no angst sing sweet nighting-gale | open, intro

[Dizzymoth]

She didn't know when she had started singing - oh, don't be like that, you know when you started, it was approximately three weeks after you left that awful place / oh, yes, it was then wasn't it? My night-bird... she mumbled something in her sleep and the kits had kicked in response and I wanted to feel it again, I wanted / they were so little weren't they? Little paws pressed against your tummy, listening to their mama / hmmmm even then it felt right, didn't it?

She had started singing to get her kittens to kick. Then soon after, she sang to get them to sleep. From a quiet murmur in the dead of night to a sweetling lullaby right after sunset, Dizzymoth's children lived in song. It didn't quite feel right not to have them next to her now as she hummed to herself, tidying the nest of a half-asleep elder, readying them for bed.

"That's a nice tune, dear." The elder commented as she settled down into her fresh moss. "Why don't you chirp that while 'til I start to snore. Reminds me of my daughter..." She got a far off look in her milky eyes and Dizzy couldn't help but purr at the scene. This clan.... it felt so right from the moment she set aching paw inside the camp. It was moments like this that kept that warm, fuzzy feeling a-light in the pit of her permanently chubby-mommy belly.

And so she droned on with her nameless song, making the words up as she went, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the others too much, only pricking her ears up and faltering half a beat when a shadow appeared at the front of the elder's den.​

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"speech"​

 

[Earthsoul]

Soft emerald eyes danced in the quickly darkening camp. Soil - or rather, Hershey - needed to head back towards the twolegplace soon, but the calm kept him rooted in place. The elder told himself he would start his journey just as soon as he was done tidying up (a sentiment he’d been repeating for the last hour). Small things, straightening out the prey pile or sweeping away errant leaves. Such work wouldn’t normally grab his attention, but the experienced cat took any excuse to stay longer.

Poking graying features into the elders’ den to see if everything was ship-shape, Soil found that someone had already beat him to it. The notes were hard to hear outside, especially with aged ears, but the brief melody the moggy picked up inside made him wish for more. “Oh, Don’t stop on my account” he said quietly, careful not to disturb the tranquil atmosphere.

“Can’t say I’ve ever met a singer before, ‘least none that were any good, myself included. A quick flick of the tail acknowledged the other elder’s words before he continued. “She’s right, though, you got a soothin’ set o’ lungs on you. How’d you learn?”​

 

[sweetnose]

"That's really pretty, Dizzymoth." Sweetpaw murmurs as they join, bolstered by Soil's presence and quiet voice muffled further by a mouthful of moss. She'd come to change some of the bedding lining the elders' nests, set on apprentice duties instead of training by a busy Cedarsway, a change of pace which they don't particularly mind, but they're surprised to see that the queen has beat them to the job. The little mink wriggles past the daylight elder to reach an empty nest with a polite, "'Scuse me, Soil."​

 

[SNORLAXMOON]

Nosy is he today, as his pawsteps slow as he nears the elders' den, ears twitching at the sound emitting from it.

Singing. Snorlaxmoon didn't know the clan cats knew how to do that. The round tom knows the neighbor cats do it - loud, drolling tones, far too early in the morning for Snorlax's liking. A reason to hate the thought of someone singing.

And, while he doesn't know who exactly is singing in SkyClan's camp - who it is that finds shelter in the elders' den to chirp out such tones - Snorlaxmoon thinks he hates it less, here. Perhaps it's the tone of their voice, the fact it's not the crack of dawn. Perhaps its the noises such a tone mingles with, intertwining with the breeze in the trees, rather than the monsters that roll by.

So, he joins the growing audience, peeking his head into the den. "That's kind of pretty," he comments to the song's owner, stepping to the side so the apprentice tasked with cleaning the den could make their entrance. "Do you always sing?"
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