private THE WATER | starlingheart

[FLINTWISH]

Flintpaw has taken to helping Starlingheart around the medicine den where she will allow it. With Magpiepaw dead atop the countless other griefs that she bears, he thinks it is only appropriate to try and lessen the strain she remains under. After all, her job as a medicine cat didn't pause for these kinds of interruptions. She of all cats knows that well; learned it when she let her own son live instead of someone else's. Now that's the only kit she has left. Flintpaw tries to do well for her.

Unfortunately, her newest bout illness had knocked her out of her training for several moons; now, newly recovered, she paws through the appropriate leaves and records their quantities. Some of the leaves are broad and fuzzy, others are thin and feathered, still others are hardly more than wispy blades of grass. Flintpaw can't fathom how they're used for treatment. And then there's all the salves and barks and roots and berries — it must have taken moons of training for Starlingheart to learn all of these. The slate-hewn tom can't help but compare his own academic journey to hers; though his is approaching a similar duration, it was certainly less rigorous. His ears burn, embarrassed. It is embarrassing to be held back. Embarrassing to not be a warrior now that he's of age — now that he's the only member of his litter who can be a warrior at all. Ghostpaw had fled with Granitepelt, and Nettlepaw had become a corpse. It's hard not to feel the weight of what's riding on him now.

"What one is this again?" Flintpaw asks as he paws through a pile of purple-blossomed stalks. He shifts his dual-toned gaze to meet Starlingheart's monocular one. "Um... I forgot the name." And he'd probably forget again later, but for now he can do whatever he can to be helpful.

/ @Starlingheart <3

𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 ✧ 𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

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  — flintkit . flintpaw
  — he / they / she ; apprentice of shadowclan
  — short-haired solid blue tom with low white and blue/green heterochromatic eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — chibi by sixbane, signature by dreamydoggo
  — penned by meghan

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[Starlingheart]

What Flintpaw is doing is obvious, but she would never dare to complain. Any time spent with her son was a welcome distraction to her and besides, she liked to believe that he needed her as much as she needed them. Being held back was likely hard on her, she knows. Not that she had ever had to go though that feeling herself, not with the way she ahd been thrust into her position far too soon, but she would have to be blind not to see the look on her face, the restlessness stirring just beneath the surface. She can't say she blames him. The medicine cat's den was only fit for a very specific type of cat. Cats like herself and Magpiepaw.

She does not trouble herself with teaching Flintpaw the way she might an actual apprentice. Replacing Magpiepaw was the last thing on her mind right now. It felt.. too soon. Maybe he would come back. Maybe the twoleg would return him to them and this would all one day just be a distant memory that they could look back on and tell jokes about. She would light heartedly tease him for being a kittypet now, and he would quip back at her in that famous way of his. Everything would be okay in the end. (But when have things ever gone that way for her?)

The question startles her out of her thoughts, but she does not show it. Quick to recover, she swings her head arounud so her good eye can fix on the herb in question. From the distance she sits away, she ahs to squint slightly but the second she sees purple, it is not difficult to determine what it is. There is only one that has flowers like that, after all. "Comfrey" she answers "The root-roots of that flower can be uh can be used for many the-things" it was a soothing herb, one that could be used for a myriad of ailments and probably it was among one of her favorites for its versatility alone.

A pause stretches between them, one in which Starlingheart draws comfort in. There are not many cats she can enjoy silence with, but her daughter was one. After some time passes though, she finds herself glancing at gray fur from the corner of her eye, and though it feels much too soon still, she cannot help but wonder. "Have you- have you thought about what your- what your warrior name will be?" she asks quietly, though the real question she wants to ask balances precariously at the tip of her tongue do you enjoy it?

( ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. ) fly me up on a silver wing

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  STARLINGHEART SHADOWCLAN MEDICINE CAT; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO PITCHSTAR, CHITTERTONGUE, NIGHTSWARM, SKUNKTAIL, AND LILACFUR. MOTHER TO NETTLEPAW, FLINTPAW AND GHOSTPAW.
  

  A skinny she cat with short black and white fur littered with scars and one singular green eye.

  ✦ Easy in battle + has little to no formal battle training
  

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[FLINTWISH]

He does need Starlingheart, really. He likes to think he doesn't. He likes to think he is brave, facing ShadowClan on his own after all the grief it has put him through, but he wouldn't be here without Starlingheart (quite literally). It is through her aid that he still breathes through petaled lungs. It is through her love that he has not yet turned into Granitepelt himself.

She swings her head to look at the herbs at her paws. Flintpaw blinks when Starlingheart answers, comfrey; thinks of Comfreypaw, torn to ribbons by Siltcloud. But the thought passes quickly, especially as the explanation comes flooding in. She files it away, counting and reporting the number dutifully to her mother, and moves on to the next pile of leaves. It is in this pause that she eases in to the den more fully. It's only when Starlingheart pitches another question that she tenses again, at least initially. A warrior name felt entirely out of her reach in the wake of everything that had happened to her. He struggled to think of much past passing his assessment (if it would ever come, now that Scalejaw was injured) — an entire name? He isn't sure.

"Um," Flintpaw stutters, white-tipped paws shuffling. "Not really. But I hope it's something, um... nice." His ears tilt backwards almost imperceptibly. The eldest apprentice eases back into his own skin, though his ears begin to burn once more as he imagines what Chilledstar might bestow upon him. Their names are never cruel, but would they be cruel for him? For their murderer's son? For a greedy, sick kit? Flintpaw chews his cheek. Maybe they'd name him Flintpelt. Wouldn't that be awful?

"Maybe something soft," he murmurs, ears tilting backwards in full now. He'd like to be soft — really, he would. He'd be more like Starlingheart then. "Like... Flintpetal." It's not quite right. He cringes as it leaves his tongue. "Or maybe something else. What do you think?" He fixes his gaze on Starlingheart again, tail twitching. Even in the midst of his uncertainty about warriorhood, he seems calm when he settles his attention on her.

𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 ✧ 𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

• 

• 
  
  — flintkit . flintpaw
  — he / they / she ; apprentice of shadowclan
  — short-haired solid blue tom with low white and blue/green heterochromatic eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — chibi by sixbane, signature by dreamydoggo
  — penned by meghan

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