- Jul 6, 2023
- 216
- 71
- 28
Fraying strands knot together and tangle in a tapestry of purpose, intention and mistake. The quilt has holes, awkwardly knitting chains like a novice is at tail end of those needles, working tirelessly to right their wrongs, to adapt and learn through the uncomfortable bumps. They lay languidly on it, watch it become woven around them as time trickles on and makes it harder and harder to undo the tangles. No amount of plucking at the strings can reverse this now.
Dreams of star-dusted nights spent roaming meager tree-lines and alleyways give a sense of blissful comfort, content to live in those memories where things were simpler... enjoyable. Where pale eyes fell upon them with kindness and adoration in stolen glances. Escapades of sun-dappled fur through the tall pines, a willowy gossip in tow. The sound of the trees shifting in warm breeze, sorely missed after so long spent locked behind a window pane.
The illusion is quickly ruined by a sharp pain, one that draws verdant meadows to a open, creased dismay. Had the time already passed so quickly... that it could no longer be recounted as a silly future? No more daydreaming about names and what color their little toes will be, the smell of downy kitten fur. Reality comes crashing down around them and though there is safety here, fear clings desperately to a fluttering bird trapped between their ribs.
So many what ifs rattle around their head that it all feels like a blur- what if I'm not ready?- but kittens would not and could not wait for such a time- what if I'm not good at this?- but no parent was ever handed a guide.
By the time the fog of pain and confusion and doubt disperses, there are two, impossibly small kittens. They are incredibly pale, much like their parents who are littered with the argent shade... Inky marks have adorned the head and spine of one of them as if a reflection of their dam and the other remains plain as untouched snow. What odd luck. Nosing gingerly at their wriggling bodies, an deluge of relief rushes through their limbs as if rejuvenated by the squeals of greedy mouths.
They are every bit as adorable as Butterflytuft's had been, made only sweeter in their relation to Edenberry. "Hi there," they murmur softly, choking on conflicted tears, "It's nice to finally meet you..." They lift their head towards the sound of approaching paws, drawing their lips wide in a cheek-splitting smile, "Spicepaw! Come see," they purr, bobbed tail flicking excitedly against the ground.
Dreams of star-dusted nights spent roaming meager tree-lines and alleyways give a sense of blissful comfort, content to live in those memories where things were simpler... enjoyable. Where pale eyes fell upon them with kindness and adoration in stolen glances. Escapades of sun-dappled fur through the tall pines, a willowy gossip in tow. The sound of the trees shifting in warm breeze, sorely missed after so long spent locked behind a window pane.
The illusion is quickly ruined by a sharp pain, one that draws verdant meadows to a open, creased dismay. Had the time already passed so quickly... that it could no longer be recounted as a silly future? No more daydreaming about names and what color their little toes will be, the smell of downy kitten fur. Reality comes crashing down around them and though there is safety here, fear clings desperately to a fluttering bird trapped between their ribs.
So many what ifs rattle around their head that it all feels like a blur- what if I'm not ready?- but kittens would not and could not wait for such a time- what if I'm not good at this?- but no parent was ever handed a guide.
By the time the fog of pain and confusion and doubt disperses, there are two, impossibly small kittens. They are incredibly pale, much like their parents who are littered with the argent shade... Inky marks have adorned the head and spine of one of them as if a reflection of their dam and the other remains plain as untouched snow. What odd luck. Nosing gingerly at their wriggling bodies, an deluge of relief rushes through their limbs as if rejuvenated by the squeals of greedy mouths.
They are every bit as adorable as Butterflytuft's had been, made only sweeter in their relation to Edenberry. "Hi there," they murmur softly, choking on conflicted tears, "It's nice to finally meet you..." They lift their head towards the sound of approaching paws, drawing their lips wide in a cheek-splitting smile, "Spicepaw! Come see," they purr, bobbed tail flicking excitedly against the ground.
- @arethusakit @Mizzlekit @spicepaw [hi babies...]
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-- edenberry / skyclan daylight warrior / any pronouns / 15 moons
-- mostly white with black pinstripe and green eyes / scarred face and back / skinny where previously plump
-- color #728c69