pafp SAME OLD STORY [ realization ]

[claythorn]

Her offer had done exactly what she expected it to- something too good for either of them to deny, something that would prove her worth to him. Claythorn could bear a continuation of his bloodline, one that would continue her own, something that.. made her valuable.

After a particularly hot day patrolling, her paws struggling to move, Claythorn figured something was wrong. She didn’t normally have issues lifting her paws, didn’t have issues moving beneath the cover of shadow while the rest of the hunting patrol prowled the waters. Didn’t turn her nose up at fish- but today had been rough. She had struggled with the heat, tongue panting in a desperate attempt to cool down. She missed the mouse she leapt at.

She had turned her nose up at food. It wasn’t that her stomach was upset, but it definitely did not sound agreeable. She wasn’t hungry. That was most interesting out of all, after a long day of work and her paws aching more than normal, she wasn’t hungry. Claythorn settled in the shadows near the warrior’s den, eyes half lidded and lazy in the greenleaf heat. A few beats of silence passed before Claythorn shifted and moved to her other side, trying to get comfortable. It wasn't working.

Her ears twitched, vision turning to pin to a moss ball left in the clearing of camp by a kit. A kit. She blinked again, ears lifting then lowering, laying back against her head. "No way." She whispered out. Yes, way. What did you expect? The voice in her head whispered, perhaps the part of her lightly less in denial. This is what you wanted. Mismatched golden eyes shifted towards the shaded medicine den. Would Moonbeam help? Help with what, confirm what she already knew? Claythorn frowned to herself, pushing to her paws and stepping closer to the shaded den.

"Moonbeam." She called out, looking inside. Head leaned in, peeking to see if she could find the medicine cat before anyone else caught on. Not that there was much to ‘catch’ onto- after all, Claythorn hadn’t gone about shouting to the skies what was going on.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"
  // please wait for @Moonbeam
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, fifteen moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ mated to otterbite / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[Moonbeam]

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. Moonbeam liked to think that she was able to keep an eye on everyone within the clan, make sure that no one was overworking themselves or getting sick, but as of late she'd been slacking a little. So many warm bodies within her den that needed her help, so many injuries so soon after the bliss of Beefang moving into her den had caused her paws to be busy, caused her to be tired. So tired in fact that she'd been sleeping when a multicolored head poked into her den, the medicine cat's own white helm lifting up when name was called, blinking sleep from eyes as she looked towards the cat who had called her name.

Claythorn.

She looked to the other, listened for any sign of danger or need for her to move quickly from her nest to the scene of whatever injury she should be prepared for next but when nothing came she relaxed just slightly, brows soon furrowing in confusion. "Everything okay?" Small question, simple question, trying to figure out the answer. It wasn't often Claythorn visited her den, and even less-so for her to do so for just a conversation.

LET THE VALLEYS AWAKE ꕥ LET THEM RATTLE AND SHAKE

• --
• ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ flesh wounds
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ infections
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ aches & pains
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ illness
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ breathing
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ traveling
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ broken bones
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ kitting
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ poisons
• ꕥ SH white masking cinnamon torbie w/orange eyes & small ears
  ꕥ 14 moons old; ages the 17th every month
  ꕥ homosexual homoromantic ; mated to beefang
  ꕥ currently mentoring none
  ꕥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ꕥ easy in combat unless in water, focuses on defensive tactics

​

 

[claythorn]

Moonbeam had been sleeping- something that made her wince. She knew the medicine cat was already so overworked, but did she really want to add to her work load? No, truthfully, Claythorn didn't. She wasn't sure about any of this. Didn't have a mother for most of her early life to base her knowledge of this upon. All she knew was that of the queens in camp who had litters- Robinwing, Iciclefang, and the new deputy, Hazecloud.

All of their kits were healthy, and strong, right? Claythorn inhaled slowly, steeling herself as she stepped inside. "I need..." Her words stuttered, fell short. It's almost amusing, how confusion crossed her features as she didn't even know how best to ask this question. Shoulders squaring, confidence overrode any confusion. "I need you to check me for kits." Ears flamed in embarrassment as soon as she spoke, realizing that came out just a hint too loud, and vision stole first towards those cats who were medicine den bound, then towards the entrance.

A hot breath left her. "Please." She said, her voice softer, ears lilting backwards. Yes, she was totally outside her normal territory. A deep scratch, a thorn in her paw? Those were things she would feel more confident asking about, that was normal. But to carry kits, to become a queen? She was in brand new territory here.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"
  
  // this is open now!
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, fifteen moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ mated to otterbite / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[robinheart]

The shaded interior of the medicine den provides an opportune place to escape the heat of the day, though Robinheart would much rather take a dip in the river to cool off. Not possible yet with the state of her leg, but soon… soon she could feel the cool waters seep into her pelt and chill her from the blazing sun. She lays lazily in the nest constructed for her, brilliant citrine gaze half lidded as sleep creeps along her spine - ready to crawl over her skull and tug down her eye lids. If it weren’t for Claythorn’s voice sleep very well could have won. However genuine curiosity and concern lifts the tortoiseshell’s head and sleep is long forgotten.

Robinheart looks over the young warrior from where she lay, not noticing any injury or iron scent. She glances side long at Moonbeam as the pale medicine den rises from her peaceful nap and asks how she might assist Claythorn.

Kits.

The reasoning, the request to check for kits, widens inky pupils as Robinheart’s full attention is brought forth. Claythorn must be close to the same age she had been when she fell pregnant. A night of confessions and courtship. No intentions of starting a family but fate had other plans - Brookstorm hadn’t been happy to know of their impending kits. Robinheart hopes to StarClan that whoever sired these potential children will be happy; that Claythorn’s story does not follow the same pattern as the tortoiseshell queen’s did.​

[ penned by kerms ]​

 

[iciclefang]

Iciclefang hears Claythorn call for Moonbeam, sees her stick her mottled head into the medicine cat's den. The dappled queen had never figured herself to be nosy, but, well... becoming a nursery attendant leaves you flailing to find entertainment. She nears the den, a fish in her mouth as an offering — and a way in — when she hears Claythorn's request. "I need you to check me for kits." Iciclefang pauses, surprise flickering in ice-blue eyes. She'd never have expected this of Claythorn, who is fierce and committed to her work as a warrior... but then again, her Clanmates must have thought the same of her. Iciclefang owes the she-cat her privacy, just as she'd been allowed.

"I brought you this, Moonbeam," she mews through fish scales, her blue eyes flicking from Robinheart to the pale-pelted medicine cat. She drops the prey and lingers, wanting to hear the verdict herself.

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

• ooc: —
• 
• Iciclekit . Iciclepaw . Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 25 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
  — mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored Cicadaflight
  — riverclan lead warrior & queen. mudpelt x icesparkle, gen 2.
  — former mate to Stormywing ; current mate to no one.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.
  
  

​

 

[Moonbeam]

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. I need you to check me for kits.

The words are surprising, not only because of the way they are worded - Claythorn is clearly shocked, she decides - but because of how though Moonbeam knew of the other's situation with Otterbite, she had never thought of the other as a father. She hadn't thought he'd get a mate either with his attitude, but maybe there was something there that Moonbeam had never seen - and would never see - that Claythorn had seen. "Oh... yeah I can do that." It's soft, warming as usual, the only difference is the way her brain works a little slower from being freshly woken up, though as she moves around she wakes up more, becomes more alert and properly functioning.

Moonbeam moves from her nest and motions with a wave of her tail towards one of the clean nests within the den, one she keeps for situations like this, and as she waits for the potential-queen to lay down within it the medicine cat would look to Robinheart, making sure now that she was awake the queen didn't need anything before looking to the entrance of the den as Iciclefang moved in and she'd offer her a small dip of her head in response. "Thank you, I'll eat it after I'm done." A small purr left her at that before head turned back to Claythorn.

Once the warrior was comfortable the small feline would move her paws along the chimera's stomach carefully, pressing down slightly to feel around for a moment before paws would return closer to her body. A moment of silence lingered as she thought to herself, thoughts swirling around as she double checked in her mind before head would nod. "I can't tell how many yet but you're going to have kits." She'd offer the other a smile as she did so, gauging her reaction. Was this a good thing for her, or was it something she'd rather not deal with? If the other's reaction were a more positive one she'd give her a congratulations.

LET THE VALLEYS AWAKE ꕥ LET THEM RATTLE AND SHAKE

• --
• ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ flesh wounds
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ infections
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ aches & pains
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ illness
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ breathing
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ traveling
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ broken bones
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ kitting
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ poisons
• ꕥ SH white masking cinnamon torbie w/orange eyes & small ears
  ꕥ 14 moons old; ages the 17th every month
  ꕥ homosexual homoromantic ; mated to beefang
  ꕥ currently mentoring none
  ꕥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ꕥ easy in combat unless in water, focuses on defensive tactics

​

 

[otterbite]

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- "We don't have much to do until dusk... Make sure the elders don't need anything, then you can eat." There were so many apprenticed in the moss-coated den now, there was hardly any busy work Otterbite could assign his apprentice that kept him off his tail for very long. Especially with the leaders kits finally out of their snot-faced nests, sucking up to their mentors to make them look good.

Otterbite huffed with a twitch of his tail, preparing to search for Claythorn and run off while there was still daylight, only to find her scent leading to Moonbeam's den. His gaze narrowed suspiciously, picking up distantly the words exchanged between the two. One word stuck out to him, twice, kits... kits...

"You're sure?' It was not a question to Moonbeam's ability, but a comment of partial disbelief. Positive, no matter the toms chronic bad attitude that lined his tone.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── IM OUT OF CONTROL ⋅❁⋅ OH, HOW I BURN FOR YOU ──┐‎

• 
  
  app tag @Jaggedpaw
  

• 

• 
  OTTERBITE ✩ he/him, warrior of riverclan, fifteen moons.
  ⭃ scruffy blue/black chimera with a white tail-tip and green eyes. noticeable kinked whiskers
  ⭃ adopted son to pikesplash // former apprentice to coyotecreek
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay requires permission / / underline and tag when attacking or making an action toward
  ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by beatae ↛ gonkpilled on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[claythorn]

Eyes lingered- but ones that Claythorn rationally knew that if Moonbeam did seal her thought in truth, she'd have to grow used to be near. Around- relying upon. What an awful though- to rely on more cats then she already has been. Ears flatten briefly, though she did not scorn Iciclefang or Robinheart. No, the reactions she showed now are ones personal to herself.

Moonbeam gives her an affirmative answer, that she can help, and perhaps she releases a breath she does not realize was being held. Claythorn did indeed shift, moving into the clean nest with a level of reservation that she did not often display. Normally her paws did fall confident- today, they near stumbled into that nest with the shock starting to settle in. Claythorn lay down, vision turning towards Moonbeam.

The smaller's paws pressed to her stomach- a feeling more then odd. She inhaled quietly, bit tongue anxious for the response, mismatched golden eyes studying Moonbeam's contemplative ones. You're going to have kits. She stared for a long moment. Was this a happy moment? Was Claythorn joyful that she was going to bear young? She barely had time to consider the answer before Otterbite had stepped in, seafoam eyes upon Moonbeam, not her, never her.

Claythorn turned her eyes back towards Moonbeam, and spoke with a tone that was quiet, just barely unsure. ".. Thank you, Moonbeam." She said softly. Apprehension, perhaps? That was the feeling that blanketed her shoulders, and she inhaled moments later. Head turned towards Otterbite, and while she did not smile, perhaps he had come to understand that the look in her eye was one of joy, even if it was small now- the smallest turning of the corners of her eyes, relaxed ears paired with them.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, fifteen moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ mated to otterbite / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​