sunshine daisies butter mellow || birth


❄︎ sunrise
Jun 8, 2022

Something felt wrong.

Or, not wrong per se, but different. She'd gotten used to the kicking – it happened at times and it made her smile – but this time... it felt like it was time. She knew not how many there were, but it was definitely more than one. Lily had been a simple birth, a lovely kit to welcome to the world. But this time she stood on wobbly legs before calling almost fearfully out from the nursery. "Mudpelt? Beesong?" Her mate's new name rolled off her tongue a little weird but she was looking more for their medicine cat than any other member of the clan. "I - I think the kits are on their way..."

The tricoloured molly rested on the moss they'd recently pulled into the den, her blue eyes just a little too bright. Her whiskers twitched as she turned to lie in a more comfortable position; all she knew was to push. And as help came and the soothing voices of her family surrounded her, Icesparkle's exhausted smile was wide but she nevertheless glowed as she watched the squirming bundles at her belly. One seemed smaller than the rest, but she only held love for the tiny ginger kit.

@Steepkit @DARKKIT @iciclekit @FERNKIT (I think that's the application order, but with baby Fern last) <3
@BEESONG can help with whatever he can help with LOL
@LILY. come say hi to your SIBLINGS !!

Everyone can post in whichever order they want and feel free to specify the birthing order if you want to - otherwise let us just get these gremlins intro'ed <3<3


It was inevitable that the kits would arrive soon. Her mother, Ice, had looked fit to burst for days now, and it had been a nervous wait for Lily and Mudpelt. Lily was glad she had tasks around camp to keep her occupied, at least she could do something useful instead of sitting and worrying all day.

She had recently returned to camp when her mother's yells for help caught her attention and she rushed to the nursery to be with her, not before hastily calling out for Mudpelt and Beesong to hurry. Despite her own concerns, when Lily entered the nursery, she wasn't entirely sure what to do with herself for a moment. She had been around queens and kits before, but never a queen that was actually giving birth. It was scary and nerve-wracking but oddly beautiful in a way, especially knowing that new life was being born into the world. After getting into her initial shock, Lily hovered close by her mother's side, though not too close in case her father wanted to be there. Instead she settled for giving her mother comforting and encouraging words, occasionally getting up to lick her head before settling down and waiting.

It was not long before four new kits entered the world. Lily looked over them with warmth and affection. "They're beautiful." She mewed softly, looking between her parents.
She's nearly silent upon her entrance into the world and does not begin snuffling until she has had her tortoiseshell fur cleaned and licked, until she's been nudged towards the warmth of her mother's flank. Even then, she's noticeably quiet for a newborn kit. She does not squeal, does not make the mreeew sounds her of her littermates. Had she not been squirming, crawling, healthy, her parents might have worried if she had survived the birth.

She has. She's made her entrance, second to last, a beauty mimicking Icesparkle. The tortoiseshell she-kit latches swiftly and feeds, her few muffled noises quieting entirely.

First to touch the chill river-mist air, the black and white kit was quick to try to drag herself forward. The kit's fragility held her still however, a pathetic show of strength. A tiny, inked paw grasped at empty space- the other pale limbs scrambling at the earth. Attentive grooming freed her maw, a weak crackle of noise shrieking out of her scrunched countenance.

The feathered snowy mask that slashed across the kit's face was still crooked from birth, granting her the look of a petulant scowl. More squawks loosed, muffled against the patchwork pelt of her mother. A blunt knock against Icesparkle's stomach, softened by her minute stature, secured the kit a spot to feed. Slightly larger than her to-be littermates, she occupied her position with ease.

He was slow to move, but vocal with stumbling mewls as tiny paws reached out at air he could not grab. Bearing the ginger of his mother, tabby patterns rippled across his sparse-pelted form, even tinier than his tiny littermates. The runt of the litter, sure enough- though he could not tell, for there was only one thing on his mind, one goal toward which he strived- the warmth of his mother. Delicate paws moved upon moss, dragging himself struggling forward- all the while, tongue trilling and mewls fumbling from his minuscule maw.

It was likely clear he might need a little help, rat-thin tail twitching in barely-felt irritation. It felt bad to not be near his mother, or at least as near as he needed to be. That was the depth to which his minutes-young mind could comprehend.
( penned by pin )
Like Lily, Mudpelt had been keeping himself rather busy. It would do him nothing to sit around or pace outside the nursery all day, so he busied himself with fishing for the clan or helping to strengthen all of the new dens. He's just now dropping a mouthful of willow branches beside the warrior's den when he hears his mate's breathless call. Ears pricking, he looks towards the nursery with alert eyes. As soon as he sees his daughter bounding towards the den, he is quick to follow, large paws kicking the branches he'd collected and clumsily dispersing them.

He squeezes into the nursery, intent on being present for the birth of his newest kits. Huddled in behind Icesparkle and beside Lily, he watches as his children enter the world, grooming his mate's head and murmuring excited encouragements to her all the while.

Soon, there are four healthy kits at her stomach. Four! The proud father can't keep the grin off his face. The largest of the litter is a black and white she-kit, suckling powerfully at her mother's belly. A dusky brown tom with little white markings is beside her, and next to him, a near-lookalike of her mother - just as beautiful, too! And lastly, a tiny scrap of red fur, screaming angrily as he blindly squirms about in search of milk. A hearty chuckle leaves the tom before he leans down. "Hey, this way, buddy!" He murmurs, voice shuddering with excitement as he noses the tiny bundle towards his littermates.
The moment that Icesparkle cries out for Mudpelt and him, Beesong knows. He's far from an expert on pregnancy, but the calico queen had looked about ready to pop for the past quarter-moon. He scrambles from his den, vision blurred by spots and needles stabbing his limbs, but this is his duty. Even if he has no idea what the fuck he's doing. What herbs could he even give her for this?

Beesong is completely out of his comfort zone, and it's terrifying.

With weakened legs shaking, they stumble into the nursery, wide eyes landing on Icesparkle. "Uh, here," they mumble out, mouth unbearably dry. What do they do? Desperate, they look to a nearby NPC. "Err, stick?" Thankfully, despite their difficulty with speech in their current state, the NPC understands and fetches a stick. Beesong nudges the stick to Icesparkle, urging her quietly to bite down on it.

It's a gut-wrenching process, but after what feels like moons, there are four squirming kittens nestled at her belly. The medicine cat scrutinizes each newborn, checking them over as best he can with the floaters in his vision... What's he supposed to be looking for in healthy babies, he has no idea... One ginger kitten in particular catches his attention. He's never thought newborns were... cute. But this one in particular... He's tiny, tinier than his littermates, but his head seems to be the exact same size as theirs. While his eyes are glued shut, his eyelids bulge.. unnaturally from his oversized skull. A ratlike tail trembles as he mewls pathetically. Beesong frowns. "...Is he... okay?" Maybe not the best thing to say about the couple's newborn litter, but... He doesn't think about the consequences of his question.
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The dark-furred kitten cries, squirming, as he's thrust into this cold place. He only quiets once a tongue rasps over his head, a loud purr urging them to continue. The nose of the medicine cat, unbeknownst to him, nudges him to the warmth of his littermates and mother. Tiny claws reach out to knead at his mother's belly, already beginning to suckle rapaciously with muffled, yet content, mews.

− ♱ ABOUT : in the moon since cicadastar had taken leadership, much had changed. he watched his clan grow before his very eye, joiners arriving on their borders by the dozen, seeking to peacefully join the clan that had taken up residence along the corroded shore. they were a strong, proud group — steadily moving into their home along the river. mudpelt, lily and icesparkle had cleared the way for the nursery to shelter their growing family and cicadastar had watched from his ancient willow with a small, tired smile. riverclan was growing and he could think of no better cats to raise the budding generation. mud had been tangibly nervous ; a rapid pace outside the newly - constructed nursery, buzzing with the energy of a new father. cicadastar had never felt that terror himself ; pumpkin and quiet had found their way to him not by blood, though his love for them was never lesser. it was almost amusing, in an endearing way. he wondered if this was what hare whiskers felt, watching he and his clanmates grow strong around him ; briar, bone, soot . . they had all gone on to be something great, chosen by the stars. what would these little ones become?

after the commotion had died down a little, the man would approach, slow and careful as not to disturb the serenity that had fallen over them now. four kits, all beaming and healthy, suckling at their mothers side. he steps in alongside bee, the frazzled medicine cat fretting over one of the smaller, scrawnier of the kits. it did look like it had already drowned in the river once, but all young went through the ugly stage. at least, that’s what he’d always heard, “ if no, it seems not to stop him. what a little warrior! ” the man cooed humorously, a smile crinkling the edges of his eyes. fernkit, while small, was loud and seemed capable of pulling himself easy enough with his little limbs. icy eyes find icesparkle, “ they’re beautiful. “ and then mudpelt, “ congratulations, you two.

  • CICADASTAR ; he / him, roughly thirty seven months old, riverclan leader
    − tall black smoke tortie chimera with icecap eyes and curly fur, homosexual
    − speaks with a german accent, former marshlander, penned by antlers

  • none.

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Proud eyes first jolt upwards to meet his friend's, suddenly wide with alarm. "What do you mean 'is he okay'?" He quickly demands, worry in his voice. Beesong would know best, out of any cat here, right? Was something wrong with his son? Concerned eyes then shift to Cicadastar, who approaches to praise the tiny ginger scrap's tenacity. It calms the father, and he gazes back down towards the four young kits as they hungrily suckled at their mother's belly. "Thank you," He breathes in response to his leader's congratulations, beaming. He couldn't be prouder of the four lives he and Icesparkle had brought into the world on this day. Into RiverClan. Purring, he settles once more beside his mate and swipes his tongue lovingly across her cheek. "You should name the little one. He's a fighter, like you!"
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Exhausted, she was. But as the voices of her family brought her back to the land of the living, the tri-coloured molly opened her eyes to regard the cats around her – Beesong, with his worry (and on closing inspection, nothing was wrong with Fernkit? Right?); she licked away the taste of the stick he'd so helpfully handed her before the ordeal. "They're all perfect - " a murmur passed her lips, and she regarded the four squirming kits, " - gorgeous and handsome, just like their father!" As their leader spoke, the queen blinked warmly at Cicadastar, warmth and gratitude in her tired gaze. The smallest kit struggled a bit and she glanced down again, the ferns around her head brushing against her ears as she nudged him closer to her. "Hmm... perhaps - Fernkit!"

// i just had to get the naming of Fernkit out <3

Mudpelt can't stop the thunderous purring as his mate names the runt. "Fernkit - I love it!" He leans forward to give the tiny red tom a nudge with his muzzle. "Hello, Fernkit!" His tone is soft, but excited as he greets his son by name for the first time. They still have three more to name. He remembers the days and nights that he and Icesparkle sat and talked about names as their arrival grew closer. For one, it seemed obvious. He noses the tortoiseshell before swiping his tongue along her back. "She looks just like you. Remember what we decided? She's Iciclekit, for sure. Beautiful just like her mother." He beams back at his mate cheekily - she can't take it back now! He returns his shining gaze to the largest of the litter, the firstborn. "I know we talked about Mountain...but it doesn't fit her, does it? No, no, she needs something sturdy, but not like Mountain." Now that he has laid eyes on her, she's far too precious, and the name he once liked suddenly sounds too ugly for her. She deserves something so much better. "Something strong. Look at her - she's gonna be quite the warrior! How about Steepkit?" Now that's more like it! "Fernkit, Iciclekit, Steepkit." He nods; he's pleased! There's still one last kit to name, though. There in the middle is the dark brown tom-kit, suckling hungrily at his mother's belly. He glances up at his daughter, a lopsided smile on his maw. "Do you wanna name him, Lily?"

Lily is too focused on the new arrivals at first to acknowledge Beesong's question. She only really perceives it when her father chases him up on the question that she acknowledges, looking at the brother he is referring to in the question. Sure, he might have been a little small and awkward looking, but there doesn't appear to be anything outwardly wrong with him. He's certainly loud enough at least so that has to stand for something. And Cicadastar certainly thinks the same way so that helps alleviate some of her concerns too.

And then comes the naming. For the little ginger tom everyone is worried about her mother names Fernit. Her father names the next two kits, Iciclekit for the kit that looks like their mother, and Steepkit for the firstborn. With three kits left, that leaves one left to be named. Lily waits patiently to hear her parents choice and is surprised when she is offered the chance to name the remaining kit by her father. "You want me to name him?" Lily blinks in surprise. Despite her initial shock, she is touched by the gesture. "Okay, let's see," Lily muses, inching closer to her younger brother. "How about Darkkit?" She suggests after a moment. It's not the most inventive name but it suits him she thinks. Simple but perfect.
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Beesong does not know how to respond when his friend turns on him in a flurry of anxiety. In all honesty, he doesn't know. Blood loss and trauma, he could take care of. But deciphering whether newborn kittens are healthy or not? He's stumbled into the rapids without knowing a wink of how to swim, as blind and helpless as the squirming kittens at Icesparkle's belly.

All he knows is that the red kitten looks... weirder than usual. But is that cause for concern, or is he just ugly?

Either way, Cicadastar has a point... Watching the little tabby scream and squirm alongside his littermates does provide them with a spark of hope, although they've learned to bury it. He does seem to be a fighter, but there is always the chance that the battle could be lost. Only time would tell.

Beesong ducks out of the nursery as the family begins to coo over the newest additions; they feel out of place in the midst of such a domestic scene. That love and joy is not for them, and they do not intend to intrude.