Closed The Colony happen to have 𓇻 serpent

[juniperstar]

juniper

in what little stubborn shrubbery there is to keep them sheltered, Juniper knows she can find the familiar shades of a pelt swollen with potential. it is not so simple as coming to check on a random queen, one that threatens their survival with useless paws (Serpent is anything but useless, a source of comfort and familiarity sorely sought after). this is a friend... a lover of a best friend. someone that carries a bright future within the swell of her belly. Juniper could call herself jealous... or terrified... perhaps both.

did Sable even want kits? it wasn't something they really discussed...

"How are my favorite nieces and nephews," she purrs, brushing aside sturdy branches despite the way they try to rip at her coat. she presses forward to offer Serpent a nuzzle against her cheek in greeting, "And you as well, of course... Hawthorne would never let me hear the end of it if I didn't make sure you were eating well enough." as if reminded of her purpose, she turns to pick up a vole she'd abandoned just outside of their leafy shelter, depositing it at the other feline's feet with a tired smile. "Sorry I couldn't find something bigger."

the spotted she-cat sits, curling a plumy tail over chilly paws as her seaglass gaze lingers on the measly offering with a guilty pang. what jealousy spawned in her gut was selfish... thinking only of the hunger pangs and how she knew she'd be doted upon if she were in the same position- even if it cost others security... even if it meant her paws were weighted by uselessness too. that wasn't what they hoped for... this litter was not an act of greed... just thoughtless love.

 

[serpentberry]

Serpent stirs with no jerk of her head or flick of her tail; the trestles of dying leaves shiver, disrupted, and the bicolored molly opens a single eye to spy her good friend breaking the silence. Perhaps any other cat would've been greeted by a snarky remark, a reminder that it's hard to be expecting, especially when sleep is so constantly interrupted. Juniper is only offered a slow blink as a greeting, a gentle purr rumbling in her chest as the other gains closer and brushes their cheeks together.

"Hm, good save," Serpent rumbles, as the other adds her own health and well-being to the pile of curiosity. The vole is a welcome surprise, regardless of its size, but the lingering look to its tough underbelly sours any hunger that the she-cat might've had. She thinks for only a second, imparting onto the silence a, "They're growing." Juniper is afforded a simple smile, "I think they may even arrive before the first snow. I hope, at least. My body is aching, and nothing I do helps...!" wasting measures of time by complaining, searching the other's frame for signs of neglect or wanting. It clicks finally, her read of her friend finally garnering a path where they both may be satisfied.

"Are you watching your figure, by chance?" she muses. "It's not fair, you know. I am getting so round, and you're still twig thin! And with leafbare approaching - stars, Juniper, you just might disappear into nothing!" Serpent plays on her dramatics, lifting her paws to press the vole to her friend. Hawthorne will bring her something soon, and Snake after that. She's well cared for. (Who's taking care of you, Juniper?)

"Eat," she commands, "Or you'll be sitting here and listening to every new excuse I can think of, until the sun sets again."

 

[juniperstar]

juniper

She can't help but share a cheesy, cheek-splitting grin at Serpent's languid teasing- a good save, indeed. Perhaps her excitement to meet them got the better of her, tending to forget to prioritize the poor, aching, round (as she put it) she-cat on arrival. It'd be easier to keep her separate in her mind and heart once they were here, hopefully... individuals, with bodies of their own rather than borrowing their mother's. Her smile doesn't falter as her friend regales her with the predictions and theories of her pregnancy... that it would be over soon, that she's close to bursting should it continue much longer. "And here I thought your complaining was how you'd been easing it- turns out you're just doing that part for fun." Her eyes squint in playful jest, watching her gaze trail over the spotted cat's small offering before her focus shifts abruptly to her.

A tufted ear flicks, dismissive of the probing thought with a suspicion in mind on where she might be circling around to. Juniper was always thin in the winter... it was just how leaf-bare worked. Less food meant a flare of the hips... the soft suggestion of ribs peeking through. She was old enough to expect that and so was Serpent, who decided playing coy would be the best tactic at present.

She sighs, relenting to the demands of the picky queen with a roll of her eyes. "Has Hawthorne ever told you how bossy you are," it's asked insincerely- she knows him to be far too soft and enamored by her lust for life and making the hard choices quickly to actually find issue in her decisiveness. Settling into a crouch, her tail sweeps behind her in a mocking agitation (and more so a sincere excitement to get a bite to eat) before taking a modest mouthful. Her gaze lifts towards the other, tilting her head slightly as if to ask, There. Happy? despite the fact most of the prey still remains.

 

[serpentberry]

Serpent's soft grin becomes snakelike as Juniper continues to play this game with her. The back and forth reminds her of seasons past, as if the future does not threaten them so closely - and despite the morsel between them being a signifier for the struggle they are to welcome, the mottled molly takes the reprieve with greedy paws. They're just friends chatting; the world does not wither around them and time forgives them for their ignorance.

"It's a part of the job, y'know," she chirps with the same teasing tone. "My mother - the air would nip at her nose, and she'd waste every breath to tell it off! Really, you lot should be grateful. I'm much more... tame," Serpent rolls the word on her tongue, the purr in her chest growing in a rapid crescendo. She acts as if her snappy demeanor is a wanted trait, even as it worsens with her state. Discomfort grates at her like burrs in her nest, but hey - at least she can laugh about it.

The bite is... less than Serpent would prefer. Her eyes narrow, like a queen being disobeyed, and her tongue flicks against her teeth as she responds with, "I suppose I'm practicing. Being a mother to my own lot of slithering things..." she tapers out her own annoyance with the love for her children, her gaze flicking away briefly from the vole to examine her stomach. "Well, I'll have to have a stern tone, in the very least. Hawthorne will be too soft on them," the brief disappointment blows away with the subtle leaf-fall breeze and she re-settles her agitation, allowing the itching beneath her pelt to go away.

Happy enough, I suppose. "Do you wish to be a mother some day, Juni?" she clicks her head to the side, ensnaring the other in a longer conversation, ensuring that at least one more bite can be taken from the vole before the other leaves. "You could help me one sunhigh. When they're all teeth and claws - just to see if it's for you," her serpentine grin returns, as with the teasing and playfulness.

 

[juniperstar]

juniper

a rumbled purr resonates in her chest at the retelling of a time since past, a reverie of parents and love and quirks inherited, worn down to have softer edges. if these cats knew her parents, would they say the same? that she took all the sharpest, most important pieces of them and shaped them? softened them? Serpent's mother sounds like she is made of fangs and thistles...

"You and I both know Hawthorne doesn't fawn after you for being tame... if you want to call it that," she glances at the other she-cat through her lashes in a sneaky glower of amusement. it seems she isn't out of the woods, an equally pointed glare returned to her for her less-than-appropriate nibble. being compared to a kit needing lecture and direction is certainly a direction to take...

good thing she's a good sport.

"I can put on a more convincing act if you think it'd help. Maybe Hawthorne could use a nice chomping to his tail in the small hours of moon-high... Bracken used to bite my tail when he was hungry," she isn't sure if that's true or if it's something she imagined as a child and clung to but... either way. the threat remains.

the question that follows feels like nettles dug into her skin- uncomfortable, prickling... her pupils dance away from serpent's gaze, searching the weird sensation in the pit of her belly for an answer. does Sable? of course she busies herself with worrying about him first... a habit. "I think so... It's hard to say for sure sometimes. But- I'd be happy to help. I could teach them to chew on your whiskers while you're sleeping... or maybe how to put berries in Hawthorne's paler furs." half-joking suggestions of pranks she knew she'd played in her youth, might as well teach the kits how to have some harmless, mischievous fun.