁⋅ YOU SAID ILL NEVER LET YOU GO! ──┐‎

• "speech"
  this takes place on the 26th im just too lazy (excited) to wait
  please wait for otterbite, moonbeam, and the three kits to post!

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, queen of riverclan, sixteen moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ mated to otterbite / / mother to dark-kit, onyxkit, sparrowkit, eelkit, dropletkit
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[otterbite]

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- She had grown into a round, waddling queen in what felt like no time at all. A duty meant to be grueling and last forever as he described had moved on in a blink, it felt. Though Otterbite wasn't the one carrying the weight of their kits and the change of swollen paws and exhausted joints, he didn't think to imagine experiencing it all physically made each day go by like a drag.

Jaggedpaw, for once, is not presented in his wake. Truthfully the sleek-furred chimera had imagined the moment would happen while he was out of camp, along a border or elbows deep in the river hooking a fish to come back for her, a fresh meal to energize her after delivering their kits. All the yowls and struggling could be soothed by Robinheart and Moonbeam and whatever former queen would saddle up for sitting through it with her.

He's not so lucky this morning.

No one had to search for him, his name shrieked from across camp is enough to rouse him with a jolt. He's up from his nest before the bleary sleep is clear from his vision, and he stumbled towards the nursery after Moonbeam, his fur growing hot from the rush of so many feelings. He didn't want to be here for the entire thing, finding himself horribly out of place and uncomfortable. He made the mistake of sitting so close to Claythorn that she used him for support, only to jerk in a twisting reaction to a contraction. Otterbite cringed as it repeated.

--

The stress of each kits arrival sparked against the air like flint against steel. Otterbite had stood with flexing claws and a lashing tail, eyes frantically looking between Moonbeam and Claythorn as she continued to struggle.

"What's happening?" He demanded the pale molly's answer, one he would hardly hear over the roar of his own panicked thoughts. Claythorn growing weaker, distant, Otterbite wasn't sure what else to do- "KEEP UP!" She returned, slowly and herbs are put to work. She tried to move and instinctively he helped her, desperate to keep her upright and awake. To move past and overcome the complications.

"Names, right." Otterbite hardly passed them a sparing glance until now. Squirming, shrilling cries, hungry pushing. They were real.

The firstborn looked the most like him in swirling dark blues, a current in the river itself. He looked at her and every name he had thought of fell from his thoughts. She was no reed, or pool or even a duck. She was RiverClan, but most importantly a part of him.

"Onyxkit." Claythorn liked it as well, going on to name the other two. The second eldest, another that shared his inky traits with flecks of paler shades deemed Sparrowkit. Then the last, some mirror of Claythorn's image, Dark-kit. His connection to the other two did not feel as strong as their oldest littermate, swayed easily to fit whatever name his mate wished for.

She moved to lower down once again and he tensed, only to be quickly reassured. Just resting... but the kittens were here now. She no longer had to lug them around and Moonbeam seemed quite confident the mess of blood wouldn't continue. Otterbite was shocked, admittedly, to see her defeated so quickly when she had endured far worse wounds.

"That's... fine. They're fine." He spoke with wavering certainty, not sure he was the best judge to confirm. They looked pretty normal to him, anyway.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── IM OUT OF CONTROL ⋅❁⋅ OH, HOW I BURN FOR YOU ──┐‎

• 
  
  
  

• 

• 
  OTTERBITE ✩ he/him, warrior of riverclan, seventeen moons.
  ⭃ scruffy blue/black chimera with a white tail-tip and green eyes. noticeable kinked whiskers
  ⭃ adopted son to pikesplash // former apprentice to coyotecreek
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay requires permission / / underline and tag when attacking or making an action toward
  ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by beatae ↛ gonkpilled on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[DARK-KIT]

A dark tabby bundle of fur, the most akin to his mother, came into the world roaring like a little lion. Fitting, given the mane-like plume of ebony fur that ringed his little neck. Already the boy was large, larger than average, broad-shouldered and big-pawed as he instinctively pushed past his siblings to get to his mother’s comforting embrace. This new world was cold and bright and he didn’t like it; he cried in protest and nuzzled his way into a plush chocolate-patterned coat.

The issuing of his name meant nothing to the newborn in this moment, but he would grow to like it with time. It suited him - Dark-kit, reflected in his shadowy coloring and later, his strong personality. For now, he did his best to make his will known to those around him, refusing to quiet even as he settled into his mother’s side.

He happily ignored the strong tang of blood in the air, his new baby nose incapable of distinguishing it from all the rest of the scents and sounds clattering in the cavernous den above them. But it would stick with him all the same, woven into the fabric of his being the same way it was heavy in the air during his very first moments of life.

---

‎‎ooc ✦ info

• 

• DARK-KIT ✦ he / him, kitten of riverclan, 2 moons
  ⭃ lh black / black tabby chimera w/ yellow eyes and a "lions mane" // big and stocky
  ⭃ claythorn x otterbite // littermate to sparrowkit and onyxkit
  ⭃ adoptive brother to eelkit and dropletkit
  ⭃ single, crushing on no one // mentored by no one
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted // underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by limerence ↛ @limericks. on discord, feel free to dm for plots

​

 

[SPARROWKIT]

The secondborn kit comes screaming. She wails, lungs unused to air tinged so thoroughly with copper. Maybe it is fitting that she cry so hard when the room is so full of blood, but more probably it is just an eerie coincidence; a bundle of fur and bones too aware of the mortal peril it has wrought upon its mother. But still they are all healthy. Thank StarClan.

It is cold, and she is such a tiny scrap, and the warmth of a rasping tongue is so torturously fleeting. The newly-named Sparrowkit wails again, odd-toed paws flexing desperately in Claythorn's direction. The cloying scent of milk is nearly drowned by the sharp tang of bright cherry blood, but not enough that the newborn cannot find it. She writhes forwards, small, wiry body bumping against the plusher fluff of her siblings all the way. Latched to her mother now, Sparrowkit feeds, thinking of little more than her own survival.

𝐈 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 ( 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 ) !

• ooc.
  
• SPARROWKIT —— kit of riverclan . claythorn x otterbite . littermate to onyxkit and dark-kit ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a tiny black and lilac tabby chimera with low white and fierce amber eyes. studious, dismissive, and solitary. has a fierce passion for riverclan. if befriended, a friend for life.
  ✦ amab trans girl / she her pronouns / newborn & ages every 26th
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. a kitten, she can hardly defend herself, but that will not stop her from picking fights with other kits. will fight until she has no fight left to give, even just for play.
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• 

​

 

[ONYXKIT]

A low, crooning cry marks the arrival of the firstborn kit. She is not so desperate a thing as her sister, nor as insistent as her brother. She is a dark blotch of swirling blue-black, a picture of moonlight upon rippling waves. A ruff of fur curls around her neck, gifted from her mother before. Her mother is all she has ever known, and the seperate feels all too wrong.

Her tiny voice raises, making her displeasure known. A pitiful wail, demanding for something that she does not know. The world is an unwelcoming thing, all sickly-sweet blood-milk scent. Her name is nearly lost among the sound, the first gift from a father she does not yet know. Onyxkit. She quiets a little upon hearing the rumbling sound of his voice. Onyxkit, dark and glittering, a gem in the night. She is heedless of the other sounds that crowd the den. A small form wails softly as she drags herself towards the familiar body of her mother, latching on with all the urgency she can manage.

"SPEECH"

​

 

[Moonbeam]

Ever prepared, Moonbeam knows that the birthing of kits would be soon, that the last pregnant queen currently within the nursery walls would soon be giving birth to kits that - if they were lucky - would take after Claythorn in appearance. It wasn't that she found Otterbite ugly, it just simply wasn't the medicine cat's area of expertise whether or not a tom was good looking. She had been within the nursery a few times over the past couple days, making sure the queen was fine, that she had as little pain as possible and to try and see when the new RiverClanners would be born. Due to her status of the only known pregnancy within the clan currently and Moonbeam's own training within ThunderClan being put on a hold for the time being she had been spending more time in the nursery, more time making sure that if something were to happen that she would be around.

She had been resting, eyes shut as paws curled over themselves within her nest so that she could listen in case she was needed, the shout of her name followed immediately by Otterbite's telling the moggie all she needed to know as skilled paws moved up and from her nest, herbs wrapped together carefully in preparation hanging from her jaw alongside a stick she'd gotten ready for this. The second she moved within the nursery she'd begin her work, stick carefully offered to the torbie to bite down on before she began to push, began the process that Moonbeam had seen time and time again. Things were going fine - perfectly even - until they weren't.

The coppery smell of blood filled her nostrils, ears pinning back for a quick moment of panic before she remembered the herbs that she had gotten from Gentlestorm, the first herb she'd learned about after Ravensong's disappearance as it was carefully moved out from the bundle. She ignored any questions or demands thrown her way, eyes zeroing in on her friend as the other passed out, paws moving to shake the other awake for just long enough to give her the raspberry leaves. "Eat it, quick." She'd speak out, eyes turning to look to Otterbite for the first time before moving back to where she knew she would be needed, cobwebs and moss at the ready. "Make sure it's eaten - all of it." She would not lose another clanmate, another friend. Another mother would not be lost before kits even took their first breaths.

As soon as it was done she would check on each one, licking them clean alongside any of the queens that would be there to help as she kept an eye on Claythorn, drifting in and out of consciousness as the herb worked through her, and by the time she was finally awake - properly awake - they were set carefully at her side, nursing as if nothing had happened only moments before. She listened as they were named, as Otterbite spoke of them being fine and she would nod her head in response. "Three healthy kits, all three healthy and strong." As strong as newborns could be anyway.

Eyes would flick to Claythorn once more before a shuddering breath left the medicine cat and she'd slip out, focused frown slipping away as a tired smile formed on the feline's maw, tail curling over her paws as she moved towards the entrance to the nursery before she sat down. "There were three kits," She'd offer the words to anyone who would question how many, and to any who asked their names she'd simply respond with a "I'll let her or Otterbite share when they're ready, for now rest is what was needed." Rest for Moonbeam would be a burr stuck to Claythorn's side to be sure the queen was actually okay, and that the herb she had only used this one time was actually going to work.

LET THE VALLEYS AWAKE ꕥ LET THEM RATTLE AND SHAKE

• --
• ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ flesh wounds
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ infections
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ aches & pains
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ illness
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ breathing
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ traveling
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ broken bones
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ kitting
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ poisons
• 
  ꕥ SH white masking cinnamon torbie w/orange eyes & small ears
  ꕥ 15 moons old; ages the 17th every month
  ꕥ homosexual polyromantic ; mated to beefang, crushing on redacted
  ꕥ currently mentoring none
  ꕥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ꕥ easy in combat unless in water, focuses on defensive tactics

​

 

[lichenstar]

✦˚.✦˚✦˚✦˚ ✧ ˚✦˚✦˚✦.˚✦

CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY ✧

• She couldn't help but hover....
  
  The memory of a kitting thought simple and made deadly sits like needles pressed into her spine. The vision of a tiny life, snuffed out after a few miserable breaths... it is equal inspiration for her fears. She wouldn't dare to over-assume her position with regard to Claythorn, even if she held a fondness for the brimstone she-cat but.... there was no rule that said she couldn't worry anyways. The idea of a cat so young being a parent is already enough of a dizzying thought, one that keeps happening over and over again (Lichenstar cannot imagine having her first litter then, just after the Great Battle, when everything still felt shaky).... but to have Otterbite play father of all roles. It is a surprising addition of discomfort.
  
  The striped feline sits outside the nursery, legs tucked under herself neatly with ears in constant swivel and twitch at the slightest of sounds. It starts loud.... and sings of misery... She fears it a eulogy as the noise dims with time. Hazecloud hadn't reeked of copper and sweat... had not breathed half so quietly, whispered so feebly. Whatever Claythorn says, she can't make out....
  
  It isn't until Moonbeam departs that she is on her feet, stumbling to stand with a nervous twitch of a broken tail. The lift of her lips is reassurance enough and she can practically feel herself deflate from the tension that had kept her together so far, "Three...." A good number that would ensure they'd never be lonely. "She'll be.... alright?" The suggestion that the young couple would share their kittens at a more rested time suggests as much but... the verbal reassurance is sorely sought for.
• about
  
  speech hex code ✧ #6368A5
  
  ooc notes ✦
  tagging ✶
  penned by tieirlys
• ˚　　★⋆. ࿐࿔　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 .
  
  　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　 　　　　 ੈ✧˳·˖✶ ✦　　˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔
  
  　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦　　​

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[robinheart]

She does not find deep sleep easy to come by in recent days - consciousness always on guard should the time come for Claythorn’s kittens to be welcomed to the world. Robinheart slumbers lightly amidst the fluffy pelts of her kits, their warmth swirling between slow rising flanks and dream twitching ears. A sharp inhale breaks the peace, breaks the bliss she has found herself in, and citrine eyes flutter open.

In the dim nursery she sees Claythorn’s tense frame - her shuddered breaths of pain. “Oh,” the tortoiseshell queen whispers, understanding that the time has come. But there is no joy to be found in the moment, not when agony laces shouted names and fear stings her senses. “Kits, wake up. Come, come,” Robinheart murmurs as calmly as possible (though her heart hammers and ears angle back with concern), nosing each kitten awake and motioning for them to leave the nursery. “Elder’s den.” It will be safe for them there - plenty of eyes to watch over the kits and tales to occupy their ears so they cannot hear what is to come. “I’ll be back, Claythorn. I’ll be back in a minute,” she promises. It’s her duty as a queen to help and support fellow queens. As the final kit stumbles out of the nursery, Robinheart flashes a gentle expression towards her friend before following in haste after her children.

The tortoiseshell gathers some extra moss from Moonbeam’s den (right inside the entrance, just as she remembers) and deposits it, along with her kits, in the elder’s den. She instructs her brood to make a new nest for the soon to be mother and her kits while providing company to the elders. She’s sure they’ll enjoy each other’s company. Robinheart always enjoyed her time in the elder’s den when she was an apprentice.

True to her word, the multicolored queen limps back into the nursery. “Let me know how I can help,” she murmurs to the medicine cat as she settles near enough to Claythorn to murmur encouragements but far enough as to not be in Moonbeam and Otterbite’s way. She fights her voice to stay steady, to say the most meaningful phrases to the laboring queen. The scent of blood is terrifying. But Moonbeam is here… and she knows the pale medicine cat will do everything she can to ensure Claythorn makes it through okay.

In the chaos of delivery she is given newborns to help clean. Careful draws of her tongue fluff kitten down, making sure each little one is dry before tucking them up to the round of their mother’s belly. Robinheart glances many times at Claythorn, whispers many prayers to StarClan, and when Moonbeam declares the young mother in the clear, the tortoiseshell releases a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

“Congratulations you two. They’re beautiful,” Robinheart whispers as Moonbeam moves to the entrance of the nursery to share the news. On stiff limbs the queen rises and steps away, giving space to the brand new family. Her job for now was complete and she should probably go rescue the elders from her kits - as well as bring back Claythorn’s new nest. It would be necessary after that nerve wracking delivery.​

[ penned by kerms ]​