private I see it needs sweeping ✶ Cuckookit

[Owlheart]

As she admires the downy kitten fur that Cuckookit carries she had to wonder which of his parents traits he inherited. Some of the kits are developing their own distinct personalities, yet resilient little Cuckookit surprises her at every turn. Oddgleam and the other kits are playing outside, rather she's willing to wager the kits are playing outside and the queen is taking a moment of relative silence to watch them. Snowflakes had started to fall, the cold following. She's apprehensive to have them out there but she doesn't want to rob Oddgleam of being able to spend time outside of the nursery. For a reason beyond her understanding Cuckookit didn't join them, the kitten instead followed her into the nursery. She wonders if he maybe just enjoys the routine? There is an attempt to squash her overthinking before her mind takes something as small as this and runs with it.

The orange tabby wanted to do something nice for her mate, hoping to clean up his nest and attempt to refresh it. Something small she reasoned, this way he wouldn't have to stress about anything else. She admires them, how they manage to keep an eye on five kittens even when they try to fight or escape. Fresh moss is kept at her side, nothing grand but hopefully it would provide the additional padding that her family would appreciate.

"Have you played Mossball yet, Cuckookit?" She asks curiously as she tears patches of old moss gingerly with unsheathed claws. Instead of using all of the new moss she sets a small part of it aside, trying to mix the old moss with it. The ball isn't very big, she doesn't want to waste what little resources they have after all. Gently batting it over to the kit beside her, after a moment she pauses. "If you don't like that you could… Help me clean up the old moss?" Maybe that's an aspect of Cuckookit she doesn't expect, maybe they prefer to be practical rather than playful? ​

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OPEN UP YOUR HEART ☼ LIKE THE GATES OF HELL ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• ooc. Backwritten to be before the blizzard <33 @CUCKOOKIT

• 

• 
  OWLHEART
  She / her ||Warrior of SkyClan || 21 moons
  ❥ An orange tabby with low white and an owls feather tucked in her tail.
  ❥ Mates with Oddgleam and Crowsight | Mother to Pearlkit, Cuckookit, Morningkit, Brightkit and Ravenkit.
  ❥ Mentoring Hollypaw
  ❥ "Speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ Penned by Juice ⏐ouijeejuice on discord {open to being dmed for plots}

​

 

[CUCKOOKIT]

Like a diligent shadow, Cuckookit followed his mother. They always liked to tail someone, for the scariest thing to the downy-furred kitten was to be left to his own devices. Besides, allowing their own brain to focus on one thing at a time - right now, it was the eggshell-white tail tip of Owlheart that rhythmically bobbed - gave him stability, purpose, comfort. Rounded snout lifted upwards as glimmers of snowflakes lilted upon their nose, as he stumbled upon their elegant pirouettes as an ingressing estray, an ash-wrought mutt marvelling in first-time wonders. He felt out of place in the cold weather, as the playful winds nipped at his ends and goaded him to succumb to their whims. Curled whiskers twitched incessantly, though they paid little mind to it as they followed their dear parent into the reprieve of the down-warmed nursery. They sat down next to her, attempting to mimic her poised posture - though spiked edges and sawtooth bristle could never compare to the real. Owlheart asked if they had ever played "Mossball" before, and salt-hued eyes glanced at the strips of dull-verdant that seemed to saunter away from the source, so fragile and helpless without its roots. They had gotten distracted for a few moment, before they turned their leaden crown upwards. "Mm... No." Quiet voice emerged jagged though never cold, like the graupel that fluttered upon their shoulders and crown, like he would sooner be blown away than stand as one thing. Dull gaze did not meet their mother, though he found nothing wrong with it. Staring into another's eyes, seeing them as they are, did nothing to compose the delicate kitten. (He never understood the intricacies of etiquette, of the rules of honor and dignity to duly abide by. He found no purpose in them, especially now.) "I help." He mewed next, as they pawed at a strand of moss. They batted them around until they formed a loose pile upon the ground.​

 

[Owlheart]

It's strange, to see her kits be able to walk around. To share conversation, no matter how limited. If she thinks about it too much she becomes emotional, which usually happens anyways even if she doesn't. How can she not? It's incredible to see such little bodies develop so rapidly and start to form their own opinions, their own voices and ideals. There is still so much to learn, they still depend on the adults around them, it's a careful balance she wishes to strive of treating them as individuals rather than babies. This is a battle she is losing, as it's so easy to coo and marvel at them since realistically they are babies, her babies. Cuckookit's head tilts upwards and she tilts her delicate yet broad tangerine muzzle down to press her nose against their forehead. They haven't learnt mossball yet, she's simultaneously surprised and not. "Would you like to afterwards? You might find it fun" he isn't as rough and tumble as their more rambunctious siblings but this game can be solitary as well, maybe they would find comfort in that.

She doesn't mind the lack of eye contact, it is something she has grown used to from the cloudy coloured kit. It doesn't stop her from brushing her large tail against him, especially as she turned to claw the old moss from the nest he shared with their siblings and parent. It was grounding, to know that one of her children were nearby. Honestly if they weren't then there's a high likelihood that she would freak herself out, even now she can feel her mind drifting to overthinking. Do they have enough moss to replace it? What if she tears something that the kits are attatched too? Should she actually try to sweep the floor or keep the debris from the outside so there's enough stimuli?

A white splotched maw purses as she considers it, the tiny paws of Cuckookit draws her out from it. Eyes gleam with pride as she glanced at the progress they made. "Oh Cuckookit! You're being a great help" she's happy to know that he's considerate, at least in this moment. That he's taking the time to help, it's once again enough to ground her. She brushes more debris his way "If you bat the moss like this, you can make a round shape with it" she decides to pause her cleaning to spend time with him like she wanted. White paws hover, waiting for permission before she bats the moss herself "if we do this it will make a ball, you can do this with snow too." As much as she would rather him not be out in the snow. ​

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OPEN UP YOUR HEART ☼ LIKE THE GATES OF HELL ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• ooc.

• 

• 
  OWLHEART
  She / her ||Warrior of SkyClan || 21 moons
  ❥ An orange tabby with low white and an owls feather tucked in her tail.
  ❥ Mates with Oddgleam and Crowsight | Mother to Pearlkit, Cuckookit, Morningkit, Brightkit and Ravenkit.
  ❥ Mentoring Hollypaw
  ❥ "Speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ Penned by Juice ⏐ouijeejuice on discord {open to being dmed for plots}

​

 

[CUCKOOKIT]

"Okay." Cuckookit's monotonous voice fluttered from their lips, as though their verses flew from his maw as detritus, a byproduct of passive life rather than an impassioned declaration. It was not that they had been afflicted by melancholy nor anguish; rather, they had become content in drifting along where the throes of howling life took them. Interest in typical activities such as play-fighting or clan-games hardly peeked through dullish gaze, and he simply did not see the appeal in such. Baby-blue eyes glimmered as Owlheart complimented his rather unorthodox manner of gathering the debris of moss strands and dirt specks together, as if he waited to craft something of the wreckage, but imprecise hands and uncurled fingers could make little sense of it. A comforting brush of the tail seemed to allay any stress undue unto him, like the tension seeped away from little paws. They hadn't the mind or want to be perfect, though a kindling sense of alienation sparked through sea-salt fur. Littermates and friends played outside while they sat alone with their mother... though they did enjoy the warmth of the nursery and the aromas of milk tangled beneath the lichens. "Can I... make a moss-snowball?" Inquisitive tone piqued as he stared upwards once more at their mother, with the quick-blinking glances of a curious starling upon a perch, a songbird upon its naive and fleece-ridden throne. In their world, perhaps anything was possible - even a moss-snowball, though they had never laid their eyes upon it. They continued to bat around at the strands of moss, crouching down in some faux-hunter's pose, though the intent to destroy never crossed their feeble mind.​