Private Shipyard MY BIRDS OF A KIND [ family ]

[willowburn]

(☾) in the aftermath of the shelter collapse, smoke had lead the family towards the docks, ducking beneath a boardwalk for relative shelter. willow had managed to scrounge up a few bits of moss and reed, enough to craft an okay nest for the little ones. herself, her brother, lichen, and haze had all curled up near, and fallen into a rough sleep. as morning dawns cold and clear upon the shipyard, willow wakes, blinking bloodshot green eyes as watery sun spills through the slats in the wood. her gaze flicks to the littles, taking a mental headcount and noting the new one among them - pale white, stark against the dark earth tones of the others. none of the kits are injured, but she's sure all bare mental scars from the trauma of last night, especially dewdrop's child.

pulling herself up from her nest, willow moves to snuffle the fur of her charges, smoothing her tongue over duck's messy fur, tucking goose closer to the others. she watches the breathing of smoke's kits, noting the way they hold each other, their tiny chests rising and falling. movement catches her attention, and she glances towards the adults, watching as they, too, wake.

WITH THE ECHOING HYMN ☾ OF MY FELLOW PASSERINE

• // apologies for the short starter! @Smoke @lichen @haze @BEE @CICADA. @CRICKET @duck @GOOSE @Shimmer @clay " #979c88"
• 
• WILLOW ☾ SHE / THEY, SHIP-YARD CAT. 30 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a lithe black smoke feline with ghost striping and leaf green eyes. long smoky fur dashed through with grey and white adorns her frame, sliced across by darker stripes that frame her face and legs. eyes like sage, brilliantly green, gaze with an intelligent look. she is scarred across the bridge of her angular nose.

​

 

[clay]

Sleep was difficult tonight, Clay reflects. It wasn't as hard as her first night without her mother, but it was something similar- rotten in her mouth, eyes flicking upwards to whatever cover they had managed to sustain for themselves, as if she too expected it to collapse on them. She listens for creaks and howls, for the wind to shatter what peace they had managed to collect in the afterwake of the den collapsing. Clay is awake when Willow is, mismatched goldens matching with that of bright greens, though they look sorrowful, too. They look worried. A frown presses to Clay's mouth.

Mismatched goldens shift towards Shimmer, next. The dot of white in their little entourage, an unfamiliar scent, but on that Smoke had promised to all the same. Clay thinks she likes Smoke. So sure of himself, strong and unbending, much like her aunt. Lichen is a bit strange- Clay still wonders if she truthfully is welcome here, but she thinks it's because of Marsh's death. A swallow follows at the thought of her mother. What happens next, from here? Clay picks herself up, carefully stepping to Willow, and sitting next to her. Tenatively, hesitantly, she leans against the larger, eyes sliding back closed.

"speech"

 

[haze]

𓆝 . ° ✦

The collapse had left Smoke absolutely soaked to a point of no return, and Haze would hate to see him shiver so pitifully when he had used himself as a shield for his kits. With all his bravery, Smoke was ready to die for those kits tonight, and she would not let him. Not this time, at least, when she could spend so much time carefully grooming to cold rain from each hair on his pelt until she had rasped every tastebud off her tongue! No matter how much protest he may give, he was stuck sandwiched in a nest with Lichen, who she would threaten with equal torment should she try to join the wrong side.

The morning came with ease, as if nothing had happened the night before. Leafbare's chill grasped for her nose and eartips once she lifted her head from the warmth of fur, blinking to see Willow and Clay already risen. "Thank you, Willow. Did you sleep alright?" Another kit rest alongside Smoke's, a poor scrap who lost her mother last night. She looked for alabaster fur in the mix of mottled fur as if it would confirm Dewdrop had really passed. "We should probably get to fishing right away. I hate the sound of hungry bellies in the morning." Her tone is much lighter in some attempt to humor, pulling herself away from the other two with a wince as the cold air quickly greeted her. She must fight the temptation to remain in some endless sleep, even if the winds were without mercy.

✧ ° . ✶ . ° ✧

ooc Information

• ooc: —
• 

  HAZE— SHE/HER ･ 30 MOONS ･ SHIPYARD CAT ･ PENNED BY @gonkpilled!

  a smoky blue molly with warm green eyes. here too.