private THE LIONS' DEN ✧ Nettlekit

[GRANITEPELT]

He has noticed strengths in his sons, though they are different as the sun and the moon. Flintkit has the makings of a fierce warrior, sturdy and strong as his father. Nettlekit, though, is clever, perhaps more like his sister—there’s the cunning of a fox in him somewhere, Granitepelt likes to think. Perhaps it’s simply innocent curiosity now, but that can be tamed into something useful. The gray warrior does not want to squander fatherhood; he’d not had a father, had been left to his own devices by a heartbroken and grieving mother who yearned for her old kittypet life.

Granitepelt sees the fox-red of his son’s pelt, the snowy cap of white fur on his head, and he lets out a curt greeting. “Nettlekit.” He pads closer to his second-born kit, blinking down at him. “What are you doing?” It’s of little consequence; now that Granitepelt is paying attention to him, Nettlekit will give him his undivided interest. He sits beside his son, his tail flicking thoughtfully.

“I’ve come to you with a puzzle.” He tries to smile, but it feels off on his face. There’s something sinister about what he’s about to do—and he’s a little afraid to speak things best left unspoken into existence—but Nettlekit… he will show his true colors, his true potential, to his father today. “Who is it you dislike most in ShadowClan?” He searches his son’s guileless blue eyes, waiting for an answer.

// @NETTLEKIT

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — granitekit . granitepaw . granitepelt
  — he/him ; warrior of shadowclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Starlingheart
  — short-haired gray tom with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Meg

​

 

[NETTLEPAW ♡]

The clatter of one stone against another, a fierce battle between warriors that thrived entirely in his head... it disappeared the instant his father spoke his name. Dewdrop eyes blinked at bulletfire for a few seconds, pushing away imagination to settle upon reality- it wasn't often he got to speak to his father, one-on-one, no other voices piping in their points of view. "Hi," he said, his voice containing none of the surprise he had been struck with only moments before. Framed with a smile, his tone was fairly even, brushed with easiness. "Nothing, really." There was no reason to hide it, but... Nettlekit felt an odd desire to keep his inner thoughts exactly where they were.

A puzzle. His gaze illuminated slightly, settling steadfast upon Granitepelt's face. He liked puzzles. Liked anything, really, that made him think. And paying attention to people, he'd found, was a good way to keep them coming back to you. Posed with the question, though... Nettlekit let his pupils drop to the ground, misting over in sightless thoughtfulness. Who was it... he'd not had much experience outside of the den he shared with his siblings, or the quite-stocked nursery. "No one, yet." It was a confident answer. His head tilted, and he met his father's gaze again. "Maybe I haven't met enough people. Can you avoid disliking people? It doesn't sound... pleasant." He hesitated before the last word, as if attempting to remember it. Granitepelt knew a lot about what it was like to grow up- knew when his life had truly begun, apparently. He probably knew the answer to that question. ​

penned by pin ♡​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

Nettlekit’s easy expression, the natural way he adopts his father’s calm demeanor, does not go unnoticed by Granitepelt. He studies his fox-pelted son for a moment, head tilting to the side. “There’s no one you dislike? None of your siblings, none of the other kits?” For a moment, he’s a bit dumbfounded. How had the boy gotten to two moons without some quibble with another scrap of fur? He ventures through the recesses of his mind for a moment, remembering the hatred that had burned inside of him for Briarstar’s kits, for Ghostkit.

“Can you avoid disliking people?” Granitepelt can’t, and it’s something he had to come to terms with not much older than Nettlekit… but perhaps there’s less rage inside his second son. Perhaps he’s more like Starlingheart, pure, good-hearted. The warrior stares at him, unsure if this is a weakness or a strength. “Sure,” he relents. “But let’s put it this way. What if… what if one of the cats in ShadowClan was bad, and you knew it?”

He looks away from Nettlekit, remembering earth-toned rosettes and manic amber eyes. “What if there was a cat who wished harm on you or—or StarClan forbid, your mother.” He swishes his tail behind him. “What could you do about that?”

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — granitekit . granitepaw . granitepelt
  — he/him ; warrior of shadowclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Starlingheart
  — short-haired gray tom with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Meg

​

 

[NETTLEPAW ♡]

Though the beginnings of nettle kit's talent for acting, for glad facade, laid in his expression... there was too an ill-hidden captivation with the puzzle his father had set him, his captivation hardly tempered. Still, an effort was made to maintain his calmness; he shook his head plainly at the other posed question, the cogs of his mind clearly whirring. No... he forgot about most of what annoyed him soon after it had happened. Irritation burned in his chest- hurt, and felt unpleasant. He therefore did not keep it there for long.

Bad. It was an objective thing, and Nettlekit knew the meaning of it very well. Bad, and he knew it. Visibly, the snow-and-clay kitten winced a little at the mention of his mother- wishing someone who'd want to harm her seemed almost impossible, and therefore... bad. "I'd tell everyone how bad they were." It was a simple answer, but his thought process didn't end there- it stretched itself beyond that horizon, and Nettlekit kept speaking. "Try to show everyone that they were no good. And- then, I guess, we'd get rid of them." Exile, cast away... something like that. He was confident in his ability to be convincing, to expose a blackened heart efficiently.​

penned by pin ♡​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

Granitepelt keeps his expression still as stone while Nettlekit works the puzzle out in his mind. He knows bad, certainly. All the kits know bad. Bad is useless. Bad is weak. Bad is anyone, or anything, that would threaten them or their mother. The young warrior listens to his second-born’s logic, an ear flicking. “I’d tell everyone how bad they were,” Nettlekit declares, and Granitepelt gives him an encouraging nod. Yes, ousting the traitor is a decent idea, depending on who it is… “And—then, I guess, we’d get rid of them.” The small kit won’t be able to see the gleam in his father’s green eyes, but it’s there, palpably bright.

“What if…” He tilts his head, his paws flexing in the soft marshy dust, “What if everyone in ShadowClan really liked the bad cat?” He gets to his paws, pacing slowly. “What if—what if they liked them more than you? And then, what if they don’t believe you?” Granitepelt meets the innocent blue of his child’s eyes. Is there more there than he’d previously thought? “What if the bad cat made it seem like you were a liar?”

A complicated question for a kit of so few moons, but Nettlekit is impressing him, slowly but surely.

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — granitekit . granitepaw . granitepelt
  — he/him ; warrior of shadowclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Starlingheart
  — short-haired gray tom with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Meg

​

 

[NETTLEPAW ♡]

Another puzzle. Nettlekit's attention did not splinter, however... for this wasn't completely different. This was another layer, another complication, to the solution he'd arrived at. Transfixed pupils followed his father's pacing movements, and his head drifted slowly into a tilt. His blue gaze glazed glassy for the time that he thought, and thought, and thought. A bad cat, who everyone liked more than him? How would it even be possible? He made sure everybody liked him. He never did anything to upset anyone, and he always tried to be what he thought was a good friend.

Nettlekit could not quite fathom the level of attentiveness his father gave him, now- nor his anticipation for his answer. This was all just fiction, just hypotheticals, to him. "I never lie." Nettlekit said plainly. He seemed almost offended by the notion. Lying was bad- and his statement was plain, again, and maybe naive.

"Why wouldn't they like me more than a bad cat?" He said it with a shrug. "I'm not bad. Bad people are stupid and mean. If everyone sides with a bad cat, that just makes them all bad, too." A frustrated sigh slipped through his nostrils. He felt like he'd failed the test, but that situation seemed like a hopeless one. And a pointless one. "I guess I'd just... see who I can convince." Maybe it was a weak answer, but it was clear there was some part of Nettlekit that squirmed at the idea of being disliked, even marginally.​

penned by pin ♡​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

Nettlekit seems puzzled by Granitepelt’s hypotheticals. At two moons, the little blue-eyed tom cannot fathom a world in which the bad cats win. Had he ever been that way—or had Briarstar’s wretched kin ruined it for him early? Why is his littermate’s death the first memory he has? The gray warrior studies his son again, but most of the positive feelings he’d been feeling before are starting to tarnish like metal left to rust in rain. “What if the bad cat who hurt your mother was a leader? What if she was a medicine cat?” His lip curls. “You are too young, but when I was your age, we had a medicine cat who hurt others. She hurt my sibling. She let a queen die.” His breath is shallower, but only slightly.

He looks angrily into nothing. He is feeling all of fifteen moons now, not the wise and respected father Nettlekit thinks he has. (In his mind.) “I tried to tell everyone Bonejaw was evil. I got laughed at. I got punished.” He snorts. “And then Bonejaw got her happily ever after, running away like a coward to another Clan.” He forgets the kit beside him is only two moons—he forgets himself, for a moment, his tail curling angrily behind him. “Pitchstar was upset by that. He took it out on me. He—” He grits his teeth, remembering himself, finally.

Granitepelt gives Nettlekit a cursory look. “Nevermind.” He exhales, feeling his ribs push against white fur. He had gotten lost in an anger so ancient and pent-up that it had threatened to consume him like wildfire. “Nevermind that story. It was just… an example.”

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — granitekit . granitepaw . granitepelt
  — he/him ; warrior of shadowclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Starlingheart
  — short-haired gray tom with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Meg

​

 

[NETTLEPAW ♡]

Granitepelt's hot-blooded words washed over Nettlekit like rainfall- but it was not cooling like a summer shower. Rather, it was like the water had been heated by the force of the sun, boiling and bubbling, twisting into steam as it bounced off his fur. A leader, a medicine cat- bad. It seemed oxymoronic to his mind, sharp but pointedly young; he was feverish to learn, always wanting, but he had not the wisdom of a medicine cat or the life-experience of a warrior, despite his lineage.

He was silent, notably so- wide eyes watched with a tilt of the head. This was a reminder that there were many things Nettlekit did not understand. Bonejaw, Pitchstar- they were bad cats, apparently. One a medicine cat who did not heal, and the other... a leader who took anger out on his warriors. Even if they weren't bad cats, they were foolish ones for doing such things. How was that a way to make other cats respect you? Like you? No wonder Granitepelt hated them.

"An example..." he parroted, slower. His gaze had never left Granitepelt's face, even when his father had looked away. "It must have been hard." Nettlekit clicked his tongue. "But they're gone now, and you're still here," he pointed out, head tilting again. Eventually, Granitepelt had got what he had wanted; to get rid of the bad cats, like Nettlekit had said he too would do.​

penned by pin ♡​