Quiet as a Mouse, Silent as a Swan [Open]

Swankit never spoke. It was like her muzzle was shut tight, only opening for food or drink, no matter how hard her parents tried, they couldn't get her to make the smallest meow, but there was something her parents could get her to do, go outside. She never mentioned it, of course, but she always wanted to explore the outside world. Her yellow eyes glittered as she looked around. She payed no attention to the 'Asylum' her parents told her about, the scents were far too mingled she couldn't tell who was from which place, she shook her head, better not think about that too much. She walked around camp, she watched other cats share tongues and well, talk. That was how they communicated, but Swankit found herself too nervous to say a thing, it wasn't like she didn't know how- her parents made sure of that- just every time she went to open her mouth, it didn't happen, nothing happened, nothing moved, she just stood there and stared. Maybe she should have her own language, she knew about deaf cats, they had trouble speaking and understanding others, life is much harder for them, so maybe, just maybe, Swankit could create a language built by movements, right now she only had nodding and shaking her head, even cats that do speak nod and shake their head, it's natural. She knew by watching her parents speak there were other movements too, but she didn't really understand them yet, Swankit just had to watch more, so she did just that. She sat there, watching.

Loonwhisper made frequent trips to the nursery. It was important to him; it was integral to his daily routine. As the cat in charge of apprentice ceremonies, he knew that his biggest duty was to the queens and their growing kits. He listened well, with a keen ear and a far-off gaze, and let their mothers chatter about them while they played. The curious kits, the independent, the tough, and the outgoing were the easiest to assign. They fit broad niches. They were good for first-time mentors, still tentative and walking on shards of ice. Kits with certain weaknesses, as he had as a youth, were more difficult to fit. Loonwhisper detested the idea of dumping an apprentice on Ivystar simply because he could not think of a better fit for a mentor, though he knew she would take on the responsibility without a fuss. Ivystar had a certain nobility and quiet strength that strangers assumed Loonwhisper had. In actuality, the tom did not know enough about emotional idiosyncrasies and the specifics of respect, love, and duty that wound up other warriors so tight. It was blissful unawareness, though unwelcome. He wanted to understand.

Perhaps that was why Swankit fascinated him in such a way. They seemed, in part, quite alike. Her mother had not given him too much information second-paw, though by the looks of the little white cloud, there was not much information to give. She was perfectly capable of speech. She chose muteness. He approached her cautiously, eyes wide as saucers or the moon, the color of the brightest green gemstone at the bottom of a glimmering lake. His lips parted slightly as he whispered "hoo, hoo," soothing himself with the song of the bird for which he was named. Though he was an oddity among adult cats, kits generally chose two camps to regard him by: a strange and freakish ghost that one should avoid, or a fun playmate to bother who said very silly things. Though, there was the minority who stood between these camps, desperate to unravel his blank expression by some means, unable to decide where they stood.

And something about the way Swankit so anxiously hesitated tugged a single heartstring in the deputy's chest. It was a locked door he wanted to get through. She might like a friend beyond her mother. She might like to know that at least one warrior wouldn't beg her to speak... so much of clan life was based on communication, and the back and forth of mews. It was the greatest reason for Loonwhisper's own othering. Loonwhisper sat next to Swankit and tip-tapped his paws on the ground, settling himself. "I am waiting for something," he whispered. "I do not know what yet. Are you waiting, as well?"

"I suspect that she is waiting for something a little bit special and close to her heart." Moonpaw said softly. He knew that Swankit was a kit that chose to stay quiet, but hopfully with time like herself she would bloosom into a beautiful and wonderful kit. He himself was still shy around certain cats in the clans simply because they were loud and yelled quite a lot. "After all, it's that what we are all waiting for?" he asked gently, blinking his blue/green eyes at Loonwhisper.
Lookwhisper was an odd tom, often muttering things under his breath and acting like a strange bird at times. Moonpaw didn't mind though since he knew that most of the clan thought he was crazy as well. Always staring at the moon, being different, full of energy and life at night when the moon was full and at it's brightest.

Swankit smiled at the two cats, her fluffy tail curled over her front paws. Her amber-coloured eyes gleamed. The she-kit glanced at the apprentice before shrugging and shaking her head. In all honesty, the little kit didn't know what she wanted, she wanted to let them know that, but she didn't want to speak, so, after a few simple actions she blinked at them and tilted her head, maybe they could understand. She needed cats who understood the way she acted, the way she chose to communicate. She gazed up at them, as if asking a question; Do you understand me?

Moonpaw looked at Swankit who had tipped her head to the side and looked at them intently. He understood the gesture to mean a question, one that was probably short since she didn't indicate with her tail or ears. He paused and then decided to answer. "You are asking a question, but I don't know what kind of question." he said a little crestfallen.
Before he had talked to the adult cats, he had used his body language to talk to other cats, not that many of them had understood. He sighed outloud and the flicked his tail signaling that he could talk in body language.