Still At War, Part 2 [open!]

OOC: The kits are able to walk, talk, and are mostly weaned at this point! They should be generally aware of the Asylum's way of life and their goals in the forest, having learned it from a nightstriker herself. Here's the first thread for reference: bonk

Her time in the barn with her kittens had been, undoubtedly, the most substantial and pleasurable of her entire life. And yet, she knew she had been a pitiful mother. Every morning, she was grumpy. At sunhigh, she was strict. By evening she had eased up, only to bring down the iron claws of discipline at night when coaxing them to sleep. Tavora was not a perfect mother, and in fact, to call her a good mother was very much a matter of opinion. Being all that they knew, she wondered if her four kits knew how she had stumbled through the whole affair, or if they assumed that every mother was sharp-tongued and fond of roughhousing.

For all that she had done wrong, though, there were moments that could be cherished. Galloway in particular always enjoyed chasing her thick, coarse tail around as if it were a panicked bird. They had all played together, and Tavora had taught them well. They were capable of hunting now, though Tavora was still the primary breadwinner of their flock. Each night, she lulled them to bed with stories of the Asylum’s history, their conquests, and their triumphs. She let them toy with her raccoon pelt, and she tied grass anklets to their paws. They chased each other around the barn and wreaked havoc wherever they went. Though her kits were mischievous, they were otherwise well-behaved, and they were educated. Sometimes, they surprised her with their intelligence.

But, she could never love them, not the way she knew she was supposed to. Sometimes, Tavora perceived them as a gaggle of apprentices. When they were feeling less rowdy and more mature, they were her clanmates. They heard the words “I love you” maybe twice in all their time at the barn, and the only accounts of true love they heard were when Tavora would speak of Iniko, their father. It filled the nightstriker with terror to look into her daughters’ sleeping faces and feel nothing. She was reminded woefully of how Shadestrike would admire her as a tyke. Though she knew it was not right, not in the slightest, there was nothing she could do but hold them carefully at a foxlength and treat them as best as she could: as a mentor does an apprentice. If she could not be a good mother, she could at least be a decent teacher. Tavora was sure that they at least enjoyed her in that capacity.

The journey home felt foreign, and the weight that had left her shoulders after crossing the thunderpath now returned to her, slamming down into her joints as she relieved moons of agony all in a blink. The marshes felt cold and dirty in comparison to the warm, earthy barn. She put on a brave, blank face for her children. They did not need to see how this place affected her.

Arriving into camp, Tavora shed her raccoon hood. Gathering her four kits around her, she waited for someone to acknowledge the new scents wafting into the clearing. She bent down to address the kits: “This is the ShadowClan camp. The Asylum cats smell the same way we do. That unfamiliar, musky scent belongs to ShadowClan. Be respectful, little things, and you will get it in return.”

She leaned forward and stepped ahead of the kits. “These are my kits, the sons and daughters of Iniko: Hyacintha, Kirabo, Galloway, and Faizah,” she explained. “After spending their early days in seclusion with me, they’re ready to join the Asylum and will soon be sorted into a faction. They are… exceptional.”

And she did not lie, though the words sounded strained and unnatural and rehearsed, subsequently touching her nose to the forehead of her nearest kit, which happened to be Faizah.

To say Faizah was scared would be an understatement. She could barely breathe by the time they arrived at ShadowClan, and the sight was a shock. While things were not fun in the barn, they were familiar. This was anything but. While there were, as Tavora had said, cats who smelled like them, as well as the cats that just outright stunk, none of the faces were familiar to her. The only cats she knew were standing beside her, as they were all put on show.

Faizah fought the urge to roll her eyes as Tavora called them exceptional. It was a joke she enjoyed often with her siblings, as Tavora always said things like that. Of course, even she knew not to go against her mother in this moment, when it was so important to Tavora. So when she felt her mother's nose on top of her head, she did not recoil (although she did quickly wipe her head with her paw in disgust. These shows of affection just did not happen, so it felt so weird and not right at all.)

After everything had been said and done, Faizah stepped away from the spotlight. These cats were not worth her time. Or so she told herself. Why was Tavora so bent on their approval?

Kirabo had gotten bored of living just with his family, and he was glad for the change. At first he had been find, romping around with the rest of them. But as he heard more and more stories of the place called the Asylum, and of Iniko, he wished he could be there. He hadn’t asked, out of the respect he had for his mother (practically the only cat he had any respect for) but he had been excited to leave. He wanted to start training already. He knew the basics, but the idea of being assigned a faction made him so very excited. He wanted to receive those scars. He didn’t feel the need for affection as most kits did. Maybe it was the unconventional way he was raised. The young tom wanted to be respected. Admired.

Arriving at Shadowclan’s camp, he instantly scrunched his nose. He had been warned of it before, and smelled it, in part, but so many clan cats together the smell was a bit overwhelming. He tried to control the urge to burst out in disgust as best as he could. He wanted to please Tavora, and that meant being respectful to these cats. Obviously they wouldn’t be here if they didn’t need something. He shoved past his siblings to be at the front of their little flock. He wanted to be in the spotlight. As he was introduced to these strangers, he puffed his chest out and tried to straighten his posture. He thought it would look good, make him look very proud and regal. In all honesty, he didn’t look that intimidating.

He wasn’t quite sure how to proceed, so for once he kept pretty quiet. This was something that was important, and he didn’t want to ruin that.

Though Hyacinthia was admittedly a little afraid, she would never say so out loud or reveal it- even to her mother. Not because she thought these ShadowClanners were scary. Oh no, her mother had taught her about them. She had nothing to worry about in that regard. It was, in truth, the prospect of discovering something entirely new that filled her with excitement and dread, that made her giddy on the inside. On the outside, she looked prepared to tackle anything that came her way. Determined, strong for a kit as young as herself. She knew her mother wouldn't put her in danger for no reason, but this was still quite an interesting day for one as young as she was.

She looked up to her mother as she spoke, admiring how beautiful she looked in the dying light of the day. "Okay, Tavora." She meowed politely, with a slight nod of her head as she padded along behind her. She almost bowed before the ShadowClanner before her, before she remembered that she was Asylum. Asylum was above bowing to the Clan cats, wasn't that right?