- Apr 3, 2024
- 99
- 25
- 18
⊱⊰ It makes sense that the kit would wish to be a medicine cat. His uncle has held the time since he was born, and the big fluffy tom is well-respected and liked within ThunderClan. Gentlestorm is wise and powerful, and he’s important. He’s a key member of the clan, a shining, shimmering star here on earth. He gets to talk to the cats in the stars. He’s always looked after Hopekit and Coalkit, doted on them. Why shouldn’t the lilac tom want to share his uncle’s role someday? His greatest wish could so easily be granted—he could talk to his parents, could meet them beyond the veil—but for that to happen, he needs to practice, doesn’t he? Luckily, he has plenty of kits around to practice on.
The first of such practice subjects is his cousin, and she’s the most tolerable of the trio. But her ailment isn’t immediately clear, so the kit sweeps his tail across his work surface before he sits down before her, dropping the bundle of leaves to the ground between them. "Don’t worry Meadowkit. Whatever’s wrong with you… I can figure it out. I promise." Is that what Gentlestorm does when he has a new patient to take care of? Is that what he said to Roaringpaw, when the young tom returned to camp with something clearly, deeply wrong with him? Hopekit’s expression draws tight, tension settling into his brows. He makes a show of peering at her, looking her over left to right, and then shakes his head harshly. "Oh no…" he trails off, squeezing his eyes shut. Hoping that StarClan will speak to him, give him some kind of sign. But nothing ever comes, not the voice of his father in his ear or the brush of his mother’s tongue over his head.
Disappointment courses through him, but a pale paw shuffles and sorts through the leaves at his feet. At last, he produces a small flower, and sets it carefully before the other kit. "You’ll need to sniff this… every morning after you wake up. For three—no, four!—days. Okay?" In his rush, he’s forgotten entirely what the original goal was, and Meadowkit remains without a diagnosis. Whatever is wrong with her, surely the flower will fix it.
The first of such practice subjects is his cousin, and she’s the most tolerable of the trio. But her ailment isn’t immediately clear, so the kit sweeps his tail across his work surface before he sits down before her, dropping the bundle of leaves to the ground between them. "Don’t worry Meadowkit. Whatever’s wrong with you… I can figure it out. I promise." Is that what Gentlestorm does when he has a new patient to take care of? Is that what he said to Roaringpaw, when the young tom returned to camp with something clearly, deeply wrong with him? Hopekit’s expression draws tight, tension settling into his brows. He makes a show of peering at her, looking her over left to right, and then shakes his head harshly. "Oh no…" he trails off, squeezing his eyes shut. Hoping that StarClan will speak to him, give him some kind of sign. But nothing ever comes, not the voice of his father in his ear or the brush of his mother’s tongue over his head.
Disappointment courses through him, but a pale paw shuffles and sorts through the leaves at his feet. At last, he produces a small flower, and sets it carefully before the other kit. "You’ll need to sniff this… every morning after you wake up. For three—no, four!—days. Okay?" In his rush, he’s forgotten entirely what the original goal was, and Meadowkit remains without a diagnosis. Whatever is wrong with her, surely the flower will fix it.
- ooc: pls wait for @Meadowkit
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HOPEKIT ❯❯ he/him, thunderclan kit
⊱ skinny, thick-furred lilac tom with deep copper eyes. soft-spoken and sleepy, but can be a bit of a grouch.
⊱ son ofbatwingandleopardtongue; brother to bravepaw, hazepaw, cardinalpaw, coalkit
⊱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
⊱ penned by foxlore