camp for those who listen / kitten handover

[Orangestar]

"We're going on a hunt after they're settled in." Orangestar forewarns Butterflytuft in a gravelly murmur, eyes fixed on the two kits now placed by the queen's side. They look wrong there. She'd leaned back from gently pressing her nose to their backs a heartbeat ago, though she aches to do so once more. She doesn't, her paws rooted firmly in place and shoulders rigid, her pelt pressed against Slatesnarl's for comfort. You're doing the right thing, she tries to assure herself.

The implication is clear: SkyClan's leader, and the sire of her kits, would likely be absent from camp when they stirred. Until now, at least Orangestar or Slatesnarl had been with the two at all times. While Butterflytuft had visited, this would be ... different. Permanent. Not an abandonment, though an abdication of duty. Her kits would wake up to discover that both of their parents are absent, and that they'd been placed in the nest of another queen to sleep. Orangestar doesn't know if she could bear to watch that happen.

"And ... one more thing. The she-kit."

ooc ✧ 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦

• // @butterflytuft @SLATESNARL @FANGKIT ? @LAMBKIT
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  [ art by pin ]
• ORANGESTAR ✧ she/her, leader of skyclan | six lives
  
  
  — "a scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes."
  — mate to slatesnarl ; no apprentice
  — speech is in #D2977D
  — tags | penned by mercibun, contact on discord for plots.
  
  
  
  

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[butterflytuft]

Butterflytuft listens intently, her head dipping in understanding as Orangestar speaks. The weight of maternal responsibility settling on her shoulders is not new, but this moment carries an undeniable gravity. It's one thing to have been a stand-in presence for other queens to take a break; it's entirely different to take on the role of a mother, fully and permanently, for kits that belong to someone else. She has mothered kits that were not her own before - Daisypaw and Budkit are testaments to the love she will always give to orphans who need her. But this…her heart aches for her leader, even as it swells with protectiveness for the young lives now under her care.

She glances down at the two kits, so small and vulnerable, nestled beside her. They don't yet realize how much their world is about to change, and Butterflytuft's throat tightens at the thought. She knows how it feels to be displaced, to have everything shift around you when you're still too young to understand why. Drawing in a slow breath, she meets Orangestar's gaze, her own yellow eyes soft but resolute as it then flicks to Slatesnarl.

"I'll keep them safe," She promises the pair of mates quietly. "They'll have all the love and care they need, I swear it." There's a pause, as if she's searching for more words, something that could soothe the pain she sees etched into Orangestar's expression. But from one mother to another, she knows there's no true comfort to offer for this kind of sacrifice. Instead, she dips her head with deep respect, an acknowledgment of the other she-cat’s courage and the heartache that must accompany it.

When Orangestar mentions the she-kit, the tortoiseshell’s ears flick forward, waiting. Concern and curiosity flicker across her features, but she keeps her focus on the leader, prepared to listen to whatever else she has to say.
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[SLATESNARL]

A solemn frown weighs on his broad maw, a dulled gaze staring ahead as the two kits settle in next to Butterflytuft. Slatesnarl's initial distaste of the very idea—the concept of a spineless molly like her—rearing his children had worn off for the most part. He was more so conflicted about the twins not being there when he woke up. He wouldn't be able to watch as they toddled about and squeezed innocent little mewls out of their small lungs. Fatherhood had been unexpected, about as abrupt as a plunge into an icy current, but the children had instantly become the most important parts of his life. Just as soon as they had arrived, they were now gone ( well, being handed off to another queen, but close enough ).

Slatesnarl feels his mate brush against him, though his eyes do not leave the little cream tabby and tortoiseshell. Orangestar had repeatedly claimed that this was for the best, and while the warrior finds that he doesn't necessarily disagree with her, he still was not happy to be parting ways with the infants. It was hard to tell if Orangestar was feeling as conflicted under that stoic, rigid exterior of hers. Knowing her, she would not let this affect her. He should not let it affect him, either.

Only when Ora changes the subject does Slatesnarl's trance break, his amber gaze traveling from her and forward to Butterflytuft. The Maine Coon rumbles, "Her name is Ramkit." They had finally decided on a finalized moniker, no longer going back and forth between names that didn't feel quite right. Ramkit's new name promised strength that she would hopefully inherit from both of her parents and carry with her as she grew up. She needed to be strong — both of them had to be. Orangestar had a clan that needed her guidance and Slatesnarl had to focus on being a warrior. They would understand their mother's sacrifice one day.

His stare lingers on Butterflytuft for a few beats longer, as if he is silently questioning her promise. Would she keep them safe? Would she be what they needed? Slatesnarl can't say for certain, which bothers him the most.

Slatesnarl's gaze then falls back to the littermates, a certain pensiveness underlying his stoic expression. This was goodbye for now.

𝟒𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐉𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 ✹ . + ˚ · 𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐆𝐔𝐍

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  — slatesnarl / 44 moons / he/him
  — skyclan warrior & former lead warrior
  — mate to orangestar / father to lambkit & fangkit(?)
  — lh solid black maine coon w/ rusting, amber eyes. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face.
  — click for tags

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