private DREAM A LITTLE DREAM \ rimekit

[WEASELCLAW]

Despite the surge of leafbare frost, Rimekit falls victim to the warmth of her nest, her littermates, her mother's belly, and when her little eyelids flutter open, she will find herself displaced entirely. Darkness whispers around her, eerie and thick with mystery; the scent of carrion is ripe, invading her delicate senses. When Weaselclaw approaches this child of his daughter's, he does so with an easier smile, a softer tone.

She had been a sickly little thing upon birth, he knows, but she looks good and strong now. Her pelt is so soft-looking; it reminds him achingly of Cottonsprig's, and he remembers the day his children had been born, remembers the plush texture of her newborn pelt under his tongue. Weaselclaw admires the thickness of Rimekit's fur, the soft grays, the gleaming gold threading throughout. She looks so much like her mother — and her innocence, in that way, draws him in.

Weaselclaw settles in front of Rimekit. His expression is almost soft. "Hi. You're Rimekit, aren't you? I'm your grandfather, Weaselclaw." He tilts his head to one side. "That means I'm your mother's father." It is strange to him that Rimekit will immediately think of Bluefrost, the tunneler daughter, the one who'd betrayed her mother at the very end of her life, and not Cottonsprig.

In truth, the tabby has not bothered to visit Bluefrost. It brings him satisfaction to alienate her, to make her question further her decision to turn her back on Sootstar. He will not walk in that child's dreams, but he will gladly visit the spawn she cares for...

After all, someone has to ensure they grow up right.

@rimekit
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[rimekit]

The warmth of her nest, of her family, fades to an uneasy chill. It’s a slow decline into a waking world that is brand new to the young kit. Bright blue eyes, mirrors of her true born mother, scan the wisps of darkness. The curl of inky fingers around the living and nonliving. A shiver tumbles down her spine at the unknown.

From the fog appears a figure unknown. Rimekit’s plush pelt fluffs out in alarm, though flattens ever so slightly as she takes in his easier smile. Testing the frosted ground with a wobbly step, little Rimekit inches closer to Weaselclaw. His voice is warmer than the air between them – a welcome distraction from the tendrils of carrion stench that foul her senses. ‘Hi. You're Rimekit, aren't you? I'm your grandfather, Weaselclaw.’

Her chin tilts up towards him in acknowledgment. Curiosity shines in all too familiar eyes; innocence a copy paste upon kittenish features. “Hello Weaselclaw. I am Rimekit,” she finally speaks, her diction proper and clear just as Bluefrost has taught her. “Where is my mother? And my father and siblings?” The dapple child inquires, chancing a glance away from her grandfather to peer into the abysmal unknown. “Where am I?”​

[ penned by kerms ]​

 

[WEASELCLAW]

Rimekit, like her brother, awakens into darkness, but also like him, she does cry, does not flee. She has a good disposition, he thinks; there is potential here, after all. When she speaks to him, it's in short, halting phrases; he finds this both amusing and off-putting. Bluefrost had spoken the same way as a child, though he'd never encouraged that. He'd preferred the way his sons had snarled through their teeth, the way Cottonsprig had laughed, joyous. Still, he can hardly blame the little scrap for how she's been brought up.

"Well, aren't you polite?" He laughs, whiskers trembling. "Don't fret. You're dreaming. When you wake up, your parents and your brothers and sisters will be right where you left them."

He pauses for a moment before he answers her last question. "Where am I?" Weaselclaw begins to flick his tail behind him. "This is where cats go when they die," he says. This will serve as both a test and a lesson for little Rimekit. "I died when your mother and your aunt were apprentices." And now... would she question him about StarClan? Had Bluefrost, with her rogue of a mate, even taught the kits about StarClan yet? He finds it incredibly likely.

He retains his smile, waiting for her answer.
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