pafp AWAY FROM THE SUN ✧ birth

[POLLENFUR]

tw: child birth

Hyacinthbreath has warned her and warned her not to stray too far from their makeshift nest in the barn, but Pollenfur's paws itch more than ever now that she must be confined. Her sister's sickness had been awful news to bear—the Clans call it yellowcough, she'd heard, and it is deadly, the cure sparse or unknown. Regardless of which it is, she fears for Brightshine, for the unborn kits in her littermate's belly, and she's taken to pacing about the perimeter of the Horseplace to clear her thoughts.

Her belly swings low, perilously so, and Pollenfur's joints begin to ache before she has gone too far. The earth-toned tortoiseshell's steps slow until she's trembling, all of her body suddenly gelatinous with weakness. "I've gone too far," she admonishes herself, and she prepares to smile and look for assistance from one of the other cats nearby—when a pain so sharp she feels cleaved in two stops her in her tracks. Pollenfur's maw gapes, and the breath she exhales is gasping and spluttering. "Oh! Oh, StarClan, what…"

There's a moment of relief as it fades. She straightens, her heart beginning to pound. She's far from her nest, foolish girl she is, and now she's begun her kitting. Pollenfur's tail begins to bristle, both in excitement and fear. "Please—please go fetch Hyacinthbreath," she half-groans to the nearest feline. "Tell her it's time."

There is no medicine cat here, but Pollenfur is not concerned. Rose hadn't been attended by a medicine cat during her kitting—only their father, surrounded by shadows and the earthy scents of the underbelly of the moorland. Brightshine, too, had brought Mallowlark and Echolight into the world alone, with her littermates beside her murmuring encouragement.

Pollenfur has Hyacinthbreath, and that's all she needs. She's determined. Despite the pain now threatening to claw her to bits from the lower abdomen down, the patch-pelted queen dives toward a half-built barn, a Twoleg nest that is maybe a fraction of the size of the one she beds down in now. She gives the air a cautious whiff, wincing as another contraction breaks through her body. There is no recent Twoleg scent, and the air is dusty. Dust is a sign of safety, she is convinced, though some of the objects within give her pause. Their edges are sharp, sour with the smell of rust, but—

There's no time to find a more suitable place, she thinks with another gasp. Pollenfur scrapes together a hasty circlet of straw and loose chicken feathers, her body trembling. When she finally flops onto her flank, she can breathe, trying to focus. In through her nostrils, out through her mouth—the calming breaths, she knows this from moons of living alone in fear—and soon she's regulating herself, driving the panic away.

Her kits are coming. Her babies, Hyacinthbreath's second chance at motherhood—and after what feels like a lifetime of her insides heaving, her teeth clenched, tongue bitten up, the first kit is born. A little she-kit, pelt a soft blue-gray blend like a leafbare sunset. She sees peaches and golds softly clouding about her, a single white tip on her tail. Pollenfur's breath catches in her throat, and she leans around to scoot the snuffling, mewling scrap closer to her flank. It searches, its cries frantic and growing louder as Pollenfur begins to clean her and lick her fur backward. Finally, she latches at her mother's flank, and it couldn't come at a better time—because she feels the pain of more kits coming.

By the time her mate is brought to the dusty, secluded nest they've had to make do with, Pollenfur's body is straining again, and she shrieks, digging her foreclaws into the loose earth. This second kit takes at least an hour to come after the first. The sun is beginning to sink in the sky now, bathing the Horseplace in liquid sunset. Just before the gloaming, the second kit is born, snow white with the barest suggestion of smudged color at its face. It's fur is soft as she begins to groom, but she has no time.

Frantically, Pollenfur pushes the second kit to Hyacinthbreath. "Clean her, and get her—get her to feed," she gasps, and then she's gritting her teeth again against waves of furious, shredding pain. When the last of the warmth fades from the sky and the world is cloaked in shadow, the final kit is born, a she-kit, sturdy. She's like her middle sibling—white, though her fur is shorter and does not fluff up under her tongue in the same way.

The exhaustion is evident with every labored breath Pollenfur takes, but it's over. It's finally over, and she and Hyacinthbreath have welcomed three perfect kits into the world. She searches for her mate's brilliant blue eyes, melting into them as though they've walked backwards through time. "Look at them. Look at how perfect they are," she whispers, and her throat clots with unrestrained emotion.

Her pink nose grazes the firstborn, and she remembers the fear, the longing, that had driven her away from her family the first time she'd left home. Rose, the mother who'd left them in her grief, had somehow returned to her—it's the energy, she feels it. Perhaps this is the reminder she's needed to stay put, to make this community of outcasts at the Horseplace a loving and protective home for her children. "Rose," she murmurs, half-whispering, spent. "Rose, to remind me why I stay."

She tilts her golden eyes back up to Hyacinthbreath. "Go on… what will we call these two?" She smiles, and though it's tired, there's strength and warmth in every crevice.

✧ INFO.

• please wait for @hyacinthbreath ! after that any loners or mousers at the horseplace may post :)
  baby tags: @FINCHKIT @downykit
• 
  — pollen . pollenfur
  — she/her ; loner ; windclan warrior
  — pansexual ; taken by Hyacinthbreath
  — long-haired chocolate calico with amber eyes
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — pixel by Birdman

​

 

[hyacinthbreath]

The call of her mate isn't directly to her- but to some of the other barncats that stick close to the area. They do a fine job of ringing the alarm, of going to fetch Hyacinthbreath while she mouses the barn they stay in. A fat, juicy mice hangs from her jaws as she receives the news, burying it in a hay bale almost instantly before rushing away to the direction pointed to her. She feels like WindClan again, the way she races across grasses to get to her mate's side again- the feeling is sickening, but she shoves it down in the face of her excitement. Motherhood, a chance to have children again- she wouldn't let this go. She wouldn't let the love of her life be alone, storm or calm. She slips through the cracks of the building Pollenfur has found herself in, turning round the corner to sniff the air. The smell of blood and the sound of mewling directs her to where her mate is hidden, and Hyacinthbreath nearly panics as she dives into straw and feathers.

"Liebling, I am here- Easy goes it. Easy." She musters out the encouragement, thick accented tune excited at the sight of one kit already born. White-tipped tail, so pretty and kissed by the mid-day sky. She curls alongside Pollenfur, taking the small little second scrap of fur; pale white, with darker accents about them. Hyacinthbreath takes over immediately, this experience something unfamiliar- being there for her kits birthings. Tears well up at the corners of her eyes, shoulders trembling as she hiccups past a sob as she grooms their second kit. Tongue brushing the fur backwards, clearing debris until the fur is silky soft once more. Once the kit is pushed to their mother's stomach, Hyacinthbreath braces for the next wave.

And it comes, like thunder sweeping through the moorlands. The third kit, also white in color- pale like the summer sky. Hyacinthbreath snorts softly in laughter, happiness bubbling in her chest as she grooms the last kit to perfection before pushing them to Pollenfur's stomach to nurse. Pollenfur is proud, and as Hyacinthbreath makes eye contact with her mate- she realizes she is, too. "You've done it, my love." She coos softly, tail draping over her mate's body affectionately as she pushes her head against Pollenfur's own. Not long after, a name is bestowed amongst the oldest of the kits, Rose. To remind her to stay. "Couldn't have thought of a better name." She murmurs softly, leaning down to lick the single kit's head and listen to it wail. It reminds her of poor Rosepaw, but she would push that to the back of her mind. This name meant the world to Pollenfur, and Hyacinthbreath would not ruin the moment with her own memories of a dead cat.

Pollenfur glances towards Hyacinthbreath, asks her to name the other two- giddiness bubbles up inside of her. Her eyes level the second kit, the squealing little scrap of pale fur. "Downy." She finds the name on her tongue immediately, nodding her head affirmitively. "For the kit's soft fur, for the look of feathers. Downy." She whispers softly, smiling down at the little kit. Her baby, her precious baby. Her gaze travels to the final kit, squirming against her mother's belly. "And this one.. Finch." She figured she could keep the naming theme of her original colony, tradition in the face of trauma- "May she catch the wind on her pelt, and fly through her days easily like the summer breeze." She prays softly, leaning her head down to press against each of the kits.

Her body stills beside Pollenfur, moving behind her to begin rasping her tongue over her mate's head and ears affectionately to clean her. "Well done, liebling. Well done. You've done so well." She murmurs only for Pollenfur to hear.​

LONER ✦ WARTORN SOLDIER ✦ 54 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[FINCHPAW! ☆]

╭──── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ─── ☀︎ ─── ･ﾟﾟ･｡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ────╮​

Where there was once nothing, blissful void, there is suddenly something, and for the first time, the little she-cat truly begins to experience. Ripped so suddenly from her blank warmth, the newfound feeling of the fading warmth of a Leaf-fall evening on her damp pelt is startling, to say the least, and even as a new sensation smooths across her ruffled fur, it doesn't stop her from letting out indignant squeaks. This is how her first moments go - testing a tremulous voice for the first time, even as her mother's tongue soothes her, mollifying the girl's cries into snuffles as she, for the first time, experiences warmth following cold. Uncomprehending as she is, there's still an instinctive drive to squirm closer, pressed up against whatever warmth her stubby legs can push towards. Almost abruptly, distress gives way to contentment, and she snuggles in even closer, letting her fragile consciousness be swallowed up by soft emptiness in the wake of the gentle allure of sleep that calls to her, beckoning her towards its shelter.

Unbeknownst to her, the world still moves all around her, and even as her limited awareness wanes, something important still takes place - naming. The naming of not only her, but her siblings, as well. In this moment, she has no concept of a name, no ties to any identities, and there is one name given that she will never grow to know, not like her own; still, the deed is done, and suddenly she is no longer just 'she', no longer just the thirdborn or a daughter of Pollenfur and Hyacinthbreath, but now she is Finch. Even if she could understand the significance of this moment, there would be no doubt in her mind that the name is truly hers, and if she could hear Hyacinthbreath's words in this moment, she'd surely chirp along in agreement, even if only at the rumbling vibrations of her mother's voice. Finch knows none of this, however; instead, she's simply tucked safely away, alongside Downy and Rose, and she has no need for want when she doesn't yet know the meaning of lacking. For now, the nothingness swallows her back up, though this time it's happier, in some imperceptible way, interjected with some new contentment.​

i want to spin something out of nothing - (☀︎) - lead to gold, spring from winter

• OOC: --​
• 
• 
  - Finch
  - She/her (AFAB)
  - 0 moons
  - Loner
  - Hearty & scruffy chocolate lynx point with splashes of white and bright blue eyes
  - Art by Jay & base by googaoo respectively! <33
  - Minor powerplay allowed!
  - Penned by Hijinks​

 

[Irispath]

He's a little late, but he couldn't not follow Hyacinthbreath when the barn cats were saying it was time for Pollenfur's kits to come. He feels uneasy, does he really have the right to be present? But he feels he should at least be there. Pollenfur is a friend. His paws carry him quickly to their destination, the half built barn that he sometimes loitered around. He could feel his heart pounding, worried sick about every single possible thing that could go wrong.

He stays nearby as Hyacinthbreath takes her place at Pollenfur's side, and as he paces and kneads the ground anxiously, he wonders again if he has the right to be here.

He's a failure of a parent.

These kits don't deserve him in their lives. They have two loving mothers who will do anything for them, they don't need a spineless, weak, wishy washy coward like him anywhere near them.

And as they nestle up to Pollenfur's belly and he watches his friends glow with joy, he can only feel emptiness and the weight of his crimes.

He doesn't deserve to be here.

Yet he still manages a smile. "Congratulations, they're precious..." He says quietly.​

 

[downyfur]

The world, black. Then white. The kiss of a snowstorm upon the backs of cool eyelids. From only knowing the home of a mother, shoulder to fragile shoulder against shared flesh, to the piercing tip of the world knife. Even the evening, cooling blue and freckling with stars, is a pale blade upon the doughy, fur-lined, and sodden shield, more blanket than barrier against the overwhelming newness. The aloneness.

No longer is the brood one body, ever expanding upon the womb like a storm creeping across the palm of the moorlands. They had been like the stars themselves, unnumerable and distant though so near, with not even consciousness known till they decended upon their volition. In this way, they could be a mirror to their mothers. Cut off from the seething body of the clans like wounded limbs, or perhaps simply tufts of fur for how well those they pledged flesh and blood to seemed to be doing without them. WindClan and RiverClan know nothing of their continued bravery. They have one another, and the faint threads to their kin, and the growing little spools nestled into Pollenfur's side, and maybe that will be enough to hold them together without the press of the crowd.

Pelts cut from the same cloth, dusted with nature's breath in gold and silver, shift and softly undulate beneath gentle gazes. Against a spine of gleaming white rasps Hyacinthbreath's tongue. A mewl trembles from berry-stained lips, a warble of birdsong floating up between the intertwined branches of the lovers. At last, the first little bundle of snow is deemed Downy. A shroud of sunlit grey races ahead of the helpless form; another in gold dust white would follow soon after. Unaware of the competition, the kit begins the ardurous journey to their mother's side. Without ears and eyes, Pollenfur's pale belly is the only source of warmth nearby. The kit crawls towards her glow like a shoot squirming through the earth, with only the instinctual memory of the sun to guide it.

At last, Downy's toothless mouth folds around a teat. Soon joined by Finch, and already accompanied by Rose, everything is almost back to normal. Warmth; darkness. A family—and peace.​