TW: Sensitive Content for the people, for the good ──✩°｡⋆⸜ blessings & curses

[pricklekit]

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 They don't understand what's happening. One moment, they're curled gingerly into their littermates' sides, hungry but content to simply nap with their head pillowed by soft fur—the next, they're squealing in protest because the warmth they'd been swaddled in has been ripped away. Or at least, a part of it has been. One sibling is taken from the shelter they've curled up in, then another, then another, until it's just them and the final bundle of warmth at their side. Their sister presses closer, and they respond with the slightest noise, nose dipping into mottled fur as they cling to her just as she does to them. For a moment, they bask in the familiar scent, the closeness of the last sibling who hasn't been separated from them yet.

The final comfort doesn't last long. This time it isn't their sibling who is ripped away, but the brown ball of fluff themself, stirred by the feeling of something against their head, brushing at the thick fur there. They shift, trying to move closer to the touch, eager for the new sensation. As a moth is drawn to light, so too are they drawn to the greater feeling of comfort that the rasp of a tongue against their head brings. The scent of something sharp, something oh-so-appealing yet unnamable to them. They reach for it, and are met with a new sound, rumbling to their ears yet a comfort all the same. And then, at last, they are removed fully from the touch of their littermate—and though they cry out and squirm, the outcome doesn't change. They are still carried away, though quickly they are soothed by the scent that emanates from their new guardian. The kit slips into sleep easily, lulled by a new comfort.

nothing's set in stone ✼✼ the world will change

• ooc: —
• ​
• 
  PRICKLEKIT ˚𓆛˚｡ they/them, kit of riverclan
  ✼ stocky, fluffy chocolate and white kit with thick fur hiding their eyes. clingy and oblivious, a sleepy kit who prefers naptime over games.
  ✼ enhanced sense of smell ; gets nauseous easily
  ✼ sibling to branchkit, hollykit, saffronkit, skykit ; adopted by pikestar
  ✼ peaceful or healing powerplay is allowed ; they appreciate physical contact
  ✼ played by foxlore

 

[Galepaw Galepaw]

—————————————————— Rocked by an endless motion ✦

The division of the young things was... surprising, intriguingly so. Gale watched, nothing but a silent figure among giants as the leaders laid claim. It's as though the lives that were being disrupted mattered little to them—young kits being split up as easily as a stone diverts the river. The tall cat cocked his head, watching as Pike stepped forward with a confident gait, speaking words of sorrow to the other leaders. He spoke as though he had no choice, as though this were a predetermined destiny for the little things... but of course, the winds were growing colder by the day. Riverclan was in no position to take care of more than a pawful of extra mouths, and this was certainly no small litter. His choice interested the tom, a brown kit with curly, unruly fur that rivaled his own.

Watching the leader, his leader, coddle the little thing, Gale couldn't help but feel a sense of something that gnawed at his heart. Some strange hunger, something he hadn't felt in quite some time. It smelled like jealousy, but the tom was hesitant to call it that. It was... something more, something different. It mewled and cried, desperate to be noticed, to be acknowledged. It wasn't jealousy, but certainly related, perhaps a spiteful younger brother. All the same, it made the apprentice feel sick to his stomach in an utterly unfamiliar way. Those terrible, repulsive desires, the ones that rotted in such a fetid way in his chest... he turned away from the far older tom, denying that particular carrion-eater in his chest its vengeful meal.

Instead, his eyes fell upon the other kits and the clan's motley crews that now, he suspected, would be called their families. He'd remember this moment, remember the eyes welded shut by lives he would not see play out. Perhaps... perhaps he'd see the kits again, and it hoped it would not be under their claws. His attention was drawn from this thought quickly though, and the lynxpoint drew up taller as Pikestar padded back to his clan. It tried to form words, but they died once more as his gaze fell upon the now-slumbering kit. 'Poor little beast.' He thought in silence. 'Doesn't it know nothing will ever be the same?'

—————Whether truth or just a story

It's not up to you—————

• 
  Galepaw
  ✦—Riverclan Apprentice | 9 Moons
  ✦—He/They/It
  ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ✦—A fluffy high white lynx point with curled ears and deep blue eyes
  #87878E #BAB2AC

 

[Iconoclast]

It is cold. Cold. Nothing there. The world around him is dark and quiet where moments before he was embraced in warmth. Something had happened. Something had happened and delayed him, left him forgotten further from the hollow nest his siblings had been left to curl in among one another, their scents mingling and near indecipherable. At this distance even his cries, weak and thready, could not pierce the howl of the wind. It is cold. Cold. Cold...
A shuffle sounds near him, tentative paws upon the earth creeping through foliage with wide eyes, he is aware of being touched - a nudge to his side with a too sharp push, his voice splinters like ice in alarm before the thing moving him softens its investigation. Warm, wet, rasping over his head to his back, it wasn't mother but it felt like mother. He is in the air then, he doesn't know how or why but his small curled limbs tuck closer to his body as he hangs; death was such an abstract thing he could not begin to worry over it - all he knew was cold. He didn't like the cold. So anywhere where he did not end up cold would suit him just fine.
---
The scrap of white, tiny disheveled kitten, hangs from the loners jaws as he walks - he had been hunting in this place he knew he was not meant to be and had hid the moment the clan cats arrived. They spoke of finding kits, dividing them, discussions on their parents - he knew none of it though he'd seen several cats here earlier; could not tell you what became of them. On his way to retreat once those forest cats had moved onward, he nearly stepped on the little mite, separated through several bushes and gnarled roots, left along on the ground in a spot that had to be temporary. He had no idea of knowing why this kit was left here away from the others, maybe something happened while all the little ones were being moved, maybe they didn't like how scrawny it was - wouldn't be the first cruelty he'd witnessed and surely wouldn't be the last. But though tempted he was to leave or even call out and have the clan cats take it - he didn't want to be seen. Didn't want the burden but refused the guilty even more. So the kit came with him, he could find a place. A safe place somewhere. Someone to feed it.
Maybe it would survive.