private HOME IS THE FIRST GRAVE [✶] starlingheart

[GHOSTMASK]

✶—— her brother is sick - this she knows. she and nettlekit have been exiled to the nursery, full of squirming bodies and terrible odors, while flintkit is sick. because flintkit is sick. because of flintkit. it leaves the girl sullen, to be left to spend much of her time lazing about the nursery while frostbite and forestshade fail to control their little monsters. the other kits are an irritation at best, flintkit is sick, nettlekit is annoying, granitepelt isn't here at all, and starlingheart - starlingheart is busy with her duties. ghostkit does not like that. she does not like how her mother is absent from the nursery, how she spends all her time worrying over flintkit and the other patients, how she's penned up in the nursery with all the little beasts the other queens have born. so, of course, when she spots her mother out of the medicine den, she stalks over to her.

"mama," her voice is a dull ring verging on petulant—for all her manipulation, she is still a child, and hours in the nursery have worn away much of her superficial charm. the girl tugs at her mother's leg, fixing dark eyes on her. stay, she thinks, clutching at starlingheart, talk to me. she has questions - she has questions about the affliction ripping through their camp. flintkit is sick, that she knows, and she suspects why he is. it's because her brother is different from her in some intangible way—weaker, somehow, a victim rather than the predator she's sure he'd like to think he is. ghostkit twists her face into an expression of begging and mews, "stay and talk to me, mama, please."

she is not yet expert at lacing her tone with honey and it falls flat quickly, but her request appears to have worked; her mother at least stays to hear ghostkit. she turns her white-masked face onto her mother and tilts her head, ears twitching as she asks, "why is everyone sick? why is flintkit sick?" she barely pauses to let starlingheart answer before she's mewing, "it's because they're worse, isn't it. because they're not as good - as important."

her words are no longer questions but statements, statements far too cold for a kit.

I WILL CARVE MY WAY OUT (✶) 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑯

• ooc: ——
  
• disclaimer: it is extremely important to note that ghostkit is an exceptionally cruel and immoral cat and her actions and thoughts do not reflect my own opinions as a writer. the way she behaves and thinks is morally reprehensible, and i do not condone these actions outside of roleplay in any way. she may refer to other cats in demeaning ways, including as "things", and this is not an attempt to oocly dehumanize anyone's character, but a reflection of her unfortunate outlook on the world.
  
  ghostkit is also a budding skilled manipulator who is already very good at concealing her true feelings. as such, other characters will generally not be able to detect the fact that she's falsifying her behavior unless it's specifically noted in the post to be visible. this includes "gut feelings", "intuition", or suspicion with no ic basis.
  
  again, all opinions & thoughts are ic only and do not reflect my thoughts and opinions as a writer.
• 
  — ghostkit
  — she/her ; kit of shadowclan ; 3 ☾s
  — "speech" ; thoughts ; attacks
  — penned by dejavu
  

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[Starlingheart]

Starlingheart was a busy cat, and with her son sick she is even busier. Admittedly, she hovers over Flintkit much more, worries over him and spends a good amount of the day trying to coax him to eat, trying to get his strength back up along with the other cats who lay ill in her den. Her duties leave little time for other things and as much as she regrets it she knows there is nothing that can be done. But there are certain things that Magpiepaw can take over, certain duties she is confident in him taking over for a short time. For example, he was perfectly capable of watching the sick while she stepped out for a moment.

She was ShadowClan's medicine cat but she was also a mother, and so when one of her kits comes toddling over, begging for her time she smiles. Despite all her tiredness, she would never deny her children the attention they desired. "Of course my love" she says, her tone nothing but gentle as she lays down and invites her daughter to settle into the curve of her belly so that she could groom her while they talked.

The first line of questioning is expected. Why is everyone sick? Why is her brother sick but not her? It is all things she had been prepared to answer for them but then, before Starlingheart can part her jaws and answer, she asks more questions. Questions that catch her slightly off guard. She asks if its because they're worse and for a second, her brow furrows. Did Ghostkit think that her brother was lesser than her because he got sick and she didn't? "N-no it has nothing to do with importance" she tells her, her voice unwavering from the usual gentle tone she reserves for her children "Sickness does not care for such things" the truth "It picks at random and does not discriminate. Your brother is not less be-because he- because he got sick. Just unlucky. But it's okay, because he-he has me. I'll fix him just like I- just like I would fix you if you were sick or injured" Ghostkit did not need to know the worries that swirl around in her mothers mind - did not need to know how many nights now Starlingheart had stood over Flintkit's nest, watching his breathing, holding her own breath when it slowed.

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