BRAVE SHINE ✘ musings

[SMOKESTAR]

The camp is sunkissed and glittering, morning rises and a shroud of fog settles over over the tall reeds and dens still slowly being reinforced; the tension that had once lingered in the air has faded and Smokethroat inhales familiar and fresh river scent for the first time in what feels like countless moons. His fur prickles, remembering the brittle ice stare from the gathering that cut through the crowd right into him; flecked shards of frost driving in deep with only a glance after murmuring names of a nursery full of new life. Those kits were soon to be apprenticed, there were several he had been watching but none had quite struck him as the sort of student he was wanting after his time with Iciclefang; too loud, too boisterous, he had been blessed with a quiet if not intolerable girl to begin with and now his options ranged from irritating to more irritating and most of them came from Buckgait. He was willing to swallow down his dislike for her if he got him another apprentice, biting his tongue to not cause a rift between him and one of those kits if he was assigned them and frankly it was probably a good thing to move them over to a mentor who would not coddle and let them think they owned the land beneath their paws just cause their mother was there first.

He found his lone eye drawn to the nursery on occasion as he continued kneading the moss at his paws, working on shredding it into a comfortable down to line the next in the willow tree and finally get a proper night’s sleep back in the familiar hollow of both the great structure and the black and white spotted tangle of limbs. A passing warrior noticed him staring and he blinked, glanced sharply to the side as he pretended he wasn’t just looking murderously at the den their clan’s most fragile members rested in; but it was hard not to think about it sometimes. He was so focused on getting back to training an apprentice it had not even occurred to him the smoldering look across the gathering asking silently for something more until just now. Smokethroat found his fur prickling instinctively with unease, uncertainty. Kits.
It was something he had never thought much of, he was often more focused on other things and kits just got in the way of productivity. He thinks of Boneripple, newly joined and useless to contribute; constantly wandering and leaving her little burdens on the other queens. Willowroot stubbornly refused to rest, losing some newborns as a result and still pushing about camp and rushing into battles like a fool. He liked to think he had more sense than that and he did. He would, but he knew the suffering of restless paws like no other. Kits would be a 3 moon loss of time, of work, of duties, of honed blades and purposeful steps. It would be a weight he’d have to carry, he wasn’t so stupid as to think anything else was an option. Taking in kits was for nursing queens, the very idea of anyone else carrying storm fur colored and ice-blue eyed kittens was so infuriating he almost tore the moss beneath him into tatters at the thought. He’s aware of the approach of steps, gaze drawing up with a stare more fierce and intense than he meant.
“....did you say something?”
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[Petalnose]

I FIND COMFORT IN THE SOUND AND THE SHAPE OF THE HEART ⋆⁺₊⋆

The flood of kits were comforting feeling. It brought strength into the clan and meant many stories would flood on. It meant good and it meant bad stories. Some kits could become traitors to the clan, a manipulative leader or something else. On contrast, the others could be fierce and loyal Riverclan warriors, a leader who could make the clan strong and capable, and queens who brought a healthy population to the clan. Some would die for the clan and others would die of something else. It carried their clan to more generations, extensive stories the elders would boast about for many moons.

Petalnose did find excitement in having many kits born to their clan. She knew each life could be or was critical but the warrior had to admit that it was starting to really get on her nerves. The majority of these kits possesed crude personalities or annoying behaviors and she had fallen victim countless times to being bitten and insulted. She believed as if she was a target. Maybe they found her anger amusing. The she-cat couldn't see why as she wasnt just bark, she was sure to follow it by a cuff to the ear and a swat. At first, she thought that kits could be a possibility in the future. She wouldn't mind spreading her bloodline through atleast one litter. Then again, they were work and meant lack of freedom. She wouldn't be able to attend battle to serve her clan, she most likely wouldn't be able to rise to a higher rank. Love was also a complicated matter in her eyes and who would want youngsters that bore the majority of the tiny terror's personalities?

Petalnose had caught how the grey tom watched the nursery. She rumbled to herself in amusement as she laid amongst the shade near the medicine den. What is Smokethroat thinking? Is he as annoyed at these little monsters as I am? She drew her tongue over her maw and teeth in thought. She had been looking at the nursery herself, wondering who her first future apprentice would be if she would be chosen this time around. It had discluded the look Smokethroat gave, it almost seemed he was going to pounce upon the furballs in any moment.

The woman decided to push herself upwards and limp towards him, giving a sharp puff of air to announce her presence. Her maw opened to speak words. No response, not even a flick of his ear or tail to note her presence. Rude. She sucked in air to prepare herself to become louder and then jolted her head back at his sudden turn of head and response. She blinked her eyes rapidly and puffed out her air in slight annoyance, "I SAID... Are you feeling okay? You look like you're plotting a murder. Kit got your tail like me?" She asked, roughly plopping her rump down to settle a fox length away from the Tom.

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[silverpaw]

smokethroat and petalnose are objectively right. silverkit and her denmates are an interesting batch to say the very least. silverkit, in particular, likes to people-watch all day till she's found the perfectly loudest way to people-bother and people-disturb. she likes screaming, and rock collecting, and combining these two hobbies. she's actually at it right now!

"ONE!" the little freckled tabby hollers, silvery fur rustling in the wind as she runs and hops. "TWO! THREE!!"

she's counting the rock-circes she's made today, which are big and full of rocks. THREE whole circles. wow. she has been BUSY.
 
as she hops closer to the pair of warriors, she pauses to catch the tail-end of their conversation. petalnose's abrasive concern is familiar, as is smokethroat's gruff inattention. he's ALWAYS thinking, silverkit muses, always stuck in his head and thinking thinking thinking with that glassy far-off stare ... like sleeping with his eyes open ... hehe. that's a funny thought. it's crazy that he doesn't trip over his paws all the time! silverkit thinks a lot and silverkit trips over her paws. maybe smokethroat is just more practiced at it. maybe one day, she will be as good as smokethroat is.

kit got your tail, petalnose asks, and silverkit wrinkles her nose. what does that mean...?

"no kits have got his tail," she answers very loudly and confidently as she approaches, lifting her little head up high. "OR your tail! both your tails have no kits!" DUH! sometimes grownups are just not observant at all.

"aaaanyway... doesn't smokethroat's face just ... look like that?" she adds. she wouldn't have thought his brooding needed explanation at all. she pauses, then tacks on, "your face too."

she bares her teeth in exaggerated imitation of a scowl.

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.˚◦○˚ TAGS ˚○◦˚.

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  • npc x npc kitten • 1.5 moons old • silver tabby & blue tabby chimera with a dusting of white freckles • meticulous, observant, opinionated • stuck in her own head a lot of the time • peaceful powerplay welcome • wants to make friends! •

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[PIKESPLASH]

( tags ) And that was his cue to step in before this got ugly. He understands that he can't coddle the kits, but he also understands the value of a good swat or cuff from cats such as Petalnose. However, if that was the case all kits would be cuffed and swatted at least ten or more times a day. That would be terrible and while he sometimes wished the kits would stop, making them obey with force was not the way. He says this as if he pretends not to see Petalnose swat his son. To be fair he started it. He himself like Smokethroat and Petalnose had his fair share of days where kits played with his tail or bit him. His son Otterkit frequently bit him that he was almost convinced that his son should be named Snappingturtle. It was safe to say the new batch of kits were rowdy to say the least.

Considering he was frequently exposed to kits due to raising one, he knew somewhat how the other kits operated. Meadowkit loved adventure and spars, so finding a battle partner like Littlekit helped. Silverkit reminded him of his son in many ways, as the pair put anything in their mouths. A destructive pair to be sure, he was worried the pair would eat something they weren't supposed to because they were curious. They were the, I need to do it myself to know kits. However, Silverkit and Chickorykit would make fine friends their energy matching with each other.

He's getting ahead of himself and decides after being bitten by kits, that he can handle this. I'm pretty sure Cicadastar would ground us or something if we picked fights with kits. Jumping in front of Silverkit, so his face is in front of hers, he sticks his tongue out and furrows his brows. "W-whats aboought mah fehccee?" Call it silly, but he's hoping that this distracts Silverkit into having some sort of funny face contest with him instead of angering the two warriors. Starclan please make sure Smokethroat and Petalnose don't swat these kits til sunset.​

 

[iciclefang]

Iciclefang notices her former mentor’s burning gaze on the nursery, but she can’t imagine he’s doing anything but thinking about the Clan’s kits turning three moons. She knows him as well as she knows her siblings, her father, her mother; as well as she’d known Ashpaw. She herself has not a shred of motherly instinct inside of her. Silverkit, who might strike some as cute and may inspire parental urges in some cats, causes her only to smirk as she pesters the older warriors. Silverkit and all of her denmates are only RiverClan’s future warriors to her.

She sits beside Smokethroat and Petalnose, watching Pikesplash play with Silverkit with some indifference. “Fish scale for your thoughts?” It’s low, murmured quietly to the cat who’d trained her.
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[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[>Honeystone]

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— The lilac tabby couldn't hold back a laugh as she watched Silverkit bustle about, then state-the-obvious with the two warriors. Her eyes would linger on the dark tom for a moment longer as she consider his limb. The last time she had seen him he was dangling from a tree and then fell right beside her. Honeystone would wince at the memory before shaking her head to dismiss it. Her attention no sooner being swept up by Pikesplash as he made faces at Silverkit in an attempt to distract the youth. She'd giggle at the antics, that was something she missed being able to do with her own children. A silly face and she could whisk away and distressing thought. Shifting her gaze to the ground beside her, she'd push back reminiscing introspections. Her children were all alive and well, they all had grown into fine warriors that she couldn't be any prouder of.

Lifting her grey-blue eyes she'd spy a former apprentice, now warrior approach her former mentor. Everyone grows so fast. She had some words, adult jokes that she wouldn't want the young kit present repeating. Starclan had mercy if her own had said curses. Rising up to her white paws she'd pad over with a friendly smile to the warriors. "It's okay, I think he just had a resting fox-face." She'd whisper low enough to keep it from the little silver tabby's ears. Her words were lighthearted as she attempted humor. — tags​

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[SMOKESTAR]

He favors the company of those who don't mince words and Petalnose is, for lack of a better term, about as blunt as a branch to the head. Some cats might find such honesty offending but to him it was almost refreshing to hear, it was generally the quiet and friendly dancing about of words that more often caught his ire because without putting your intentions wholeheartedly out there it just drew suspicion. It was easy to understand the molly, forward as she was, so when she blatantly called him out on his staring he can not help but give a brief huff of a laugh in reply.
"No, I was-"
Silverkit is there, loud and reminding him once more why he is constantly avoidant toward the youth if he can help it and he raises a paw as if in preparation to give her a solid cuff upside the ear to scatter her back to play elsewhere and not go shoving her fool little nose into others business. The sooner you taught them respect, the sooner they stopped being irritating to deal with. Thankfully Pikesplash arrives, putting himself to use as a proper distraction and Smokethroat sets his paw back down to spare the loud and annoying kitten the cuffing of a lifetome for running over and screeching at two adults having a conversation. Able to ignore the menace hopefully he resumes his focus back onto Petalnose and then Iciclefang who had slowly joined in the brief moment where he was debating knocking a kitten over, "...I was thinking about how the nursery will be empty soon. They're all about that age now."
Apprentices finally, that lone orange eye briefly sweeps over his old apprentice; how well she was doing, how proud he still was and he once again longs to continue training one because otherwise different kinds of thoughts continued to filter into his head. He thinks about Cicadastar's sharp stare at the gathering, the knowing look...they were going to have to have a talk at some point and he dreaded it in a way.

Honeystone's comment earns her a look that might also accidentally prove her point and he huffs indignantly at it, "...It's just how I look." He didn't put effort into softening his stare or forcing up something more exuberant than just a passive expression, if he constantly looked on the verge of biting someone then so be it; perhaps they'd not put paws too close to his mouth in that case, perhaps they'd tread more lightly.
"It's normally a good kit deterrent really.."
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[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

It doesn’t take that much perception to notice Smokethroat’s laser focus, and Snakeblink is attentive enough to the clan’s moods that the tom’s glowering feels like an insect crawling up his ribs as he walks through his field of vision, briefly blocking Smokethroat’s line of sight to the den of his thoughts. Startling slightly, unsure why, he hurriedly slinks past the nursery — it always gives him the heebie-jeebies anyway, maybe from the collective ire of too many queens slighted by his clumsy handling of the kits while moving camp.

His awkward dance out of the way, stepping across multiple lines of pebbles littering the camp. They should definitely sweep these away, he muses, staring in some confusion at the wobbly circles, before a shrill and kittenish voice indicates who is the perpetrator of these colorful stumbling hazards. ”I’d beg to differ,” he interjects, gesturing to Silverkit with his tail. ”There is most definitely a scar on my tail from one of you kits getting it.” Despite his deadpan tone, there’s no mark of Littlekit’s bite left: the little thing hadn’t even drawn blood.

Despite his focus on not accidentally stepping on this tiny menace, he catches Honeystone’s teasing words and Smokethroat’s reply. In truth he agrees with her: the black tom cuts an imposing figure, and his expression certainly plays a part in that. A deliberate one, it seems, though Riverclan’s youngest generation doesn’t seem to heed the unspoken warning. ”Our kits are made of sterner stuff,” he shrugs, glancing at the nursery again. ”Nowadays, I would recommend eating a few to keep them at bay.” It would take nothing less to truly scare them away from their clan’s most staunch protector, after all, no matter how intimidating.
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——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

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• — Snakeblink • he / him. 42 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

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