saint bernard ✘ names

[SMOKESTAR]

He finds himself mulling over names despite himself, he'd told Cicadastar he'd not even humor the idea until they were sure there was even going to be a litter but the more days that passed by the more he was sure of it now that the likelihood of it was alarmingly high. Still, Smokethroat clung to his stubborness until confirmed, but he couldn't stop the thoughts. If you asked him to name a kit he would look at them and consider what they looked like and probably pick something mundane or uninteresting like color or patterns. Which, he found perfectly acceptable really. The dark tom didn't think a name had to be very fancy or ornate to have meaning and what was wrong with Blackkit or Whitekit if it suited them as it were? The true meaning of a name came from later in life, when one bore a suffix bestowed upon them by their leader to honor their dilligence in their training. In a way, Cicadastar would get to name them twice essentially. But if he had to think of a name with more meaning than a simple glance of outward appearances he found his thoughts drifting to his mentor as someone worth passing a name down from. Or he would have, if not the name being in use by a perfectly good owner already.
His lone orange gaze drifted over to Mosspaw, sitting at the freshkill pile and either contemplating what to get to eat or having just dropped something off; he hadn't been paying enough attention to tell but the young apprentice had his focus now. Standing stiffly he wandered over, curt nod in greeting before following her gaze downward, "Plenty to pick from if you haven't eaten already today." Smokethroat commented, pausing to look around for any of her fellow apprentices and finding none immediately; perhaps they were all out with their mentors, he wondered where Aspenhaze was in that case.
"Your mother named you well, you know. Moss is useful, ever present, something you don't think of often but the backbone of a clans comfort and wellbeing." For nesting, for medicine, to carry water to thirsty queens and kits, "Only one other cat I knew with such a name, I think she would have been honored someone like you is carrying it now."

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[Ooc]
Pafp - @Mosspaw
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[Mosspool]

Mosspaw padded into camp with her chest puffed up in pride and a fish between her jaws. Her fur was still a touch wet from her dip in the river, and she left a small trail of water in her wake. As she dropped the fruits of her labor into the freshkill pile, she noticed Smokethroat's approach out of the corner of her eye. She dipped her head to in respect to the deputy.

At his comment, she glanced back toward the freshkill pile. "There is." She hadn't eaten today, in fact, as she had been up early to go on patrol. That was something she should probably fix. Any thought of doing so, however, was instantly forgotten at his next words.

"Thank you, sir." Mosspaw tried to remain formal and stoic, but she couldn't keep the near purr out of her voice at Smokethroat's compliments. To her, his description of the qualities of moss sounded like that of the perfect warrior. Someone who did everything they could for Riverclan without aspiring to glory or power. That was who she wanted to be. Whoever the cat he spoke of was, she was certain they must have been one of the best warriors the clan had ever seen.

Mosspaw nodded to him with newfound conviction, declaring, "I will do my utmost to continue to live up to my name."​

 

[☆ Brightpaw ☆]

Brightpaw learned very quickly that there was only so much chatter that she could get away with in Smokethroat's presence. Her rambling was tolerated when it was on topic, but unnecessary conversation was usually ignored. The young apprentice found her mentor's gruff personality to be very charming and, because she liked him so much, she did him the favor of shutting up every now and then. Especially during times like this one when he seemed to be lost in thought. If he wanted to loom over the freshkill pile like some tragic sentinel, then so be it. It gave her plenty of time to groom her cinnamon fur until it gleamed copper in the sunlight and her white patches were purified of their muddy stains.

She was mid-lick when Mosspaw arrived. Brightpaw continued on with her tedious grooming, ignoring the initial exchange of "eat-this-or-that" pleasantries until she overheard Smokethroat go on some speech about the qualities of the "Moss" prefix. Twisting so that she could look at her mentor and Mosspaw from over her shoulder, she asked, "So who's this other Moss-person?" Brightpaw never shied away from asking personal questions, and it's not like she was prying 'cuz Smokethroat brought it up in the first place. Besides, she assumed Mosspaw would want to know about it too.​

 

[PIKESPLASH]

( tags ) Smokethroat expecting was all the rage in the clan, which made sense. Their deputy and leader were starting a family and while he couldn't say he was particularly close to either or them, he still wished for their happiness. As much as he and Smokethroat may have not gotten along he wouldn't want any harm to befall the kits. His own would be apprentices so he would no longer be frequenting the nursery. Nevertheless, he would continue to help the queens from time to time. Much like Brightpaw, he had been minding his own business before the sudden fixation of moss was brought up. He was puzzled because as much as he knew Smokethroat (not that much to be honest), he would hazard a guess their deputy wouldn't normally say such a thing.

It then hit him that right. When you're having kits you have to think of names. Onyx and Gwen flashed in his mind. I didn't really get a chance to name them. Gwen and Onyx named Otter and Silver. All we did was change it to Otterkit and Silverkit. Their real parents still named them. That information was not saddening. Heck, if he were to come up with names for kits he would be at a loss. What he did know is that while he would like to name them after friends it was maybe a little odd. Snap out of it. Don't even feed that idea.

He pads to the trio and flicks his tail in greeting. Oddly enough he doesn't know who Moss is. The one that Smokethorat is referring to. "Thinking of names?" Maybe he's stepping a little out of line by assuming such a thing. He doesn't mean to overstep, but he is curious why Smokethroat is fixated on the prefix moss.​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

Mosspaw's embolden declaration earned a tight smile, faint and barely visible on his dark maw. A good apprentice, Aspenhaze ought to be proud. They had done good work with this one so far. Brightpaw, who had been thankfully quiet for longer than she normally was, finally chimed in curiously at his mention of Moss and he glanced upward in thought as he tried to formulate how to explain the old she-cat.
"She's my-she was my mentor, in a way. In a time before mentors were a thing proper, before the clans were made. She brought me from two-leg place to here when we were still part of the Marsh Colony and she taught me to fight." In a small way she was his mother, but it was such an odd term for the cranky and harsh molly that he had never really considered her one. A guardian of sorts, yes, but never anything maternal. "Moss was tenacious, fearless, but unfortunately very ill when I met her. She had an odd cough, we didn't have medicine cats back then so most of the time cats merely pushed onward the best they could when sick or injured. Hers took her the same night the Great Battle ended, I didn't fight in it because I stayed at her side."
She had wanted him to go, but he'd insisted on being with her even knowing she was not long for the world. He didn't regret it, he would never regret being able to say goodbye properly.
As he lapsed off into his thought another warrior soon joined them and he flicked his tail in a silent greeting. He didn't really know who Pikesplash was other than an alarmingly skittish clanmate who had been one of few that held their tongue when he was named deputy. He can only assume it was out of dissaproval, feeling another more suiting or something of the sort. He'd never really spoken to the other tom outside a passing greeting or patrols, so it couldn't be personal. To be personal meant you actually knew the other.
Smokethroat had no actual opinion of him, he recalled the almost annoyed (or maybe it was fearful) manner they had acted when he put them at the head of a hunting patrol and he'd debated asking what the issue was then only to not bother; so long as the work was done he didn't care. He did his patrol and they caught plenty of prey so it all worked out anyways, odd behavior aside.

The sudden question gave him pause, because apparently he WAS thinking about names a lot more now and for obvious reasons, it just never registered that he was doing it; a subconciously driven pursuit.
"I...suppose I am thinking of names. I guess I need to..." Mosskit was out of the question, Mosspaw wore it well enough and it needed no further soul to carry it. What other names would he even give a kitten? Cicadastar would help, of course, and he would probably pick flashy and poetic sounding things that would otherwise embarrass him but when he thought about it himself he continued to draw a blank. Nothing came to mind.
Was he so uncreative he couldn't even imagine a name he might like?
"Ah, well, I just hope I don't pick a stupid one they'll hate me for..." It was said with a faint chuckle that very quickly faded. The sudden thought strikes a chord he was not familiar with being plucked and he stiffens where he sits as an involuntary flinch crosses his maw.
Hate him. They might hate him.
It had not occurred to him until just this moment that the kits would be little wriggling things at first but develop their own ideals and personalities as they grew and they might even not like him for any variety of reasons. Smokethroat was no stranger to being regarded negatively, his own clanmates disliked his strict and stoic mannerisms at times, some even thought him cruel for his inability to emote appropriately. How would he handle his own kits not liking him?
He didn't think he could. For as tempered and ironwilled as he was, it was such an intense worry he was already fretting over it more than he should.

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[☆ Brightpaw ☆]

Something akin to affection shone in Smokethroat's eyes as he spoke of Moss. Brightpaw watched with rapt attention as the remembrance of his old mentor animated the deputy's expression in a way she rarely witnessed. A small smile twisted across the apprentice's face. She liked this emotional side of Smokethroat. It was refreshing compared to his normal grumpiness. "That was very..." she paused, trying to find the right word. Kind? No. Thoughtful? Probably not that one. Hmmm. "...honorable of you." Moss must have meant a lot for him to speak of her that way. He even missed the Great Battle to comfort her in her last moments. "She sounds like she was super cool." Super Cool is about as cool as anyone gets in Brightpaw's opinion.

Pikesplash's input made Brightpaw pause. Oh, right. Smokethroat is gonna have babies soon. The thought gave her mixed emotions. On one paw, she loved babies (regardless of the fact that she was little more than a baby, herself) and was excited to have more young kits to play with and take care of. On the other paw, she just started training with Smokethroat and she wasn't ready to give him up yet. Her thoughts drifted to her mother who spent a very long time in the nursery den even after all the kits had emerged to join the rest of the clan. As far as Brightpaw could tell, Buckgait has yet to recover. That wouldn't happen to Smokethroat, right?

"I have an idea!" Brightpaw suddenly exclaimed in a bid to distract herself from more depressing thoughts. "You should tell me your ideas and I will tell you if they sound stupid." She stuck her tongue out at her mentor with a teasing grin. "I'm joking!" she added quickly just in case Smokethroat really disliked her idea (she wasn't joking). Brightpaw had the odd impulse to comfort Smokethroat. For some reason, he seemed...nervous. "Plus you and Cicada are basically the coolest cats here besides me so any kit would be proud to be named by you."​

 

[Snakeblink]

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

It’s not often that Smokethroat opens up about his past in such a public place, so Snakeblink has no qualms about abandoning his present task to focus instead on the impromptu anecdote. His ears pin back slightly in sympathy, recognizing the grief that haunts so many of them, who knew life before the clans. ”Clan medicine was a boon to us all,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, as Smokethroat mentions his mentor’s’ persistent cough. His own mother went that way, too; he feels for the deputy. They can only hope that the young Mosspaw will meet a kinder fate after a much longer life. The newfound security of clan life makes him hopeful that she will.

He chuckles quietly at Brightpaw’s judgment of Smokethroat and Cicadastar’s coolness. ”Yes, there is always the option of asking for a second, or third, opinion. You seem to have an enthusiastic panel of judges already.” He gestures to Brightpaw with his tail at that, although he silently includes himself into the statement as well. He is so very nosy, and naming new kits is a tradition that he craves to partake in eventually — even if only vicariously through this new litter. ”But any name given with love can only be a good one. As long as you don’t name them Plumpkit or something the like…”

And even then, wouldn’t it be a name of beauty and abundance? In a life as prone to hunger as theirs, one can only hope to be plump…
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——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 42 ☾, 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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