- Oct 17, 2023
- 55
- 13
- 8
*+:｡.｡ What was it like to give birth?
From the, admittedly very minimal, research Ebby had done when preparing themself for the events to come, that was one of the more common questions they'd asked. Some cats said it was amazing. Others said it was beautiful. Many said that they came out of it and changed for the better. That life before having their little miracles was nothing compared to what it'd become now. They'd never feel lonely again, they said.
Ebby didn't feel lonely. Not because they had a close band of friends to keep them company or the comradery of an entire clan they simply didn't mind lonesomeness. Sometimes, they even missed it rather than being squished in a pile among their clanmates, who, even after all these moons, all still felt like strangers to them. If all of them were to one day drop dead as Gin had, Ebby doubted they'd be heartbroken over it. Probably thank their lucky stars that they weren't part of the statistic and wander off to find the next powerful leader to promise their "undying" loyalty to. Life was always only ever about survival, everything else was just entertainment with an inevitability of becoming a hindrance.
So what did that make Nightingalecry?
Ebonylight woke with a start.
For a moment, they hadn't a clue what had jarred them so violently from their-
A gasp broke through their teeth when a dull but heavy pain lanced up from their abdomen. Ebby reached down to pat their stomach with their paws, searching for any sign of blood, any sign of an open wound - had someone attacked them while they-
Oh.
Rushing to their paws - perturbed by how weak their knees felt - Ebby finally got the clue. They eyed the medicine den, biting their lip at the idea of writhing on the ground beneath the judgemental gaze of another feline. But turning their gaze to the distant hillside, stars curtaining the sky and shining just bright enough to sparkle the snow that made the open fields a more dangerous option, they couldn't bring themselves to listen to the instinct to self-isolate.
Another jolt of agony, this one fiercer than the last, scrambled their pro's and con's list. Pretty soon it's going to be a lot more difficult to keep their cries to themself. Ebby refused to be seen as vulnerable if they can help it. After all, if they view their clanmates as stepping stones to a proper meal and nothing else, they're sure they're viewed the same. And if the stones are thrown and some mouths need to stop getting fed, it'd be great if Ebby's was far from the expendable list.
Yet another stabbing down their tummy and all of a sudden being strong wasn't a goal they could consider maintaining. Fear now enveloped them as they stumbled towards the nursery den entrance, their breaths ragged from the pain. There were a lot of things Ebby didn't know, they weren't ashamed to admit that. Like how they hadn't been expecting how easy it'd be to become pregnant - when they'd suggested it to Nightingalecry, it had been almost a joke - something they hadn't thought too seriously about outside of using the litter to earn Sootstar's favor. But then they became pregnant, and suddenly it was a decision locked in stone. It was easy to listen to mothers talk about pregnancy and tell yourself you'll handle the cramps, the soreness, the changes just fine...it's a whole different ballgame experiencing it all.
And as the agony no one ever could've properly warned Ebby about rolled through them like a furious storm, they dizzily wondered what was the point?
Sootstar's favor wasn't worth this! Earning points with Windclan for their loyalty wasn't worth it! Ensuring Nightingalecry stayed behind wasn't -
"Ebony?" a soft voice crooned just as Ebby leaned against the nursery entrance, panting aggressively as their head swam. The fluffy silver tabby blinked once, twice, then in a flurry was upon them, "Is it time?!" she gasped.
Pain and fear erupted in their screaming head, and before they realized it, they were swinging a clawed paw at their 'mate' snarling, "Don't touch me!" This was her fault, they justified. The pain, this sudden uncontrollable fear, the idea that this is it - after all these moons, death finally would find them all because of her -
Pain flashed across Nightingalecall's clover and periwinkle eyes, but just as quick the timid woman narrows her gaze. The determination in those once-soft eyes makes Ebby flinch. A blow is coming, they're certain of it - as Nightingale stepped closer, Ebby tensed, waiting for the counter they were too weak to dodge and-
A soft kiss plants itself on Ebby's forehead. They blink, for a temporary moment the pain forgotten as shock melts the world away. "I've got you" Nightingalecall's shaky voice coos as Ebby looks up to meet her gaze. The pain comes back with a burst of lighting in their stomach, but the fear doesn't return with it. This time Ebby lets them scream in pain, pressing their muzzle into Nightingalecall's chest. "It hurts" they sob, hating themselves for crying they can only focus on the arms that wrap around them, holding them close for that once precious, too-short second.
"I have to get Cottonpaw" a logical statement that somehow sends Ebby into a panic, but with more soft nudges and coos, Nightingalecry finds a way to ease them back into bed and with a flick of her tail she's gone into the stars.
Ebby waits for her with harsh breaths puffing through the nursery. The walls swirl in their vision, they swear they can see the stars through the ceiling. Swears that they're back in twoleg-place, stalking through the sewers, avoiding dogs, two-legs and other cats. It was the other cats that were the worst. They're coming for them now, they're certain of it. Life is only about survival, pointing and laughing at the misery in between is the only way to make living bearable. There's nothing else. There never can be.
But then Nightingalecry is back, wrapping herself around Ebby's head. A cushion against the cold and damp concrete - no, the grass and moss of the nursery floor. Nightingalecry is softer. She's whispering things to them, they do their best to listen, but truthfully they'd prefer to sleep. She's - no, not Nighty this time, someone else - is telling them to push. But won't that hurt? Won't they die? "Please, Ebony" a soft breeze that tickles their ear, it smells of heather and stars, so different from the poisonous water and magot-bitten waste of their birthhome. So they listen, and they push. There's a stick in their mouth when they try to scream, there's water from something soft- moss?- that's pressed against their feverish forehead. Storms become hurricanes in their stomach, they're on fire, they're trapped in ice, they're dying.
And then, all at once, it's over.
Three sets of mews ring within the nursery entrance. The stars have stepped aside to allow morning light first visitation. Ebby blinks open tired eyes as Nighty pulls away the crushed stick. There's blood on her maw from where she must have helped clean the kittens - or maybe from the new cut on her lip - but it just makes her look so cute to Ebby. She's crying, or maybe Ebby's crying, but the world is blurry and bright and all they can focus on is that it's all over. It's finally over. Nihtingalecry is meowing about triplets, and asking about names, but Ebby is already falling asleep in her arms and can't bring themself to care. Ebonylight is alive, that's all that matters.
What was it like to give birth?
"Names...? Uh...Name one fright, death, and wither" Ebby yawns, grinning spitefully as they reference all their passing emotions during this entire ordeal. Pressing their face into Nighty's fur and caring about nothing else, they soon begin to drift off.
It's a hindrance.
From the, admittedly very minimal, research Ebby had done when preparing themself for the events to come, that was one of the more common questions they'd asked. Some cats said it was amazing. Others said it was beautiful. Many said that they came out of it and changed for the better. That life before having their little miracles was nothing compared to what it'd become now. They'd never feel lonely again, they said.
Ebby didn't feel lonely. Not because they had a close band of friends to keep them company or the comradery of an entire clan they simply didn't mind lonesomeness. Sometimes, they even missed it rather than being squished in a pile among their clanmates, who, even after all these moons, all still felt like strangers to them. If all of them were to one day drop dead as Gin had, Ebby doubted they'd be heartbroken over it. Probably thank their lucky stars that they weren't part of the statistic and wander off to find the next powerful leader to promise their "undying" loyalty to. Life was always only ever about survival, everything else was just entertainment with an inevitability of becoming a hindrance.
So what did that make Nightingalecry?
Ebonylight woke with a start.
For a moment, they hadn't a clue what had jarred them so violently from their-
A gasp broke through their teeth when a dull but heavy pain lanced up from their abdomen. Ebby reached down to pat their stomach with their paws, searching for any sign of blood, any sign of an open wound - had someone attacked them while they-
Oh.
Rushing to their paws - perturbed by how weak their knees felt - Ebby finally got the clue. They eyed the medicine den, biting their lip at the idea of writhing on the ground beneath the judgemental gaze of another feline. But turning their gaze to the distant hillside, stars curtaining the sky and shining just bright enough to sparkle the snow that made the open fields a more dangerous option, they couldn't bring themselves to listen to the instinct to self-isolate.
Another jolt of agony, this one fiercer than the last, scrambled their pro's and con's list. Pretty soon it's going to be a lot more difficult to keep their cries to themself. Ebby refused to be seen as vulnerable if they can help it. After all, if they view their clanmates as stepping stones to a proper meal and nothing else, they're sure they're viewed the same. And if the stones are thrown and some mouths need to stop getting fed, it'd be great if Ebby's was far from the expendable list.
Yet another stabbing down their tummy and all of a sudden being strong wasn't a goal they could consider maintaining. Fear now enveloped them as they stumbled towards the nursery den entrance, their breaths ragged from the pain. There were a lot of things Ebby didn't know, they weren't ashamed to admit that. Like how they hadn't been expecting how easy it'd be to become pregnant - when they'd suggested it to Nightingalecry, it had been almost a joke - something they hadn't thought too seriously about outside of using the litter to earn Sootstar's favor. But then they became pregnant, and suddenly it was a decision locked in stone. It was easy to listen to mothers talk about pregnancy and tell yourself you'll handle the cramps, the soreness, the changes just fine...it's a whole different ballgame experiencing it all.
And as the agony no one ever could've properly warned Ebby about rolled through them like a furious storm, they dizzily wondered what was the point?
Sootstar's favor wasn't worth this! Earning points with Windclan for their loyalty wasn't worth it! Ensuring Nightingalecry stayed behind wasn't -
"Ebony?" a soft voice crooned just as Ebby leaned against the nursery entrance, panting aggressively as their head swam. The fluffy silver tabby blinked once, twice, then in a flurry was upon them, "Is it time?!" she gasped.
Pain and fear erupted in their screaming head, and before they realized it, they were swinging a clawed paw at their 'mate' snarling, "Don't touch me!" This was her fault, they justified. The pain, this sudden uncontrollable fear, the idea that this is it - after all these moons, death finally would find them all because of her -
Pain flashed across Nightingalecall's clover and periwinkle eyes, but just as quick the timid woman narrows her gaze. The determination in those once-soft eyes makes Ebby flinch. A blow is coming, they're certain of it - as Nightingale stepped closer, Ebby tensed, waiting for the counter they were too weak to dodge and-
A soft kiss plants itself on Ebby's forehead. They blink, for a temporary moment the pain forgotten as shock melts the world away. "I've got you" Nightingalecall's shaky voice coos as Ebby looks up to meet her gaze. The pain comes back with a burst of lighting in their stomach, but the fear doesn't return with it. This time Ebby lets them scream in pain, pressing their muzzle into Nightingalecall's chest. "It hurts" they sob, hating themselves for crying they can only focus on the arms that wrap around them, holding them close for that once precious, too-short second.
"I have to get Cottonpaw" a logical statement that somehow sends Ebby into a panic, but with more soft nudges and coos, Nightingalecry finds a way to ease them back into bed and with a flick of her tail she's gone into the stars.
Ebby waits for her with harsh breaths puffing through the nursery. The walls swirl in their vision, they swear they can see the stars through the ceiling. Swears that they're back in twoleg-place, stalking through the sewers, avoiding dogs, two-legs and other cats. It was the other cats that were the worst. They're coming for them now, they're certain of it. Life is only about survival, pointing and laughing at the misery in between is the only way to make living bearable. There's nothing else. There never can be.
But then Nightingalecry is back, wrapping herself around Ebby's head. A cushion against the cold and damp concrete - no, the grass and moss of the nursery floor. Nightingalecry is softer. She's whispering things to them, they do their best to listen, but truthfully they'd prefer to sleep. She's - no, not Nighty this time, someone else - is telling them to push. But won't that hurt? Won't they die? "Please, Ebony" a soft breeze that tickles their ear, it smells of heather and stars, so different from the poisonous water and magot-bitten waste of their birthhome. So they listen, and they push. There's a stick in their mouth when they try to scream, there's water from something soft- moss?- that's pressed against their feverish forehead. Storms become hurricanes in their stomach, they're on fire, they're trapped in ice, they're dying.
And then, all at once, it's over.
Three sets of mews ring within the nursery entrance. The stars have stepped aside to allow morning light first visitation. Ebby blinks open tired eyes as Nighty pulls away the crushed stick. There's blood on her maw from where she must have helped clean the kittens - or maybe from the new cut on her lip - but it just makes her look so cute to Ebby. She's crying, or maybe Ebby's crying, but the world is blurry and bright and all they can focus on is that it's all over. It's finally over. Nihtingalecry is meowing about triplets, and asking about names, but Ebby is already falling asleep in her arms and can't bring themself to care. Ebonylight is alive, that's all that matters.
What was it like to give birth?
"Names...? Uh...Name one fright, death, and wither" Ebby yawns, grinning spitefully as they reference all their passing emotions during this entire ordeal. Pressing their face into Nighty's fur and caring about nothing else, they soon begin to drift off.
It's a hindrance.
-
-
GENERAL:
‡ Ebonylight
‡ DFAB— He/They/She — Pansexual
‡ 17 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
‡ Windclan — Moor-runner (Loyalist)
‡ Mates with Nightingalecall, father to Frightkit, Deathkit and Witherkit
COMBAT:
‡ Physically hard | mentally hard
‡ Attack in bold black
injuries: None currently
‡ recovering from pregnancy
