- Feb 21, 2024
- 26
- 3
- 3
The scarcity with which the queens are directly assigned tasks cannot be overstated; Mockingbirdcry could likely count the number of times she'd been tasked with carrying out officially issued jobs on one paw. It's a small wonder anyone that she is the only queen with ghostly rumors . . . those of them who choose to take up permanent residence in the nursery are, more often than not, eternally spectral. Lost to the well - shored - up walls of the nursery, out of the direct eyeline of an enemy and the clash and clang of claw on claw, she privately resents ( or not really, she really doesn't care . . . ) the fact she's always suspected: that many of her claw - wielding clanmates found her less important for her lack of having her own bared.
As such, she has a marked appreciation for the newfound duty; soon - to - be Smogstar makes an infinitesimal rise in her esteem. Mockingbirdcry hopes that this event might be the first of many; that it might set a precedent for treating the nursery's residents as the capable pillars of the Clan's new generations that they are, lending purpose to guide her wayward paws so that they might not indulge the ever - present urge to permanently stray from ShadowClan's ranks as they marched onwards towards a ( hopefully ) brighter future.
At the same time, she reserves her hopes, limits them until they bat against their low - set roof as a bee in a bottle. Smogmaw is an acceptable Clanmate and leader - to be, occasionally struck by sudden bouts of wisdom, and yet they're equally quick to dissipate . . . so it's safe to say she keeps her expectations closer to ground level. And even if granted, she might come to regret her wish . . . indeed, she'd been planning to while away the evening speculating about that very same tabby tom's lives - to - be with Moltface and perusing for gossip while the lot of them were a little less supervised. Oh, well.
" Best we start our lesson before it grows too late, yes? " She greets the familiar faces of @MOLTFACE and @HARRIERTEETH with a curve of a smile despite the irritation bubbling beneath a lilac - struck face. As Smogmaw had so succintly put it in one of his moments of ego, if they were adept enough in their task ( and she was certain she'd be ), the bundle of kits would be off to sleep . . . hopefully leaving Mockingbirdcry herself a little peace and quiet to dedicate to some good old speculation.
" Gather 'round, kits, " she calls airily, beckoning a small sea of multicolored pelts close with the swish of a fluffy split - hued tail. Her fellows flanking her, she settles primly into the mud, gesturing for the children to fan out before them so that they all might take in the lecture with star - reflecting eyes. " Smogmaw is at the Moonstone receiving his nine lives and his name, " she mrrows, fluffed - out tail - tip flicking in the dirt with what might be irritation or admiration. " And while he's gone, Moltface, Harrierteeth, and I will tell you all about StarClan. "
The emphasis a hoarse voice places on the syllables is intended to draw the attention of the milk - fanged herd, and dark eyes glance to her fellow queens, awaiting reinforcements . . . whether she receives them or not, she plunges forth with equal verve. " StarClan began with the cats who passed on in the Great Battle; all of us will go there after we've done the same, just like Chilledstar. " The lilac - marbled queen shows no hesitation in invoking the name of their most recently deceased, feathery ears flicking back as she continues, " They advise us through signs to our medicine cats, as they did when the yellowcough plague struck. And, of course, they grant our leaders nine lives to serve our Clan . . . just as they will on this very night. "
" What questions do you have? " She rasps. Her little dramatics aside, she's completed her portion of the task adequately. Clearing her throat, voice overtaxed from the brief lecture, she waits for the other queens' contributions; dark eyes watch the faces of their small army of charges.
As such, she has a marked appreciation for the newfound duty; soon - to - be Smogstar makes an infinitesimal rise in her esteem. Mockingbirdcry hopes that this event might be the first of many; that it might set a precedent for treating the nursery's residents as the capable pillars of the Clan's new generations that they are, lending purpose to guide her wayward paws so that they might not indulge the ever - present urge to permanently stray from ShadowClan's ranks as they marched onwards towards a ( hopefully ) brighter future.
At the same time, she reserves her hopes, limits them until they bat against their low - set roof as a bee in a bottle. Smogmaw is an acceptable Clanmate and leader - to be, occasionally struck by sudden bouts of wisdom, and yet they're equally quick to dissipate . . . so it's safe to say she keeps her expectations closer to ground level. And even if granted, she might come to regret her wish . . . indeed, she'd been planning to while away the evening speculating about that very same tabby tom's lives - to - be with Moltface and perusing for gossip while the lot of them were a little less supervised. Oh, well.
" Best we start our lesson before it grows too late, yes? " She greets the familiar faces of @MOLTFACE and @HARRIERTEETH with a curve of a smile despite the irritation bubbling beneath a lilac - struck face. As Smogmaw had so succintly put it in one of his moments of ego, if they were adept enough in their task ( and she was certain she'd be ), the bundle of kits would be off to sleep . . . hopefully leaving Mockingbirdcry herself a little peace and quiet to dedicate to some good old speculation.
" Gather 'round, kits, " she calls airily, beckoning a small sea of multicolored pelts close with the swish of a fluffy split - hued tail. Her fellows flanking her, she settles primly into the mud, gesturing for the children to fan out before them so that they all might take in the lecture with star - reflecting eyes. " Smogmaw is at the Moonstone receiving his nine lives and his name, " she mrrows, fluffed - out tail - tip flicking in the dirt with what might be irritation or admiration. " And while he's gone, Moltface, Harrierteeth, and I will tell you all about StarClan. "
The emphasis a hoarse voice places on the syllables is intended to draw the attention of the milk - fanged herd, and dark eyes glance to her fellow queens, awaiting reinforcements . . . whether she receives them or not, she plunges forth with equal verve. " StarClan began with the cats who passed on in the Great Battle; all of us will go there after we've done the same, just like Chilledstar. " The lilac - marbled queen shows no hesitation in invoking the name of their most recently deceased, feathery ears flicking back as she continues, " They advise us through signs to our medicine cats, as they did when the yellowcough plague struck. And, of course, they grant our leaders nine lives to serve our Clan . . . just as they will on this very night. "
" What questions do you have? " She rasps. Her little dramatics aside, she's completed her portion of the task adequately. Clearing her throat, voice overtaxed from the brief lecture, she waits for the other queens' contributions; dark eyes watch the faces of their small army of charges.
