sensitive topics parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme // return with.. kits?

[slateheart]

CW: mentions of death & depression

What was supposed to be a heartful reunion resulted only in a night of grief, loss, and broken trust.

Gladefrost proposed, last time they met, to meet Slateheart before the kittens were estimated to be born. He was excited, sure, but fussed about it in the days and nights before the moon phased. And - he was damned right to fuss. Anger simmers in the tom as he reaches the peak of the small hill that surrounds WindClan's hollow. It is the only way he feels he can process his grief.

He is angry at his mate, who is being carried home with the rest of their kits as they speak, for endangering herself so - angry more at himself for allowing it, for relishing it. He is angry at Sunstar and Lichenstar, for denying his kits the right to be together, and by extension denying his rights to be with his kits. And then, simultaneously, angry at himself for being so.. selfish. He had not learned from his childhood, it seems; all the grief he felt when he was separated from his sister and mothers, and all the longing he endured upon realizing Ashpaw lives in RiverClan, and Silverfoot lives stubbornly in the barn.

Gladefrost's life, his kits' siblings, all torn away in one night, the trust of Dimmingsun and Sunstar - Stars, how could he be so selfish?




It is only the kitten in his jaws, and the one that Dimmingsun carries as he follows him into camp, that stops Slateheart from abandoning WindClan entirely, just as he felt the need to do every time he'd done something horribly wrong. Like Bluepool's death, and Lilypaw's death, both of which were no doubtedly contributed to by his own neglect.

There are eyes upon him as Slateheart hurriedly bounds down the slope to camp. The pitiful wails of his kitten pierce the deafening silence of surprise that takes place before the interrogation must begin. " I need - Cottonsprig, " he pleads through cold kitten fur, to make sure that the cold they rested in did not seep into them in the form of terrible sickness. They are all he has left, he feels; he can't lose them now.

If he dares look at the cats around camp, he fears he'd see faces devoid of warmth. There is no Rattleheart to instruct him, like she did all those moons ago when he carried Lilypaw to the barn just as he carries his daughter now. Sunstar, who followed them home, only seems to look at him like a disappointed stranger. I don't know what to do, he longs to cry out, just like he did to Dimmingsun when Gladefrost's warmth left her body. Just like he did when Bluepool died, like when he found Lilypaw in the snow.. his heart aches for those he lost, and those who are on the verge of being lost. All my fault.

SLATEHEART ( he/him )​

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( ooc ) @SUNSTAR @dimmingsun @valleykit @GORSEKIT but no need to wait! takes place after this thread

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[THISTLEPAW !]

---

He hadn't drifted into sleep yet. The temperature drops but even so he cannot be lulled into sleep by the warmth and comfort being shared with him by Bunnypaw's body next to his. He lays watching the stars above, the way they glint and blink at him and WindClan as a whole. Was Rattleheart watching them even now? Even with traitors amidst their ranks, residing in the nursery like nothing changed by their actions?

His claws unsheathe and press into the moss bedding he shares with his littermate. How long until Sunstar made a choice? The choice - he wouldn't be happy with anything but the exile of Thriftfeather, send him back to the rogues he chose to live with and feed for so many moons.

A high-pitched cry from the entrance to camp is nothing short of startling. It's the same noise Bluefrost's kids had made when she'd brought them in, and Thistlepaw can already feel his blood beginning to boil. His eyes snap from the silverpelt to the dark figure of Slateheart ( his mentor's sibling, no less ) standing there with a kit. Dimmingsun has another.

The apprentice inhales sharply, eyes narrowed as he gets up to get closer, careful not to disturb Bunnypaw. He doesn't call for Cottonsprig, doesn't utter a word for many uncomfortably eerie moments, simply eyeing the kits, then Slateheart. "Whose are these?" The seal-point questions, judgemental, but his voice carries no intonation. Say they aren't yours. Say you aren't a traitor. He fears he already has an answer to that.

𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 *:･ﾟ✧ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓

• 
  ooc. —
  
• 
  

  LH Seal-point with low white​

  
• 
  
  
  THISTLEPAW he / him apprentice of windclan
  son of Rattleheart x Venomstrike, brother to Bunnypaw, Crunchykit, Vinekit and Splinterkit.
  Lissom seal-point prickly-furred kitten with white markings on his face, chest, belly, paws and tail. His tail is long and has a tufted tip.
  "speech" thoughts

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[downyfur]

A watery shriek cuts through the cozy monotony of night. Downyfur jerks awake, scrabbling paws sending scraps of dried grass flying from their nest, claws already pricking from their sheaths. What now? Rogues—or DuskClan? Cats rise like ghosts around them, some flung out of sleep like Downyfur, others innocently meandering away from it. Their head snaps towards the entrance, dreading another legion of shadows and sharp teeth spilling through the gorse tunnel, fangs locked around the source of the coltish wail.

A paltry imitation greets them all instead. Slateheart, Dimmingsun... Sunstar? She didn't think the leader would leave Wolfsong's side for anything, much less a midnight stroll. The little feline drifts closer, soon alighting on the bundles swinging from stiff jaws, their fur glistening just the slightest bit with wetness. "What happened? Is everything alright?" she's among the first to whisper. Thistlepaw demands information from them, but the warrior just murmurs, "Don't tell me..." I thought we weren't taking in any more kittens? After Lungwortkit— Naked concern gleams on the moonlit planes of their face as they scry the toms' for any hint of answer.

They're so small. Stars. They're newborns. Downyfur had never seen a newly born kit, but these were smaller than even Bluefrost's. Stars, we're going to be overrun with bastards. They cringe at the thought, but they can't shake it entirely from their skull. Sootstar's lingering influence, they suppose, but all these kittens without WindClan parentage would all grow up with something to prove.

Or could they still be—? They don't remember any foolhardy queens taking leave in the middle of the night, but maybe one had gone to make dirt, and... That doesn't quite explain the expressions on their faces, hard as they are to discern in the darkness. "I'll get, er, someone," they mutter, excusing themself with a dip of their head. "Celandinepaw! Cottonsprig!" They're surely already awake, but Downyfur can't stand being in that crowd any longer.

ooc: @cottonsprig @CELANDINEPAW ​

 

[valleykit]

The trip from their mother's corpse, to that of a windswept moorland, leaves Valleykit shivering. The newborn, once quiet at Gladefrost's cooling body, cried now in earnest- shrieking noises of cold and pain. The journey had been long, too long, and know they were carried into a place only getting over a riddled sickness. Valleykit dangles from the jaws of Dimmingsun, his paws kicking at the ground too far to touch.

Blind and deaf, unaware of where they were or what was going on beyond cold, so cold, cold. There would be retelling of these tales as they got older, but tonight would never be remembered in Valleykit's mind.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ┌── the street is for the laughter ⋅❁⋅ of young women and men ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• VALLEYKIT they/he/she, kit of windclan, two moons.
  ⭃ LH lilac tabby / chocolate mix with high white and stunning blue and yellow eyes. they are of smaller build, likely only to end up tunneler sized, and speak with a soft cadence.
  ⭃ mentored by no one / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ mated to no one / / sibling to gorsekit
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[BLUEFROST]

There is movement outside the nursery, despite the late hour. Bluefrost stirs, her green eyes parting into gleaming slits. She shoves Thriftfeather with a forepaw, murmuring, "What is going on?" He does not waken in time for her curiosity to be satiated, however; she can hear cries for her sister, can hear the mewling of kits, and these drive her to leave her own in a sleeping pile in the nest she shares with their father.

She crests the nursery's exit. Slateheart has returned to camp; there's dried tearstains on the jet-black fur of his face. A kitten swings from his jaws, pale and cold and mewling desperately for warmth and milk. Bluefrost freezes; the scene is a familiar one, is it not?

Her gaze trails to the silhouettes who coalesce behind Slateheart. Dimmingsun. Sunstar. She is about to ask her own questions, but Thistlepaw beats her to the punch. "Whose are those?" Bluefrost's gaze sharpens. Thistlepaw sees what she sees — that there is something going on beneath the obvious, that Slateheart did not just stumble over a pair of kits and find himself escorted home by a lead warrior and the WindClan leader himself.

Even Downyfur's murmur, hushed, reaches her ears: "Don't tell me..." Bluefrost's shoulders are stiff, even as the kittens shriek.

"Where did they come from?" She speaks with lost authority, stolen authority, but at present, she is a WindClan queen, and she is one of the very few with the ability to nurse. And it will be a cold day in the darkest corner of hell before I nurse kits from another Clan. Her gaze flicks toward Dimmingsun and lingers there, accusing. You had better have a good explanation for this.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 18 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan queen. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

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[GRAVELSNAP]

➴➴ The commotion at the heather-lined camp entrance draws Gravelsnap's attention, and they climb to their paws with a grunt. Eel-black tail brushes against their mate's pelt, a touch that promises to return to the nest soon. For good measure, they touch their nose delicately to Periwinklebreeze's forehead, and then set off toward the noise that rises in the air. They expect some kind of argument between the night guards, or a reason for concern, but instead they are met with their brother's face, partially obscured by the tiny body of a kit. "Slateheart..." the name slips past their parted jaws in a whisper, a question clenched between pearly teeth. At the same time, anger courses through their veins. All that they can think of is the worst. Sunstar had made his position clear already: any kits found on WindClan territory would be turned away, taken to the barn and left in the care of one of the loners there. The scent of the wetlands clings to the pelts of the trio of WindClanners, and it rouses the tom's suspicion even more. The kits clutched in Slateheart and Dimmingsun's mouths... must belong to a WindClanner. But what kind of foolish queen would wander off on their own in the middle of the night to have their kits? And why do the trio of toms look so upset—or is it a trick of the dim light? Every detail only serves to confuse them more.

Where did they come from, asks Bluefrost, a question echoed in Gravelsnap's gaze. Downyfur has gone to fetch one of the clan's healers, because these kits surely need to be looked over, but everyone else seems to focus on the kits themselves, and the cats who have returned with them. First Periwinklebreeze, then Cottonsprig, then Sootspot, and now Slateheart... how many kits born of outsiders must WindClan harbor?

I DON'T NEED THE STARS ➼ I GLOW IN THE DARK

• ooc: —
• 
• GRAVELSNAP ❯❯ they/he, moor runner of windclan
  ⭃ average-sized black and white warrior who seems smaller than he is. speaks rarely and quietly.
  ⭃ mate to periwinklebreeze ; sibling to slateheart
  ⭃ mentoring sheeppaw & thistlepaw ; formerly mentored thriftfeather
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay is allowed, but they hate physical contact & will lash out if not close friends / family
  ⭃ penned by foxlore

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[GORSEKIT]

Dangling in her father's jaws, Gorsekit cries out again, the cold biting at her fragile and small body. She's unaware of the true nature of her clanmate's concerns and suspicions. Her only concerns in this moment are warmth, and food. The day had already been long enough for such a small kit, and the more time she was carried by her scruff in her father's jaws only left her colder and hungrier.
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YOU KNOW IM A DREAMER ⋆ BUT MY HEARTS OF GOLD

• ooc. — ​

• 

• GORSEKIT
  ↪ gorsekit / cisgender female (she/her)
  ↪ gladefrost x slateheart / gen 03 / sibling to valleykit, stormkit, ryekit, & moonkit
  ↪ 02 moons / ages realistically on the 1st
  ↪ kit of windclan / mentored by none
  ↪ sh chocolate
  ↪ peaceful/healing actions may be powerplayed / attack in underline & @/account
  ↪ link to tags / link to toyhouse / penned by link to profile
  ​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

It is her night to guard camp. Scorchstorm recalls Sunstar's departure — recalls the strange bell it had struck within her to see him up and about again, the mote of worry it had put into her pelt. Now he returns, wearing weariness like a moth-eaten sweater, much like the two toms that precede him. She feels her white brows draw together slowly, though she says nothing at first. A dark shadow descends over them all even in the pitch of night; each WindClanner that comes to meet this funeral procession is gilded in confusion and hurt and anger in some way or another. Deja vu settles upon her in a thick blanket — she can almost see the golden gleam of blue fur at sunset, the wriggling bodies of wheat-flecked kits.

But now is not then. There is a marked heaviness of mourning now, a sense that something more terrible than simple betrayal has taken place. She does not indulge it. Instead she turns her eyes to Dimmingsun and to Sunstar in turn, silent and imploring, what happened? Her clanmates are already asking the more pointed questions. Downyfur sprints away in search of Cottonsprig and Celandinepaw; the kits that swing from the warriors' jaws cry out and shiver in the leaf-fall cold. She finds that her heart does not move as immediately as it once would have. She finds that instead of kittens, newborns, she sees only more evidence of the rot of betrayal in WindClan's ranks; sees only more liability in each searching flex of the kits' paws.

It should make her feel worse, she thinks, to know that that is how she sees them — but the mild, downward tug of her heart is all that ails her.

Whose are they? Where did they come from? Scorchstorm wonders the same as her eyes search Sunstar and Dimmingsun; as her shoulders bristle with implication. Another betrayal. Another set of bastard mouths. Another humiliation of WindClan's council. "At least it is not yet leafbare," she mumbles without happiness or relief. In fact, it seems that Scorchstorm has piled all of her simmering resentment into the words. She shoots Slateheart a curdling frown, but without more information, finds she has little more to say.

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍’𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 ✧

• ooc.
  
• SCORCHSTORM —— lead warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 18 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• 

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[cottonsprig]

Cottonsprig stirs, as if the stars themselves ruffle her fur and guide her to the waking world. Her eyes blink open to the darkness of her den and nothing more, the sweet dream she had been experiencing lost to her as soon as she relents. All she can recall is kittens crying, pitifully - she called it something phantom, the broken pain in her chest willing her to remember her loss that lays only a few foxlengths away. And then... the kitten crying continues.

Her name is said. Once, pleading. Twice, in urgency. She pushes to her paws with her eyebrows knitted together, follows Downyfur out of her den and finding just what everyone else has found. Two kits and three toms. StarClan, you have me writhing. She nearly damns the silent stars as she looks on to her leader, her fellow councilman, to Slateheart. Questions sprout from mouths of those still awake, those waking up. The same pitiful thought is shared between them all - More mouths to feed? More bastards to hold fast to?

Cottonsprig closes the distance between herself and the morose toms. If allowed, she reaches up Dimmingsun's figure and tries to grasp the kitten from him. She asks no question, poses no dissonance between herself and Slateheart. Her job in the Clan is clearer to her now than ever - a job that will be stolen from her in seasons to come, no doubt, but a job that she can do well while she still has it.

"To me, Slateheart," she murmurs in tired softness. "Questions can be answered later. With me, first, and then the nursery. A queen will nurse them..." Cottonsprig looks to Sunstar, searches through the fatigue in his gaze. She feels she knows his pain, to watch another cat of his trust break the code. Surely he knows the pain in her, too, to care for kittens that are not her own. She lowers her eyes slightly, "Questions can be answered later. It's late - everyone should get back to sleep."

She holds her power where she can. Sunstar can override her should he wish, but she clings to the tendrils of what she has and tempts no room for argument.

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

• ooc // IGNORE NOW LATE THIS IS

• ❥ MEDICINAL KNOWLEDGE
  ♥♥♡ WOUNDS ; can confidently stop bleeding and mend lacerations. will often request that you keep your injury clean and wait it out first.
  ♥♥♡ INFECTION ; as a side effect of likely her own doing, very dutiful with technique and treatment shortly thereafter.
  ♥♡♡ ACHES & PAINS ; will defer to a dark tunnel and rest. if pain persists, maybe she will offer something.
  ♥♡♡ BROKEN BONES ; has never dealt with a broken bone. likely will ask that you never move. ever again.
  ♥♥♥ TRAVELING HERBS ; learned well from her previous mentor. will pile even too many remedies to tough the wilderness with.
  ♥♥♥ KITTING ; having kittens of her own and helped several others with their litters, she is very well versed with calming techniques and quelling pain.
  ♥♡♡ POISONS ; she knows what they are... but that isn't enough, isn't it?
  ♥♥♡ ILLNESS ; having worked through two yellowcough bouts, she is confident in her remedies. much else... she's operating on trial and error.
  ⸻ cottonsprig is a dutiful and excitable medicine cat. she enjoys company and loves conversation. she'd rather not have too many curious noses snooping around her den... but who is she to quell curiosity?

• 

  ⸻❥ cottonsprig is the primary medicine cat of windclan. a former princess to the moors, she harbors many guilts for her actions throughout her short life. she has no consistent partner, unwilling to commit and settle, and she is training celandinepaw in medicine.

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