ASHES IN THE SUN [ intro ]

[PEBBLEPAW]

( ☼ ) the winter chill ruffles thick fur that lines the hefty body of the young tom as he sits, gaze locked on a speck in the distance. in the pale, cold sky, a lone bird, left behind by its flock, hurries to catch up, seeking warmer weather as leaf-bare creeps across sluggishly moving waters and skeletal trees. the tom watches with anxious curiosity, a cotton flecked paw lifting in the air as if to reach out to the lonely winged traveler. tufted ears flick as a scattering of snow clumps upon pebblekit's head, fallen from a tree that has all but given up. he shoots the tree branch a dirty look, orange eyes flaming with annoyance. he shakes his head to rid himself of the snow, sending the chilly droplets flying every which way. whether they hit any stray clanmate, he does not stay to find out.

the boy gets to his paws, ambling back towards the nursery, stopping every once in a while to shake his paws as the chill gets to them. ember eyes glance around for his siblings, the small worry that always churns in his stomach building as he cannot find them. shellkit and riverkit seem to be fitting in well, peb has noticed, and there's a spark of betrayal every time he sees them interacting with their clanmates as if they're not different. it's with a softly pouting face that pebblekit lets out a sigh, flopping back down into the snow and resting his chin on his paws.

I DO NOT HAVE WINGS, LOVE ☼ I NEVER WILL

• // silly little intro! " speak "
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
• 
  PEBBLEKIT ☼ HE / HIM, KITTEN OF RIVERCLAN. KINDLING x UNKNOWN, NEPHEW TO SMOKESTAR. 2 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a large blue tabby with low white. pale blue fur covers the length of pebblekit's stocky body, sliced through with darker tabby stripes and spots. baleful orange eyes peer out of heavy set sockets, and his muzzle, paws, and tail tip are dashed with white.
  
  
  
  

​

 

[DEACON]

'If I threw a pebble, how far would it go?' Dark eyes shifted to the newest edition of RiverClan at the thought, his whiskers twitching in amusement at the thought of the blue tabby skipping across the entire icy river. The thought of using live animals for a game was not a new one, but the frequency of the idea had increased tenfold since the snow had fallen upon the clans. Hunger and frigidness were prevailing ailments that only seemed to dissipate once he cast his attention elsewhere instead of working to cure them (because apparently, he was one of the last in the clan to eat, total foxdung if you asked him, because who else would hunt for them if the warriors were too hungry to even move?). The longer he glared at the child, unsure if his intrusive thoughts would come to the surface or not, the more it became apparent that the other was not happy. He seemed defeated as he lay in the snow, as if the weight of life had found its way into his weary thoughts at the ripe old age of two moons. Thornmask let out an amused huff, rats, RiverClan wasn't that soul-destroying, was it?

"Chin up," he demanded of the youth, bemusement settled in his unpleasant gaze. "Weren't you the little geezer who Smokernator rescued from a life of inevitable suffering?" They hadn't been there for the showdown, they had only heard through the grapevine that a mother had tried to get safety from RiverClan and ended up leaving her kittens for one reason or another. A messy situation all around, one he had no personal stakes in, no personal desire to express his opinion on. "He's done half a job if that's the way you look. I don't 'really care, but tell me what's wrong will ya?"


​

 

[FERNGILL]

"I don't think you should be talking to kits about inevitable suffering..." Ferngill commented with a wrinkle of his nose. Any negativity from him was whipped away with the wind, though- it didn't take root, instead dissipating as soon as Thornmask asked Pebblekit what was wrong. Under a cloak of not caring, apparently, but... it was good either way. If something was making Pebblekit unhappy, then it'd be better for everyone to know about it, wouldn't it?

"Is it the snow?" A wild guess, but as he said it he brought himself down to Pebblekit's level, voice soft but genuine. He'd seen, only moments ago, Pebblekit shaking himself free of clinging clumps of the stuff; he didn't know how to make that particular predicament any better, though. Other than... "There's lots of fun things you can do in the snow, y'know."

And even if it wasn't the snow that was bothering him, maybe this'd work as some sort of distraction.​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[shellpaw]

she is learning quickly. while she’d known no other home than this, she understands the lingering gazes, colder than the winter chill that had nearly taken her life. in her recent ventures from the nursery, she’d been met with only kindness ; some of the apprentices were scary, but they’d never stepped a paw out of place in her presence, whether the glass child is aware of it or not. she does, however, know her family ; a broken, spidering thing, half blood and half not. she does not remember kindling, since she never seemed to have to ; hazecloud was there to keep her from coughing on her clanmates. lichentail is there, sometimes, to lick hazecloud on the head between frostbitten patrols. smokestar was her uncle, and he’d made the decision to take her litter in despite the loom of leafbare.

little paws against soft moss is the only indication of her nearing, teetering trot. she wasn’t to leave the nursery because her face felt funny today, nose damper than usual, sticky in the back of her throat ; she felt clogged, like the water tucked back behind corroded camp stones. each breath feels like a bubble in her throat, and a physical one at her nose, grossly popping at the bubblegum pink edges of her dewy muzzle. small details, shellkit thinks as she hears her brother near the nursery entrance. her bird skull head pops from the reed, ivory lilac fur flared fairy wisps at too sunken cheeks, ” pebblekit! “ a soft cry, trembling feathertips casting coils of mist into the wintery air — but her head is cottony, and it comes out more like bebblekit, popping from her throat like a bubble. there is a dusting of snow over his back and she giggles, aiming to trod playfully from the nursery for the few strides to close their distance, aiming to plop both paws up on his back. still smaller than him, growing slowly, oddly, as if the stars themselves expected her to break if pushed too far, ” you’re all snowy.. like me. “

alabaster fur, near blending in with the snow - laden camp if it weren’t for the shard of shell - like ribboning over warm amber eyes. they would match, if he kept this up — what, had he been rolling around in it? shellkit wished she could do that. she parts her maw, a breath away from saying such when someone approaches. it’s like her tummy knows when a weird cat is around ; her queen had long mentioned stranger danger, and while she knew of thornmask as a warrior ( big, scary, untouchable ), she didn’t know them well enough for this. while their words confounded her, it sounded.. wrong. mean, and shellkit nearly expects them to curl their maw into an ugly sneer to match. she juts her tail straight out, lifting a paw uncertainly from her brothers snowy fur. she is about to cry for hazecloud when ferngill appears — and even though his eye makes her stomach flip, she relaxes, sniffling quietly beneath the light howl of wind around them. he was a comforting presence, soft - toned and friendly. a warrior, big and strong and nice to kits like her ; he didnt glare at them from the edges of camp. there’s lots of fun things you can do in the snow, y'know.. and shellkit lights from the inside, syrupy amber eyes widening from their usual half - mast. while her maw is ever straight, she slaps her stubby tail against the snow, interested, ” like what? “

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𓇼 𝙎𝙊 𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙎𝙊 𝘾𝙊𝙇𝘿

• i.
  
  
• 
  
  
• 
  
  SHELLKIT 𓆉 SHE / HER, KITTEN OF RIVERCLAN. KINDLING xx UNKNOWN, NIECE TO SMOKESTAR. 3 MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. PENNED BY ANTLERS.
  delicate lilac - striped molly with sugarplum eyes she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of shell - touched cream, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore. feather breath and 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 warm, sugared amber.
  
  currently exhibiting symptoms of whitecough. this includes a running nose, wheezing, sluggishness, and labored breathing. please keep contagion in mind.

​

 

[hazecloud]

Hazecloud's opinion of Thornmask had quickly soured with every interaction. Despite the cat vowing their duty to protect and serve RiverClan, to act the way of a warrior she found absolutely no appeal to them remaining in their ranks. Still they did not follow the honor of his StarClan-blessed name. Still she heard mutterings of the codes they served. Still he behaved as if every day waking in their camp was like pulling thorns from their paws. Why had they chosen to stay? Hazecloud would assume it was solely out of survival, perhaps they used the Ripple Colony to drift by as well, but she found it agitating.

While she had been careful to give Pebblekit space due to his resistance to her total care, it is only because she heard Thornmask addressing him that she appeared closer from behind Shellkit, as if she could feel the rattle-chested mollys urge to find her. While she considered Ferngill a positive presence in comparison, the fiery pelted tom was too non-confrontational for her to feel like he could be an optimal babysitter. If Thornmask continued to object, she would be more than happy to spit thistles his way to get him to leave.

"Unfortunately you'll have to excuse poor Thornmask, my sunbeams. Sometimes they wake up on the wrong side of the nest and it fills their little brain with bees." A loud purr rumbled from her chest despite the obvious insult, but she is quick to dismiss the warrior and not regard them again after. "Even though it's snowing I can always take you to the elders den to listen to some stories. We can play hide and seek, catch-a-mouse- ohh we could even go digging for some shiny river rocks for Ferngill!"​

 

[lichenstar]

⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ​

Every time that reed-narrow bones and awkward, gangling limbs flee into the snow-covered camp, she has to feel her stomach flip anxiously. Shellkit has a nose ever-dripping like a summer waterfall and the cold will do it not great help... But it's hard to lecture the frail girl when her sibling pouts in the middle of the powder and ice with a look as if he'd eaten something sour. Thornmask's presence is... as always... one marked with emotional burden and frustration. He cannot simply let anyone live and enjoy living here, lest they forget he was "forced" to join them. He could not even be bothered to give Smokestar the respect he was due, opting for.. outlandish nicknames and suggestions of half-assed affections. These kittens were lovingly tended to... even if the monochrome king had conflicted feelings about their circumstanes.

Ferngill is nothing short of an angel anytime he appears... sweeping up dour moods with sun-warm swatches of fur, a spring-grass, refreshingly soft gaze. And it seems Hazecloud is grateful for it (Lichentail is too).

"Ferngill's all grown up now but he's actually really good at games," she interjects, flashing the half-blind tom a small smile before flopping dramatically next to Pebblekit. A frown creases her lips, reaching a paw to gently touch his own with a soft sigh, "Sorry little storm cloud, I didn't catch anything this morning for you to inspect... Promise I'll bring you something later?"

---

WELL IF YOU WANT MY BLOOD I'LL MAKE SO MUCH BLOOD

THAT YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING DROWN​

​

​

 

[RIVERPAW]

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝   He sweeps a pawful of snow towards Pebblekit's rump and asks, "What's inevitable? Is it like...always?" The concept of suffering goes above his head, but mostly in its relation to himself. Vaguely, the kitten is aware that they would have suffered. That they were suffering, that Smokestar had done everything for them. The way that it slipped away from him. Consciousness, slip-sliding away like paws down a frozen slope. He would have slid into the river he was named for and faded away at its depths, and nothing ever would matter again. That didn't seem like suffering. Maybe it was, though. In its way. Morbid thoughts for one so young, but Thornmask had seemed so intent on dredging it up. On making light of it.

Suddenly that day is bright as crystal-thrown light within his mind. The kitten's fluffy paw reaches to dust away the bits he had swept onto his littermate. Seeing it settled upon him was...bad.

"Can we go play in the water?" They were careful about the cold, but the apprentices all said that they learned when they were little. Why couldn't Riverkit? Surely the shallows weren't cold enough to hurt that bad? (What if it wasn't because it would hurt? What if they didn't think he could do it? Pebblekit thinks he's doing well– Riverkit knows better.)

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 𓇼 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐀

• ooc: —
• "speech"
• 𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟  𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐓. HE ╱ THEY. KITTEN OF RIVERCLAN. KINDLING x ﹖ NEPHEW TO SMOKESTAR. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  ———
  
  
  ——  a messy blue tabby with low white. though small and slimmed down by the chill, riverkit's thick coat will bounce back with time and love. the fragility beneath his fur will dissipate with time. though currently stocky as most kittens are, he will gain some semblance of delicate stature with age. with a steady diet, riverkit may begin to fit into the clan he's so proudly named for.

​