She has sullied things for herself and her kits, she knows; she should never have exposed their lineage to the Clan. Had she been in their position, she would have done the same as them — bared her teeth to the sky, cried out, "Traitor!" — but it is quite another thing to be on the other end of their scorn. Sunstar, who takes an interest in all Clan kits, especially those born to his councilmembers, has not visited the nursery at all since he condemned her here. Wolfsong is ill. Her sister and Celandinepaw are busy fighting the creep of contamination still within their camp walls.
Rimekit is with them. The blue-smoked queen looks with quiet grief at the four kits who remain curled against her belly. Foalkit and Comfreykit seem oblivious to their littermate's loss; they suckle and sleep, as ever, just as her trueborn daughters do. If she dies, they will never know that loss. Not like I will. Not like...
She pushes the thought of her sister away from her mind. As if on cue, the twigs barricading the nursery's entrance tremble. It is not Dimmingsun, as she'd expected; two blazing golden eyes sear into her pelt, a scarlet-marbled body squeezing through the opening. The air becomes thick and hard to breathe. "Scorchstorm?" Bluefrost stares at the other she-cat; something like acid begins to rise in her throat. "Have you come to... to see..."
Bluefrost's tail twitches. She pulls its bulk away from the four remaining kits. This is their first proper visitor. Even their father cannot look upon them now. She tears her gaze away from Scorchstorm's face, not liking what she sees there, not wanting to feel the heat from her former friend's gaze.
She has not come to see them. She has come to condemn them.
Still, Bluefrost tries for some semblance of normalcy. "This is Foalkit," she murmurs, pressing a pointed pink nose to the darkest kit, "and this is Comfreykit." Even as young as he is, he is beginning to display coloration like her mother, white in the cheeks, gray in the pelt. "And... these are... Asterkit," she murmurs against her youngest daughter's blue-gold fur, "and... and Sootkit." She noses the gold-streaked smoke.
It is not until afterward she realizes this is the first time she has revealed her children's names — the first time anyone has even feigned interest in them. Sootkit rings between them like a thunderclap.
After a painful heartbeat, Bluefrost closes her eyes and murmurs, "There is a fifth. Rimekit. She is with Cottonsprig. She is... ill." Her jaw twitches, but she does not reveal anything further. "I heard you were ill, too. Are you..." Better? Are you better now? Are you here to claw my fur off, or something worse?
Bluefrost has always feared the judgment of others — her mother's, explosive and poisonous; Sunstar's, wrathful and just — but now she faces Scorchstorm's, and she finds herself recoiling from the edge of the flames.
Rimekit is with them. The blue-smoked queen looks with quiet grief at the four kits who remain curled against her belly. Foalkit and Comfreykit seem oblivious to their littermate's loss; they suckle and sleep, as ever, just as her trueborn daughters do. If she dies, they will never know that loss. Not like I will. Not like...
She pushes the thought of her sister away from her mind. As if on cue, the twigs barricading the nursery's entrance tremble. It is not Dimmingsun, as she'd expected; two blazing golden eyes sear into her pelt, a scarlet-marbled body squeezing through the opening. The air becomes thick and hard to breathe. "Scorchstorm?" Bluefrost stares at the other she-cat; something like acid begins to rise in her throat. "Have you come to... to see..."
Bluefrost's tail twitches. She pulls its bulk away from the four remaining kits. This is their first proper visitor. Even their father cannot look upon them now. She tears her gaze away from Scorchstorm's face, not liking what she sees there, not wanting to feel the heat from her former friend's gaze.
She has not come to see them. She has come to condemn them.
Still, Bluefrost tries for some semblance of normalcy. "This is Foalkit," she murmurs, pressing a pointed pink nose to the darkest kit, "and this is Comfreykit." Even as young as he is, he is beginning to display coloration like her mother, white in the cheeks, gray in the pelt. "And... these are... Asterkit," she murmurs against her youngest daughter's blue-gold fur, "and... and Sootkit." She noses the gold-streaked smoke.
It is not until afterward she realizes this is the first time she has revealed her children's names — the first time anyone has even feigned interest in them. Sootkit rings between them like a thunderclap.
After a painful heartbeat, Bluefrost closes her eyes and murmurs, "There is a fifth. Rimekit. She is with Cottonsprig. She is... ill." Her jaw twitches, but she does not reveal anything further. "I heard you were ill, too. Are you..." Better? Are you better now? Are you here to claw my fur off, or something worse?
Bluefrost has always feared the judgment of others — her mother's, explosive and poisonous; Sunstar's, wrathful and just — but now she faces Scorchstorm's, and she finds herself recoiling from the edge of the flames.
- ooc: @SCORCHSTORM
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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.sootstarxweaselclaw, gen 2.
— penned by Marquette.
lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
