camp the mint | anger and insecurity

[HOUNDKIT]

//tw just in case: body dysmorphia

"Anyone up for moss ball?"

It was the perfect suggestion for such a perfect day. The sun was brighter than ever and the warmth emitting from it was not too hot and not too cold. At this rate, the stream surrounding camp was going to warm up any day now. It was literally the perfect newleaf day. Moss ball seemed like the perfect activity to pass the time, just as the other kit announced. If only Houndkit had thought about it sooner. With a purr, he raced to the mouth of the nursery where a small crowd of kits were beginning to form, just as eager to play moss ball and giggling their approval. Houndkit pushed and stumbled his way into the crowd, clumsily knocking into the other kits around him who once purred in excitement now scowled and huffed their annoyances.

"Can I play?" Houndkit inquired with thrill. Of course they wouldn't say no. After all they were a few moss ball players short, so Houndkit believed it was an open invitation. Then, he heard snickers of laughter after his question from the other kits. Houndkit began to wonder, had he said something they found funny? He scanned the crowd only to notice they were staring at him with smirks.

"Sure you can, if you can catch up!"

In a blink of an eye, Houndkit watched as the other kits began racing out the nursery and into the clearing of camp. Houndkit was taken aback and a little dumbfounded, wondering what exactly they meant by that snide statement. Either way, Houndkit's determination was unwavering. He bucked his hindlegs to give himself a leaping start and landed on his big, unsure paws. Only to noticed that the other kits were faster than him, and that their stamina was higher than his as within just a couple of sprints he was panting already. Still, he didn't quit even if he could see that the other kits were out-preforming him. Houndkit didn't care, he just wanted to have a fun day playing moss ball with his peers. That's all he wanted. Yet as he continued to chase after the others so far behind, stumbling over his paws and landing flat on his face and skidding against the mud, he begins to think that a fun day was too much to ask for. And when he tried to scramble back to his paws through the aching of his round body from the fall, he could see the moss ball kits looking over at him and laughing. This was about his weight, wasn't it?

He was back where he was at the beginning of the day--at the mouth of the nursery after angrily stomping his way back to isolate himself from the laughter. He was staring at them while they chased each other and played so carelessly as if they didn't significantly hurt Houndkit's feelings. Everything was fine and normal for them, but what about him? Why does he have to be the butt of the joke, just because he was a little bigger than them? Houndkit's face was distorted in spite, his ears flat and his head hanging low. He refused to let himself become saddened by the attitude of his peers. Yet deep down, he couldn't hide it, and it manifested in the form of two or three tears dripping down his cheeks. It was unbelievable to him that his weight could affect whether or not the other kits would let him play moss ball. As he watched from afar, and after what had just unfolded, he still found himself longing for a mouse from the fresh kill pile to cheer him up.​

 

[MIDNIGHTASH]

જ➶ Her days have been lazy. Filled with a lethargy she has never known before. Filled with sorrow and inner pain that she isn't ready to face nor does she even understand how to deal with her. The lead's eyes are dull, emotionless as she shifts them across camp and she finfs herself watching as kits come barrelling out of the nursery. It brings something else to mind, another pain and another time. She raises a paw as if to drag her pink tongue across her scarred pad when she notices a youth straggling behind. Bumbling on too big paws and struggling to keep up with the rest of the pack. He keeps going, trying his best and keeping hope in his eyes to play with his peers. That is still he ends up face down in the muck, tumbling. Her maw turns slowly into a frown from vague neutrality simply because they laugh at him. Instead of helping him, they snide over their shoulders. Making them an outcast. It boils her blood, sparking a dying ember that won't last long but it lasts enough.

With a rise of her paws she steps her way forward. Gaze snapping to the group that keeps Houndkit at bay from playing with them. Watching him cry makes her gut twist. "I'll make them apologize to you." She begins easily enough. If the Queens can't keep watch then she will fix the issue herself and so she turns toward the kits and snaps. "All of you, come here. Now." There is no room for argument as she waits, tail twitching. Emotions frayed, vaguely presenting as anger. "None of you have any right to laugh at Houndkit. None. You wouldn't want to be laughed at and kept from playing so why do it to them? Apologize right now and actually play nicely with one another, or you might not become apprentices when you turn six moons."​

 

[Joykit]

Joykit had been watching from the nursery entrance—not part of the game, but not entirely apart from it either. Her mismatched eyes flicked from the crowd of kits to the stray moss ball skidding across the clearing, then back again as Houndkit fell behind, stumbling over his own paws.

She hadn't laughed. She hadn't joined in either, too unsure about throwing herself into play the way the other kits did, too used to watching first, waiting, reading the room before daring to step into it. That's just how she was. But when she saw Houndkit fall, saw the way he dragged himself upright only to be met with laughter, something bitter curled in her chest.

She knew that feeling.

She knew what it was like to feel like you were on the outside looking in. To be the one watched, not welcomed. She didn't move at first. Just stared. Not with pity, she hated pity—but with something sharper, more knowing. When the older warrior's voice rang out across the camp, sharp and commanding, she flinched just slightly, surprised. But part of her was… relieved, maybe. Someone had said what she was thinking but didn't know how to voice.

As the other kits were scolded and shuffled back toward Houndkit, she glanced his way again. He looked miserable—ears pinned, eyes red, cheeks still streaked with a few quiet tears.

She hesitated.

Then, slowly, she padded toward him—still uncertain, still not quite sure how to say what she wanted without sounding soft. She sat just a tail-length away, not too close, not too much, but there. "…They were being fox-hearts," she said matter-of-factly, glancing sideways at him. "That's not your fault." There was a pause. Her tail flicked against the ground once. "I'm not… good at moss ball," she admitted abruptly, like it was a secret she hated to give away. "But if you want, I'll play. With you, I mean."

Her eyes didn't meet his right away—she kept her gaze trained on the clearing, pretending not to care too much. But her voice was softer now, still rough around the edges but gentler underneath. "I don't think it matters how fast you are. Just that you have fun." It wasn't easy for her to offer connection never was. But she remembered what it felt like to be on the outside. And even if she didn't know Houndkit that well, she knew what it was like to hurt quietly. And she wouldn't let him sit alone in that feeling. Not if she could help it.

( °❀.ೃ࿔* ) just miss what it was

• 
• 
  JOYKIT KIT; SHE / HER ; RUE X UNKNOWN ; SIBLING TO LIGHT & HOPE
  

  Joykit is a fierce and proud cinnamon marbled tabby kit with a sharp mind and a fire in her heart. Independent to a fault and stubbornly self-reliant, she carries herself with boldness far beyond her size, refusing to be seen as weak or helpless. Competitive, energetic, and cunning, she meets the world with a challenging glare and a guarded heart, shaped by the hardship and loss of her early life as a loner. Beneath her bristled edges lies a deep resilience and a drive to prove she belongs—on her terms and no one else's.

  ✦ Unskilled kit

 

[shellpool]

SHELLPOOL

SHE / HER, RIVERCLAN WARRIOR

she had only just come back from patrol when she watches it unfold ; curled in a loose circle near the warriors den, teeth working on the still sheening scales of a minnow to sate her growling belly, an ear twitching towards the nursery upon hearing the bundle of kits trample their way clumsily over their own paws. her eyes flick upward, a low simmer of warmth finding ruddy depths as she watches them romp about, a lone kit stumbling forward in search of a discarded mossball. she draws her tongue over her mouth, still damp with freshwater meat when houndkit finally emerges behind them . . stumbling over his paws, eyes wide and lost, left in the dust of his denmates.

she stares, unsettled. a pit of something opens in her belly, a swirl of inadequacy she had long taught herself to primly tamper down in lieu of lifted chins, lidded eyes. sickness had kept her weak even now, however strong willed as she'd been, continues to ensure she is. slower, whezier, prone to outbursts of breath loss she could not overcome . . she knew what it was like to be left in the dust over things she could not change. a late apprenticeship, a late graduation, her brother ascending to ranks she aspired one day for herself. midnightash is already stalking over by the time shellpool has pushed away her leftovers, a brittle pile of bones she scrapes dirt over before lifting to lilac - mitted paws.

there is an uncharacteristic glower upon ever - still expression, harsher even without the exaggerated downturn of her muzzle. her watery gaze sweeps over them with searing disappointment, before blowing a pointed, dismissive breath from her nostrils. " and don't think . . i won't be having a word with your mothers about this. " she meows, simple and calm despite the simmer of annoyed disapproval that keep her words cleanly barbed, " unacceptable . . behavior. " towards a clanmate, no less. with a final, flourished lash of her pillowy tail, shellpool leaves midnightash to her scolding and finds houndkit instead. the sunset tones of little joykit have joined him, speaking in that uncertain, but matter - of - fact voice she's become so familiar with.

i don't think it matters how fast you are. just that you have fun. she says, and shellpool hums her affirmative with easy, observing eyes squinted softly as she approached. to be of loner blood, the tabby was compassionate, too young to have been altered by the outland's brutal ways of life. she is riverclan, now . . extending a paw of kindness toward her clanmate that her born denmates had not, " thats . . very wise, joykit. " the molly murmurs, head lowering towards houndkit, still huddled off to the side where he'd been abandoned. she doesn't know whats caused this, not really . . but she murmurs a, " there's not, and never will be, wrong way to be, houndkit. you'll . . do well to remember that. " anyway.

the world would be cruel . . stars knew it still was to her, at times. that didn't mean there was any truth in it.

ooc:

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Aenean mollis quam elementum malesuada rutrum.

. 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𓆝 ࿐

SHELLPOOLㅤ╱ㅤ WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. SHE/HER, 15☽s OLD. ; ELDEST DAUGHTER OF HAZECLOUD AND LICHENSTAR. SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. LIVING WITH LONGTERM ILLNESS. she is always exhibiting the symptoms of a lingering cold : watery eyes, a running nose and frequent sneezing & sniffling. penned by antlers. ₊ ˚ ໒꒱

( ° ❀ ⋆ .ೃ ࿔ * ) she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of dovey lilac curls, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore and plush enough to conceal the juts of malnutrition beneath. tufted eiderdown fur conceals a body worn thin by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with stubborn baby fat in others. her face is delicately constructed as the rest of her ; heart - shaped, fragile, tendered with warmly shadowed eyes. beneath the languor of lapis - veined lids, her gaze brims a rheumy, rosen tinge — ruddy like a pulsing bruise, curtained with heavy lashes that keep her serenely half - lidded.