camp THERE’S AN AMOUNT TO TAKE ✦ NEST MAKING

[Joykit]

Joykit frowned at her nest.

It had served her well, she supposed. A messy bundle of reeds and moss, pushed together with more care than she'd known what to do with. She hadn't thought much about where it came from at the time, too busy adjusting, too busy watching, too busy making sure no one would take it away from her. But now—now it was falling apart. The moss had flattened and thinned, the reeds poked at her when she shifted, and no amount of turning in circles made it any more comfortable.

She needed a new one.

The thought made her bristle. She had been here long enough to know that kits didn't make their own nests—queens did. She had watched them weave soft spaces for their own children, adjusting them with gentle paws and noses, making sure their kits were warm and safe. That wasn't for her.

She wasn't helpless. She wasn't a burden. So, Joykit would make her own. It should be easy. She'd seen nests before. All she needed was moss and… and other things. Reeds, maybe? Soft stuff. She could do that. She just had to find it first.

The little cinnamon tabby set to work, determined but unsure, dragging bits of moss and reeds into a pile that grew larger, but not neater. The moss was clumped in odd places, some still damp from where she'd pulled it up too soon. The reeds stuck out at wild angles, refusing to bend the way she wanted. The whole thing was lopsided and uneven, barely more than a mess.

Joykit scowled at it, tail lashing once. It wasn't right. Not comfortable, not smooth like the nests she'd seen before. But she wouldn't ask for help. She just had to fix it.

She huffed and crouched over it, trying to press the pieces together with small, stubborn paws. The reeds crunched under her weight, snapping instead of weaving, and a chunk of moss stuck to her claws when she lifted her foot.

Her whiskers twitched. Okay. This might be harder than she thought.

( °❀.ೃ࿔* ) just miss what it was

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

  Joykit is a fiercely independent and passionate she-kit, born into a harsh world where survival is a constant battle. Abandoned by her mother on the border of RiverClan, she is determined to carve her own path, driven by a competitive spirit and a need to prove herself

  ✦ Unskilled kit

 

[shellpool]

SHELLPOOL

SHE / HER, RIVERCLAN WARRIOR

it's the mound of . . stuff, that catches shellpool's attention when she first enters the nursery : snaps of reed and twig lain over bundles of quickly collected moss, clumps of awkwardly rolled greenery that she lingers an eye on for too long. there is a plump finch hanging from her maw, quickly enveloped in the heady scent of milk and mothers when the lichen parts, nosing her way further into the den where joykit works over her patchwork bedding. it had been a long time since they were set to march right into the nursery upon return from a hunting patrol, the lack of leafbare kits keeping their floundering heads just above water ; the warmth brought prey, though, and she is beginning to lose her hold on that desperate need for survival. the loss and subsequent toll of sunningrocks had wracked up high in the time they'd used it to hunt the occasional scrawny mouse, but the thaw meant new life, new fish, fed bellies. of course . . she always preferred the meat of a newly returned fletching. perhaps that's why shellpool brings her catch right to joykit, blood still cooling beneath an only recently stilled heart and panic - fluttered wings.

she'd been too young to remember when smokestar had brought her to camp alongside her siblings, a tufted dangle of alabaster eiderdown and sickness with her eyes still sewn shut from birth. she'd only known the cold, then. the cold, and the bodies of her brothers as they crawled an instinctual huddle over her for warmth. pebbletail's ears never healed, and riverpaw . . she couldn't assume his had, either. a deep, curling blackness that ate away at their soft tissues until the rasp of a loving tongue eased them back to life. joykit had, thank the stars, avoided that same fate. she is bright, brave, kind and utterly . . alone, clambering a moss bed for herself beyond the reed curtain. memories of days long past, little paws smelling heavy of mint and honey and saltridden tears clobbering her sick nest together once again flit behind her eye. her mothers face, loner stench heavy in her tight throat follow soon after.

she settles the bird aside near the girl's pile distractedly, watching from the corner of rheumy eyes when a paw lifts, sticky with overwet moss. a smile pulls, but does not form anywhere but warm, suddenly squinting eyes . . she plucks a single feather, and moves the couple steps it took to her side.

shellpool settles at her flank quietly, folds her petalcurled tail primly over mitted paws, eyes flicking over the moss nest with a thoughtful, exaggerated eye. she drops the feather between her paws, a slow flutter to the ground aside the kitten's rumpled nest where she fiddles with it, almost absently between two pearlescent claws. she remembers days with the redwater rogues, the days she had constructed her own nest when kindling refused to share her own. there is a beat of quiet, and then . . " when i was a kitten, i thought . . that the reeds could smell my frustration. they'd just snap . . whenever i least needed them to. " her voice is soft, humming, a run of babbling waters over their rocky shore. it had been one of the few things she'd been good at, back in those days . . a weaving made from paws of one so often locked away, so often practiced, she could ribbon a pattern better than most in her dreams . . but sometimes, they still just broke, " but ill tell you a little . . secret trick, if you promise not to tell . . anyone else. "

an ear flicks conspiratorially, head tilting down closer to her. it would not be a secret, not by any means . . but it would be to joykit. that was enough, " the feathers . . from that finch's wing have hard stems in the middle . . and if you do this - " she lays the feather neatly across a jut of broken weed, tucking it's hard end into the soft moss up to the soft plume. it flattens the bend, the harder middle of the feather keeping it firmly pinned. a pleased purr, brief and rickety, rumbles from her fragile chest when she looks to the young girl again, " why don't you . . grab another one? " there was still work to be done on this poor clump of weeds, and if it convinced her to take a bite of her dinner before trying it, too . . she'd only count it as a win.

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.

 

[Twinkleflight]

Weaving was never a strength of hers, they couldn't craft intricate nests laced with delicate materials. In all honestly her nest is rather ugly, impusively placed together materials with stones and other odd things placed in it. Not a comfortable place to rest at all but Twinkleflight makes it work. She's practically trained herself to sleep on any terrain with how bumpy and prickly her nest is. There is a curiosity if Joykit could also train herself in such a manner, given the state of her nest they assumed so. Twinkleflight lingers by the nursery, hoping to try and fill her time with a poorly hatched game for the kits. Most of them seem to be out and about, save Joykit who looked like the worst thing has ever happened to her with how she stares at that nest.

They're thankful that Shellpool is here at least, stars know this kit would have no hope at having a comfortable nest if they had opened their maw to give some poor advice. Their only saving grace of having a some semblance of a proper nest was from watching her work, absorbing any information she could get either through questions or simply through watching. Her tail curls around her paws as she watches her work, sharing that wisdom with Joykit.

"Shellpool's a real genius with nests" she remarks from the entrance. It's a rather comfortable spot she spurs herself to move from it, just incase they barricaded anyone within or stopped anyone else from the outside to enter. "Probably better than the queens" there's a beat "don't tell them I said that." It's spoken in a whisper, alongside a rumbling purr of a chuckle. They aren't really sure why a queen isn't working on this to begin with? Wasn't that something they usually did? "You'll have the best looking nest in the nursery soon" musing with a low whistle as an icey gaze flicks to the competition so to speak.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ MAMA SAID IM SPECIAL ➹ I WAS‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
• TWINKLEFLIGHT
  They/she, RiverClan apprentice, 14 moons
  ★ A sleek yet tufted short haired blue point with blue eyes
  ☆ Littermates w/ Eveningpaw, Horizonthroat and Snowflakekit †
  ★ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ☆ Speech (#C9BAF3), thoughts
  ★penned by Juice | ouijeejuice on discord

​

 

[HOUNDKIT]

Houndkit was not as self-assured or independent as Joykit was becoming. He had noticed a short crowd beginning to form around Joykit in the nursery--something about a nest they were making together. Houndkit would look from Joykit's nest to his own for no reason in particular. He just wondered how they were able to do it. It made Houndkit feel somehow useless as his mother was the one who created his plump moss nest for him. He rose to his paws and stepped out of his nest to observe it more closely. He could see the love and care his mother put into the nest, the woven pieces were tightly sewed together without faltering under Houndkit's nest. However, he noticed that there was a round indent right in the middle from Houndkit's weight. He shrugged.

Houndkit approached the others and peaked passed the warriors to Joykit's nest in the making. From Shellpool's help, it was actually starting to look pretty decent. He nodded his head in approval, then stared back at Joykit for a minute. He wondered if she had even wanted help in the first place. After all she started this project all by herself without even inquiring the queens or warriors for assistance. From what Houndkit observed, she seemed to want to mature as quickly as possible. "Cool nest, Joykit." The round tabby announced, complimenting the work-in-progress bedding. "What was so bad about the other one?"​

 

[Joykit]

Joykit was still frowning at the mangled pile of reeds when the soft thump of pawsteps caught her ear, followed by the scent of feathers and fresh air. She didn't need to look to know someone had approached, but her gaze flicked up anyway, just in time to see Shellpool drop a finch beside her mess of a nest. She blinked, a little surprised, had Shellpool brought that for her? A faint heat prickled behind her ears. She didn't really know how to respond to kindness when it came without conditions. Her first instinct was to protest, to say she didn't need food, that she could've hunted herself if she were older, that she was fine.

But Shellpool didn't say anything at first. Just sat beside her, quiet and calm, fiddling with a feather like it was the most natural thing in the world. That quiet hum in her voice as she spoke felt like river-water, soft and slow and steady. She glanced at her sideways, not quite sure how to react.

Her ears twitched when Shellpool mentioned the reeds snapping just to spite her, and, just for a heartbeat, her shoulders loosened, the corner of her mouth twitching upward in something that might've been a smile. Maybe it wasn't just her, then. Maybe the reeds were just stubborn and cruel to everyone.

She leaned in a little as the older warrior showed her the trick with the feather, watching carefully as it tucked the reed flat. Her eyes widened slightly. That actually… worked. Her brows furrowed in concentration, as if she were burning the lesson into her mind. "…I guess that's kinda smart," she admitted quietly, then glanced at the finch again. "I'll get another one."

Before she could rise, Twinkleflight's voice rang out near the entrance, and Joykit's ears flicked back, caught between pride and discomfort at being observed so much. It was strange, being the center of attention like this. It wasn't like she hated it, exactly, but she wasn't sure what to do with it, either. Shellpool's a genius. Better than the queens. She snorted softly at that, but didn't disagree. If anything, it made her chest swell a little, not because she needed help, obviously, but because maybe learning from someone like Shellpool didn't feel like weakness after all.

Her blue-green gaze flicked toward Houndkit as he stepped closer, his quiet compliment landing awkwardly between them. She hadn't expected that either. For a second, she wasn't sure how to respond. "Thanks," she muttered, then added with a quick shrug, "The old one was just… falling apart. I didn't want anyone else to fix it for me." There was a pause before she added, a little more defensive than necessary, "I can do it myself. I just didn't know about the feathers, that's all." Her tone was sharp, but not cruel—just layered with the need to prove herself, as always.

Still, she glanced down at the nest again, and then to the finch beside her. "…But I guess it's not the worst thing to have a little help."

Only a little, though.

( °❀.ೃ࿔* ) 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