- Jan 27, 2023
- 460
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All is right, Bluefrost thinks; her kits, all five of them, slumber at her side, and Thriftfeather is close, his scent enveloping their shared brood. She peeks over her shoulder; there is still, in her mind, that gentle juxtaposition, Cottonsprig's kits against her own, but as the days have blurred together, she is beginning to lose less of her initial sense of that divide. Her daughter is home safe, her — well, Thriftfeather — is close, unharmed, and despite her pernicious role in WindClan, all seems well.
She cannot sleep, though, and there is one kit who seems restless, querulous mew rising for attention. Bluefrost singles her out. She grips Sootkit by her gold-smeared blue scruff and places her gently between her forepaws. "You cannot sleep, either, hmm?" Bluefrost gazes down at her, eyes still sealed shut, breath slow and unbothered, body warm, fur soft, downy.
I was this small, once. I slept beside Harrierstripe, Cottonsprig, Addervenom, Moorblossom. I fought for space at Kestrelsnap's flank. I grew fat on her milk. On her love. It had never been Sootstar's, though. She had known her mother as WindClan's leader before she had known her as mom — she had known her as mentor and had called her as such before she had cried out, Mother!
Bluefrost tilts her head to one side. Sootkit will bear a crown of thorns and roses that will shred deep into her temples, the soft flesh of her ears. "That's quite a legacy for a kit," Thriftfeather had warned; Scorchstorm had flinched from the name, as had Pinkshine, as had Sedgepounce, but —
"There is no shame in legacy." She bends closer, her purr rattling her daughter's folded ear. "There are great pawprints laid out before you... but I will help you fill them. I will never let you slip."
It is that image of Sootstar, her smoke-cloud silhouette against a vermilion sky, that causes Bluefrost to lay her muzzle against Sootkit's face. Her mother, lionized by the windswept Clan she ruled with bloodstained claws and fearsome teeth. Her mother, that phantom who chases her, and chases her, who she cannot escape, not ever, not truly; she has yielded to her before, and she fears the possibility she will again, even in death.
I have laid that on your brow. Bluefrost realizes this with an ebbing sadness. You will carry it, though. You will be better than she ever was, than I ever will be.
Impossibilities sink around the three of them, mother and daughter and grandmother's shadow.
She cannot sleep, though, and there is one kit who seems restless, querulous mew rising for attention. Bluefrost singles her out. She grips Sootkit by her gold-smeared blue scruff and places her gently between her forepaws. "You cannot sleep, either, hmm?" Bluefrost gazes down at her, eyes still sealed shut, breath slow and unbothered, body warm, fur soft, downy.
I was this small, once. I slept beside Harrierstripe, Cottonsprig, Addervenom, Moorblossom. I fought for space at Kestrelsnap's flank. I grew fat on her milk. On her love. It had never been Sootstar's, though. She had known her mother as WindClan's leader before she had known her as mom — she had known her as mentor and had called her as such before she had cried out, Mother!
Bluefrost tilts her head to one side. Sootkit will bear a crown of thorns and roses that will shred deep into her temples, the soft flesh of her ears. "That's quite a legacy for a kit," Thriftfeather had warned; Scorchstorm had flinched from the name, as had Pinkshine, as had Sedgepounce, but —
"There is no shame in legacy." She bends closer, her purr rattling her daughter's folded ear. "There are great pawprints laid out before you... but I will help you fill them. I will never let you slip."
It is that image of Sootstar, her smoke-cloud silhouette against a vermilion sky, that causes Bluefrost to lay her muzzle against Sootkit's face. Her mother, lionized by the windswept Clan she ruled with bloodstained claws and fearsome teeth. Her mother, that phantom who chases her, and chases her, who she cannot escape, not ever, not truly; she has yielded to her before, and she fears the possibility she will again, even in death.
I have laid that on your brow. Bluefrost realizes this with an ebbing sadness. You will carry it, though. You will be better than she ever was, than I ever will be.
Impossibilities sink around the three of them, mother and daughter and grandmother's shadow.
- ooc: @sootkit.
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Bluekit.Bluepaw. Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
— “speech”, thoughts, attack
— 18 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
— mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
— windclan queen.sootstarxweaselclaw, gen 2.
— penned by Marquette.
lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
