private WHO WANTS WHAT [ robinheart ]

[claythorn]

Perhaps it was more then obvious, but Claythorn was nearing her date. Her stomach was round, round enough that she almost waddled when she walked, her appetite was slowly decreasing and she was thirstier then she ever thought possible. She had circled her nest, tucked feathers into it that got gifted to her, moss that was plumper and softer then what she normally chose for the warrior's den- she had circled it, pushed it about. She was just now trying to settle down again, mid-day and near broiling hot.

Her eyes scanned the nest critically again, before looking up as a now-familiar face approached. She blinked at Robinheart briefly before dipping her head in greeting, vision turning back to her nest. "I feel like I'm going crazy." She speaks, the first to break the comfortable silence she had learned to live in around the other queen. "I've double, triple checked this nest, and I still feel something poking me, and I... good stars I am over it." She mumbled, using a paw to nudge at the nest again. Truly, there was nothing there- it was just the approaching pains of birth.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"
  // @robinheart

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, fifteen moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ mated to otterbite / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[robinheart]

She can empathize with Claythorn's discomfort, the end nearly in sight for the new queen. Robinheart had been just as round once, just as achy and uncomfortable and restless. Stars that was moons ago… it makes the tortoiseshell miss the days leading up to her kitting. Certainly she was miserable, but she had been miserable with Brookstorm at her side to help care for her. Those were probably some of the happiest days of their lives as mates.

Robinheart tries not to think about Claythorn's relationship with Otterbite - she cannot bring herself to compare experiences given how different the circumstances.

She quietly limps into the nursery, water soaked mossball gingerly held in her maw. The more experienced queen sets it beside her companion's nest (an immaculate nest) and offers a warm smile. It falters slightly at first, though quirks into something wry and knowing as Claythorn explains herself. "Not crazy, Claythorn, just… nesting," she chuckles as citrine eyes scan over the nest for good measure. She sees no flaws. No thorns or twigs. "I was antsy in the days leading up to the birth of my kits. Couldn't get comfortable. My nest wasn't quite right. I would be too hot, then too cold. A downright mess if you ask me."

Paws carry her closer to the expectant mother and Robinheart aims a friendly brush of her tail against rounded flank. "How about you drink some water and then we go for a walk around camp? A break might help give you a little reset and then we can appraise your nest again… just in case the pokey culprit shows its face." Stepping away from a frustration was a sure fire way to calm one's nerves. Plus it would be good for Claythorn to get a little fresh air - the nursery could get stuffy at this time of day after all.​

[ penned by kerms ]​

 

[claythorn]

Much to Robinheart's probable agreement, Claythorn tried to not dwell on it either- no, instead other cats came to visit and take care of her. The nest she rested one now was made of gifts mostly from Cicadaflgiht. Feathers, downy and flight, moss that had been carefully picked. They were strange friends, but Claythorn couldn't think of a better friend to find her a nest for this event. Her ears twitched at Robinheart's wry expression.

A slow breath left her. Just nesting, huh? "I don't favor it." She mumbled as Robinheart visually checked- then listened to her recount of her own experience. Normally, she wasn't one to speak, but with the pregnancy in mind, she had been a hint irritable- and a hint irritable Claythorn meant looser lips. "Dunno... how the next couple days are gonna go." I'm scared, a phrase that was unsaid, even as Robinheart pressed close.

This was something else she had unexpectedly come to favor. Small little touches that she leaned into more oft then not, a comforting thing from the older queen. It relaxed held tension in her shoulders. Mismatched, exhausted eyes looked at Robinheart's own yellows, and a soft chuff of agreement left her. Water, and a walk. A sensible walk had always helped, right? "Okay." She said.

Body soft with muscles untrained struggled for a moment to get to her feet, round belly still as unwieldy as she remembered from ten minutes ago. If Robinheart did help, she didn't pull away, one of the other few souls in camp she had come to trust. A quiet 'thank you' mumbled if she was helped, and after leaning down to drink some water, she nodded to the other queen gently before moving to step out. "It's.. too easy to get irritated these days." She starts as they begin a lazy circle around camp. "Does it.. get easier, once they're here?" Claythorn asks.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, queen of riverclan, fifteen moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ mated to otterbite / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[robinheart]

"I don't believe anyone does favor it," Robinheart murmurs in an attempt to lighten the encumbered queen's mood. Or at least let her know that what she is experiencing now is normal - as annoying as it may be. Though there is some relief to be found in realizing that your experience in pregnancy is normal. "The next few days will feel like an eternity, as unfortunate as that may sound… but I will be here for you. If you need me, of course," she offers. Her citrine eyes are soft. The tortoiseshell won't be overbearing but she does want to make herself available for anything her fellow queen may need.

Just as Hazecloud, Iciclefang, and Swiftfire had been available for her.

Her offer is accepted and Robinheart moves to offer Claythorn's flank for support. She braces her weakened hind leg carefully and tries to utilize her other limbs to hold steady for Claythorn's sake. A quiet 'your welcome' is returned once all parties are to their paws and ready to depart.

Plush tail swishes with ease as sunlight warms her back and perked ears attend to Claythorn's musing. "Greenleaf heat would make anyone irritated, but I cannot imagine how it feels for you - carrying kits during the hottest season sounds miserable," the queen replies with a downward tug of her maw. She had the subtle warmth of newleaf to welcome her children into. That had been lovely all things considered. Her frown deepens ever so slightly at the following question: does it get easier? "It's different. I hesitate to say easier, such as in my case… with everything Brookstorm went through and then losing her… I couldn't claim the newborn days to be easier. Not when I grieved so." Maybe Iciclefang would be a better mother to ask, given her kits' first days were not spent in a mother's grief (at least that Robinheart knew of). "However you find your footing soon after. You figure out the best way to soothe your children. You find a routine. You learn to ask for help from anyone who offers," Robin continues in a much more thoughtful manner. After every storm is a rainbow and the tortoiseshell would never leave Claythorn stranded in the midst of a storm. ​

[ penned by kerms ]​