[GraveBlues]

Individual for mystoxxiide!

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[b]Username;[/b]
[b]Storkie Name;[/b]
[b]Nicknames;[/b] (optional)
[b]Coat Description:[/b] Blue Point Agouti with Minimal Splash White
[b]Gender:[/b] M/F/Custom
[b]Born Magic Type;[/b] Air
[b]Additional Magic #1[/b] leave blank
[b]Additional Magic #2[/b] #2; leave blank

[b]Traits:[/b]
[list][b]NR[/b] - Accessory[/list]

[b]Parents:[/b]
Founder | Founder

[b]Children:[/b]
-- [url]Partner[/url]
-- [url]Child1[/url]
-- [url]Child2[/url]
-- [url]Child3[/url]

[mystoxxiide]

FEATURED STORKIES; whisper, pyrite, unnamed kit
PROMPT: "You've heard there's a storm coming tonight." - How does this kit (or those looking out for them?) react to this?
WC; 946
POV; whisper

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It wasn’t unusual for Whisper and Pyrite to take on paternal roles within the colony. But it was different for it to be… just the two of them with the kit. They hadn’t been alone together for some time, since Murk and Bramble tended to have rather large attachment issues and would rarely leave each of their mates alone. But since they’d decided they needed a bigger camp to accomodate a larger colony, and should begin searching for places to relocate at short notice, the camp was mostly deserted as their members scoured the nearby lands anywhere suitable to move.

And that left Pyrite and Whisper with the new kit, as well as Mars, who had been too lazy and hidden away when they were rounding the colony up. Woe had planned to stay, but his anxiety had been too great at the thought of several dats without his mates, and elected to join Ember and Blitz’s search party instead.

Pyrite took the role of primary care for the kit, and was curled up with it in some soft bedding, quietly grooming its fur as it squeaked and mewed in soft protest. Rain pattered gently on the roof of the den, and the marbled tabby looked up with a smile when his daughter entered, brushing past the hanging leaves. She dropped a mouse by his paws, whiskers twitching in return.

“There’s a storm coming tonight.” Whisper mewed, blinking at Pyrite. “Better hole up, huh?” She was well known within the colony for her muteness, often going unnoticed during a conversation, yet something about Pyrite had always allowed her to voice her thoughts more verbally. Being around her adoptive father always removed the tightness in her chest just a little bit. She sat beside him, brushing a paw over the flank of the kit - barely two moons old now.

“I remember when you were this big.” Pyrite returned, stopping his ministrations and allowing the kit to settle down once again now that it was all clean. Whisper let out a squeak of embarrassment. “I don’t even remember that!” She gasped softly, nudging him with her paw.

“Well, what is the first thing you remember?” The question caught Whisp off guard. Her tail flicked as she curled up with him, seemingly thinking. It was a good question. Whisper’s memories had always been fuzzy. Sometimes things were clear, and other times they weren’t. Sometimes the plants had to remind her what she’d told them. She didn’t mind. Really, she mostly felt embarrassed. Her childhood seemed to be so happy; there really was nothing to repress.

“Nothing.” Whisper turned to Pyrite with a growing panic. “I just… I guess I woke up one morning next to Murk and… that’s where it begins. But I was grown by that time.” The kit was silent, but snuggled into Whisper’s fur. She stroked it softly.

“Tell me the story again.” Whisper mewed with worry.

“The first time?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Pyrite’s tail curled around her, and he rested his muzzle on top of hers. “It was cold, and dark. Just like this. I had found a place to set up camp, and had just lit a fire, when I heard tiny squeaks.” The kit let out a noise, causing them both to chuckle. “Yes, like that,” The marbled tabby continued. “It took me… It took me longer than I’d like to admit to find you.” He nuzzled her head. “But finally I pushed aside the branches of a bush and there you were.”

Whisper was very quiet as she let herself digest this. Then she sniffled softly. The kit squeaked again and tried to rub against her mane, but this time she pushed it away.

“Ghost,” Pyrite’s voice was soft as he looked at his daughter with worry. There was something wet on her cheeks, and it took her a moment to realise she was crying. Her father’s voice was laced with worry as he drew his paws through her fur in an attempt to calm her. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? It’s alright. You’re alright. Talk to me.”

“I’m so sorry,” She sobbed. Her chest had tightened up again, and she felt as though she couldn’t breathe. She could never breathe. “I just-- I just keep forgetting everything! How could I?! You’ve been s-so good to me, and I-I-I--” Her speech deteriorated with her emotional state. “I’m so terrible. Forgive me.” After a pause, she added hoarsely, “Please.”

“Oh, Ghost.” Pyrite sighed. “I’ll never be angry at you for forgetting.” He mewed gently. “What’s important is that you try so hard to remember.”

The rain was beating hard on the roof of the den now, and it vaguely jogged memories of teeth holding her gently by the scruff, and Pyrite’s smell. She buried her nose in his fur, glad to replicate it. Thunder boomed, white lighting up the sky outside their den; the kit squeaked and hid in her fur. She laid her tail on top of it, grooming its head to calm it, and for once it allowed it.

“I don’t mind if you keep forgetting.” Pyrite hummed softly. “Because I promise I’ll help you remember every time.”

Whisper sighed gratefully. “I love you, Dad.” She mewed, summoning a dandelion from the ground for the kit to play with. Pyrite’s warm smile stretched across his whole face. “I love you too, Ghost.” He returned, curling around the both of them protectively.

For a week after that, Whisper could remember most events from her childhood, and made sure to inform the plants of the details. When she eventually did lose them though, she wasn’t upset; Pyrite was happy to retell the stories any day.