There is a softness in the quiet, a gentleness in the chilly night as her world expands, just a little. And, just a little, tense shoulders loosen for the first time in moons, and a relaxed smile graces her face. Maybe it's the pain, maybe it's the exhaustion, maybe she's finally cracked under the pressure of...
everything. Larkwing doesn't believe that to be the case, though, she knows what cracking feels like, this is less cracking and more... more like
mending.
"Mn," tortoiseshell queen hums in agreement to the comment of their size. They
are small.
"But so are you," a playful jab. Yeah, she might actually be losing it to be making stupid jokes. Is this really the same shell of a cat who returned to RiverClan?
"Our babies," she agrees, and her voice is quiet, a reverent whisper.
As they squirm closer, suckling and mewling in voices brand new and yet so painfully familiar, Larkwing can practically feel the way she vibrates, purring so hard. Gazes meet and emerald eyes melt at the praise. Someone was proud of her. Perhaps for the first time in her life it felt sincere and she accepted it.
"They need names," she says. They hadn't spoken about names, honestly, Larkwing had tried her hardest to ignore that they were coming, trying to convince herself that she could still be a
warrior, a role that was
useful, and she didn't need to be coddled or provided for. She could do it all herself. So names had never come up. She'd thought about naming them, very briefly, after her brother or Tansypaw, but it felt... strange, to say the least, so the thoughts had been dismissed.
"What about... Ivy, or Fern for this one here?" She asks, nudging the tortoiseshell kit with her nose. None of those names held any significant weight to her, other than the fact that she thought they might be pretty.
[ @Dark || @Star || @Rowan || @Weekend-Wondering ]