SOMETHING OUT OF A DREAM [ birth ]

[willowroot]

( ☾ ) paws crunch gently on the small pebbles that line the shoreline as the sunsinks low across the horizon. the feline moves with grace, although every so often she will stumble, weighed down by her swollen stomach. she travels alone along the worn trails, paws slipping into the groves and spaces her clanmates have left behind. not far from her, her home awaits, a clearing alive with chatter and soft fondness. ahead, a great willow tree stretches its gnarled branches across the sky. the wind whistles, cool air rustling through the brittle grasses lining the shore. reeds droop into the stagnant water that attempts to flow ever far downstream. the feline pauses to catch her breath, glances behind her and to both sides. since moving, she has not snatched one moment of peace for herself. even her nights are graced with the warm body of her mate, although she will hardly complain about that. it feels nice to stand alone in the territory she has known for moons, and feel a real breeze through her fur. there is something cathartic about closing her eyes, and simply feeling.

at the base of the willow tree, a small hollow of roots clusters together to form a den shape. the feline approaches, wary at first, nose to the air to scent for danger. then she will bound toward it, her gentle pawsteps breaking into leaps and stomps that are further interrupted by the loss of footing every few tail-lengths. this willow tree has been scraped bare of any remembrance of its past. no longer can one clearly see signs of a life lived here- no moss lines the edges of the rooted den, no fish scales and shells decorate the lower down branches. moons ago, a flood had erased all of that, and moons before, those who called this tree home had abandoned it. ducking under the roots, the feline narrows their eyes, scanning the wood for anything recognizable. a smile tugs at their lips as they find it- small scratch-mark drawings done by kitten claws, the only permanent proof of a life here.

willowroot stays in the rooted den for what feels to her like centuries, eyes shut tight. her claws sink into the wood, and she holds tight to her past. buck, raccoon, boar, they had all lived here. caraway had lived here. there will forever be an ache in her heart for this. perhaps her kittens are aware that she is in an important place, because they move within her belly, a ripple that starts small and grows stronger with every movement. willowroot has felt this once before and she knows what is happening. she gets to her paws and crawls back into the evening air to begin the walk home.

her stomach churns as she enters camp, offering only a nod to the cats on guard. her clanmates share prey and swap stories, but she will head straight towards the nursery. a glance tells her poppysplash is not easily found right now, so she speaks softly to an apprentice. "could you fetch poppysplash and ravensong for me, love?" her voice is quiet but trembles slightly. she'll duck into her den as the contractions hit her. gritting her teeth, she sinks into her nest and readies herself.

@POPPYSPLASH. @Mosspaw @Hazepaw @ANTLERPAW @BUCKPAW
obligatory med cat mention @RAVENSONG
feel free to reply before any of the above <3 ​

 

[.Antlerpaw]

isn't it exhausting
always rooting
for the villain?

She had been padding to the apprentice's den for some rest when her mother found her, telling her to go get Poppysplash and Ravensong and... woah. Woah. Her mother's stomach was moving beneath her fur, the round surface of her stomach rippling with the coming contractions.

A light lit up her eyes like no other as she turned on her heel. "You have ta hurry, she's havin' 'er kits!" She stared at them wide eyed until they all turned and ran out to duck back into the nursery. It was time for the kitting, and Antlerpaw would turn saucer pupils on her mother. "Are ya oka'? Ya need anything? Mo' paddin'? Need food? Stick?" She worried over her mother, attempting to lick the top of her head as a small comfort for the coming pain. She hadn't been told of the proverbial 'birds and bees' mantra and had no idea what was to come. Her eyes would stay saucers while everything happened way too quickly.

// ooc note: this will be my only post for now as to not clog up the posting order! post over me if I don't respond in a prompt amount of time :)
​

walk "talk." thought
penned by helly​

 

[CICADASTAR]

the sun is dipping just down beneath the rocky horizon, and the tom lounges long and snakelike from the crest of river rock. blue shards watch his clanmates mingle, clustering together to mill and chat as the days heat melds away. his perch lays camp out clear, the rustle of his clan’s entrance snagging his attention the moment it sounds. the night guards murmur greetings and he relaxes suddenly tense muscles, slitted eyes staring as willowroot slips through the reed. where had she been? alone, so heavily pregnant. his mind whispers suspicion, whispers vague annoyance and fear, but the queen’s features twist — and ah. he watches antlerpaw dart away towards the medics den and he stands, takes his descent to meet the ground on light alabaster paws.

like a shadow he takes their child’s place as they scamper off, aiming to come alongside the former lead and guide them with his shoulder in case they stumbled on the way. an attempt at quiet comfort in lieu of her mate, of ravensong, as quick as they would be on their way once aware. he says nothing, only listens to the heavy breath of her, ever aware of the way their stomach surely churned with pain on each step. smokethroat’s own birthing plays rapid behind his eye, and while he loved his children with each hair of him, they could have caused him great loss — he’d thought they had, for a brief moment. guilt bites at him when he remembers mudpelt’s fur parting between his claws and he’d still not apologized, likely would not despite the way his pelt burns with shame each time the chocolate tom appears. willowroot moves to dip into the maw of her temporary den and it pulls him from his thoughts, if only temporarily, " starclan be with you. " he murmurs, softly, aiming a brief press of his nose to their shoulder before they dip into the nursery to begin the long, perilous birth.

antlerpaw slips back in, slides into the nursery to lick at her parent’s head in comfort and he watches, settles down at the maw of their nursery to wait for poppysplash, for ravensong — he feels his mates own fur in the barbs of his tongue, though not quite as welcome.

he swears he can still taste the fear on his tongue.

COLD & CRUEL LIKE WINDS ON THE SEA  ╱ INFORMATION ✟

• i.
  
• ★ ⋆ CICADASTAR −−−− FOUNDING LEADER OF RIVERCLAN. HOMOSEXUAL, MATED TO SMOKETHROAT. FIFTY MOONS, FATHER TO STARLIGHTKIT, CICADAKIT && BEEKIT. PENNED BY ANTLERS −−−−− ⁺₊✧
  
  
  he / him. tall, elegantly curled smoke tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt blue eyes. his structure sings a feral sort of hymnal, presenting an almost dangerous sort of beauty veiling what monstrosities lie beneath the ivory of his skull. jutting jawline and a squared chin, sunken cheeks drawing a shadow beneath high, sharp cheekbones with tall, angular ears settling high atop the flatter slope of his cranium. he is beautiful ; lucifer in the eyes of an envious god. for all his looks, his expression is lax, void — corpse - eyed and hollow until spoken to, sparking the undead to life. he is tall, lean, cut - glass pretty ; he smiles with too - many teeth, blackened frostbite pulling back his maw to bear canines setn beneath curling whiskers, pantomime skeletal. a predatory gracefulness from the lines that press the image of exhaustion beneath ice water hues to the slow, sure gait in which he walks, nameless strength poorly concealed within the hard lines of his physique. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unnaturally tall amongst his peers, always holding himself with a tragic sort of grace ; poised, prim, and uncannily aware of how he appears.
  
  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── smells like wet moss and meadowland thunderstorms.
  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── notoriously paranoid and closed off, cicadastar will tend to lie, assume, and jump to conclusions whenever it suits him. any 'suspicious' ic actions he witnesses or hears about will have a strong effect, and will have ic consequences! if you're unsure of an interactions outcome, please feel free to send a dm!
  
  no character opinions represent my own.​
  
  
• " speech "​
  

​

 

[Mosspool]

From where she sat quietly eating a small fish she had caught earlier today, Mosspaw noticed her mother returning to camp. Looking up, she was about to raise her voice in greeting, when she heard what Willowroot whispered to Antlerpaw. Quickly, and quietly, she raised to her paws and followed her mother.

Until now, she had only been eager for her new siblings to be born. The idea of being able to help them learn to hunt or fight or even just walk filled her with excitement. She wanted to be a good big sister. The way her mother's voice had just trembled like she had never heard it do before, that was all fading to the back of her mind.

Mosspaw slipped into the nursery behind Cicadastar, forgetting - for once - to pay her respect to her leader as her eyes remained affixed to her mother.

Nerves made her fur prickle, and she tried to ignore it.

There was nothing to fear so long as she had faith in the stars. Their blessed leader had wished for Starclan to be with Willowroot, and they would not ignore his word. Her mother would be safe. It would be blasphemy to think otherwise, and she would never be blasphemous. Praise be to Starclan, who protected her mother and everyone she loved and whose power knew no bounds and who her faith in was absolute even though she did not understand them.

"I can grab anything you need." Mosspaw added as her sister asked their mother what she needed, her voice uneven from her attempt to keep her worry out of her tone. Her entire body was tense, as though she was standing at attention in wait for orders.​

 

[iciclefang]

Evening is upon them now, and though Iciclefang is in repose, relaxing from a day’s work of patrols and fishing, she tenses when Willowroot re-enters camp. The smoke-pelted queen is calm and dignified as they normally are, but there is pain flashing in their leaf-colored eyes, and there’s a gentle request for Ravensong to come at once. Antlerpaw and Mosspaw, two of her daughters, flock to their mother for comfort and assistance, and Cicadastar himself is up at once, guiding his friend with the feathery tip of his tail.

She does not rise, but tension prickles her fur. A snow-blue gaze follows the cats across camp, focusing on Willowroot. RiverClan would have more kits soon, kits with strong blood and a connection to the riverlands they’ll soon know as home. Should Ravensong pass by her on his way to the nursery, she will incline her head. “Round two… good luck.”

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​

 

[RAVENSONG]

Thanks to Starlingheart, he had been prepared for Smokethroat's kitting. And when he was brought out by an apprentice and Willowroot's name was passed along, he knew at once what would be happening. It was almost instinct now, grasping sticks and chervil as he hurried out of the medicine den, his pelt slicked down with river-water. He would not stay for long, fearful of how yellow-cough could grasp and choke such young creatures, but his presence was needed at least for a moment.

He brushes past Iciclefang, startled at being directed words to and he glances back at the young warrior with his usual solemn gaze, but a flash of gratefulness passes over his mossy-irises.

Already, there is a crowd beginning and Ravensong clears his throat. "Right, please, anyone who does not need to be here must go outside for now." If the leader's den was cramped, the nursery would become even more so with Willowroot's near grown children and the lanky leader among them. "Willowroot," He regards the warrior with respect—she is one of the few he genuinely likes without any specific reason to. "If you wish, Poppysplash can remain in the nursery, but we will need space."

This kitting feels much more comfortable—Willowroot is not screaming and writhing like Smokethroat had been and he feels a wave of ease pass over his spine. He even smiles. "You know what to do. I am here if something goes wrong." The stick and chervil are offered to her and he waits and counts her breaths and the number of contractions.

☾₊ ⊹ темная ночь — dark is the night

•  
• 
  RAVENSONG of RIVERCLAN
  — LH BLACK POLYDACTYL MALE (CARRYING CINNAMON, DILUTE) a tall, slender creature with pitch-black feathery fur, large ears, and a sharply angled skull held up in an aloof manner. smells of dried herb, speaks with a low and rumbly accent and walks with an elegant slinking gait.
  
  — born in twolegplace and orphaned at a young age, he joined riverclan at its inception and began training as a drypaw warrior known for a bitter temperment until beesong made him his medicine cat apprentice. after his mentor's untimely death, he had been named ravensong at the moonstone, young heart revitalized with anger and guilt. he is a somber and thorough medicine cat that guards every word spoken in the confines of his den.
  
  — secretly loves "the stars but not so much what inhabits them"
  — openly suffers from chronic migraines
  — single, but "it's complicated"

​

 

[POPPYSPLASH.]

FEEL THE MORNING ON MY FACE​

---

when she is fetched, there is not even a second of hesitation in the way she drops her prey within her jaws, abandoning it to whoever may have wanted it. she is quick to go to the nursery, gently pressing licks to her growing kits' heads, and making her way beside willowroot. oh, stars, they were doing this again. she licks willowroot's fur down, trying to just be there for her. she's scared. willowroot needs to focus in giving birth, she knows, but she can't help the fear of losing them. taking in a deep breath, she murmurs to her mate.

"you're gonna do just fine, m'love..."

they were going to. but she needed to reassure herself more than anything. willowroot was going to be just fine.
​

 

[willowroot]

( ☾ ) antlerpaw's eyes turn frantic as she dashes off to do her duty. almost as soon as she's left, she's back. a pained purr rumbles from the queen's throat as her daughter speaks quickly, her words blending together, however well meaning they are. iciclefang calls with well wishes and the queen tips her head in acknowledgement as cicadastar's shoulder brushes her own. she'll throw him a thankful glance, sweeping her tail across his shoulders as he helps her into the den. he leaves with a soft murmur and she feels warmth bloom in her heart, blinking in gratitude. mosspaw's hurried steps are next, her voice odd and uneven, a rarity for the collected girl. the mother smoothes her tongue across both of her kits' heads. "it's going to be alright darlings, ravensong will take care of me," she promises, although a pinch in her gut sends a hint of worry through her vocals. starclan willing the girls won't pick up on their mother's anxiety. speak of the man, he appears, sending a bit of relief into her head. "you heard him, little minnows. wait outside with hazepaw and buckpaw. we'll call you in soon. i love you." eyes of fern watch as the two leave, teeth clenched behind rubbery lips as she holds back a grunt of pain.

the discomfort has sparked into real labor and willowroot breathes heavily, eyes glazed when poppysplash arrives. she notes her mate with a tired smile, reaching out a paw to clutch at whatever she can grasp of the molly. "i thi--ink," she'll stutter, dropping her head as another contraction hits. "i think it's time." ravensong does not appear worried, he simply hovers, a comforting presence to imply the knowledge that if something happens, willowroot will be okay. she begins to push.

arriving first into the world, a little blue kitten, wiggling and writhing on the moss. the feline pulls him towards her, nipping the sac and lapping at his fur. softly she guides him towards her stomach, purring as he latches. "she looks like you, love," she whispers to her mate. minutes pass as willowroot gazes down at her son, verdant eyes glowing. as her stomach ripples again, she steadies herself. with a loud cry from the kit upon arrival, dark fur is revealed as she cleans this second kitten off. the tiny pitch hued child joins the first with squeaks and purrs and the queen licks both of them gently. third and last, but certainly not least, a smokey little molly makes her appearance, swirls of silver and black combining on her fur. willowroot prepares for a fourth, but after a moment, she relaxes, and her stomach does not ripple. she has three beautiful children suckling at her stomach.

gazing down at them, there is a feeling in her heart she is all too familiar with. an ever growing love for her family soars, taking away any lingering pain and fear from the labor. willowroot strokes each child with her tail, the idea of names now circling her head. poppy and her have talked about them, but it's always the last moment that really makes a decision real. flicking her tail tip across the pitch kitten's head, she murmurs, "bumblekit," softly, her own little tribute to the late medicine cat. willowroot glances towards ravensong briefly, before meeting poppysplash's golden gaze. "and maybe tidekit or creekkit for the blue girl? what do you think, love? i think you should name the little smoke girl."

// welcome to the world @Bumblekit @carawaykit @AnemoVictorious (tidekit)! after this thread, your kiddos start around 2 moons, feel free to hop into rp!! ​