private RESPITE FROM THE STORM [family]

It has been days since Rimekit had been taken from her. Bluefrost is dutiful — she goes, escorted by Dimmingsun, to the medicine cat's den, and there she gulps her lungwort; there she tucks herself into her daughter's sickbed, and she lets her feed until she cannot anymore, until her tiny white belly is rounded and full. And then she makes herself peel away, makes herself leave Rimekit alone. (She is not alone. She has her true mother.) But even as she thinks this, Bluefrost mourns the space where Rimekit should be at her flank. Bluefrost mourns the absence of her daughter.

Perhaps Thriftfeather's presence has comforted her. The other kits grow stronger. Stouter. He is never far from his family; he has nowhere to go, nowhere to stretch his legs, and the two of them, for better or worse, are forced to experience familial bliss in cramped quarters.

"I miss Rimekit," Bluefrost would whisper, and perhaps he'd have a comforting word for her, but when she drifts off to sleep, she is thinking of her sister's kit cold and hungry and stranded from her littermates. She is thinking of —

My kit. My daughter. Soon, it becomes second nature to say this. They all share her blood. They all drink the milk of her body. They all will know her values, her rules. They will know one father, one devoted father. Even against her instinct, the five kittens' heritage begins to blur together in her mind.

Could that be the sleepless nights? Could that be the contemptuous glares her Clanmates cast her and the father of her children?

They are alone. They are an island. And on this day — she thinks she can feel a nip in the air, even tucked away inside the nursery — something stirs between the five of them. Bluefrost earnestly cleans small, stout, fluffy-furred Foalkit after a feeding, and as she turns him so he faces her, she is met with —

"Thriftfeather!" Her breath catches in her throat. "StarClan, look! Foalkit is..." The tightly-sealed slits in his face have parted to reveal a milky sky-blue. He sees. He sees them, his mother, his father, his siblings.

Something twists in her belly; it is the most she has felt in days. The gray-pelted queen leans closer to her son, staring into his eyes as though he will speak to her. "He sees us," she whispers, still startled.

  • ooc: @Thriftfeather @FOALKIT @Comfreykit @Asterkit @sootkit.
  • 69334192_7vVwuq2U19bWMTh.png
  • 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.


 

The little tom had maybe had a flash of mawkish loss when one of the many wriggling bodies next to him had disappeared, but the space had quickly been filled - there was no emotional attachment that Comfreykit had to any of his siblings, writhing little creatures that they were, as he hadn't the capacity to form any attachments besides his instinctual, fervent kneading for milk and warmth. He thoroughly enjoyed his immutable world, dark and warm and all-encompassing.

That was, until the novel day came, a day like any other, a piece of time floating in the timeless abyss that had been Comfreykit's life up until this point. It happened suddenly, a few moments after one of the masses next to him started wiggling more than was typical; and then like magic, Comfreykit saw light. He saw color, even if he knew not what that meant. There were blurry figures moving, shifting, and Comfreykit let out a, "Meep!" in short protest of this newfound sense.

Opalescent blue eyes coruscated in the dim light of the nursery, juxtaposed against his gray face. In a rather pithy display of wanting to return to the simpler world he once knew, Comfreykit vehemently squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a grumble. It was a ubiquitous thing, the opening of eyes of the siblings at Bluefrost's belly. The kit clearly hadn't found the new experience worthwhile, but he had been at his zenith while seeing - a bittersweet experience, he would have decided if he could.

Slowly, little blue eyes opened once more, a sort of grimace coming over Comfreykit's face as he took in the sight before him: Bluefrost's white belly, fuzzy with fur.

 
There are countless things about being grown that Thriftfeather had taken for granted. It isn't until he is confined with the kits that Thriftfeather is confronted with the magnitude of all that they need to learn. His own memories of before WindClan are scant—he certainly doesn't remember the first time he had pulled his eyes open, his first uncertain steps, the first time the sounds he had made forced themselves into meaning. Some part of him had assumed that kits had grown faster than this: even in his earliest of memories he was capable of far more than his litter now.

Still, Bluefrost beckons Thriftfeather closer with enough wonder in her voice that Thriftfeather is already feeling something light in his bones as he leans over her and, for the first time, looks into Foalkit's eyes.

"His eyes are blue," Thriftfeather doesn't realize his smile until he hears his own voice. Foalkit will not remember this moment, does not share in the quiet and consuming awe that has settled over Thriftfeather's shoulders, so Thriftfeather tries to memorize every detail he can just in case Foalkit might ask about this moment, once he is capable, "Do you think they'll stay blue?"

And then, at once, another.

"Comfreykit too," Excitement bleeds into his words, still kept quiet enough as to not disturb the kits, "He's also—he just blinked."

Now that one has started, does that mean that they will all open their eyes at once? Is Rimekit blinking open her eyes for the first time as well? His heart aches with the thought, and still he rasps his tongue over Foalkit and Comfreykit in turn, strangely proud of them for accomplishing a task that age has made simple.​
DUSKCLAN DEPUTY ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 19 MOONS ✦ TAGS
 

Asterkit is not aware of Rimekit's absence. She is too young to discern that one of the four bodies that had swarmed around her days ago was missing. She will remember little of these days of her youth, where the only troubles she would have would be competing for the most food from her mother alongside four equally hungry kits.

A kit opening its eyes for the first time was one of those milestones that parents would recall fondly in the moons to come. For a kit, such as Asterkit herself, she would not remember the day when it happened. Foalkit and Comfreykit open their eyes first - not that Asterkit knows this of course - becoming the first to see their parents and the wider world around them. Asterkit opens her eyes a short time later and emitted a shrill, "Meew!" It was one borne of pure shock, her kitten brain unable to fully appreciate what she was seeing, or what to do with this new sense. Unlike Comfreykit, she does not close her eyes immediately afterwards. Her tiny grey head swivels, seeing but not quite comprehending. Then, with a little huff, she decides she has seen enough for now, closes her eyes again and laid her head back down.
 
"His eyes are blue," Thriftfeather says, as astonished as she feels. Bluefrost blinks, thinking of the blue eyes her sister wears, inherited from Weaselclaw, and she hastily pushes the thought away. All kitten eyes are blue; aren't they? This does not augur badly for their future as Thriftfeather's kits. "They shall be green," she declares, hastily bending toward Comfreykit and administering a rasping tongue over his tiny face. Like his brother, the little coal-pelted kitten gazes around him with fulgent, if clueless, sapphire eyes.

Warmth swells from her heart, unfamiliar but immutable. The kinship she shares with Foalkit and Comfreykit is undeniable despite the twisted nature of their bond. Even as their milky blue eyes find their parents' faces, the white fur on her belly, she thinks of Rimekit, and the grief that clenches her heart is enough to wipe the timorous smile from her muzzle.

The queen's gaze drifts just far enough. Her daughter, trueborn, has shifted, has turned her gray-streaked xanthic face toward her mother's. Eyelids peel back. Pieces of the sky glow between them. She surprises herself, it seems — her momentous milestone is accompanied by a squeak. "Your daughter, too," she says, and gently goes to touch her nose to Thriftfeather's to mark the occasion.

Bluefrost watches her, wordless, as Asterkit's eyelids slip back over the pallid expanse of her gaze. She is lulled back toward comfort, like Comfreykit.

"We are only waiting on you, now, little one," she murmurs, twisting to anoint Sootkit on the zenith of her skull.

  • ooc:
  • 69334192_7vVwuq2U19bWMTh.png
  • 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.


 

˗ˏˋ ✶ ˎˊ˗ He was born an overachiever, it seems. He was born with the want to chase something novel, something exciting. The genesis of this impulse comes when he is only a few days old. Before all of his siblings', Foalkit's eyes begin to slowly blink open. He takes his time with it, slowly lets the slit of his eyes part, lets the light flood in.

It is all at once unremarkable and overwhelming. Beyond the dark that he has known, a world coruscates in white. His eyes quickly shut once again. "Mrrh!" the kit chirps vehemently. Bluefrost has seen him, though; she speaks in obscured tones, excitement bleeding through her voice. His eyes open once again. A fuzzy whiteness eclipses all before him. the shifting shapes of shadows all but too vague to make out. His eyes do not find his parents' faces.

While the other kits coo and awe, wide eyes blinking blearily at their parents, Foalkit's blue eyes drift aimlessly. It is not all too noticeable; distractability, maybe. He lets out a yawn.


  • 86977438_sozbAGprHOqPVQd.png


    "SPEECH"
  • FOALKIT he / him, windclan kit, zero moons.
    a freckled black smoke with bicolored eyes.
    cottonsprig x foxglare (unknowingly); littermate to rimekit & comfreykit.
    adopted by bluefrost, adopted sibling to asterkit & sootkit.
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
 
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