- Sep 29, 2023
- 105
- 27
- 28
At a certain point, Ashenfall had decided that he just wanted this pregnancy over with. Leave it to the squirming, kicking, cramping reality of a physical present to make all of his murky frettings fade into the "I don't care about that right now" corner of his brain. The last day was spent the way the couple days before were spent, sitting in his nest mostly, but getting up every so often to make antsy laps around camp. He nudged moss and bracken around in his nest, perpetually pissed off at their incorrect placement, and groomed himself to combat the feeling of spiders scritching beneath his skin, and fell into an uneasy sleep.
He awoke to a sharp cramp that brought out an, "Ow, okay-…!" that swept away any of his residual grogginess with a simmering panic. Shadowclan was home to enough night-owls that he could stumble to the mouth of the den and hiss for someone to fetch his mate and their resident medicine cats, before hobbling back to his nest to dive headfirst into nothing ever being the same again.
☽⛧☾
It was a damned long night. But it was quiet now, the soft stirrings of the hour just before dawn a murmuring white-noise in the background. Four kittens rested warm and clean at his flank (he'd spent all this time assuming he'd have maybe two), and he muses in the back of his mind that he'd been one of a litter of four. Maybe it was something he inherited. He wanted, briefly, to ask someone about it. Still, there were… more than he thought to expect. And he was in charge of all of them.
They were real cute, though.
Ashenfall couldn't keep his eyes away from them, the murmurings around him reaching unhearing ears while fixated on tiny paws and round, twitching ears. He glances up to find Flintwish's eyes, though, and he's breathless when he fixes his sights back on their first-born kitten. He looks just like him.
He remembers their conversation, remembers Flintwish's whispered fear of his own father's claws still holding onto them. No, no. Things were going to be different. He couldn't get them now. Their kittens would know warmth and love. "Promisekit," he murmurs. "This is Promisekit." A promise for a life full of love, a promise that there was still hope to spare.
The second kitten to arrive was orange-striped and wiggly, spirited in a way that felt warm in his chest. He hummed and spent some time nosing at his little son as it appeared like the infant had to still learn to nurse. It's a passing thought in Ashenfall's head before the third kitten arrives that Flintwish's brother had been ruddy-furred as well.
Something uneasy, something cursedly familiar settles in his stomach when his — beautiful, innocent — daughter arrives. Another mirror, and he's reminded that Starclan is watching, still gleaming in the sky. He doesn't say it, doesn't speak of the uncanniness, of the sadness of something unsaved lingering in the darkened wings of the stage. He was silent as he washed her clean and watched her gentle paws kneed rhythmically into his fur. Now, he glances at his mate once more and utters, "Mercykit. Her name is Mercykit." A prayer in and of itself. He imbued the small black and white kitten with gentleness, cloaked her in the faith-built armor of mercy. He just prayed the stars would honor his intentions.
The last kitten was a ghost of another kind. And he should have expected to see a gray-striped kitten, nearly all of his siblings had them. Wistfulness settles firmly to mist his eyes when he pulls her in to join the rest of her siblings. This was their first time meeting properly, she knew nothing of what came before her. So much was settled firmly in the unreachable past for her, even if it felt like it was just yesterday to Ashenfall.
There were quite a few cats that would have liked to meet them.
He settles — so tired — and rests his head on his paws, offering a small smile to Flintwish once more, "Wanna name the other two?"
He awoke to a sharp cramp that brought out an, "Ow, okay-…!" that swept away any of his residual grogginess with a simmering panic. Shadowclan was home to enough night-owls that he could stumble to the mouth of the den and hiss for someone to fetch his mate and their resident medicine cats, before hobbling back to his nest to dive headfirst into nothing ever being the same again.
☽⛧☾
It was a damned long night. But it was quiet now, the soft stirrings of the hour just before dawn a murmuring white-noise in the background. Four kittens rested warm and clean at his flank (he'd spent all this time assuming he'd have maybe two), and he muses in the back of his mind that he'd been one of a litter of four. Maybe it was something he inherited. He wanted, briefly, to ask someone about it. Still, there were… more than he thought to expect. And he was in charge of all of them.
They were real cute, though.
Ashenfall couldn't keep his eyes away from them, the murmurings around him reaching unhearing ears while fixated on tiny paws and round, twitching ears. He glances up to find Flintwish's eyes, though, and he's breathless when he fixes his sights back on their first-born kitten. He looks just like him.
He remembers their conversation, remembers Flintwish's whispered fear of his own father's claws still holding onto them. No, no. Things were going to be different. He couldn't get them now. Their kittens would know warmth and love. "Promisekit," he murmurs. "This is Promisekit." A promise for a life full of love, a promise that there was still hope to spare.
The second kitten to arrive was orange-striped and wiggly, spirited in a way that felt warm in his chest. He hummed and spent some time nosing at his little son as it appeared like the infant had to still learn to nurse. It's a passing thought in Ashenfall's head before the third kitten arrives that Flintwish's brother had been ruddy-furred as well.
Something uneasy, something cursedly familiar settles in his stomach when his — beautiful, innocent — daughter arrives. Another mirror, and he's reminded that Starclan is watching, still gleaming in the sky. He doesn't say it, doesn't speak of the uncanniness, of the sadness of something unsaved lingering in the darkened wings of the stage. He was silent as he washed her clean and watched her gentle paws kneed rhythmically into his fur. Now, he glances at his mate once more and utters, "Mercykit. Her name is Mercykit." A prayer in and of itself. He imbued the small black and white kitten with gentleness, cloaked her in the faith-built armor of mercy. He just prayed the stars would honor his intentions.
The last kitten was a ghost of another kind. And he should have expected to see a gray-striped kitten, nearly all of his siblings had them. Wistfulness settles firmly to mist his eyes when he pulls her in to join the rest of her siblings. This was their first time meeting properly, she knew nothing of what came before her. So much was settled firmly in the unreachable past for her, even if it felt like it was just yesterday to Ashenfall.
There were quite a few cats that would have liked to meet them.
He settles — so tired — and rests his head on his paws, offering a small smile to Flintwish once more, "Wanna name the other two?"
- OOC: meddie pings ! @Starlingheart @MARBLEPAW please wait for one of the following to respond first! @FLINTWISH @kerms @promisekit @Tinykit @TBDKIT
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ashenkit.ashenpaw. ashenfall
— he/him. 18mo warrior of shadowclan. formerly mentored by smogstar. mated with flintwish.
— smogstar xhalfshade. brother ofapplejaw, swansong, garlicheart, halfsun, and laurelgrin. father of promisekit, tinykit, mercykit, and tbdkit
— a stout, longhaired blue torbie w/ pale blue and amber eyes
— sarcastic, sharp-eyed, sulky, nostalgic, faithful, impulsive, candid, provocative, remorseful
— "speech", thoughts
— penned by eezy
