DRAGON FLIGHT | intro

[SWIFTSHRIKE]

It was no small relief to be rid of her kittens for the afternoon. They were lovely things, all of her children were, but each litter became harder than the last to keep up with. Hours spent awake watching over her sleeping bundles of joy left Swiftshrike with heavier consequences than in her younger years, so when another Queen had offered to care for them until sundown, the tabby had been tempted to spend the time catching up on much-needed slumber. That plan, however, had been postponed when she saw the sky for the first time in days. Orange eyes beamed up at the blue hues, the tiniest of frosted flakes landing on her graying muzzle and blotted nose. She had taken such a thing for granted for years of her life, never stopping to appreciate the beauty of the world around her. Swiftshrike hated slowing down, but at least it gave her new insights into the wonders of the world. Her tail began to sway as she admired the daylight, breathing in the chilly newleaf air with slightly less enthusiasm. The winter was another thing that was becoming more difficult, older bones craved an early retirement while a younger mind wished to keep going when her last litter was apprenticed.

A longing sigh escaped the pale tabby, with a smile and a shake of her scarred head, she tried to put the predicament behind her for a later date. This was supposed to be her one vacation after all, why should she spend it fretting over the future? The one-eyed molly cast her attention to the ground, and let out a scoff. "And who has been using the camp as a training ground, hmm?" The ground looked bumpier than usual, with stray bits of fur scattered about like leaf litter. She swore she saw blood, dried by the bitter air, but for their sake, Swiftshrike pretended it was berry juice. She looked around in an accusatory manner, her twitchy smirk overshadowed by an instinct to keep things clean - mothering dozens of messy cats had done that to her. "You." A tan paw pointed towards a random clanmate who didn't seem busy. "You are helping me clean this up." The old she-cat left little room for discussion, her voice edged with confidence and authority like a parent, even to the clanmate with who she had no relations.

Before receiving an answer, Swiftshrike began to scoop up some of the matted fur into a larger bundle to dispose of.


​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 It's an odd role to play, that of queen. No such position existed where Wolfsong was born; parents raised their children while still leaving for the occasional hunt or battle, and sometimes a cat too old for either would watch kits in their parents' absence. But to be delegated to the nursery alone? He does not understand the appeal. He will not begrudge anyone their decisions— he simply does not know what could compel a person to spend their days surrounded largely by kits. He doesn't mind children, but he could never see himself herding multiple litters day in and day out.

Wolfsong imagines Sunstride would join him in laughing at that image.

He has paused in the middle of camp, dutifully watching the sky shed its clouds in ephemeral specks, melting as soon as they meet his fur. A nearby huff draws his one-eyed stare from the snow-pale canopy to a nearby feline, similarly blinded. She is older than Wolfsong, and smells of milk and kittens. I have not seen her before; she must be one of the den mothers if my nose does not lie.

"All right," he concedes amiably, following her lead and pawing clumps together. "I have not seen your face before— and I would remember if I had. Do you leave the nursery often?"
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[Badgermoon]

There was a contradictory truth at the heart of the phenomenon of a permanent queen: their service was essential to WindClan's survival, but their lifestyle was fundamentally different from that of most of their Clanmates. They were the guardians and nurturers of the next generation, and yet Badgermoon found himself almost totally unable to relate to them. What must it be like to spend most of your time in the confines of camp, surrounded by fragile new life? Had he known Wolfsong was also asking these questions, he may have felt a little better, but as it was the black-and-white tom was mostly concerned that he was so disconnected from such a vital part of the Clan. When he spotted Swiftshrike and Wolfsong working together to tidy a section of camp, he approached with a small smile appearing on his face.

"Need another set of paws, ma'am?" inquired Badgermoon with a twitch of his white-tipped ears, casting a little purr of greeting to Wolfsong. Generally, he reserved the use of such titles for Sootstar - but this one-eyed queen was clearly near retirement age, and thus worthy of his deference.​

 

[WEASELCLAW]

Weaselclaw's ears are pricked, waiting for the vivacious pawsteps of @sparkpaw. to grace his presence, when his attention is drawn away to the nursery. Swiftshrike, their oldest queen, has left the den and is ordering cats to help her clean up. The tabby's mouth twitches with amusement. The scraps of fur and blood must be unappetizing to look at if you spent all day surrounded by kits and other nursing mothers.

He pads over, dipping his head respectfully to Badgermoon and lifting his tail to Wolfsong in greeting. "Lots of spars recently," he meows apologetically to Swiftshrike. "Since the battles, everyone has been eager to keep their skillsets up." He frowns and paws at a bit of dark fluff that is nearly at the opening of the nursery. "Someone should tell these harebrains to take it further away from the kits, though."​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[icebreath]

TAGS — Ever dutiful, Icepaw makes frequent visits to the nursery by virtue of her chore-filled routine; delivering fresh-kill, replacing bedding, and so on. Swiftshrike's consequently a familiar face, as are her kits, and Icepaw enjoys getting to interact with her when their paths cross — although the apprentice naturally errs on the quieter side, typically preferring to offer a greeting and simply reply whenever spoken to from there. "I can also help, if you need," they volunteer as they approach on dainty paws, looking around at the spars' aftermath appraisingly. Her pale gaze drifts to Weaselclaw amid his explanation, thoughtful. She can't blame everyone for wanting to stay on their toes after the conflict with SkyClan — there's no telling when they might retaliate. It makes her nervous for her own safety, though; combat has never been anywhere close to Icepaw's area of expertise. Thank StarClan she still has a handful of moons left in her apprenticeship, and that she's not expected to fight with the same caliber as the moor-runners. But still, it's embarrassing how poor of a fighter she is at this age. As reluctant as she is, still scared by the prospect despite getting hands on experience with few injuries to show for it, she makes a note to ask Nightmareface if they can focus more on combat moving forward.​

 

[SUNNVAR]

Mothers had always been creatures to respect, in Sunstride's time. Not the way that these clan cats respected their mothers, with brambled shelters and softened nests, but with wariness, with a bowed head. They had carried life in their belly, and brought something anew into this world. And as Wolfsong had said, many of them were so quickly capable afterwards. Hunting for their young, for the others, or fighting any battle brought to their den's waiting maw. He thinks, then, of a night so far behind them, and little Ellisif's wide, bloodied eye. His stomach turns in its pit, and Sunstride stares too long at the scar that now adorns his friend's face. He swallows the thought that sprang from his heart, and instead allows himself to laugh. These mothers may be different from the ones of his previous life, yet they are no less commanding with their words.

"You may have a whole den's worth of paws at your call, should you ask a little louder! Perhaps you might even need it, if you're to get this place in order." WindClan was not a mess, but the moors were...wild, and there were many paws in and out of their little hollow with each tail-tick of time. "Though I wouldn't want to overwhelm you with another offer, you may ask me to do as you will."

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• ooc: —
• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, uses he - him. thirty-four moons old. warrior of windclan and former rogue.
  —— cautious of clan life, but an apt learner. encourages close bonds between clanmates.
  —— loyalty uncertain, cares for those surrounding him. undoubtedly closest to wolfsong.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
• "speech"

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[sparkspirit]

He doesn't mean to yawn. Really, he's done his best to keep it fought down, but– everything catches up to him at once, this new work as an apprentice, and Sparkpaw finds his maw splitting the smallest bits even as he fights it back. Then he has to shake himself all the way out to wake up again. A twitch of his nose, a vicious rattling of his head. His claws dig into the cold, hard dirt as he flexes his paws, and his back arches, and... he's still kinda tired. At least there's a bit more life to his eyes now. Spark's gait is just as quick as ever as he comes to find Weaselclaw's side. Is he a little taller today? Do his ears reach a little bit higher up the tabby's leg? One day they'll match shoulder to shoulder, and Weaselclaw will be so proud of the name that he gets. For now, though, there's a whole lot of learning left to do.

His paw reaches out to gently bat at a tuft of fur near him. "The kits probably think it's cool, though," he chips in, because he was most recently a kit and is clearly the expert. "Maybe not if it broke through the nursery, but–" Well, he would have thought that was cool. "Am I gonna help clean up?" Try as he might, Sparkpaw can't quite keep the distaste from his question as he looks up to his mentor. It's important to take care of camp, but there are already so many big important warriors offering to help. Surely they could get away with a little training instead. Nobody would mind, he's sure.

˗ˏˋ  †〚  OOC REFERENCE INFORMATION 〛

• ooc: not me posting one after the other with my characters bc i realized spark should be here after i'd written half a post with sun ASDLFHJ. sorry you guys have to deal with TWO of my characters right now!
• 
• sparkpaw, sparky. dmab male, he - him - his.
  ──── kitten of windclan. equally loyal to windclan and family.
  ──── 03 moons old. born on dd.mm.yy, and ages in real time?
  ──── echolight x elmbreeze, adopted by yewberry. brightfam.
• "speech"

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[Firefang]

The life of a queen wasn't one Firepaw could ever comprehend, like the warriors before her the concept befuddled her it wasn't a role she would ever take on it wa sbad enough to be surrounded now by the overgrown kits she called her fellow apprentices. She knows Swiftshrike in passing and in foggy memories of her days within the nursery, the old molly seemed fond of kits enough to birth many litters it's surprising really what was the appeal of such a thing? Though she guesses there was a certain use of having someone so knowledgeable, sure Dandelionwish and now Vulturemask could help deliver little brats into the world but cats like Swiftshrike helped raise them and teach those first time mothers how it was done. She wonders if Swiftshrike ever helped her own mother but the idea is quickly dashed, Ravencry didn't need help from anybody.

Firepaw is drawn over by the sound of her mentors voice, she'd been looking to bother him to take her out again too restless to relax or find something to do and evidently as soon as she pads on over something to do indeed reveals itself and she knows there's no squirming away from it. She frowns, what couple of fuzzbrains decided right here in front of the kits was a good place to fight. She's been by the nursery enough in the past few days, drawn by commotion or simply dragged into replacing moss or bringing water. If Sootstar was in there she'd be all for it but she'd yet to give birth and starclan Firepaw was noticing just how much she ballooned up, it looked like she was going to explode whenever she saw her out walking the territory she feared with a push of the wind she'd go rolling down the slopes of the moor like a fluffy boulder. The image makes her shudder, she wouldn't dare voice her concerns but they linger in her mind. Thank Starclan, Sootstar couldn't read minds.

Her gaze briefly catches Icepaw when she finally settles next to her mentor ears swiveling at the daintier she-cats voice, a sound that makes her throat dry and fur on her next prickle uncomfortably not in the way it did when she was near Mallowlark; it was distinct and left her feeling warm. She looks away quick puffing up her chest and holding her head high as she proclaims ❝I'll help too❞ as if helping to clean up blood and muddled grass and dirt was worthy of admiration from her peer. There were many paws already here to help something Sunstride remarks on but she doesn't even think she may just be getting in the way herself. ​

( PLACE ME IN MY CASKET TONIGHT ; BECAUSE IM ALREADY DYING INSIDE )