camp WITHOUT A DOUBT ✺ KIT INTRO

[MOLTFACE]

A moon of age is upon the little ones now. They are miraculously... well - enough considering their past, dumped like nothing greater than twoleg trash. Moltface had prepared for the worst: for kitten - cough or unexplainable fever clinging to their coat... but all five of them can now stand on wobbly legs if they try hard enough. Though a somber cloud has draped itself over the clan, Moltface had no plans to hide them from it. Perhaps it'd distract from it all to see kits tumbling over their own clumsy paws.

Moltface gently goads them all outside, mismatched paws giving nudges to those that needed them. Some are more excited than others... " What do you plan on getting up to, hm? Puddlekit? Cloudkit? " The two had been named not long after the runt of their litter. A dreary sky had rolled over camp alongside the kits themselves, and perhaps too obviously, it reminded him of grey tabby stripes. The rain had pattered gently, and luckily, they were settled into a nest by the time it could become anything more. the sound of raindrops filled their first night together. Then, in the rain's absence came Puddlekit. They were both strange in the respect that typical kit games didn't seem to excite them as much as Moltface was accustomed to... Well, in that regard, you could say four of them were somewhat suspect...

" Buzzardkit, " For the distant cry of a bird, some nights ago. " Stay within my sight. " Who knows what curiosity may get their attention... As long as little paws stayed rooted whilst their paws wandered, Moltface didn't mind. There's a turn of his head to find the face not quite ahead of him, just yet. " Nightkit. " The first. Partially, cause she had feared that this little one would pass on without a name. " How are you feeling? " And finally, he squints past the nursery's entrance, searching for that final kittish face. A name that hasn't come to him quite yet...

But suddenly, they come with such determination, a triumphant usage of jelly - limbs honed more clearly than any of his siblings have managed. When a one - moon - old runs, it is clumsy. Never too far. With oversized paws for some, and often unrelenting spirit. The last of them was all of these things... but he was doing it. " Look at you, " with a close - lipped smile, he remarks. It'd do him well to get ahead...

OOC. BABIES! @TRASHKIT #1 @Trashkit…2! @Trashkit 3!!! @TRASH KIT THE FOURTH @TRASHKIT 5.​

 

[smogstar]

A gaggle of kits rounded up from the rubbish-ridden wastes. It's the sort of news that prompts brows to knit in incredulity, though it isn't without precedent; vaguely the tom can recall a lone patrol stumbling upon a single kit, bedraggled and mewling nonsense by the stream near Carrionplace. 'I'm garbage,' they whimpered, the word clattering off their tongue with unfamiliarity, but there was such a conviction, such an unshakeable belief in their statement, as though the word had been ingrained from birth. 'Trassshhh.' Melancholy shades his stodgy features for the heartbeat it took to remember Magpiepaw. He misses that wobbly little bugger.

As he lingers in Moltface's periphery, swiping his tongue across messy chest-tufts and storing each name which catches his ears, the tabby keeps a surreptitious eye trained on nursery. He must wonder if Nightkit, Buzzardkit, Cloudkit, and Puddlekit will grow to develop personality quirks, mannerisms inherited from the dump where they'd lived for how long. Strange. Aloof. Oddly humorous?

They are garbage-born, and while he will never shame a cat for the lot they were born into, the fact remains. It is Moltface's chosen duty to shape them, to mold them into model ShadowClan cats, advocates for pragmatism, shrewdness, and cunning. May her pursuits go smoothly.

Casting a more pointed glance towards them now, his lips would swiftly falter, the neutral line snuffed out by a grin. The entire litter, a mottle-pelted bunch, scamper about with the grace (or lack thereof) typical to kits. Perhaps his time as a father is to thank; whenever kits are simply being kits, a breath of fondness steals through his chest. Light, airy, nostalgic. Like a breeze. He's a sucker for kits, really. "Oop, that one's gonna be a heartbreaker," he chides, muzzle upturned, "walkin' all over camp like he owns the place. Keep an eye on him, Moltface."​

 

[MARBLEPAW]

Marblepaw had half-expected the rogue-born kits to not make it past their first night. They were scrawny, fleabitten, their breathing labored, their mews thin and hungry, piercing. She and Starlingheart and inspected them (she had merely looked on, learning where to place her paws, learning how to listen for heartbeats, for breaths, to check for fevered paw pads or noses) and they'd made it... and Moltface had even named the lot of them. They spill out into the clearing now, and Marblepaw's face lights up with relief. She slips from the shadows of camp so she can stand beside Smogmaw, who admires the kits' robustness with a fatherly fondness.

"Look at how strong they're getting! They're doing well," she murmurs, both to the stand-in leader and to the attending queen. "I'm so glad. Their smell is even a little better," she jests, resting her tail around her paws.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Marblekit . Marblepaw, she/they w/ feminine and non-gendered terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 6 moons old, ages realistically on the 1st.
  — mentored by Starlingheart ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a
  — shadowclan medicine cat apprentice, formerly a rogue. siltcloud x lilacfur, gen 3.
  — currently mated to n/a.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh fawn tabby with dull green eyes. courageous, curious, introspective, observant, judgmental, snarky.
  
  

​

 

[STONEPAW]

Stonekit had just a night or two of quiet rest in the nursery once some of the kits were made apprentices. And now these little scraps were sleeping in the den with him and he wasn't overly happy about it. "Thank StarClan, about the smell," Stonekit mewed, coming up to Smogmaw and Marblepaw. "They're still pretty loud though," he added. Maybe he could make a friend or something out of one of them at some point, but as it stood currently, he would rather them just not be in his way.

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‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  "speech"
  

• 

• STONEKIT ✩ he/him, kit of shadowclan, three moons
  ⭃ pretty lilac with low white and blue eyes. bossy, charismatic, manipulative.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Twitchtail ↛ @iliawonders on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[BUZZARDKIT.]

I SAW A PHOTO, YOU LOOK JOYOUS​

---

"yes, papa."

there is a moment when he finally leaves the den that a vibration thundering through him. it might have been overwhelming– had it not been so exciting. truth be told, it isn't as if he seemed excited at all. his face shows nothing, and his eyes are almost the same but anyone close enough can see the sparkle within them. so many things to explore. to see. to learn. he sniffed around, stumbling in his gait before he stares up at the leader who seems to speak about someone being a heartbreaker. one of his brothers perhaps? he wasn't paying enough attention. something about this cat makes him unamused. his ears twitch back and forth and he speaks up, voice nothing less than squeaky, and somehow monotonous all the same.

"why would you s...ay that? what d...oes that even... mean, papa?"

she doesn't like the idea of it. whatever it means. she's gotta know and somehow she doesn't wanna hear it from smogmaw. she doesn't like his words. but buzzardkit's feelings cannot be taken too personal. nothing that she does is personal yet. she's simply speaking her mind. she never will not speak her mind– she doesn't care of consequences of her honesty.

"don't say that about my brother."

it grunts, turning and padding with a comically high step in each paw as it goes to be next to puddlekit and nightkit. gently it prods nightkit with it's paw, tilting it's head and gently sniffing him.

"are you o...kay?"
​

 

[FERNDANCE]

"Be careful smiling like that... your face might crack," she mewed to Smogmaw, a teasing smile upon her muzzle. She could not recall a time in recent moons where the grey tabby had anything to be happy about, it was nice to see a difference, even if she couldn't help herself from commenting on it. Her fluttering blinks aimed towards the other dissipated as she turned her head towards the kittens, her pupils growing instead as they tried to focus on the five bundles. They had grown considerably more catlike since leaving the Carrionplace, both in appearance and smell. It was, perhaps, a small miracle that Moltface took them in instead of Ferndance, their names would have no doubt been a reminder of where they came from had Needledrift felt compelled to be Nurserybound for another six moons. Instead, their names were... strangely sweet, things in the territory that a nocturnal cat did not normally see, and one that they saw daily. She reclined on her haunches, close to the Queen and the grey tabby and Marblepaw, her ears twitching at Stonekit's slightly more pointed words about the little ones. At the very least, the comment seemed to go over Buzzardkit's head, who was too busy standing up to Smogmaw to consider it.

Her whiskers twitched in amusement. "I'm sure he didn't mean it," she mewed innocently, her tail swaying behind her. "It's better than being called a heartripper." Who ripped a heart, anyways? It was much better to bite them and shake them about like a dog's toy.



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[Puddlekit..]

It was difficult for Puddlekit to look excited about anything, the most excited she would get in terms of outwardly expressing it was through a quick of her maw to form a tiny smile. If her tiny kitten voice didn't crack and waiver when truly excited about something it would be impossible to gleam at all. She was excited though, to be able to see the great outdoors! The world beyond the nursery seemed daunting but there were so many mystery to solve with it. The chimera finds herself staring at her paws as the group of them walk, trying her best to not tumble more than an average kitten would. Tiny huffs of protest given as Moltface nudges her forward as it disrupts her concentration.

“I'm gonna find the- the biggest warrior here!” she declares loudly. Maybe she could be lucky and find someone big and scary, scary warriors would have cool stories to tell right? Surely they would! Clearly it was about height because kits are tiny and uncool so the bigger you were the more interesting you have to be! While trying to be extra careful to not trip over she whispered to herself the phrases she heard Moltface give out to her siblings, trying to take in so many bigger words than she was used to in her very limited speaking experience.

She stops to a halt immediately upon seeing Smogmaw, Marblepaw and Stonekit. The speed of which she just… stops should be considered a hazard really. Stonekit she was used to seeing, she didn't like him very much. Marblepaw was a familiar sight as well, especially in those early days of arriving at camp, she was pretty okay. Smogmaw was new and she had a very important decision to make to decide if he was the biggest warrior that she would find. Huffing at the comments of ‘the smell’ or whatever that was supposed to mean. She can't help but blink owlishly at Buzzardkit as it takes longer than it would for the average kit to realise that he was upset. As soon as that delayed process is a reality she moves to nudge her head against her siblings shoulder, a silent reassurance.

When she looks up Ferndance is there, it seems that cats can just appear and disappear here! How weird. She said that she was sure Smogmaw didn't mean it, adults are always right so she must also be right. Satisfied with this outcome Puddlekit then inhaled rather dramatically. Like she was preparing to scream the camp down, instead a breathy but louder than normal “hello, you all smell okay” is heard. Everyone's talking about smell, this must be a normal part of talking, and she was eager to learn these social conventions. “Um” she scoots closer to Ferndance, tiny paws patting at her larger ones to gain attention. “What's a… Heart… Rip-p-per?" This word is new, it's a little difficult for her to wrap her very fresh vocabulary around.

​

 

[smogstar]

Rapt intrigue tints his gaze just then, and his attention pivots to where the tiny spark of belligerence had been put to voice. Beside him, Ferndance rallies to his defence in an instant—a sharp snap to his ebony-tipped tail reassures her that he's perfectly capable of sticking up for himself, thank you.

All the while does he present a muted demeanour whilst regarding Buzzardkit. His face is grave, lineaments arranged into solemn respect, but crinkling imperceptibly with wry mirth. "I understand," he accedes, as one might to their superior, though his amusement still gleams unbound by the gesture. "I was out of line, and you have my word, it will never happen again." The corners of his mouth lift with a rekindled grin when the wee tot goes goose-footing off yonder. What a stiff-necked kit, in the very best of ways. "Future leader, right there," he concludes at a murmur, before his mellow stare captures Ferndance for a second time—and her little fan, too.

He's thrown for a loop by the abrupt comment on his odour. Furrowing his brow with a sharp snort, Smogmaw tosses out a cursory, "Thanks for noticing." First time in a considerable while where such an observation didn't cross into outright defamation. Puddlekit goes on to pose an inquiry relating to whatever phrase that Ferndance had cooked up on the fly. Lips straighten then, and he soon takes it upon himself to interject before the molly decides to implant gruesome images into a kit's mind. "It's not a real thing," he meows brusquely, "but I'll tell you something that is." His head dips lower, scandalously. "A butt-sniffer. Ferndance, for example-" the tawny warrior is gestured towards, "-is a butt-sniffer."​

 

[NIGHTKIT.]

(⚈_⚈)   The others move with precision and grace. Nightkit does not move at all. The wide-eyed shadow still lingers closest to Moltface as the others explore their new world. Their first distinct words weeks ago, like it was easy, but it was not easy. Not at all. They have made noise, of course — the first mew that came from the Carrionplace box was Nightkit's own. And since then, there have been gusts of sound that seem to near words at least. It will come. Round eyes turn to face the queen when they are called, and they toddle obediently towards her whenever they are told to. Even as growth picks at odd places on their body, their frame remains thin and ungainly.

How are you feeling? she asks, and after a moment of clear consideration, his head tilted and his mouth opening — his mouth opening! — Nightkit rights themselves and. . . mewls. A squeaky thing. The words around them seem to swirl but Moltface's makes the most sense, and so he comes closer to the queen and leans into the plush side of his pelt. The posture is near identical to his protector's, which looks more than slightly comical on a kitten.

ooc. —

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