private SUNDAY MORNING —— butterflytuft

[SLATESNARL]

Slate seems to be spending more time outside of the medicine den these days, mostly because he feels that spending another moment around Dawnglare would drive him up the wall. He doesn't know how Fireflyglow puts up with him, on top of the nauseating stench of dried plants.

Reclined as comfortably as he could manage, unkempt pelt slightly worked through, the scarred warrior observes the happenings of camp through a half-lidded gaze. He longs to carry his weight and contribute to SkyClan again instead of mooching off herbs and fresh-kill. He longs to slumber in Orangestar's den again, especially now that he is able to share a nest with the beautiful molly. The past few weeks have felt sluggish and monotonous, with nothing to occupy him but thoughts. Slate's resignation from lead warrior had been a subject he had mulled over and over again, as was his concern with Orangestar's small council and their ability to support her. He knew that she was all that he wanted—the rank had never mattered much to him—but would Slate have regrets about not being able to have a say in important matters anymore?

As if stepping down wasn't an adjustment enough, Slate had also been confronted with the abrupt news of Orangestar's pregnancy. It was as if everything else had taken a backseat in his mind—his hip still hurt like hell, but he found that he didn't focus on the pain for long. Slate was going to be a father. A stage of shock and denial had rippled through his core at first, and now that he had accepted the reality, he could not stop thinking about it. What would they look like? How would he raise them? Would he have much involvement with them at all, or would Orangestar want otherwise? It was just too much. Slate thought he would have enough time to enjoy the "honeymoon phase" of newfound matehood, but his carelessness had cost him.

A multi-colored shape moves into the corner of his eye—Butterflytuft, the permanent nursery resident. Slate has never talked with her much—he hadn't any real reason to. He supposes that she'll be sharing a space with Orangestar fairly soon.

Having noticed that the she-cat was looking around, presumably for her kit, Slate gestures with a tilt of his head toward a corner of camp. "She went that way. I think Bobb—er, Doeblaze is with her." Slate corrected himself; he was prone to slipping up now and again when it came to name changes.

𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 ✹ .　 + 　˚ 　　 · 　 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

• @butterflytuft + retro to meeting!

• 

• 

  a warrior ( formerly lead warrior ) of skyclan, slate is forty-two moons. he is mated to orangestar. he is a hulking longhaired maine coon with black fur and prominent reddish rusting on his chest and belly. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face. ✦

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[butterflytuft]

Now, where did that kit run off to this time? She trots around camp, her head dipping low and lifting high to try and spot her daughter's pale form. She swears she was just here a moment ago! Rounding a stump, she pauses as she catches sight of Slate, comfortably sprawled out in front of her. She hesitates for a moment; they don't speak much, as she's always been well aware of his abrasive reputation. But he gestures towards where Budkit has gone, and she blinks, dipping her head in gratitude. "Thank you...it's good to know someone's keeping an eye on her," She mews gratefully, following his gaze to where Doeblaze and Budkit have disappeared, but she quickly returns her focus to him. Recent news through the grapevine of the other queens has given her reason to reach out to him, and she knows it's best to do it now rather than later.

Hoping she doesn't come off as intrusive, her tail flicks nervously as she pushes forward. "I, um, couldn't help but notice..." The queen clears her throat, trying to find the right words. There's something she wants to say! "Orangestar. Congratulations." There's genuine warmth in her voice, a quiet joy for the expecting parents. "It's...it's a wonderful thing, bringing new life into the clan." Butterflytuft shifts her weight, her gaze softening as she looks at Slate. "If you ever need advice...anything, you know where to find me." It's a tentative offer, one that she knows he might not take up, but it feels right to extend it nonetheless. After all, she and Orangestar will be sharing the nursery soon enough! She wants to be there to support them in any way she can.​

 

[SLATESNARL]

Not having expected Butterflytuft to pursue a conversation, Slate's gaze trails back up to where the queen was standing, wondering what it was she wanted. She usually seemed to avoid him, after all. Then, she mentions Orangestar—"Huh?" The former lead warrior is taken aback, stony features cracking as his features figuratively pale. Butterflytuft knew the leader was pregnant, didn't she? Of course a fellow mother would be able to tell. But... she knew about them?

"How do you know?" Slate retorts in an accusatory tone, yellow eyes squinting as he pins his mangled ears backward. Those rumors could very well be false! Did Butterflytuft actually buy into them? Had Orangestar told her herself?

A few moments pass, and then he drops his defenses like a knight shedding his armor. Slate visibly admits to defeat, his shoulders shrugging and the embers dimming in his softening glare. Slate would not fight Butterflytuft's words — she was speaking the truth, after all. He was not ashamed to be the father of Orangestar's litter. The Maine Coon simply hadn't expected anyone else to, well, know.

The tortoiseshell's offer is kind in nature, genuine when she truthfully had no reason to be. Slate had never been friendly with her, just as stoic and sharp-tongued as he always had. She was soft-pawed like a true kittypet, even with that ridiculous accessory to boot, but she knew more than he ever would about kittens. This, perhaps, was a rare instance in which Slate looked to a queen for advice.

"I just... don't know nothin' about that stuff." The tom hesitates to admit. His own ignorance is difficult for Slate to acknowledge; he knew many things about clan life, about fighting, about the outside world. Parenting was not his expertise in the slightest. " 'm not ready. It's not for me. Kits are not for me." Slate bows his head as he admits his fears, averting his gaze as shame overwhelms him.

Slate then murmurs, "But I don't got a choice." He couldn't run from this. Orangestar was his mate before anything else. She certainly would never forgive him if he wasn't present in the little one's lives. "I just want her to be okay." He wanted them all to be okay, however many she was going to welcome into the world.

𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 ✹ .　 + 　˚ 　　 · 　 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

• 

• 

  a warrior ( formerly lead warrior ) of skyclan, slate is forty-two moons. he is mated to orangestar. he is a hulking longhaired maine coon with black fur and prominent reddish rusting on his chest and belly. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face. ✦

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[butterflytuft]

Butterflytuft listens carefully as Slate speaks, his initial retort sharp but quickly giving way to something far more vulnerable. She remains quiet, her yellow eyes soft with understanding as he admits his uncertainties. She knows how hard it must be for him to open up, especially when it's about something so personal. She’s never seen him like this. His fear, his doubt - it's all laid bare in front of her, and her heart aches for him, even if he doesn't want sympathy. When he finally lowers his head, admitting that he's not ready, that he doesn't have a choice, Butterflytuft feels a strong pull to comfort him. The shame in his posture doesn't go unnoticed, and she takes a small step closer.

"It's okay to be scared," She mews softly as she sits, her tail curling gently around her paws. "I think every parent feels that way at some point. It's not something you're ever fully ready for, no matter how much you prepare." She gives him a small, reassuring smile, her gaze kind. "You don't have to be perfect. Just being there, supporting Orangestar and your kits - that's what matters most. They'll love you for who you are, Slate. And you'll find your way, just like I did." Her words come from experience, and she hopes they offer him some solace. She knows parenting isn't easy, but Slate's concern shows that he already cares more than he might realize. "You're not alone in this. I’ll be in the nursery every day to help, okay?”
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