MAPLE TEARS \ bothering

NETTLEPAW ♡

NETTLEPAW ♡

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ShadowClan 10K Fall Prompts [SHC '23] Yellowcough [Sitewide Event '23]
Jul 10, 2023
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Nettlekit had, from his screeching debut, grown into rather an inquisitive figure- often did his poke his snow-capped head out of the medicine den to set bright blue eyes upon a warrior's duties, even if it was just for a small moment. Learning about the world, about what to expect when he was grown... it was at the very top of his relatively short list of priorities, and today was no exception. One unfortunate figure was the subject of his inquisition today, a lonesome cat yet to be put on a patrol, likely trying to relax... clay-and-snow trotted toward them, however, careless for the details of free time or introversion.

A sugar-dusted paw prodded at foreign fur, and clear-sky eyes blinked up at the older cat's face. "Can you tell me what it's like being a grown-up?" he asked, head dropping slightly to the side. Curiosity gleamed clean and clear in his eyes- he wanted to learn, to know. To pick up their answer and embed it permanently in his mind. Being a bother was hardly a consideration in his mind.​
penned by pin ♡​
 
can we leave it behind? — The heat rolled through the marshes in a wave that morning and the rare instance had occurred where Sabletuft could not keep up. The humidity hung at his pelt and left a heavy fog in his lungs as he breathed in hot air. The break would be quick, he promised himself. Not long enough to feel comfortable in the shade of ferns.

Only a few beats had passed when his side made contact with the ground. His chin rested against ivory paws and his muscles rejoiced in the moment of rest. Mere moments, seconds into considering enjoying the break was it disrupted. His head lifted and turned to see Nettlekit. One of Granitepelt's spawn. Why couldn't he bother his father with this question?

His tail flicked over Nettlekit's paw in a gesture to pull it back to the ground. "Already bored with being a kit?" His tone wasn't as hostile as it might have been if one of his warriors had bothered him, but still holding a hint of agitation. Sabletuft adjusted to face Nettlekit more comfortably.

"Has Starlingheart taught you the word responsible, yet? That is a very important part of being a grown-up. You need it for your Clanmates, your family. For your territory. Most importantly yourself." — tags​
 
Responsible. Right, yeah. Of course. That's for adults only; they don't ask a damned thing of anyone 'til they're warrior-aged. Rosemire nearly breaks his jaw to keep from rolling his eyes. He knows that (probably) isn't how Sabletuft meant it, but Nettlekit had asked what it's like and Sabletuft told him what he needs to be as though it's some far-off day. It feels misleading. In a couple moons, Nettlekit will begin training to be a warrior, will be expected to line-up for battle— what is that, if not duty?

Yeah, responsibility'll hit the kid a lot faster than adulthood will.

Tugging a dried patch of mud from his leg, Rosemire huffs with an old frustration. He wears it more willingly these days, knowing that his pale pelt is a disadvantage, that even the little sunlight ShadowClan gets can be too much. He's just not at peace with the way it crusts up and hurts if it dries awkwardly.

"It's not that different from being a kit," he says, glancing over again. It helps Nettlekit doesn't resemble his father very much. "Actually, it sucks! Especially when you start to get really old, because you start to hurt in new places. Just ask the elders." Rosemire grimaces, working another piece loose. "And when you don't know what you're doing, you have to pretend like you do. We adults do that until it doesn't feel like pretending anymore— at least until something new happens."


​
 
What was it like being a grownup?

Besides the harsh reality of the world, the responsibilities as she had put it was a lot harsher on warriors than children still learning. But once you did learn, one could crave the innocence of being a child again.

The new aches and pains was unfamiliar, except what tinged in his heart and stomach from prior traumatic memories. The question couldn't easily be answered.

"Enjoy kithood while you can, young one. It'll fly by and you'll miss it." His voice was gruff, and he wasn't trying to put her thoughts down, but the harsh reality was there.

He never had the opportunity to play games as a child. The word fun wasn't in his vocabulary, and he wished he understood it. Perhaps he wouldn't be so pessimistic now.
 
Thistlejump's attention was drawn by the interaction between Nettlekit and Sabletuft. She found the young kit's curiosity to be endearing, and a small smile appeared on her face. It seemed that already the kit had much of a personality, and perhaps would be somewhat of a bother to the older cats in his youth. In conflict with the warmth she felt, she was strangely simultaneously saddened by the kit's question. It was only natural that kits were inquisitive about the duties and freedoms of adulthood, yet, the joys of adulthood came with tribulations, which a kit so youthful and blithesome should not yet face,

He wants to know so soon? She thought. I feel as though it has been barely any time since he has opened his eyes! He has yet to even have a mere taste of the wonders of kittenhood. Adulthood is nothing to envy. The pain that we have felt and the troubles we have faced in these last few moons is something that Nettlekit should be protected from for as long as possible.

"Bonefang is right." Thistlejump told Nettlekit, "Kithood is a precious time of every cat's life, and you need not be in any rush to grow up."
 

Fascinated jay-blue eyes settled very still upon the warrior's- upon Sabletuft's face, watching intently the movement of his snow-dusted maw as he uttered that word, all-important; "Responsible," he repeated, feline bore furrowing slightly- though it was more borne of the youthful way that any effort of concentration seemed a gargantuan task, rather than any slumbering distaste. His expression brightened near-immediately, a quick nod blurring his head's movement. Being responsible was important. He could remember that.

A leggy white form closed in, a paler shade of now than his paws. For a few moments Nettlekit was lost in the comparison, before meeting the bleached warrior's gaze. His jaw fell a little slack at the revelation- pain. Everything seemed to hurt, brambles and responsibility- but hurting was bad, obviously, or else his mother would be out of a job! Where was the sense in that? "You hurt? Why? Do you fall over more?" That was the only way he could imagine it- injury. Not for no reason. There had to be a reason for it.

And all that talk of pretending- well, that wasn't so bad, at least. "I'm good at pretending," he declared, admiring his paw once again. He was one of the best actors in any game he played, that he was certain of. The gruff voices of two more warriors lifted his attention up once again, and he affixed them with a quizzical look. Enjoy kithood while you can... he was enjoying kithood. But he would be an apprentice before he knew it- that was what everyone tended to say. "It's good to know things though, isn't it?" Everything a question, from this one. He'd grow out of it.​
penned by pin ♡​
 
"HEAR MY STOLEN LULLABIES"​
He would never admit it, but Batkit is also curious about what being an adult is like. He's close to being an apprentice now, which is almost an adult. What will it be like? Will his peers annoy him less?

One of the warriors mentions being responsible, which is good. Batkit is responsible, or at least Mother says he is. Another warrior says that Nettlekit (and, by extension, Batkit) would eventually regret wanting to grow up and Batkit almost scoffs. He wouldn't miss it at all.

Nettlekit questions whether it's good to know things and Batkit nods emphatically. "It's definitely good to know things. What's wrong with being prepared to grow up?"​
✦ ❄ ✦​
 

The shaded young prophet stumbles along forward, head dipping and bobbing as he approaches the scene to questions of time and growth, adulthood versus the whimsical nature of simply being a kitten; always questioning weren't they? He'd never once wondered as a kit, had clung to his infancy with tooth and claw until he'd been forced out of it. It was cruel. Sabletuft's answer is inadequate as he is, Rosemire's significantly more to the point. The others chime in with his sentiments exactly. Why rush forward to the end when you've only just begun the race?
"Age is a creeping vine, rising upward from the earth to ensnare us all. It tightenes, suffocates, it is not a fate to look forward to. I miss the nursery sometimes." Magpiepaw trills, his tone strangely neutral until he spoke of his own kithood and the somber shift in his voice was evidence enough to the truth he spoke. He often dreamed of going back to the time of no responsibility, where he was left to his own devices and free to wander and play as he pleased with no pressure put upon him by anyone. ShadowClan had ignored him as it often did now on occasion, he wished that there was a way to stop the ever forward rolling wave of time that swept them all up. He still felt out of place as an apprentice, even under his beloved Starlingheart's tutelage.
The black and white apprentice hovers where he stands, looming over the white headed and charcoal stained kits inquiring of knowledge far beyond their moons.
"You would do well to embrace your ignorance, the knowing only brings dread. Trepidation." An involuntary shudder runs down his back, if ever there were a beckoning chill in the air it would be now or maybe he was imagining things. StarClan seems all the more closer with each passing day, but perhaps it was only that he grew taller; he already easily dwarfed his own mentor. Magpiepaw sneezes abruptly, someone was talking about him somewhere.
​
 
There are things to like about his second-born son. Nettlekit is intelligent, curious, always seeking knowledge. Granitepelt knows it can and will get him into trouble someday, but he’d rather that than a bumbling little fool. Though he most resembles Siltcloud out of the kin he knows about, Nettlekit’s fur is brighter, almost fiery where his sister’s is dull. He wonders if it’s the passion that keeps Nettlekit vibrant, or if it’s the presence of a doting and protective mother—something Siltcloud had not had for long.

Granitepelt listens idly to the other cats intoning on to Nettlekit and Batkit. His Clanmates are boorish, dreary. The gray warrior does not share their enthusiasm for youth. He remembers feeling perpetually laughed-at, scorned, too small to do anything about those who had wronged him. The day he began to feel like an adult—like he had power—had been the day Pitchstar’s last life seeped thin and red from between pried-open jaws.

“Becoming a warrior is a great honor,” he says. Magpiepaw’s entire presence is skirted neatly so he can sit beside his son. “I hardly remember being a kit. My life began when I started to train alongside your mother.” His tail tip twitches. It’s a lie, bold-faced, that he doesn’t remember—oh, how he remembers abandonment and that jester of a rosetted tabby laughing at his misfortune; how he remembers Bonejaw presenting Sandra with the limp, cold body of his littermate. “Soon, you will learn yourself what being an adult is like.”


✧ INFO.
  •  
  • — granitekit . granitepaw . granitepelt
    — he/him ; warrior of shadowclan
    — heterosexual ; taken by Starlingheart
    — short-haired gray tom with white and green eyes
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — penned by Marquette
    — chibi by Meg
​
 

Merely did he nod at Batkit's question- they were on the same page. There seemed nothing wrong with being an adult, a warrior- it was a life of honour, of freedom, and one that Nettlekit could not imagine wanting to dodge. Jay-bird eyes stared a little transfixed upon Magpiepaw for a few long moments, as his mother's apprentice explained his own view on the matter. Kitten-claws, pin-sharp and in metaphorical form, clung to the black-and-white apprentice's words; "I see..." said Nettlekit, who earnestly believed he could. He would remember those words, and understand them... in time. Trepidation... though, he was not sure he wanted to embrace ignorance. No, no- he still wanted to know. Bright eyes blinked up at his older denmate, before his attention was swiftly pulled toward someone else.

His father's attention was something that more commonly fell upon Flintkit or Starlingheart, rather than himself- though, the snow-dipped tom barely noticed it, and was even more barely bothered by it. That was simply the way things were, and part of him appreciated the way that Granitepelt spoke to him as if he was any warrior. Any Clanmate. Soon, you will learn yourself what being an adult is like. His lips parted slightly, thoughtful jaw ajar, most present company forgotten. A curious mind was skittish, restless. It was nothing personal.

"You don't remember it?" It was a bewildered question, the concept hardly fathomable. The minutes he lived now... Granitepelt could not remember the equivalent. Clear blues glanced down at a snowy paw, and his toes flexed as if he was feeling some long-ahead destiny. "Do you think, when my- my life begins, I'll know it? Like you know it?" An obsession with knowing... ​
penned by pin ♡​
 
can we leave it behind? — Rosemire's interjection is unhelpful as it is unwelcome. The pale warrior's response was as perfect as a reflection. Why Rosemire still remained in the marsh was pure mystery by how little he disguised his distaste. He wondered why the albino hadn't stayed with any of the Clans outside the marsh when he had the chance. Surely the dry plain hills in WindClan were a perfect fit. He certainly shared their acidic attitude.

The others provided their own words and Sabletuft went quiet. He felt the question wasn't the worst to be asked out of all the possibilities. He was more thankful Nettlekit didn't approach him with a question more difficult to navigate appropriately.

"You'll have a lot more understanding when you're ready. Before long you will have the guidance to help solve those questions, and share them the way we are. There isn't always just one answer for everything."

Quickly the little cinnamon tom was captivated with his father's presence. Like a moth to a flame his eyes remained on Granitepelt. "I think it's hard to miss..." He mumbled as he returned his chin to rest on his paws. — tags​
 
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