BREAK THE AIR TO FEEL THE FALL | intro

[Petalstep .]

( ｡ﾟ❁ུ۪ °ₒ ) An icy feeling burns at her sides, but she doesn’t care- she cannot care, this is war, life and death, she cannot fail her mission.
Chartreuse pools are narrowed for further camouflage as she snugs herself deeper in the snow, preying…waiting..
There!
Her target is acquired, cautiously walking by… foolish…
”HIIIYA!” Her battle cry rings out against silent air as she bursts from her genius camouflage. Her forepaws are stretched out and bowed as she flies towards her unsuspecting opponent- her denmate, who had started the war by tackling her the day before.
She tackles the other and they go rolling across the icy ground in an array of both excited and terrified squeals.
Finally, they’d come to a stop with Petalkit on top, pinning her peer with a triumphant expression. ”Got you!” She giggled, stepping off of the kit with a flick of her bushy tail while she shook snow free from her alabaster pelt.

[feel free to be the kit she tackled ! :3]
”Speech.”​

( KEEP ABOUT YOUR WITS ; KNOW YOURSELF AND WHO YOU CAME IN WITH )

 

[SMOKESTAR]

What he had noticed with kittens that he was not aware of when Mudpelt and Icesparkle's kits had been young, was just how loud they were. Most of that litter had been fairly quiet and even then they didn't speak with such volume as to be constantly noticed; or maybe he was just paying more attention to the kits of the clan now. Perhaps that was it. Smokethroat could not tell apart the sound of a kitten crying in triumph to the sound of one wailing in pain, both were shrill and piercing but in very different ways so when he hears the terrified squealing of young cats he is making his way to the nursery with an almost alarming urgency. It's only the sight of the two kits rolling across the ground that smooths back down his fur and settles his nerves, a smoking stream of breath escaping him in a faint sigh. When had he become such a worrier? It was a little embarrassing.
At least the kits were fine and apparently practicing their combat at an early age, or playing....it was called playing. Fur ruffled the dark tom settled nearby to watch the bouncing about; at least they were all still in good spirits despite the cold and hunger.
"A little sloppy on the tackle and we don't often declare our intent to our opponents, but otherwise good form, Petalkit."

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[► Fluffykins.]

YOU CAN BE YOU - I CAN BE ME
oddkit | 02 months | agender | they/them/it/its | physically easy | mentally medium | attack in bold #ffdb58

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Tumbling to the ground in surprise, the child blinks up at the kit above them. They'd been busy thinking thoughts, not paying much attention to where they walked - Petalkit could have been standing directly in front of their face when she pounced and they would not have cottoned on until it was to late. "Mmmmhhhhhmmmm, Oddkit has been got," it agrees easily, not bothering to move from where they've landed even once Petalkit has scrambled away. "Smokethroat is upsidedown," it notes curiously, watching the warrior with head tipped back at an awkward angle. "Tipsy, topsy, turvy," they add.

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[CLAYFUR]

Clayfur has always liked kits. Or, well, not always. Before Lilybloom was born, he’d found kits fun to play with, but hadn’t really enjoyed their presence any more than anyone else’s. Then his first beautiful baby niece was born, and the tom has been enraptured with their tiny little paws and funny tails ever since. The playfulness, the innocence, the boundless happiness that kits tend to exhibit never fail to brighten his day. He can’t wait to have some of his own—but he knows that won’t be happening anytime soon.

He spots the pale she-kit from a couple fox-lengths away, curiosity drawing him over to where she’s obviously sneaking up on another child. Oddkit doesn’t seem to notice her until she tackles it to the ground, and Clay lets out a sharp laugh at the sight.

Smokethroat seems to have approached the kits with much more concern than Clay, because of course he has. The gruff black-furred warrior criticizes the kit’s skills—constructively, because Smoke’s cool like that—but Clay is impressed that she’s able to not only tumble the other kit but also pin them. A grin splits his face, toothy and bright, and he hops eagerly from paw to paw. "That was a sick tackle," he cheers on the kit, crouching low to get a better angle of the kit-wrestling.

It isn’t until Oddkit speaks that the warrior begins to actually worry. It seems a bit… confused? The child’s all upside down and mumbling nonsense—Clayfur is immediately concerned about, like, head damage or soemthing. "Oh! Oddkit, are you okay?" He suddenly feels a bit bad about his earlier laugh, but even so, he still has to commend Petalkit for her tackle.
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[ WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? ]​

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[Petalstep .]

( ｡ﾟ❁ུ۪ °ₒ ) Honeyed green hues are zeroed in on Oddkit before Smokethroat makes his appearance, her head tilting as the other mumbles puzzling words. Using her nose, she lightly nudges the others shoulders, "get up off the ground now, or the mud will get ya too" she hums, knowing her denmate often lacked necessary social queues, but in all honesty she never minded to give them the gentle reminder.
She’d spin to face Smokethroat then, her head having to tilt slightly to beam up at him, "You were impressed! Admit it!" She demanded with a light tone, bouncing up and down to emphasize her playful order. Clayfur is much more generous with his praise, and Petalkit is radiant with her glee. She throws her head over her shoulder to check back up on Oddkit, who she’d once again shuffle over to if they hadn’t gotten up yet.
"Speech."​

( KEEP ABOUT YOUR WITS ; KNOW YOURSELF AND WHO YOU CAME IN WITH )