camp strange time | o, intro + snow

Jan 14, 2024
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Theres a cold breeze that sweeps through the moor, gray clouds billowing above and snow slowly dusting the grassy plains. Happily warm, Spotkit finds himself tucked in to the safety of his mothers side, waking from a dream that jerks him from his once peaceful slumber. Wide eyes blink groggily, towards the cinnamon and sun splashed pelt of his mother. Shes sleeping too, he realizes as he watches the slow rise and fall of her flank. He moves his gaze to her face, where her own blue eyes are fluttered shut and a peaceful expression takes the stress from her jaw, from where her lips purse a little too tight. He thinks she looks better this way, asleep, with nothing to bother her.

She looks so peaceful that he decides to just let her sleep instead of shifting in the nest until she inevitably woke up from it. He slips out from her side and in to the nursery entrance, where the aforementioned wind batters the gorse walls and tugs at a thin kitten pelt. Wonder sparks "What is this stuff?" he knows exactly what it is. Cherrytuft, his mama, had mentioned it was snowing. She had brought some in to the nursery at some point. "It's cold." no, really? He had stuck his nose in it last time, leaving his nose freezing; thankfully a lesson had been learned, no more putting his nose in snow.

"Look what I can do." he calls out to no one in particular, taking a few hesitant steps in to camp as a chill seeps in through his paw pads. Perhaps a lesson had been learned about his nose, but it did not apply to elsewhere... He flops in to the snow, rolling around before he gets back up with a shiver. Left in his wake was a vague reminder of a cat, barely resembling one as he stares at the indent he left. "Thats me." he'd state happily, waiting for someone to acknowledge it.

  • 76245576_FCJi2DzeAxPuyT4.png
    -> spotkit
    -> amab ,, he/him ,, 2 months
    -> kitten of windclan
    -> small & oddly proportioned cinnamon tom with high white
    -> "speech, afd9f2" ,, thoughts
    -> unknown sexuality ,, single
    -> smells like windblown heather
    -> art by meg
 
( )  This is no place for a child to grow up. Most of the youth were taken with the rebels, and Shrikethorn finds herself glad.

And then there is Spotkit, with his loyalist mother. Cherrytuft is not a cat that she knows well, but her brat very intent on making himself known. She does not care much for children, but she can't help but pity this child. He plays carelessly, as though unaware of the cruelty that surrounds him. How nice it would be if things could stay that way.

Spotkit's calls are hard to ignore. He seems rather proud of himself for rolling around in the snow. That's me, he says of the little indent he's left behind. "So it is," Shrikethorn states flatly, her reluctance apparent. She stares at it for a moment, before looking back to the kit. He's so small. "Looks just like you." It doesn't, at all. Maybe if she squints... No, definitely not. She feels awkward indulging the little menace, but someone has to. He deserves something kinder than what WindClan will give him. Shrikethorn is definitely not the right cat for that, but she's here, so she supposes she'll have to do.
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  • //
  • ˏˋ • ☄ SHRIKETHORN. WINDCLAN TUNNELER. SHE / HER.
    19 MOONS & AGES ON THE 1ST. PENNED BY SATURNID.


    A SMALL WHITE MOLLY WITH ASHY GRAY PATCHES AND PIERCING YELLOW EYES.

    SOOTSTAR xx FLINT. LITTERMATE TO SOOTSPOT.
 
Unlike Shrikethorn, Whitepaw was used to the antics of kits, as she was often called for kitsitting by the queens. Whitepaw also had a fondness for Cherrytuft and little Spotkit, so it was no surprise for the moon-hued girl to arrive at the innocent kit's squeaking. "That looks amazing, Spotkit." The tunneler purred softly as she settled nearby. "What else do you want to make?" She asked, used to entertaining the kits with little inquiries on their current playtime.
[I'M BREATHING]
 
*+:。.。 "So very creative, little one" pulling herself from the shadows cast by the other two mollies, vibrant mismatched eyes aglow with amusement. "Best be cautious though, don't want to lose your ear tips to the cold" she'd purr the frightening warning in a tone soft as velvet, allowing it to come across more as a tease than a threat. But she made no moves to wipe the frost off the child - that was his mother's job, and Ebonylight had only so much patience dealing with her own scraps of fur. "Perhaps you can try digging little tunnels? See what it's like to be a bonified Tunneler like Shrikethorn here" she suggests, curling her vanta black tail over her paws. Considering how incredibly small and gangly the kitten looked, she wouldn't be shocked if that was his fate. Ebonylight was hoping her own kits would grow up to be well-built Moor-runners like their parents - not that there's anything wrong with Tunnelers but...y'know - a smirk dances on their lips as a they skim through a list of insults.
Moor-runners are superior, obviously.




  • GENERAL:
    Ebonylight
    DFAB— He/They/She — Pansexual
    17 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
    Windclan — Moor-runner (Loyalist)
    Mates with Nightingalecry, father to Frightkit, Deathkit and Witherkit





    COMBAT:
    Physically hard | mentally hard
    Attack in bold black

    injuries: None currently
    recovering from pregnancy