camp i always see my youth in you | eyes opening

[robinheart]

She has grown accustomed to minimal sights, hidden away in the nursery where her kits eat and sleep most of the day and her citrine gaze often rests upon their tiny bodies or stares off blankly at the woven walls. Less than a pawful of times has she left her nest for anything other than a bathroom or water break - most notably would have to be Brookstorm’s vigil and Lichentail’s meeting. She just… doesn’t have it in her to socialize, share tongues, or allow herself to feel anything other than grief. It’s a dark, murky, all consuming sorrow that fills her chest. Robinheart cares not if it is detrimental to her health, mental or physical, for all she can do is care for her kits.

If these weren’t Brookstorm’s kits she wonders if she could even do that or if she’d abandon them to another queen.

It’s an awful thought, one she doesn’t linger on for more than a split second. Pull yourself together, Robin. This isn’t the you she would want, she internally scolds herself, shifting in her nest and staring at the place where Brookstorm had rested against her one final time. It still faintly smells of the blue furred warrior. I’m sorry… Robinheart presses her muzzle to the moss and whispers a promise to be better.

Beside her kittens start to stir, one after the other. A soft mew catches her attention and the mottled queen lifts her head and looks to the trio, expecting one to be clambering over another, or one to be stuck upside down, or one to be struggling to find a place to nurse. She is met not with newborn helplessness but with sets of bleary blue eyes.

“… oh.”

Her voice is impossibly fragile as she curls her tail around them and feels unnameable emotion well up in the cavern of her ribcage. “Hi… h-hi, I’m your mom,” the tortoiseshell queen adds warbled and tearful. She’s not sure if they can even hear her yet, but that’s okay. Just as they are taking in the newness of the world, the brightness and soon to be clarity, so does she.

// no need to wait, open to anyone
@Redkit @ALGAEKIT @rivuletkit ​

[ penned by kerms ]​

 

[claythorn]

The days following the death of Brookstorm, and the hours of sunlight of a mother without a partner, had been... dreary, Claythorn reflected. The conversation burned in her mind as she sat a few feet away from the nursery, mismatched golden eyes staring far off in thought. She inhaled softly, ears twitching at the soft mewls inside. Claythorn hoped, quietly, that Robinheart would recover in time- to be a better mother, to be a soul that her kits could be proud of. A soft breath left her as she made up her mind, pushing to her paws to retrieve a piece of prey from the freshkill pile that she had caught only yesterday.

Nose split light into the nursery as she pushed her head in tentatively. The last time she had spent any number of time in here was the sun's blackout, and while she wasn't poetic, it was an awful thing that she only showed up in times of desperation. I'm your mom. Claythorn's careful paws froze as she stared on at the sight, of a tearful widow who was pressed closed to the kits only just now beginning to see. Her heart thudded in her ears- she did not want to interrupt this moment.

She was not close friends with Robinheart. She was not close friends with anyone, she thinks, but she is here for a purpose. Her paws are light as she slips into the nursery, settling the piece of prey near the new mother. "You should eat." Claythorn stated quietly, her tail held still. Mindful of the den's walls, and their inhabitants. Vision shifted toward that of brand-new-blue, and her ears twitched softly. In a rare occurrence, Claythorn spoke in a bewildered voice, "They're beautiful, Robinheart. You did well."

With that, she was stepping aside, allowing any others to step in where Claythorn felt so out of place.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, eleven moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ no current love interest / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[Redkit]

Everything was blurry, and his once shut eyes found themselves willing to open today. He's wobbly at the moment as the large tom moves closer to the mottled queen's stomach, folded ears twitching slightly. His gaze lingers for a moment and explores up the queen eventually comes to a stop at her face, and he purrs softly. His mom was so pretty! The red tabby wiggles closer as his oceanic blue gaze refuses to move off her gentle, tear stained face and a loud mewl leaves his lips. Look at me, Mom! He basically radiates off him despite everything only comes out as mewls.

Redkit gently headbuts his mom's side affectionately as his gaze never looks away, heavy paws kneading gently on the side. His eyes blink slowly in morse code that just say, 'I love you! I love you!'. His gaze eventually moves away as he stumbles along his siblings in a blurry world, gently biting one of their ears attempting to get their attention. A figure in the distant catches the bleary attention of Redkit, and he stares at Claythorn endlessly after his long staring contest with his mom earlier.
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[ALGAEKIT]

To see was the greatest gift of all, Algaekit would soon come to learn. To gaze upon nature, flit through the unknowable threads and glean the reason behind the chaos was a maddeningly satisfying matter.

Blue-hued gaze glazed over at her mother's beautiful russet rushes, the warm body the very first thing he saw, an idol and exemplar of the comfort of velveted kithood. All he had known was the heat of Robinheart's heart, and he stared upwards at the belly that had provided him with everything. Nitid eyes were soon to be replaced with shimmering golds, but for now, he embraced such alien azures. A soft 'mrrp' escaped satin maw, alabaster spotting garish like the sun captured the essence of his youth whole, swallowing and coating it in its great light. She could see the light, blinding and almost too molten for him to behold. She could see the ground, seemingly the only solace from the harsh beams She lifted her little head, which seemed almost too heavy to keep up for long, though lucent stare never faltered as if she hadn't learned the method of blinking, or at least not staring for inordinate amounts of time. Her limbs had grown stronger yet, though, and newfound strength allowed him to hold his gaze steady for a little longer. ​

 

[valesight ➶]

⸙͎｡˚⋆ ⍋ ѧѦ ѧ⍋ ⸙͎｡˚⋆

It is bizarre to him in a way he can't quite place... this grief on behalf of someone else rather than any sincere connection he himself has. Brookstorm was not someone he cared to know... hardly gave any thought to other than to glower at her when he'd catch her glaring in Robinheart's direction. He hadn't really considered it a stumbling start to love... but they had been- in love, that is. It happened so quickly, Valepaw is still struck by the developments... the fact that they'd only just been named warriors, only just declared their affections, only just become parents.

Already it was laid to rest in carefully woven lavender petals... cords cut on a hundred hundred futures. She'd been in the medicine cat's den with him those last few moments... before she'd stumbled away to find someone comfortable to share her last breath. It was a disgusting feeling... knowing he walked past her death bed near daily, while he waited to leave that space in a way she never would.

It also frightened him... what it meant for his friend who'd come to entertain him in the form of a warted amphibian. So he lingers when he can, by the nursery to stand sentry. It is a thankless task, self imposed... but it's one of the few ways Valepaw can make himself useful while he awaits a nebulous recovery date. The hope is that Robinheart can sense his companionship and know she isn't alone.

The soft gasp of breath and a tiny 'hello' is followed after Claythorn's arrival, which he finds an odd response to the tabby she-cat... Nosy and over-protective, painted swirls enter with a notable, cowardly limp to investigate, only to behold a terrifying owl-eyed stare from three tiny scraps. Their gaze is intense and unwavering... he expects them to blink many more times than they actually do and he is almost transfixed. "They're staring," he comments, surprised, "Do we look funny?"​

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