march madness | kitsitting

[LILYBLOOM.]

With newleaf here cats are able to discuss the possibilities of starting families, having kits, deciding names and such? Does yours? Do they have any interest in it one day?
Seated not far from the nursery, Lilybloom finds herself watching over the kits currently in the nursery. There weren't many queens in the nursery at the moment, and as such she only found herself watching five of them, one of which was currently lazing at her side. As she watched the kits playing, Lilybloom reflected that there was a possibility of more kits running around soon. Newleaf was upon them now and many families were considering having kits - and if some of the more gossipy elders were to be believed some couples already were.

After a harsh leafbare, RiverClan would surely only benefit from new kits to bolster their numbers. Besides new kits were always a joy to have around, even if some could be a bit of a handful.

Small yells emerged from the four kits playing in front of her, playfully arguing over the mossball they were batting around. Lilybloom chuckled faintly before her attention was caught by another cat walking nearby. "Don't wake, Duckkit," She pleaded, gesturing to the kit resting close to her. Despite her warning, she doubted the kit would actually stir. Duckkit was one of those cats who would not even wake up if it was thundering.​

 

[LAKEMOON]

✵ ღ ☾ IT TOOK ME BY SURPRISE - Muddied paws leave prints all across camp as Lakemoon makes her daily routine, having just finished dropping her catch at the fresh kill pile, she’s only started making her way towards Lilybloom when the molly pleaded that she not wake Duckkit- who at a closer glance is nuzzled up against her friend and slumbering peacefully.
❝ With my stealth? I could never ❞ the silver warrior remarks in a hushed tone as she settles on the other side of Lilybloom, casting an azure gaze towards the bundle of kits in the middle of a game of moss ball. ❝ Having fun? ❞ Lakemoon chimed then, a faint good natured tease in her question. Briefly, she wonders if Lilybloom actually is enjoying herself. It occurred to her that she had never ventured into the the idea of kits herself, let alone ask anyone else how they feel about them.
Resting her scarred head on her paws, she watches the kits idly for a moment, even when mud begins to spray from their playing.

❝ Speech. ❞

THE HATRED IN HER EYES​

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[iciclefang]

Iciclepaw is soaked from paws to chest, a mid-sized silver fish hanging limply from her jaws as she strides victoriously into camp. Newleaf has renewed her. Once again, all of her practical skills are on display, though really she can hardly take any credit for her catch. The fish had practically leapt into her patrol's mouths -- they must have been just as joyous at being released from their icy prison.

She sets it onto the fresh-kill pile, blue eyes wandering as kits begin to scrap near the nursery. Lilybloom is watching them, Lakemoon nearby, seemingly relaxing after a more strenuous job. Iciclepaw can see the way her sister watches the kits -- and has, too, noticed the way she's snuck sideways looks at the pretty silver tabby beside her. She smiles, though it's small, secretive, and she lets it dissolve by the time she's made it over to the other she-cats.

"Looks like everyone's enjoying the weather," she comments, pale blue eyes flicking from Lakemoon to her eldest sister. "Who roped you into kitsitting, Lilybloom?" She sits beside Lakemoon, beginning to groom her river-dank paws.

Kits. She's nearly a warrior, will be twelve moons in only two more, and still the idea that her parents had had Lilybloom so young in life is confounding to her. She cannot imagine being burdened for almost six moons, lugging an enormous belly around, unable to patrol or hunt or fish or defend RiverClan's borders. She supposes there is merit to a queen's job -- someone has to look after the future RiverClan warriors, after all.

Iciclepaw's gaze becomes distant as she observes the furballs stirring up dust. "I could never be stuck in the nursery," she says, almost to herself. The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes it is true. Iciclepaw is not built for motherhood. She is built to be the greatest RiverClan warrior their wetlands will ever see. She was made to defend her home with her last breath.

In her naivety, she cannot reconcile the idea of queenhood with this inevitable future she's devoted herself too.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[BUCKGAIT.]

MY NAME IS BRUTUS AND MY NAME MEANS HEAVY ✧​

the nursery. something she had used to stare into and sigh wistfully about. now, she is hesitant to be near it. as if someone would know. there is a chub within her mouth, fruit of her labor as she stumbles upon the apprentice and lilybloom, accompanied with lakemoon. iciclepaw speaks of her lack of wanting to be tucked away in a nursery. buckgait cannot blame her. it has been scaring her as well. perhaps, with paws empty and with nothing to do, she would be far too afraid to be left with her mind. for long moons.

she has no want for eating, so instead drops it off at the temporary fresh kill pile and comes back to the three mollies. eyes quick to spot the kits that lilybloom had been entrusted with. kits can be a handful, but thankfully it seemed like one was simply contempt with snoozing away. still, the deputy makes sure her words are small enough to not disturb duck. "let me know if you want help with it, lilybloom." an offer, as the molly turns to watch a game of mossball. a good way for kits to get their seemingly boundless energy out.
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[CICADASTAR]

cicadastar had always adored kits. their boundless energy, their insatiable curiosities, it endeared him where most would grow agitated. in his fourty - plus moons of life, he’d not the chance to have his own, had never once thought to try. the youth about hare whiskers colony were more than enough — a brood now well into adulthood, wherever they had ended up. like lilybloom was now, he was often asked to sit with litters while their parents were busy. never long, he was no queen and the nursery was far from the place he most liked to spend his time. he’s padding by, a fish hanging from his maw when he overhears playful screeching. kittish yowls, ever familiar. it draws his eyes, softens a gaze tired, overworked.

newleaf. it brings with it many miracles — brings life, new and bright. but iciclepaw speaks, and it draws his attention towards the small group watching their youth play. lilybloom lies with a kit snoring into her fur and he chuckles beneath his breath — no, he couldn’t imagine the little tortie anywhere near queenship. smokethroat would have her head for efforts wasted, if not anything else, “ to each their own, iciclepaw. “ he says, amusement trilling his words around shining silver scales. he dips his head, lets the fish drop from his teeth, nudges it with ivory knuckles towards lilybloom, “ then again, one could be both — willowroot seems to be getting along just fine, hm? “ a few moons in the nursery.. they seemed to have taken it well. boneripple.. had been a different story. wrangling the dark - pelted molly back to her nursing nest had been difficult enough.

his eyes finally move towards the elder molly, “ you look a little tied up. “ the mottled felidae speaks playfully, softly, tipping his head at the kit curled right at her side. duckkit. a rambunctious little thing — one needed to play hard to sleep hard, he knew. he taps the fish once, “ eat, starclan knows you’ll need your energy when he wakes. how you got him to sleep to begin with.. beyond me. “ the child was a force to be reckoned with.

− ♱ information out of character ⟐ visual reference translated ♱ −

• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• 
• none.

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[LILYBLOOM.]

Lakemoon assures her that she wouldn't disturb the snoozing Duckkit, citing her impressive stalking skills. As the silver she-cat sits beside her, Lilybloom shifts to make more room for her friend, careful not to disturb the sleeping kitten at her side. Lakemoon asks if she's having fun, spoken in a slightly teasing tone. Lilybloom considers this for a moment before answering. "I guess," She confirmed with a small grin. "They're not so bad when they're not clambering over you wanting to attack a 'predator'."

As they are sat there watching over the kittens, more cats wander over, Iciclepaw, Buckgait, and Cicadastar. Iciclepaw comments that she could never be stuck in the nursery. "You might change your mind one day in the future, Iciclepaw," Lilybloom commented, a teasing tone to her voice. She could not imagine her sister having kits as a young warrior as their parents had when Lilybloom was born. Iciclepaw seemed mostly focused on becoming the best warrior she could be and under her mentor's tutelage she had truly flourished. As for herself, Lilybloom had never really considered kits too much. She was fond of them but had scarcely imagined having any of her own before. Still, it might be nice one day to have children of her own, kits she could teach to swim and catch fish. Kits who could listen to stories told by her from the time before the clans, ensuring the history of their family was not lost to time. A few moments passed before Lilybloom realised she had been thinking of kits for some time almost missing out on the words of Buckgait and Cicadastar.

The deputy offered some help if she needed it, and Lilybloom smiled politely in her direction. "Thank you for the offer, Buckgait," She mewed. "I think I'll be alright though."

Green eyes then shift to Cicadastar, who has nudged a fish towards her, imploring her to eat and keep up her strength. "The fish is much appreciated," Lilybloom smiled, giving an appreciative nod. The tortoiseshell lowered her head to take a few bites. "Uh oh," She suddenly lifted her head as she was eating. "Here comes trouble." Behind Cicadastar, Buckgait, and Iciclepaw the tiny pitter patter of pawsteps can be heard as the four kits have left their game game of mossball behind and now seem content to weave their way through the legs of the older cats. ​

 

[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

Snakeblink didn’t mean to stop near the little group gathered around Lilybloom. He’s neither comfortable nor welcome around kits, usually, and besides he’s on his way to the freshkill pile and the gnawing hunger in his guts will accept no setbacks.

Except that just as he’s walking past them, the four tiny terrors tumbling in the dust suddenly tire of their moss ball and run past him in their hurry to go pester the adults minding them. One nearly trips him, running underfoot, and he instinctively makes a grab for them before they can send him tumbling down (or before he walks over them, which would be less embarrassing but infinitely more likely to get him bitten by a queen).

A little put upon by the sudden presence of a mewling kitten held awkwardly between his jaws by the scruff of their backside, Snakeblink turns around and drops his [carry] next to Lakemoon.

“Pardon me, you seem to have misplaced this.” He simpers, aware that he’s sacrificing the younger warrior to the kit’s desire for entertainment and entirely unapologetic.

The kitsitter’s younger sister muses about not wanting to have kits of her own, which Snakeblink understands. She’s young: no one her age should be thinking about kits yet. Hell, he’s not thinking about it, and he’s old enough to be her father. Perish the thought.

(It would be nice, wouldn't it? Nice, yes — but given his family history, perhaps it's for the best if he doesn't invite further tragedy into his life.)

Curious, he turns to the other warriors watching the scene. ”Do you see yourself with kits?” Cicadastar’s answer in particular interests him: knowing a little of Buckgait’s history, he thinks he can guess at her reply.​

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 37 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

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[LAKEMOON]

✵ ღ ☾ IT TOOK ME BY SURPRISE - It doesn’t take long before Iciclepaw settles beside her, proclaiming that she could never be stuck in the nursery.
She is young- they both are, but Lakemoon found herself silently agreeing with the fiery apprentice. A legacy is important of course, but Lakemoon couldn’t see herself being cooped up in the nursery for what may feel like moons on end, she doesn’t think she has the maternal touch, unlike Lilybloom, she idly thinks as she sees the tortoiseshell warrior curled up with Duckkit sleeping at her flank.
Honey sweet words draw her from her thinking and silver maw parts to reply, but Cicadastar and Buckgait arrive, and Lakemoon tilts her head slightly as she listens on, content in slightly leaning against Lilybloom, but not with enough weight to unsteady her still posture, ever so mindful of Duckkit.
Pardon me, you seem to have misplaced this.
Something squirms at her side, and before she can properly blink, two wide eyes are staring up at her in wonder, shamelessly clambering up her flank and attempting to steady themselves between her narrow shoulder blades, squealing as they revealed one small scar after another, revealed only by the ruffling of her pelt. ❝ Thanks, this is exactly what I was looking for.❞ Lakemoon retorts, her sarcasm echoing in her hushed tone as she is transformed into a glorified jungle gym.
Yet, when the rumble of kits finally arrive to swarm the older cats, the kit that had been placed at her side is now tumbling off to pounce on what Lakemoon could only assume is a friend or littermate. ❝ They might wake Duckkit, and then we’ll be really outnumbered.❞
❝ Speech. ❞

THE HATRED IN HER EYES​

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