over the rainbow || intro, birth

gardenia

gardenia

New member
Jun 7, 2022
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la vie en rose​
It was obvious to anyone who looked that Gardenia was about ready to give birth. Her stomach was nice and round, bigger than it had been during her first pregnancy.

She was ready for this to be done. While she loved kits, being pregnant was entirely miserable. Every muscle in her body was sore and she was of no help to her friends. Sage, her mate, did everything he could to help, but there wasn't much he could do.

Gardenia was lounging in the sun when her contractions started. With a shout for someone to find Sage, she did her best to wobble into the nursery. "It's finally time!"

Sage arrived as her labor finished, four tiny balls of fluff resting against her stomach. The oldest child was a red and white tabby. "How do you feel about the name Aster?" Sage nodded and turned to the next kit. Curled against Aster was another red and white tabby, but this one had a lot more white. "Maybe Hyacinth for her?" Hyacinth let out a small sound and Gardenia chuckled. "I think she approves." Next was a cream tabby. "I was thinking his name could be Daffodil." Sage nodded again. The youngest was a rather unique looking kit. He had patches of silver, black, and white. Gardenia had never seen a cat that looked like him. "And lastly, Basil."

Gardenia purred, lifting her nose to press against Sage's. "Welcome to the world, little ones."​
❋ ❀ ❋​


@BASIL @daffodil @wolf_ (aster) <33333333333
 
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( ✧ ) Children. He hadn't much experience with them, barely any at all. It'd be considered a blessing to some. Crawling, sniveling, helpless little balls of fur. Unable to do so much as eat or walk without their parent's help. It's strange. He fails to see the appeal.

Maybe it was helping something that couldn't help itself, that mothers liked.

Blinding Star keeps a respectful distance. His usual carefree demeanor traded for a glimmer of curiosity, just for today. Their names seemed to follow a theme— Flora. A series of fair garden blooms ( and one rather drab-looking leaf ).

"Congratulations," The tom murmurs, peering at the bundles by Gardenia's side. He thinks those are the appropriate words, anyways.
​
 
in character   out of character   character tags   reference

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    ── For the most part, Roseal has spent his time in the marsh despairing the unholy degree of mud. He wouldn't be much of a loner if he stayed in just the one spot, though, and with the excuse of escaping the wet bog, he's come to the drier section of the woods. It isn't quite as comfortably dark as he'd like, but he's not coated in such a thick layer of mud that he's unrecognizable, either, so he'll take his victories where he can.

    What he hadn't planned on was finding recently birthed children and their glowing parents. He'd been nosing around to satiate his curiosity, and now he regrets it a bit. Roseal feels like even more of an interloper than he did originally, blinking profusely as he stares down at their small, squirming bodies. And their names— how very...thematic.

    "They seem very uh...plant-able, yeah," he says, rather than offering congratulations like the other audience member. He wouldn't be able to say it with any sincerity; he's not someone who sees new life as any particular kind of miracle. "Hopefully they'll be able to put down roots here." Seeing as there are two groups of cats intent on chasing the other one out. ​

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  • n/a​
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  • ──── surr'oseal'isme (roseal). he/him pronouns. roamer; goes where he pleases.
    ──── approximately thirty-eight months old; not entirely certain of his own age.
    ──── single & uninterested in any romantic attachments; possibly open for flings.
    ──── very tall, scarred albino with sharply-peaked ears and a bobbed, scruffy tail.​
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He couldn't say that he hated kits or loved them because he didn't have that much experience with them. He was around the age where toms usually tried to find mates and start their own families, but he couldn't say that he was desperate. No one really caught his eye and it's not like anyone came up to him and tried courting him. He just shrugged it off. If he thought about it deeply, then he would throw himself into a pool of insecurities. He didn't want to think about how he wasn't muscular like other toms in the group or that he was frankly tiny. In this group, those who had longer legs were more suited to climbing trees, which most cats did. That's not to say that having long legs was a must in a clan, but sometimes when he was in his thoughts that was his excuse. Whoa, hold no, we aren't doing this. Not today bad thoughts! Perish!

He feels less like an intruder with Blinding Star and Roseal with him. They are a reasonable distance from the new family, but he can't help but want to draw closer and see the little kits. He slowly takes some steps forwards and sees the squirming little bodies. Awww, they're cute. A smile etches itself to his face as he finds himself waving at the little things. Although he does feel embarrassed about it seconds later and quickly puts his paw down. Roseal speaking is his saving grace to draw any attention away from him. Once Roseal is done he awkwardly chips in, "Congrats. They're all cute."​
 
Though emoting is not his strong suit, Char is always glad to see new life coming into the world. He's fathered countless litters in his seventy moons. Though he has been a traveler and a rambling tom at heart and has not been present for many of his children's births, he carries that joy in his heart, and it gives him comfort to know he's brought this world more strong and healthy cats.

He gives Sage an approving look from moss-colored eyes, as if to say well done. He keeps his distance from the nursing queen, however; in his experience, she-cats can get testy around their kits when they are this small still. He notes the patterns of their fur, their lovely plant-based names. A ghost of a smile touches the scarred, grizzled tabby's muzzle.

"Congratulations to you both," he purrs, a rusty and rattling sound more akin to a viper's shaking tail. He gives the other toms present a cursory look. Blinding Star is smug and distant, as always; the albino is one he does not recognize, and who has a faint scent of marsh to him. Char does not think he stays in either place long enough to become too acquainted, but he looks at him with suspicion regardless. Maybe he's like Salamander. Not all bad.

His gaze flicks to Silk, the small white tom who offers the thought that Gardenia's newborns are cute. Char isn't sure 'cute' is the right word. He corrects, "They're beautiful, and one day they'll be strong. Can't wait to have young'uns scamperin' around again." His whiskers tremble. How long has it been since tiny paws batted his tail, tiny teeth bitten his ear? Far, far too long...
​
 

Daffodil’s first breath fluttered in his lungs, laborious and slow. He wasn’t able to see anything, but the air enveloping his small body was new; far from the comforting darkness he had grown used to. Maybe later once the fear was replaced by curiosity and he first wobbled onto his tiny legs, he would question what would have happened if he ever left the womb. For now, the kitten simply searched for anything that could replace the warmth, to shield him from the voices that couldn’t quite reach his ears.

( fall through the bliss of soltitude )​
​
 
Fritter approaches with wide eyes, the sounds of kittens mewling rising in the air. It had been far too long since she had heard that sound, an ear flicking as she lets her gaze linger on the new kits. Daffodil, Aster, Basil, and Hyacinth. Beautiful names, floral, with a spice hidden in there. She remains silent, fixated on the way the new life moves.
“Toutes mes félicitations.” she finds herself working out a sentence, breathing in a breath. She knows they don’t need her standing over them and just staring, but she can’t help herself at least watching from a tiny distance. They were so small, breathtaking- she watches them and she remembers the kit that had tagged along with her on the streets and she wonders what had happened to her, the tiny thing. Hunting after her father. Her eyes soften. “Congratulations. They’re beautiful.” she breathes out, dipping her head. What would it be like to have a litter of her own? Would they be just as tiny, defenseless? She blinks to block out the thoughts. She didn’t want kits, she was sure she wouldn’t be a good mother.
 




Aster ✧ they/them ✧ Pine Group. ░░░░░░░░░░░░░
Soft air filtered through tiny lungs, a meek cry came from the small red and white tabby kitten. The world seemed so dark as of right now but there was so much going on! There were so many voices that followed along with their mothers' and they wanted to know who they belonged to! So many scents followed through as their nose cleared up from mucus leaving. It was all so overwhelming yet so exciting to hear so many welcome them into the world! Who where these other voices? Where they friends? They hoped they could be friends!​
 

One moment, there was nothing, no thoughts just darkness, a subconscious not yet born until suddenly it was there. A sudden burst into a world full of light and sounds and scents that his tiny little mind could not yet comprehend. His littermates squeaked beside him, protested their indignation at being thrust into life with tiny mewling sounds. He would not go quite as peacefully. The tiny kit screamed at the top of his lungs, loudly calling out to whoever had done this to him, the pure wrongness of it all hit him all at once and he cried for all that he currently did not have. He was cold, hungry, and scared. Unable to see or hear except for muffled noises that he did not understand.

Not knowing what to do, he began to crawl, although unbeknownst to him he crawled in the wrong direction, following any source of noise he began to make his way towards a stranger before a sharp nudge sent him back in the direction of his mother, to which he also protested to at the top of his lungs. What he was calling for what he did not quite know. It is only when he finally finds milk and settles down with his littermates around him does he finally stop screaming.

He is not a cute kit like the rest of his siblings. Not even a minute old and his fur already looks like it’s gone through it’s own personal storm, even though he feels the gentle rasp of a tongue along his small coat, it pops back up like it has a mind of its own and it’s certain that his cries are not adding to his overall appeal. Nonetheless, he feels safe here, nestled among the others close to his mother. He would not know what they looked like for a time yet, would not know anything except the feeling of warmth and a full belly. It was a good life, for now. ​
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− ABOUT ! : his arrival is marked by nothing but a soft, quiet gasp ; he was relatively new to the forest and by extension the cats that inhabited it, but new life brings together the old, and he certainly felt his age. the cream selkirk rex lifts to his blonde toes to observe the mewling kittens, a brilliant grin marring the curvature of his flattened features. they were so little . . he could remember when his own were that young, rapidfire heart overgrown with pride and adoration despite their unique situation. molly had been less than pleased, but he supposed that was only normal. their twolegs had been kind enough, albeit a little pushy, and the mother of his kits had been there long before his arrival ; their conversations, while generically romantic, had never ventured much further than that. generic. the bitterness of a wasted life shone through his offspring now, and once they were old enough to be shown to other, prospective twolegs, he took his chances amongst the trees.

marigold settles just to the right of char, hilariously small and curled compared to his sleek, scarred bodice. brilliant yellow eyes linger on the married, pinkish tissue for only a second, swallowing hard against the nerves that creep steadily up his straining esophagus. he’d left his children to the promise of a new, doting home ; while he worried about silk, most of them had seemed excited to go off with their new families. as excited as they could be, he supposed. none of them truly retained their fathers lust for life, nor any idea of a world beyond their brightly colored walls.

maybe that was for the best.

aster releases a shrill, excitable cry and the smile that had faltered along the curled tom’s features morphed blinding once again, releasing a hearty chuckle and leaning towards char, “ strong already, looks like. what a voice on that one! “ purrs he, vocals alight with warmth. glowing luminaries shift towards the mother, then — gardenia, a molly he’d seen only in passing but considers a friend as he does most of the pine group who’d taken him in, “ my sincerest congratulations.. do you need anything? water? food? .. water? ” he’s already standing up to retrieve some moss to dunk and hopefully some prey amongst the ever - decreasing pile, curled tail swinging at his low heels.




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