private Just like you || Doom

[shrewflight.]

@DOOMKIT //

Pocket felt he was fitting in fine, he supposed. There were many other cats that still lived with their twolegs here. He did miss the luxury of sleeping on a cushioned bed, and being able to lounge, but he was swarmed with other cats, and his ears would duck in the anxiety of it all.

There was so much still to learn, many moons of training, but they were out of that silver box now.

He missed his mother, his siblings. They weren't there in those cages, so were they safe?

Being an apprentice wasn't hard, just a bit overwhelming. He was more than eager to learn, but there definitely was a difference between being safe in a home, and being in a dangerous environment.

He was happy and could do what he wanted here, well most of what he wanted to do.

His duties today was helping out in the nursery, assisting in changing bedding, and anything they may need. But his thoughts ran, and the anxiety of the battle was in his head. Could he do that? Could he harm another cat to protect his clan? Could he use his claws?

The memory of even accidentally scratching the twoleg child and dropping him off back to the cages- abandoning him there with no one. He didn't want to harm anyone. And seeing Blazestar... he had died. They say starclan granted him so many lives, to lead their clan, but the rest of them? There was only one.

Entering the nursery, with a mouthful of moss, he would flatten his ears a bit, and set it down where directed. Olive eyes would spot a familiar pelt, DoomKit. He had been in the cages with him, and a smile would reach him. "Hey DoomKit!" he would greet with a purr.

 

[DOOMPAW]

His time in the shelter is a bit of a blur now. There is a soft, distant memory of cold, shiny webbing trapping him in place, of a blanket stinking of piss and astringent medicine, his neck cold with the sticky material. He remembers a rubber nipple forced into his mouth, thick sweet liquid flowing from it to his belly. The comfort of his brother in a strange place, yowling cats… and one day, the web had parted, and a cat had freed them and carried them away to SkyClan.

There is an even softer memory—and this one is so fragile it breaks when he tries to perceive it—of a cat lying on her flank with something crusted and dark at her throat. Of milk that stopped coming. His brother crying beside him, being cold—

But when he tries to reach for that cat, the memory shatters into indistinct pieces.

Some of the other cats he knows in SkyClan had come from that shelter place. Plaguepaw is one, and so is Pocket—Pocket had been put to work almost as soon as he’d got here. Doomkit watches him bustle about the nursery with envy burning in green eyes. “Hi,” he says, rising to impatient paws. “Whatcha doin’ in here? Can you take me out in the forest? I promise I’ll behave.” He grins, his ears flicking with excitement.

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — doomguy . doomkit
  — afab, he/him, kit of skyclan
  — unknown sexuality ; single
  — short-haired blue tortoiseshell with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette

​

 

[shrewflight.]

"I'm helping out do part of the boring apprentice duties," he started, padding out the final nest that a queen had asked him to change, before hopping closer to DoomKit.

Take him to the forest... he had to think about that momentarily, before sadly shaking his head. "I don't think I can, I don't see other kits being taken out there. They say it's dangerous for kits," he said sadly. He would if he could though, but he wasn't sure that was a great idea.

"Maybe a queen or another warrior can? But, how about this! I'm done now, so we can play a game!" he said with an excited purr. He wasn't much bigger than DoomKit, and it was weird how some cats couldn't leave because of their size, but he could, because of his age. He was pretty sure there was something too where he still had to go out with his mentor though.

His paws outstretched towards the kit, his butt in the air in a playful manner. "You can be doomstar! and I can be your faithful deputy, orrr we can play hide and seek, or truth and dare?" his mind was now racing in excitement, the idea of a game instead of work would be enough distraction from the stress of wondering about clan life.

 

[DOOMPAW]

Doomkit’s immediate response is to scowl. “I ain’t afraid of nothin’… are you?” He asks, pouty. What’s the point of being friends with apprentices if they can’t take you out to do cool warrior stuff? He hates sitting in camp. He’d been born in Twolegplace, on asphalt, and he’d spent the first few weeks of his life bottle-fed in a cage. His legs yearn to race through the forest, his claws ache to pierce the tree bark so he can soar to the sky.

He levels Pocket with a glare. “I’m already Doomstar. I don’t wanna play kit games, I wanna be an apprentice like you,” he says. Suddenly, he brightens, if only a little. “Show me somethin’ your mentor taught you. Somethin’ real, no baby games.”

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — doomguy . doomkit
  — afab, he/him, kit of skyclan
  — unknown sexuality ; single
  — short-haired blue tortoiseshell with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette

​