Quiet pawsteps lead the solitary tom into the kit corner. A mostly disused space in ThunderClan, seeing bouts of activity only in random bursts before dying out again. He never fully understood the purpose of this place. The kits of the clan had the nursery. And it sure as hell wasn't like they remained quiet when others were sleeping. Still... the place remained standing. Dirty and in neglect, but mostly fine... he supposed.
A snort escaping the Birman mix, he went further in, scrapping some old moss on a singular nail. Nose wrinkling with disgust, he turned deadpanned eyes onto the rest of the place, tail swaying dejectedly behind him. Today was one of those lazy days. He hadn't felt particularly compelled to go out and hunt, yet he had gotten sent on no patrols either. In other words, he was all alone and with nothing to do. And he was admittedly bored.
A grunt. A dejected sigh. And then it was off to work. He'd originally intended on taking a nap in this place, knowing few ever ventured in here. The one downside to his way of life, he supposed. No company. The one upside, however, had its merits as well. No company. It was difficult to weight in which one was more worth it in the end. Gratefully, he was too distracted now to ponder on it for long as he went back and forth, carrying old, broken bits of den and returning with sticks and reinforcing materials. If he was going to live here, might as well have the place look half decent.
The Forest Sprite had moss in dream's slightly parted jaws, clamped tightly between her muzzle. Asterpaw's Lithe form flexed and relaxed seemingly as a whole, speckled forepaws had claws still unsheathed from collecting the earthy substance. Dirt was lodged on the bottom of their curved keratin Daggers. As the azure-hued feline entered the Kit Corner expressionlessly, but her eyes caught on a chocolate brown tom. This was the cat who had become a warrior really early, wasn't it? Why, he wasn't much older than dreamself! Quite curious in the primarily white molly. Flicking her tail, Aster dropped the moss she had brought and settled on her haunches, sitting down and shifting her forepaws to separate the green with deft, steady rhythmic movements. Sheathing her claws, Asterpaw began rolling the plant pieces into separate, earthy smelling spheres. After a pause, she lifted her head to see Spruce,,, Jumper, was it? Cleaning. How curious. Why, though? Surely kits and queens-- apprentices too they supposed- should clean out the area. Odd. But it would be appreciated by her, since they meant she wouldn't have to tidy it up if she was asked, because it was already done. But it was still weird that this warrior was doing it.
"I'm sure that the kits'll appreciate that, hmm?" She mewed suddenly, eyes downcast to meet her task. Mossball one, done. She rolled it over to a corner behind her for a kit to find at some point later. No use in them trying and failing to make one. Would only waste moss in the end. "I'll stay outta your way. Just was makin' some mossballs skits don't waste moss Tryna make em." A wry shrug of her shoulders, and she fell silent. Aster wasn't one to go on talking, she'd rather just sit and do her work in silence, enjoying the familiar and thoughtless movements from her kithood.
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@/Alchemist Kitsune
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[/SPOILER]
isla, Alec, Bean, phantom, Morrigan, Dolomedes, Marigoldwhisper, and iliri all reside in here. They will never escape :>
Kestrelpaw stood in the entrance of the kits’ playden, very casually staring suspiciously at Asterpaw because they made her think about Sproutfleck for some very mysterious, very very strange, unsolved reason. Hmmmmm…
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❝ Leaving them feeling betrayed.
Breaking the bonds that you've made. ❞
He didn't notice her. Sprucejumper's mind was on his task, not really bothering to pay attention to his surroundings. Cats tended to leave him alone, and The Boulder always announced their arrival plenty loud for him to not need to watch out for it. There was a time when he would have been jumpy at the mere sounds of pawsteps getting close. A side effect of his younger moons. Of his time before joining the clan. When the pitter patter of paws meant a beating would be taking place as he was robbed of whatever food or shelter he had found for the night.
Long gone were those days, however, with the former kittypet spending most of his time in camp in a sort of stupor, only really allowing himself to focus whenever he was out hunting. Alone against a nature that had bruised and battered him until they had gained a mutual respect for each other. Or until he had learned to survive against it. Either narrative worked as far as he was concerned. And so he stood his ground here, in the corner where kits were known to sporadically come to play... otherwise a perfect place to lie in peace whenever he was done with his chores for the day. Alone to his knowledge until a voice spoke out to him.
Deadpanned emerald hues landed on a white and gray furred molly, closer to him in age than most of the warriors of the clan. Although perhaps he was slowly getting there. Inching ever closer to an age where he could almost be considered a grown up. The feline was not one known to him. Few were. His youth had been spent hiding in fear of the star worshipers, and his numbered moons as a warrior had been spent in almost complete isolation, leaving him little chance to get to know those who didn't approach him first. Who didn't bully their ways into his life. It wasn't all bad. The Boulder was a cat he would regularly deem far too loud and clingy, yet they had made their relationship work, and the young tom couldn't have asked for a better mentor or parental figure in his life. That was a singular case in his experience, though. The oddity in an otherwise quiet norm.
This she-cat seemed to be closer to him in her way of approaching conversation than his former mentor, however. True. She spoke more than he deemed necessary. Telling him she meant no intrusion and would keep to herself was just as easily conveyed by remaining quiet and not intruding. But... it was still an acceptable gesture, even within the confines of Sprucejumper's limited social scope. Who knew... perhaps she spoke not just for herself, but for the off white molly that seemed entranced with her every move judging by the narrowing of her eyes even as she kept by the entrance to the den.
"Grateful."
It was the only word he offered the ThunderClanner, but it was better than his original impulse to remain quiet. Having no more to say, he turned his attention back towards the den's wall, reinforcing it with a few sticks along the walls. He intended to place more foliage here. With the dipped, underground nature of the den, it provided for rougher walls at the bottom. Where kits were more likely to get injured. Not that he was doing this because he cared for any individual nursery dweller. Or collective of, come to think of it. He just preferred if his naps were not interrupted by the whimpering cries of an injured kit is all.
@Blaaze [Asterpaw] | @Rose [Kestrelpaw]
| No need to respond back if you don't want to, Rose! Just saw Kestrelpaw being a sneaky sneak and thought to mention you just in case. |
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Lightningstorm is WindClan's current medicine cat.
She has a semi-closed den policy.
Re: Kit Corner
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