The Stars Revolve Around You (OPEN Birth Topic)

Brushgaze had never expected this.

With the constant cloud of incoming doom that hung over them all, dampening spirits and raising tensions alternatively, her apprenticehood dreams of finding a mate had been the farthest thing from her mind. Everyone in the Barn was taking part in frenzied preparations, from her own siblings to the other Exiles to the band of rogues who still shared their sleeping space. In that situation, how was it that she'd found her way into Lichenmask's nest? The tom who was destined to save them all seemed less and less himself lately, despairing or exulted by turns. When he wasn't working himself to the bone or receiving advice from StarClan, he was utterly exhausted, and barely had time to speak to anyone before collapsing into a pile of hay for a tiny amount of deep, unshakable sleep. Then, he was up and working again. He never seemed to even have time to breathe, and didn't listen to a single coaxing word she spoke, barely eating enough to live and get by. Finally, one night, she'd found him under the stars, seeming crushed by the weight that lay solely on his shoulders. She was thrust violently back in her memory to when he'd lain similarly on the Thunderpath, stressed and alone, not knowing what to do with the responsibility their ancestors had thrust on him. She had offered her help and allegiance to him then, as an apprentice... and she offered it to him still. When she'd softly reminded him that she was still his to command, both mind and body, he'd pushed his face against hers in a desperate kind of passion, hungrily reaching for something to comfort the dark purpose raging inside him. And, in her blind devotion, she had complied.

Was that what they called love- the frenzied ardor they'd shared that night? In the morning, they didn't speak of what had happened, but since then they'd shared a nest, leaning deeply into each other each night as if for reassurance that the other one was still there. She was his anchor, and he was her reason, her desire, her everything. One late morning, she had awoken to find herself feeling awkward and nauseous. The sensation constantly grew, until one night she realized that buried beneath her fluffy pelt was an unmistakable bulge in her belly. She was pregnant- with Lichenmask's kits. Though she'd denied it at first, it was obvious that she held kits inside her. It was strange and frightening, a responsibility she didn't think she wanted. In these moons of war preparation, how did she think that she could take care of little ones? Something inside her wanted to run away from the fact, to somehow get rid of the lives inside her, but every time she thought of a young cat with their father's eyes she couldn't find the strength to do it. Instead, she faded into the background of battle training, focusing instead on keeping the area inside the Barn livable and catching mice for any hungry cat. Other cats likely noticed, but none of them talked to her about it. That was just fine with her.

Finally, the day came- the kits inside her belly had been there too long, growing increasingly impatient, and now they wanted out. After Lichenmask hurriedly rushed them all out of the Barn, she staggered into a hay-covered corner and began the grueling ordeal. Who would ever want to have kits, if this was what it meant? Moons of sluggishness and nausea, and then this- this pain? She held through, however, and when she finally got to breathe, there were five kits laying at her side. Five... holy StarClan. Five living, breathing balls of fur who came from her. The thought was too strange to comprehend... and yet, when she looked down at them, a rush of powerful emotion made her want to protect them with everything she had. "Redkit after the sky," she murmured absently, prodding one of the tiny kits. "Dawnkit, after the new era in which these kits will live. Duskkit... Slatekit, for my brother Stonepaw..." She gazed up at the tom who had fathered these kits, her large green eyes paler and more tired than usual. "What would you name this last one, Lichenmask?" she whispered.

Not having yet open eyes yet, the world was still dark, full of overwhelming scents and strange noises. Letting out soft mews, the already large kit flailed aimlessly until he was nuzzle against his mother's warm belly. Not knowing who was really around him, the newly named Slatekit brought his paw down on one of his littermate's backs (Burntkit) and clambered over him. He may have been only just born moments ago, but this kit was already on a mission, and not a good one at that...

Redkit squealed weakly when she was born though she was quick to quiet down, her diluted calico fur sticking into spikes as it dried. She was on a mission, one she didn't know she was on, but as she writhed and brushed against her siblings she made it to the nipple that she yearned for. Immediately suckling Redkit was dozed into a passive slumber, the warmth and comfort of her mother and siblings lulling her.

Wriggling at his mother's belly was a fluffy-pelted calico tom, his eyes not yet opened to the world. All around, since leaving the internal comfort of Brushgaze, he had been bombarded with sounds and scents of many cats. The kit fought against the multitude of strange elements. And now he struggled alongside his siblings to seek out the source of food that his small body craved more than anything else. Burnkit, they called him.

Although his eyes were not yet open, and his coat was not yet sleeked with the beautifully matured nature of an older cat, he inherently knew that there was a goal. One he shared with the writhing siblings around him. Burntkit longed for the warmth and safety as much as the next and would have been merely contented just to rest at his mother's stomach had their not been an interruption. Immediately primal displeasure filled the kit and he bucked his body to throw the source of his unhappiness away. After the threat to his security was gone, the calico-tom finally found the very thing he had been searching for. And as he suckled away at the life-giving teat, his claws kneaded into Brushgaze's fur with an immense satisfaction.

Lichenmask's heart, long decayed under the strain of a feverish illness that had overtaken him, held no love nor affection for the youth who shared the very blood that surged within his veins. They were nothing more than a pestilence, a coalesce of diluted bloods that should've never survived long enough to draw their very first breaths.

They were an omen ill-tidings, foretelling only a promise of unadulterated destruction and death- they were born among chaos, with no moon or stars to guide the journey into the waking world. They would forever be condemned to walk within the darkness, unseeing of the guiding lights. They were failure, they were nothing but a stark reminder of everything he sought to destroy. Restless energy coupled with a quiet rage, the heated surge of disgust stirred his muscles into frenzied pacing. Forepaws, calloused after countless abrasions, lingered heavily upon the rotting floor of the Abandoned Barn as he stalked through the suffocating shadows, wild gaze seeking out the crimson light of the sky. Is this what you ask of me now? Pupils, dilating under the feral sense of hatred and dismay, remained focused solely upon the lifeless smear of red light within the dismal sky, venomous accusation sharpening the unheard demand. To slay those I sire? Will that finally appease you, finally sate your demands, your hunger for vengeance? Jaws moving in an non-vocal conversation, the dark-furred tom was aware of the gazes fixated upon him- even in his current state of heightened activity. The notes of sympathy and understanding made Lichenmask want to tear their eyes from their heads and trample them, it was infuriating. They were so focused on the deranged notion that kits equated prosperity that they couldn't see what laid beyond their very whiskers! They are vermin! Curses!

Ear merely twitching in response to Brushgaze's words, Lichenmask remained void of recognition for quite a remarkable length of time. Not even the former ShadowClanner could seem to gaze beyond her own muzzle, perhaps due to the instinctual desire that every molly had ingrained upon her. Borne out of her lust and his weakness, it would've been a kindness to simply abandon these kits to the elements as every last fiber of his being cried to do. Unwilling to go near Brushgaze and the litter that writhed at her belly, the tom merely turned an unseeing gaze upon them as a foreclaw was thrust into the proximity of the unnamed calico son. "Burntkit." Lichenmask simply rasped, lips curling into a slight sneer. Even the very names befit such creatures, only prophesying doom. How could he have done such a thing? Forsaken the unborn to such a life?

---

Duskkit, entirely oblivious to the happenings and heady tension that hung heavily within the shadowy air, merely peddled several limbs experimentally. The newfound mobility and wide expansion of space was quite strange to his little mind, which was rendered unable to process the drastic change due to its limited development. Thick fur coiling into untidy tufts and clumps, the young tom wriggled about for several moments, testing his current surroundings. The sensation of being in such close proximity to his littermates was familiar, yet everything felt different. How peculiar!