isn't she lovely, made from love - THE YAPPENING

[Asterkit]

@BLUEFROST @Thriftfeather @Comfreykit @sootkit. @FOALKIT @rimekit

With the development of their hearing, it was only a matter of time before the children of Bluefrost and Thriftfeather began to test their ability to speak


It would be little Asterkit who was to cross that bridge first, going from incomprehensible little mewls and wails, to somewhat clear words. That morning, Asterkit decided to try out speaking. Her brain was still developing and had not yet quite discerned what certain words meant, though was getting better at recognising the call of her name. Sat on her paws, she watches as Bluefrost is distracted by two of her littermates, speaking gently to them and nudging them closer with her nose. Asterkit had never been much of a demanding kit - though it could not be said she wasn't one of the loudest in her litter - but she wished for Bluefrost to look at her instead. She hadn't quite grasped that Bluefrost had a name that wasn't, well, mom, so was instead aiming to call her by that title instead.


Asterkit could picture the word in her head. Mom. Mom. M-O-M. Getting her mouth to form the word was a harder task than she anticipated, though, so when she does manage to speak it comes out as something of a yell. “MA!” She blurts out loud, not quite getting the whole word out. When Bluefrost turns her gaze to her, Asterkit would frown, not so much at her, but rather herself. That wasn't right…should she try again? The frown deepened, as she began to strain under the effort of trying to speak again. When she did eventually speak, her voice was much softer this time, less of a yell now and more of a question. “Ma?” Asterkit tilted her head to her mother, looking at her with uncertainty, a silent question in her gaze that seemed to ask ‘Is that right? Is that who you are?’​

 

[dimmingsun]

Dimmingsun is slowly but surely perfecting the art of blocking out kitten cries. It is the only thing he can do to remain sane; but in the same breath, it is the very aspect that stops him from realizing that one of Bluefrost's spawn is uttering her first word.

What a moment it is. Dimmingsun does not pretend to understand the nuances of parenthood; but he can revel in the fact that one of the kits has grown faster than the rest, and has fumbled through her screeches and cries to come to something more concrete. If only the circumstances would be different. Dimmingsun imagines Bluefrost surrounded by Clanmates who want nothing more than to take a peek at her daughter. Is that how she had envisioned at one point, too? Or has she abandoned such a fantasy way before this, when she switched sides last minute, acknowledged that trust would be seldom associated with her, and damned her mother with that very same choice?

There is no need to go too in-depth here. The fact of the matter is this: Dimminsun is lingering by the entrance, and he is fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to posses hearing — almost like he is intruding in an important moment of the family.

"She speaks," he sighs, and the look on his face is far more dramatic than necessary — engraved with amusement. He might not be the biggest fan of the kits' parents, but... well, the little ones are innocent. They do not deserve to be looked down upon for merely existing. Nobody has the luxury of choosing their kin.
​

 

[Comfreykit]

With the advent of hearing came many new horizons, and Comfreykit was not one to be left behind where his siblings stepped - these days, literally - forward. Having so many siblings at his side certainly made for a bit of competition, even in the case of them not really knowing what that was quite yet, and Comfreykit's ambition was not one to be set aside and made to wait for later. His small ears perked instinctively when one of the bundles aside him starting yelling out a word - and that's what it was, wasn't it? Perhaps not fully, but the intention was there - to speak.

In the days since his ears had unfurled and started hearing the world, Comfreykit had taken in everything around him, Bluefrost's and Thriftfeather's words, those of those he shared the nursery with, visitors, all speaking with meaning that was yet unknown to him. But he'd also heard the not-quite-hidden gossip of cats just outside of the nursery walls, and one word had been among their conversations often enough for Comfreykit to get a good hold on what it was and how it might be said.

Beside him, Asterkit says her word again - Ma, she says, and Comfreykit recognizes that word. That's where warmth and food comes from, is Ma. Whether he is cognizant of it or not, Comfreykit decides that he can't simply repeat what his sister has said. Squeezing his eyes shut, Comfreykit thinks as hard as he can about the word he's heard - it's simple, short, and sweet.

"N-Nnnnn..." Comfreykit drawls out the sound on his tongue, quietly at first, but ramping up in volume as if he's preparing himself for it. "NO!" He yips tartly, and scoots himself away from Asterkit and her loud mouth, bumping into another sibling in the process. He mumbles incoherent noises to himself after his declaration, and settles down after a few minutes. He doesn't know it, but his first word is something that will define his personality as he grows older. Perhaps one day, Ma might tell him about it.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OOC ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ INFO ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• !
  

• 

• COMFREYKIT ✩ kit of windclan, zero moons
  → walks hunched over.
  → peaceful and healing powerplay permitted.
  → penned by Archivist → .archivist on discord.
  

​

 

[rimekit]

In the days following the genesis of hearing, Rimekit has taken in as much detail as she could handle. The sounds of the nursery and the hushed voices from beyond it. The gusts of wind through gorse. The crunch of pawsteps. And most importantly the words spoken by her mother and father.

Gentle words, so perfectly delivered by one entity and somewhat stumbled by another. Would her first words be spoken clear and precise like Bluefrost? Or perhaps low and rumbling like Thriftfeather?

Two of her siblings speak first, their volume much too loud against fragile eardrums. Comfreykit stumbles and bumps into Rimekit, who has remained vigilant in her observations. The intrusion troubles the pale kit, who wobbles to her paws to move away from her noisy and wiggly littermates. Too much, she might think to herself. Too crowded.

While Asterkit has addressed their mother, who fussed over their two remaining siblings, Rimekit makes a beeline to Thriftfeather. She prefers his bulk and deep reverberations whenever she snuggles into his mass of golden fur. The dappled child toddles to him, muttering trial babbles in the short tail length distance. If her siblings can speak so can she! But she’ll be quieter than them… less abrupt in speech, she thinks. Who knows though. It’s hard to control something you’ve never done before.

“D-Duh… Daa,” Rimekit mumbles as rasped voice urges sounds to come out. She can picture him in her mind - her safe place of solitude from her busy siblings. “Daaa,” she tries again, slowly, building her confidence to address her father. Baby blues peer up at the grassy greens of Thriftfeather and Rimekit offers him a shy smile before taking the plunge. “Dada!”

Perhaps a bit louder than she intended, but pride buzzed in bee-song within her chest at her accomplishment. With him successfully addressed, Rimekit toddles to his side and leans against him, content to watch her mother and siblings from a short distance.​

[ penned by kerms ]​

 

[Thriftfeather]

There had been a time when the only things the kits were capable of were nursing and mewling. Thriftfeather has gotten used to their countless sounds of either displeasure or existence. As of late, the kits have been determined to do everything their young bodies are capable of—watching the world with, if not appreciation, then interest, twitching their small ears towards sounds of conversation, making feeble attempts at travel. Every day has just as much of a possibility of being a new discovery as it has the likelihood of being rote.

Today, Thriftfeather had assumed it was going to be rote.

He doesn't realize the significance of Asterkit's sounds until Dimmingsun, ever-lingering in the mouth of the den, speaks.

"Did she? Did you?" Thriftfeather looks between Dimmingsun and little Asterkit, bewildered. He replays the sounds she has made in his mind and notes the intensity in which Asterkit watches Bluefrost until a smile is curling the corners of his mouth—the gentle realization that she had spoken.

"That's—" Thriftfeather is interrupted by another sound that coalesces into a rather sharp no.

Comfreykit, Thriftfeather realizes, if only due to Comfreykit's continued babbling. Abruptly, Thriftfeather is overwhelmed—they are all likely to hit their milestones concurrently, and Thriftfeather doesn't feel particularly ready for the realities that follow closely behind the introduction of speech. They'll have questions to ask and thoughts to share and opinions to make—the thoughts had once excited Thriftfeather, but now that he is caught on the eve of it uncertainty finds him. Never before has Thriftfeather experienced anything like this; the unknown of it could swallow him.

And then Rimekit is before him and whatever worries Thriftfeather has been facing halt.

He watches her struggle and stumble through her first attempts, knowing exactly what she is preparing to say and yet surprised by it when she finally accomplishes it.

"Me?" He asks breathlessly. Then, louder, as Rimekit presses to his flank and Thriftfeather shifts a limb to make space for her, Thriftfeather continues, "That's right, Rimekit."

He shifts enough to touch his nose to her cheek before settling back into himself, having returned to being content. ​

DUSKCLAN DEPUTY ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 19 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[milkthorn.]

"You guys must be so proud," he murmurs softly, the rosetted warrior greeted, his ears having perked just before entering as he carried inside a hare. His bulky head dipped respectfully towards Dimmingsun, flattening his ears a bit and lowering himself before fully pulling into the nursery. He knew he'd be proud, but never did he think he would have his own to be proud of. So instead, he would silently smile in glee at coming across their first words.

"I am not sure if you guys have eaten, so I brought this," he said, bringing it closer to them, eyes drifting to Thriftfeathers then Bluefrost, before down to the young children. "Before long, they'll be walking and running, then you'll really have a pawful..." He gave a small laugh, ducking his head a bit. "Let me know if you ever need help... But I imagine you got it."

​

 

[BLUEFROST]

The squeaks from her children have tapered, have taken on tonal indicators, but Bluefrost has paid these little trills little mind. A kitten is easily dissatisfied when adjusted from their feeding spot, their napping area; they are further contented when she pushes them into a warm crevice of her body, when Thriftfeather is available to guide one or two of them from her body heat to his. The idea that their little ears, so recently perked and sturdy, are listening to their language is beyond her.

"M..." Asterkit is determined, today, to emit something from her tiny golden mouth; Bluefrost listens to her hums, her whistles, her wordless pleas. "Mmmm," she says to no one, to her restless siblings who mimick her buzzing voice. Bluefrost thinks nothing of it. She bends her muzzle to her daughter's half-gray little body before something concrete slips from her muzzle.

"Mmm... MA!" It's emphatic; it's direct. Bluefrost stirs, her green eyes snapping wide, to attention. Her daughter, trueborn, had been the first of all five kittens to speak. Asterkit stares at her, clear: "Ma?" Asterkit is addressing her. Asterkit knows her, now, as Ma.

Bluefrost's eyes shimmer; she lowers her muyzzle to Asterkit's tiny face. "Moth-er," she pronounces, clearly. "It's moth-ther." She had, in truth, called Sootstar by her true name even by her third moon, but... well...

There is an indulgence, isn't there, in hearing Ma?, in hearing Mother?

Dimmingsun's input is uninvited, and, indeed, unwanted. Bluefrost loathes to share this moment with a guard Sunstar has deemed necessary, but she does not reward the spiral-pelted warrior with any acknowledgment after he speaks.

Bluefrost's green gaze flicks from Asterkit to Comfreykit. He wriggles unceremoniously next to his littermates, his stumpy limbs only carrying him so far. His first word is far less circumstantial — No! — before he sinks back to his belly beside his siblings.

Bluefrost's grin eases. She presses her jaw gently against her son, drinking in his growth. No. Oh, you will never be satisfied, will you, little one? She wants to tell Cottonsprig, but — well, her sister is wracked with her duties, and it's Thriftfeather who is here, observing.

Another kitten opens their jaws. This time it is little Rimekit. Her mouth is practiced — "Dada." She even moves herself, stumbly limbs and all, closer to his expansive golden body. Bluefrost watches with incredulous eyes. Oh, but he is the best father you could have had, little one — he claimed you from the start, and he is here, and happy to be here...

She resists the urge to turn away. Instead, she meets Thriftfeather's glowing green gaze with a smile and a purr. "She knows where she can get a break from her siblings," Bluefrost says. She feels something so tender in her heart, when she sees Thriftfeather with Rimekit — even though...

Milkthorn's entrance interrupts her thoughts. Bluefrost's ears flick, and she curls back around her kits, her green eyes wary. The rosetted warrior carries a hare, and the gray queen softens, relaxes. "Thank you, Milkthorn. It is appreciated." The smoke tilts her head toward her belly, hesitant but sure. "Do you want to take a closer look?"

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 18 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan queen. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

​

 

[cottonsprig]

Busy. Busy she must be as the last cat with yellowcough comes through, healing still but no longer plagued with delusions and pain. Busy she must be, to be tormented by grief and severance - to train Celandinepaw beneath the stars with soft paws, despite no longer being able to guide her within them. Busy, she must be... but never, never, too busy for the children she cannot rear.

It's Dimmingsun's shift in demeanor that summons her. Normally stoic at his station near the nursery, his face contorts to something softer, wistful even. Something is happening to have broken the sturdy tri-color warrior. Something that Cottonsprig spurs her paws to experience, even if her chest will be cleaved at the sight.

Milkthorn parts into the nursery and not too far behind him, Cottonsprig follows. She lingers near Dimmingsun, blotting out the light that filters in with her grey fur. Her gaze falls over her sister first, yet the silent apology she usually shares is not given so readily. Bluefrost has been too forgiving with her in their time as sisters, too yielding for the medicine cat and her mistakes and whimsy. Bluefrost, with her sharp green gaze and iron-pawed manner of child-rearing... will have to forgive her now, too, even without the sorries to be shared.

Blue eyes fall, first to Asterkit, then to Comfreykit - and with a pang she finds Rimekit eagerly looking towards Thriftfeather, declaring his role in her life. However, deep in her guilt, she cannot find regret for the circumstance. Should she have had it her way, her children would've never known a father. Cottonsprig does not regret her choices by any means, but dwelling in the heartache is a spot of comfort, a plume of warmth - for at least this is something she would not have been able to give them. At least with the life they are to live, they will have more than she could've provided.

For once, visiting the nursery does not only hold pain and envy. Even as she knows that they will turn to Bluefrost, call her Mama (or mother, should Bluefrost have it her way,) she smiles slightly.

"They're absolutely adorable," she posits, though she cannot hide the way her voice cracks. She clears her throat with a slight cough facing out of the nursery, quietly blames it on the early morning. She knows the venom will return to poison her, to make her grieve everything once over again. But for now... she can be happy.

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

• ooc //

• ❥ MEDICINAL KNOWLEDGE
  ♥♥♡ WOUNDS ; can confidently stop bleeding and mend lacerations. will often request that you keep your injury clean and wait it out first.
  ♥♥♡ INFECTION ; as a side effect of likely her own doing, very dutiful with technique and treatment shortly thereafter.
  ♥♡♡ ACHES & PAINS ; will defer to a dark tunnel and rest. if pain persists, maybe she will offer something.
  ♥♡♡ BROKEN BONES ; has never dealt with a broken bone. likely will ask that you never move. ever again.
  ♥♥♥ TRAVELING HERBS ; learned well from her previous mentor. will pile even too many remedies to tough the wilderness with.
  ♥♥♥ KITTING ; having kittens of her own and helped several others with their litters, she is very well versed with calming techniques and quelling pain.
  ♥♡♡ POISONS ; she knows what they are... but that isn't enough, isn't it?
  ♥♥♡ ILLNESS ; having worked through two yellowcough bouts, she is confident in her remedies. much else... she's operating on trial and error.
  ⸻ cottonsprig is a dutiful and excitable medicine cat. she enjoys company and loves conversation. she'd rather not have too many curious noses snooping around her den... but who is she to quell curiosity?

• 

  ⸻❥ cottonsprig is the primary medicine cat of windclan. a former princess to the moors, she harbors many guilts for her actions throughout her short life. she has no consistent partner, unwilling to commit and settle, and she is training celandinepaw in medicine.

​