- Oct 7, 2024
- 12
- 4
- 3
@FLINTWISH
His early moons are filled with love - love from his mother, from his father, from his kin that still breathes and no doubt from the kin that no longer does. He and his siblings are the prize for perseverance, the gift of continuing on even when life and death become fast friends in one's presence. Promisekit adores being lulled to sleep with his parents conversations, with the cheers of elder kittens playing games, or even the bickering of warriors who do not mind who listens.
He listens, half heartedly, to any cat who does not understand the issue with little ears. And with little ears, he starts to notice the discrepancy in conversations. The confusion doesn't come quickly. It's a slow build, as some days he calls Flintwish Mama, and some days Dada... but never Ashenfall. His nursery-bound parent is always Dada, regardless of if Flintwish holds to the title too. The confusion that burls in his ever hungry mind doesn't come with the shared name, but more the changing one.
He leans into Flintwish's flank as his mother eats beside him. He notes halfheartedly how their fur is nearly the same shade, and how he could melt and hide in the other's pelt... if Flintwish were long furred like he is. Bicolored eyes hold to his mother and with the spontaneity of a child with no tact, he asks, "Mama, why is today... a Mama day? Why not Dada, like..." his gaze drifts to Ashenfall, surely not too far away, clustered with the rest of the litter. "Like Dada?" How does it work? He tilts his head with his inquiry, whip-like tail lashing lazily behind him.
His early moons are filled with love - love from his mother, from his father, from his kin that still breathes and no doubt from the kin that no longer does. He and his siblings are the prize for perseverance, the gift of continuing on even when life and death become fast friends in one's presence. Promisekit adores being lulled to sleep with his parents conversations, with the cheers of elder kittens playing games, or even the bickering of warriors who do not mind who listens.
He listens, half heartedly, to any cat who does not understand the issue with little ears. And with little ears, he starts to notice the discrepancy in conversations. The confusion doesn't come quickly. It's a slow build, as some days he calls Flintwish Mama, and some days Dada... but never Ashenfall. His nursery-bound parent is always Dada, regardless of if Flintwish holds to the title too. The confusion that burls in his ever hungry mind doesn't come with the shared name, but more the changing one.
He leans into Flintwish's flank as his mother eats beside him. He notes halfheartedly how their fur is nearly the same shade, and how he could melt and hide in the other's pelt... if Flintwish were long furred like he is. Bicolored eyes hold to his mother and with the spontaneity of a child with no tact, he asks, "Mama, why is today... a Mama day? Why not Dada, like..." his gaze drifts to Ashenfall, surely not too far away, clustered with the rest of the litter. "Like Dada?" How does it work? He tilts his head with his inquiry, whip-like tail lashing lazily behind him.