- May 29, 2023
- 257
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"No really, it's okay Brookstorm. I'm sure a hunting patrol will be coming back any minute now, you don't need to go out just for my sake," Robinheart urges gently, watching her mate unfurl from around her and head towards the nursery exit. Reeds rustle softly as they are parted, morning's glow illuminating Brookstorm a silvery beacon for mere seconds before the space dims and purposeful steps damped to nothingness. She should have known her off-handed comment about her stomach feeling weird would spurn the stone blue molly into action, excusing herself to go hunt for the mottled queen. A promise had been given to take care of Robinheart thus a promise must be fulfilled.
The weird feeling returns a few minutes later, a dull ache blossoming deep within herself. It tightens her stomach and pains her lower back. Robinheart sucks in a sharp breath and shifts uncomfortably in her nest. As quickly as it came, the feeling faded. A more experienced queen may recognize such as contractions, albeit early ones. The mottled queen stands and paws at her nest, compelled by something to shift feathers and fluff moss. Comfort is what she seeks, though she knows her greatest comfort will return to her before sunhigh, fresh prey held tight in maw and orders on her lips for apprentices to fetch more moss and reeds for her mate's nest.
Sunhigh comes and the contractions build with speed and intensity. The sky must have decided to mirror the queen's own agony, heavy droplets of rain and rolls of thunder sounding just outside of the woven walls. Claws burrow themselves into the side of her nest as Robinheart pants and whimpers through the pain. "I-I need… her. She sh-should be back by now?" the tortoiseshell whines, feeling Apricotflower's tongue softly rasp between her ears as the permaqueen had done all throughout Robinheart's youth. A means of comfort not lost on the laboring mother to be. Another contraction rips through her and the young queen yelps in agony. The urge to bear down suddenly becomes too strong, too overwhelming to resist. "Moonbeam. I-I think I need her now." These kits were coming. Try as hard as she may to hold them in until stone blue fur parts reeds and takes over for Apricotflower, they were trying harder to make their grand entrance.
It's all a blur the moment the first kit is born. Adrenaline hazes the young mother's mind as she stares at the squealing scrap of wet fur. "What d-do I do?" she whispers weakly, trembling from exertion as she watches Apricotflower nudge the kitten closer. "Dry her off, my little bird. She'll do the rest," the permaqueen instructs softly. Robinheart nods tentatively and cranes her neck to groom damp fur, fluffing up a pelt of blues and white. The kitten - her daughter - finds nourishment at the crook of her stomach and kneads tiny paws against Robinheart's downy fur. Citrine eyes soften with adoration at the kit, staring no longer with uncertainty but with love. "Her pelt reminds me of s-snow melting and flowing in little streams back to the river," Robinheart whispers, comparing majority white body and blue dipped tail with the tiny streams she would see at the start of newleaf. What were they called again? Rivulets. "She'll be Rivuletkit." In the back of her mind she allows the name to reflect Brookstorm's own name; mother and child named after the waters of their home. True blooded RiverClanners.
The second kitten's arrival proves to be a struggle, the memory of Lilybloom's kitting flashing through her mind as the pain intensifies, the stick Moonbeam had given her nearly splintered in two moments before the kit is born. Robinheart pulls the kit close, knowing now to groom slicked fur until it began to dry and fluff up. He's much larger than his sister, dwarfing her as he is nosed to his mother's belly to nurse. The tortoiseshell admires fiery pelt with washes of white covering his underside and creeping up his flanks. He is as bright as the fur upon her chest that had inspired Apricotflower to give the tortie the name 'Robin'. The queen admires him for a long moment, finding herself comparing the newborn no longer to herself but to her friend Foxtail. The similar color of red standing out against a sea of white. "Redkit." An honorable name reminiscent of her friend. It's also a name to redeem the color in her mind as she had grown distasteful of the very shade her collar had been. But she was freed of such shackles moons ago. Now it was time to find love in the meaning of the word 'red' rather than shame. "You, m-my strong son, shall be Redkit," she repeats delicately to her son. He will grow up to be an exceptional warrior.
Robinheart's energy is all but spent from her son's traumatic entrance, though she is determined to finish what she started. Pain clouds her vision as she brings forth her third and final kitten, breathing a sigh of relief as the newborn howls their displeasure. The queen weakly draws the littlest kitten to her belly and cleans the nearly pristine ivory pelt, noticing faint speckles of blues and creams. Like foam floating atop the gently running waters of their home. Or not foam, no that wasn't quite what she envisioned. The markings were more like…"Algae." The word tastes of a night spent at Brookstorm's side, each molly offering different names for the kits. She recalls the blue warrior wishing to use a name that reminded her of Lichentail. "Algaekit is what y-you'll be called, little one," Robinheart murmurs as she gently presses trembling nose to the kit's head before resting her chin on her paws, half lidded eyes watching the trio suckle and sleep as her adrenaline wears off, replaced by a heaviness she has never experienced before.
Sleep beckons for the exhausted queen, sandman's embrace reaching for the mottled molly, however she forces herself to stay awake. Where is Brookstorm? Weak gaze tracks Moonbeam and Robinheart barely lifts her head to speak to the medicine cat. "They are all healthy, right?" she asks, her voice a rasp and throat raw, then turns her attention to someone nearby, "B-Brookstorm… ? Can someone please tell her th-they are here." Robinheart adds, believing her mate to be caught up in the warrior's den to escape the heavy rain outside, patiently waiting for permission to come see her mate and children. "She promised she would be here."
// tags: @Moonbeam @apricotflower @ALGAEKIT @Redkit @nya
note: permission to powerplay given by wren. anyone can be the one to fetch moonbeam. don’t worry about grabbing brookstorm. also please do not post in this thread if you have posted in brookstorm's thread! they are happening at the same time :)
The weird feeling returns a few minutes later, a dull ache blossoming deep within herself. It tightens her stomach and pains her lower back. Robinheart sucks in a sharp breath and shifts uncomfortably in her nest. As quickly as it came, the feeling faded. A more experienced queen may recognize such as contractions, albeit early ones. The mottled queen stands and paws at her nest, compelled by something to shift feathers and fluff moss. Comfort is what she seeks, though she knows her greatest comfort will return to her before sunhigh, fresh prey held tight in maw and orders on her lips for apprentices to fetch more moss and reeds for her mate's nest.
Sunhigh comes and the contractions build with speed and intensity. The sky must have decided to mirror the queen's own agony, heavy droplets of rain and rolls of thunder sounding just outside of the woven walls. Claws burrow themselves into the side of her nest as Robinheart pants and whimpers through the pain. "I-I need… her. She sh-should be back by now?" the tortoiseshell whines, feeling Apricotflower's tongue softly rasp between her ears as the permaqueen had done all throughout Robinheart's youth. A means of comfort not lost on the laboring mother to be. Another contraction rips through her and the young queen yelps in agony. The urge to bear down suddenly becomes too strong, too overwhelming to resist. "Moonbeam. I-I think I need her now." These kits were coming. Try as hard as she may to hold them in until stone blue fur parts reeds and takes over for Apricotflower, they were trying harder to make their grand entrance.
It's all a blur the moment the first kit is born. Adrenaline hazes the young mother's mind as she stares at the squealing scrap of wet fur. "What d-do I do?" she whispers weakly, trembling from exertion as she watches Apricotflower nudge the kitten closer. "Dry her off, my little bird. She'll do the rest," the permaqueen instructs softly. Robinheart nods tentatively and cranes her neck to groom damp fur, fluffing up a pelt of blues and white. The kitten - her daughter - finds nourishment at the crook of her stomach and kneads tiny paws against Robinheart's downy fur. Citrine eyes soften with adoration at the kit, staring no longer with uncertainty but with love. "Her pelt reminds me of s-snow melting and flowing in little streams back to the river," Robinheart whispers, comparing majority white body and blue dipped tail with the tiny streams she would see at the start of newleaf. What were they called again? Rivulets. "She'll be Rivuletkit." In the back of her mind she allows the name to reflect Brookstorm's own name; mother and child named after the waters of their home. True blooded RiverClanners.
The second kitten's arrival proves to be a struggle, the memory of Lilybloom's kitting flashing through her mind as the pain intensifies, the stick Moonbeam had given her nearly splintered in two moments before the kit is born. Robinheart pulls the kit close, knowing now to groom slicked fur until it began to dry and fluff up. He's much larger than his sister, dwarfing her as he is nosed to his mother's belly to nurse. The tortoiseshell admires fiery pelt with washes of white covering his underside and creeping up his flanks. He is as bright as the fur upon her chest that had inspired Apricotflower to give the tortie the name 'Robin'. The queen admires him for a long moment, finding herself comparing the newborn no longer to herself but to her friend Foxtail. The similar color of red standing out against a sea of white. "Redkit." An honorable name reminiscent of her friend. It's also a name to redeem the color in her mind as she had grown distasteful of the very shade her collar had been. But she was freed of such shackles moons ago. Now it was time to find love in the meaning of the word 'red' rather than shame. "You, m-my strong son, shall be Redkit," she repeats delicately to her son. He will grow up to be an exceptional warrior.
Robinheart's energy is all but spent from her son's traumatic entrance, though she is determined to finish what she started. Pain clouds her vision as she brings forth her third and final kitten, breathing a sigh of relief as the newborn howls their displeasure. The queen weakly draws the littlest kitten to her belly and cleans the nearly pristine ivory pelt, noticing faint speckles of blues and creams. Like foam floating atop the gently running waters of their home. Or not foam, no that wasn't quite what she envisioned. The markings were more like…"Algae." The word tastes of a night spent at Brookstorm's side, each molly offering different names for the kits. She recalls the blue warrior wishing to use a name that reminded her of Lichentail. "Algaekit is what y-you'll be called, little one," Robinheart murmurs as she gently presses trembling nose to the kit's head before resting her chin on her paws, half lidded eyes watching the trio suckle and sleep as her adrenaline wears off, replaced by a heaviness she has never experienced before.
Sleep beckons for the exhausted queen, sandman's embrace reaching for the mottled molly, however she forces herself to stay awake. Where is Brookstorm? Weak gaze tracks Moonbeam and Robinheart barely lifts her head to speak to the medicine cat. "They are all healthy, right?" she asks, her voice a rasp and throat raw, then turns her attention to someone nearby, "B-Brookstorm… ? Can someone please tell her th-they are here." Robinheart adds, believing her mate to be caught up in the warrior's den to escape the heavy rain outside, patiently waiting for permission to come see her mate and children. "She promised she would be here."
// tags: @Moonbeam @apricotflower @ALGAEKIT @Redkit @nya
note: permission to powerplay given by wren. anyone can be the one to fetch moonbeam. don’t worry about grabbing brookstorm. also please do not post in this thread if you have posted in brookstorm's thread! they are happening at the same time :)
[ penned by kerms ]
