a sight for sore eyes [open] | GOSSAMER ; a literate warriors rpg

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a sight for sore eyes [open] Dec 1, 2013 9:02:24 GMT -8

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Dec 1, 2013 9:02:24 GMT -8

“Come along dears, out of the apprentice’s way.” Ashcloud’s voice was gentle, a soft purr. Dutifully, a string of young kittens followed, hopping and leaping in failed attempts to cling to her tail. She moved slowly, even slower with kittens running in and out from under her paws. Yet they were each careful, innocently subtly careful, to avoid her one twisted front paw. She limped noticeably, all but hobbling away from the Nursery as grumbling apprentices went in and out with clumps of moss and soft leaves to replenish the nests. A couple of the kittens squeaked, rolling around as they wrestled one another.

Ashcloud looked about. She would have liked to settle down. She was incredibly self-conscious about walking in public. And midday, with the sun shining and the crisp air of winter wrapping around her, the camp was in a flurry. Warriors went in and out. And she could see their gazes wandering to her, then flicking quickly away, a note of shame and pity. They didn’t want to be caught staring. And she understood. Her ears flicked, her gaze wandering. She began to move forward again, but something stopped her in her tracks. She inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttering closed.

Ashcloud bent her head. “Follow me, loves.” The kittens squeaked obediently, following Ashcloud as she hobbled slowly towards the center of the clearing. She could lie down there, tuck her mangled paw beneath her body, hide it from view, and pretend she was a mother. It took her far too long, but eventually she approached, settling herself on the ground. She tucked her mangled paw carefully hidden away beneath her. Almost immediately the kittens began rolling about in all directions. And Ashcloud, slowly but surely, allowed her gaze to wander about the clearing.

She looked to the kittens, her voice low and gentle. “Be careful loves.” Almost immediately, her small horde of kittens were clambering over her back, pouncing on her flicking tail. They squeaked and went about their merry ways. And Ashcloud didn’t mind. She never minded. In many ways, she was far more suited to this life of a perma-queen, mother to all and none, than she ever would have been to a warrior. She chuckled slightly as a sole brave kitten ventured towards a nearby warrior. “Now now, don’t you go disturbing the busy warriors.” The kitten paused, as if caught at the scene of the crime. But he paused, still observing the warrior’s tail. It was horridly tempting, it truly was. And Ashcloud could understand. She could. She remembered endless tail-chasing in her days as a kitten.

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a sight for sore eyes [open] Dec 1, 2013 9:57:37 GMT -8

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Dec 1, 2013 9:57:37 GMT -8

but i can take it from here

like the everlasting drop of burnt pine needles, the snow fell, specks of virgin white flitted between macula ash, a dirty gray against the brazen ivory. the pine trees stood all around, skeletons of what they once were.

despite the gloomy scenery around them, the kits were as lively as ever, with an ever-present ashcloud not far behind. with leaps and bounds the kits tumbled, eyes glinting and paws outstretched with tiny pinpricks protruding out the ends. honeymask kept his head down all the while, watching his paws tread the dirt rather than nodding greetings to his clanmates. like many, his pelt hung off his frame, the once fat-filled place between his bones and skin gone, leaving nothing as he rarely had but a frog. frail as a dandelion stem bending precariously in the breeze, he lost his balance once or twice on his walk to the leader’s den, tottering around like that a kit would.

rather than on the task at hand, walking, honeymask’s brain was tracking through the herbs he had in stock. He had an abundant supply of adder bark, as he could scrape the blackened cover off, and get to the soft under. other than that, all of the floor-growing flora had been burnt like the needles.

but he didn’t want to worry about that now.

it was with a sudden squeak that he noticed his path had taken a minor detour, curving towards the nursery he had. A kit had crouched, and sprung like a toad onto his tail, a gay expression on its face as honeymask attempted to flick the small kit off. he huffed suddenly, leaving the small cat to cling to his tail.

“hi, ashcloud.”

meh. hope it's not too bad.

i can find my own bravado

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a sight for sore eyes [open] Dec 1, 2013 10:24:49 GMT -8

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Dec 1, 2013 10:24:49 GMT -8

One rambunctious kitten had latched his tiny teeth onto her ear. He was tugging down, a mixture of a growl and a giggle in his voice. He tugged continuously, occasionally batting at her nose. It certainly wasn’t comfortable for Ashcloud, but she made no attempt to escape the little kitten’s grip. His moments of joy, of entertainment, were worth her momentary discomfort. She even tugged back obediently, a game of tug of war with her own body parts. His mother in question was likely glad of the short respite, to perhaps sleep and recuperate. Another kitten had draped herself across Ashcloud’s paws and was now nearly asleep. Ashcloud dipped her head to groom the little she-cat absentmindedly. Usually, the kittens ate up her attention, there was nothing that could distract her. But today something was different. A shadow fell over her, followed instantly by a familiar scent. Ashcloud straightened, gently dislodging the kitten from her ear. Honeymask stood over her, not overly intimidating really, but enough to make Ashcloud distinctly uncomfortable. She cleared her throat, dipping her head respectfully.

“Honeymask, I apologize. The young ones have been so restless, cooped up in the Nursery.” She quietly chided the kitten in question. The kitten looked forlornly at Honeymask’s tempting tail before tottering obediently back to Ashcloud. The tom was frail, far too thin. Like the rest of the Shadowclan warriors, he had missed one too many meals. Even the kittens, fed better than the warriors, were not as plump as Ashcloud would have liked. She had forfeited more than one of her own meals to waiting queens and elders, or returned scrawny mice to the fresh-kill pile. In times like these, she loathed to be fed ahead of any others. She wasn’t a nursing queen, a mother. Nor was she an elder who had already served her clan, or a warrior who had any hope of ever serving. What food they had went to those more deserving.