¥ the ghost [and the] darkness;;

[Spiderlily]

This was not it. Spiderlily had not adapted much ye tot their new home, having preferred the camp they had left previously, although she knew quite well that Bane’s reasons for the move were sound ones. Still, the she-cat had to pick new places for herself to favor – having always been one since way back when she had first joined Boneclan to favor her own personal den…although this now extended to welcoming Pripyat into her den too.

For this, she had chosen one off branch of the rabbit warren that Bane had hoped for the camp to grow around, that went deeper under a heavy boulder then she expected – even including several more offshoots in case the need to flee quickly rose. Pleased, Spiderlily had taken the time to expand what she considered to be a passable living chamber; eking out a home amongst her fellow Boneclanners.

It was there, one late twilight, that the tabby retired into her den; alone and away from her fellows.

It was there, for the first time in many moons, new life came to join the ranks of Boneclan.

--

Hours passed, and soon the tabby lay calmly curled up in the midst of the bedding in the den, looking at the found fluffy kits beside her with a mix of amazement and bewilderment. They were Pripyat’s kits alright, there was little doubt in that from first sight; two toms and two she-kits. Spiderlily had never expected to be a mother, had hardly been aware of the signs or payed little attention to her growing pregnancy. Could she be a mother?

She was going to have to figure it out, somehow.

The street cat yawned, stretched out as the little bundles of not-so-joy finally took their fill and, in that little kit-mound where it was hard to discern head from tail between the four, fell asleep.

Hm. If that was all, this was going to be easy. Rising to her paws, stretching here and there, Spiderlily took a break for a moment – padding up to the entrance of her den and just lounging there; one ear pricked watchfully towards the main chamber of her den in case one, or more, of the youngsters woke.

Where was Pripyat? Yellow eyes scanned the camp, looking for her mate so that he could be the first to see the kits – perhaps even bring the word to Bane that the clan had increased in number in this late night.

[Pripyat]

satan, satan, lend me a dollar.

The moon shone palely down through the fog, a tarnished silver dollar sailing through dark and silent skies.
The night air was chilly in a way that made it feel clearer and sharper instead of unpleasant.

A tom, tall and lean and black as night, wound his way through the grass and the fog, putting paw after paw before him in a silent return home.
He entered the camp with his head high and his tail curled in contentment; he liked this new home. It reminded him a little of BoneClan's old land, and the mist made him feel safe, cradled and hidden away in soft and shadowy places.

He scented delicately at the air, his blue eyes ranging across camp for his Spiderlilly. He could smell her in the dust and the individual blades of grass, so he knew she was not far.

His eyes, although sharp, had somehow missed her on the first pass. She was right there, across camp, her bright eyes magnetic. She drew him in, and he padded willingly forward, a slight grin creeping across his face. "Hello, Spiderlilly," he sang, not yet detecting that something may have been amiss.

[/blockquote][/color]

[Spiderlily]

Ah, there he was.

Almost as if on cue, only a dozen or so minutes after she had risen to relax at the entrance of her den, her mate padded into camp. There was almost a faintly bemused expression on her muzzle as she watched him look about – then seemingly magically noticing her and padding in her direction.

“Pripyat~” There was a mischievous smile there, light and teasing and playful enough to lit up an otherwise cold face – Spiderlily was amused. There was little else to say concerning it. She was amused, and even worse…Pripyat seemed to be completely oblivious to the event that had transpired on this very night. “Imma knowin’ somethin’ you don’t.” The she-cat smirk then, turned and slipping in to her. She flicked her tail, stirring faintly up some light dust, before padding down back into the main chamber.

The kits were still sleeping soundly. All was well, she hoped.

Amber-yellow eyes flicked back, wondering if the tom had dared to follow her and see what it was she had taunted about…and what exactly he would do when he did see for himself.

[Pripyat]

satan, satan, lend me a dollar.

"Spiderlilly~" Pripyat purred back.
Spiderlilly's second comment left him bewildered. What did she know that he didn't? Was it important? Was it bad?
He started to ask, but his querying mew died away quickly. Spiderlilly was returning to her den.

For a moment, he stood dumbly outside, watching her go with his head tilted to one side in bemusement. Then he caught the flicking of her tail--like fish flickering in a pond--and followed.

Pripyat trotted along behind her, slipping smoothly into the inner part of her den on her heels.

Then stopped.

Four tiny bundled lay side by side on the den floor.

Pripyat padded closer, moving in a sliding, somehow predatory stalking gait. His blue eyes were wide and puzzled in the dark.

"Spiderlilly?" he meowed, confusion evident in his voice.
He stared intently at the tiny lumps of fur, focusing his gaze on each in turn. Two were deep gray-black; one was a mottled sort of color, perhaps brown?; and one looked ruddy in the shadows. They breathed easily through their tiny lungs, making little, peaceful movements as they slept.
Perhaps a little unnecessarily, he murmured, "Spiderlilly, these are kittens."

In one swift motion, he straightened and turned his bright gaze to his mate. He tilted his head to one side again, all but demanding answers. Kittens? Kittens. They certainly can't be from where I think they're from. Can they?

[/blockquote]

[Spiderlily]

Actually, Spiderlily probably knew a lot of things he didn’t…and vice versa. They had come from two completely separate and different backgrounds, although their mutual paths had join in the here and now, which truly was what mattered the most. The mottled tabby purred before laughing at the look on Pripyat’s face when he entered the inner sanctum of her den – watchful of his predatory gait like any new mother but trusting that he wouldn’t decide the kits were dinner instead of children.

If that came forth, Pripyat would then realize how truly dangerous that the Spiderlily could be.

Her gaze remained steady on the tom before chancing a glance as one of her young sons stretched a gave a tiny mew, before hushing and sleeping with a paw and head draped on one of his sisters. Heh, they certainly were cute little things – and Spiderlily, who had never felt any particular attachment or even ever like youngsters, she knew she could get on with these ones.

Hey, who could argue with new members to the clan?

When Pripyat straightened, Spiderlily had taking to sitting just by the kit pile, outright snorting at his comment. Lordy, he had to point out such an obvious fact didn’t he? “Yanno, I hope they are kittens. Because iffa I’m poppin’ out puppers we’re gonna be in’a world of trouble bub.” Wasn’t that an answer enough?

[Pripyat]

satan, satan, lend me a dollar.

Pripyat looked wide-eyed from Spiderlilly to the kits and back again.
He mouthed something; he noticed no sound came out; he tried again. "You...?" You had the kittens? You? They're yours? They're "Our's?"

Pripyat appeared more than a little shell-shocked.
His first thought was that he wouldn't have guessed this. While he'd noticed a change in Spiderlilly, it hadn't been radical--she hadn't been hurting in any way. And in the business following the second move, he'd been slightly too preoccupied helping set up BoneClan's new territory to notice anything more.
His second thought was that Spiderlilly had, lo and behold, created life.
His third thought was that he had, too.

The black tom's silence shattered with customary abruptness.
He gave a soft yowl and leaped at Spiderlilly, all but tackling her. All at once a powerful purr was rumbling in his throat, quivering through his entire body. His paws shook with the force of it. He pressed his face against Spiderlilly, nuzzling and purring.
Such intense displays of affection were almost unheard of between them; it was not because Pripyat felt uncomfortable with them (he didn't in the least) but because he had always had the idea that she did. But at this moment everything in him was alive with feeling, his head full of colors and emotion. He dropped what he saw as the usual courtesy and instead expressed himself as freely as he was capible.

After a moment, Pripyat turned away, his tail thrashing in excitement. He bounded to the kits and dropped to his belly, putting his face as even as possible with theirs. He looked very closely and very seriously at each one, his blue eyes blazing. Then he scooted forward and gave all four a lick from forehead to back.
"I love you little guys," he whispered, his voice so quiet that even Spiderlilly might not have heard it (although that didn't stop one black tom from shifting in his sleep at the sound).

He rose to his paws and padded around the tiny bundles of fur, his blue eyes snapping back to Spiderlilly.
He was silent for a moment, merely looking at her.
Then, once again, he tackled her, his tail trashing like an eager kit's.

[/blockquote]

[Spiderlily]

Oh this was good. Spiderlily nodded, “Yes Pripyat. Ours. They are our kits.” Yours…and mine. Her mate was clearly stunned from the news; hadn’t he so much as noticed? While the tabby wasn’t the most outgoing of all the Boneclanners, openly disliking many of them even if she had shown previously she was capable of placing that aside and working with them, it wasn’t as if in that time she had avoided Pripyat any. But she supposed that the events of recent probably had washed such things from his thoughts. While Pripyat had been had been helping out she too had been, even if it was to shore up the freshkill pile and patrol the boundaries as needed…sadly, though, she probably wasn’t going to be joining in such tasks until the kits were older.

Or she could totally get drop the kits off at Bane’s paws and flee. They could work too. Bane the babysitter~

Pripyat’s yowl and his sudden love-attack sent Spiderlily’s own sense reeling – she had expected a reaction somewhat similar to this but not at quite such intensity. A rare warm purr escaped the she-cat, known to be next to only ever have been heard by Pripyat only [and the less-then-pawful who might have happened to overhear] and she gave him a long nuzzle back.

It was wonderful…love.

It was only a moment, and then Spiderlily could content herself in laying down and just watching him lick each of the kits in turn, whispering softly to them all. Although she couldn’t properly hear the words, the tabby suspected what they were – and she closed her eyes to get a little bit of rest.

Eyes on her, however, made her open one and peer at Pripyat – what was that tom planning now? His sudden charge and tackle caused her to end up falling to her side, chuckling as she attempted to play-bat the tom off of her. Such behavior, lordy.

[Pripyat]

satan, satan, lend me a dollar.

Pripyat batted right back, showing his teeth in a joyful, if perhaps a little fearsome, smile. He even rolled over like a kit, waving his paws playfully in Spiderlilly's direction.

But he was too charged up to stay still for long. He rolled over almost right away and dashed back around to the kits, staring down at them with wide eyes. They were so tiny!

He gave them all another affectionate lick, taking comfort from the warmth burning in their little bodies; all four alive and well, and they would remain so even if he had to bleed himself dry to make it happen.

He sat for a moment, laying his long tail across their backs. Two toms and two she-cats--the perfect amount. Everything all balanced. The two males were even black! Perfect. The whole litter was perfect.
He was very still for a time, feeling the blood in his veins (which had been rushing through him like fire and pounding in his heart) slowly settle. The thudding of his heart fell back to a normal pace. He looked down at the kits, and he grew calm.

Then Pripyat stood and circled around to Spiderlilly, settling himself on his belly beside her. He purred, softly and steadily.
Then he meowed, "Spiderlilly! They're gonna get so much bigger than that, aren't they? It's crazy how little they are, when one day they'll be as big as we are." Without meaning to, he was holding his voice down, keeping it at a level barely above a whisper. He sounded reverent. "They're gonna be such strong cats, all four of em. I'll teach them how to fight, we both will, and they're gonna be really good at it."
He smiled fondly, imagining the day when they were old enough to learn the fighting art--the killing art. He would teach them as Botan had taught him: harshly, but not without compassion; intelligently, but never draining the art of its natural passion; with great skill and great patience. Botan had been a good mentor. Not like Shiv, who wasn't really any good at all.
Inexorably, Pripyat's wandering mind wound back to the kits. Again he half-whispered to Spiderlilly, "What are their names?"

[/blockquote]

[Spiderlily]

Fearsome?

Maybe. To other cats, perhaps. To Spiderlily, it was nothing but warm a welcoming, the tom even joining in her batting game with ease – her paw only lightly glancing one of his, however, when he rolled right back over and went to look at the kits. Still feeling that tired laziness that came from giving birth, she was content to keep on lying on her side and simply allowing her eyes to follow the tom.

They were good little kits, too, not loud or squawky like she knew little kits to be. The quartet slept soundly, with the occasional wiggle and sleepy mew, before settling back down. Of course, she knew quite well that this peace wouldn’t last – the kits would soon grow and develop personalities of their own, and then be demanding to know the world outside the walls of then den, the camp, the territory.

Spiderlily smiled a little bit to herself, even as Pripyat slid into place beside her. All was right in the world.

“Yes Prip, they’re gonna get bigger.” How did she manage to be so patient with the tom? Spiderlily never exhibited such behavior when it came to any other cat, even the almighty dangerous Bane…and likely, not even her kits would escape her hair-trigger temper. Heh. Wasn’t this going to be fun? She rolled on her back, yawning a bit herself as she murmured, “I’ll teach ‘em the art of torturin’; how to completely break’a feline.” They were going to be really good at it, was that all?

No. No, they would be the best. Spiderlily didn’t want it any other way.

The tabby could dream, right? She could see herself back in the city, back with her hit squad – each mission, each hit, and the expanse of knowledge extended vastly as time went on. If this had been there, if her kits had been born in the city instead, they would be doubly suited for such a life.

There were some things that just never let go of the Spiderlily from their iron hold.

Then, names? Spiderlily blinked, snickering slightly and righting herself so that she could give each of the four little fluffballs a good look. “Hm, Imma sure I can pull somethin’ outta my ass, yanno….but it’s better we name’em together, mm?” She glanced back at Pripyat, a ear flicked towards him almost questioningly. She had a few names she wanted to try out, seeing how they felt rolling off her tongue. “You wanna name the runts all by yerself, feel free too. S’all good.” Yep. Mother material she was not.

[Pripyat]

satan, satan, lend me a dollar.

That Spiderlilly wasn't exactly the maternal sort didn't bother Pripyat in the slightest. He was fluffy and lovable enough for the both of them.
Hell, for the whole Clan. How did he end up with Spiderlilly?

His grin widened, showing every razor-tipped tooth. "And I will teach them how to be fast. How to move so quickly and agilely that even in a brawl they can come out without a scratch, and how to strike a cat so they bleed swiftly or slowly; a rapid death or a good slow one. They'll know everything." His tail beat against the ground in his eagerness. He would train them right here and now if he could--but no, they were only newborn.

The black tom glanced from the kits to their tired mother and back again. A pensive look, almost uncharacteristic of him, settled over his face.
"That reddish kit, the littlest one?" he meowed, pointing at the smallest she-kit with one dull claw unsheathed. "She...looks like Transal. Almost exactly." And also like Mother, but that's not important. "I think, Transal the Second? Tran would have liked that."

He scanned the kits again. His blue eyes settled on the palest of the four, the firstborn she-cat. "Chernobyl?" He looked questioningly to Spiderlilly.

[/blockquote]

[Spiderlily]

Good, Pripyat could have that covered. Spiderlily was going to make sure though, however, that the kits did not grow up sheltered in the least – they would know what life was. Period. End of story.

Well, they made it work somehow, and Spiderlily was happy to have a mate like Pripyat. He made things interesting and, if it hadn’t been for him, the tabby would have more likely left the clan and headed for a city a long time before. Gee, had they really been in Boneclan for so long already? Felt like forever.

With a worn purr, Spiderlily nodded in agreement. These kits would be the best…and whether that was just mother’s pride or the sheer truth no one would know until the kits were grown and fully trained. Would they all remain in Boneclan? Her thoughts were divided with such thought – she went both ways concerning it.

Yes Prip, might be a bit hard to train them now.

Considering the look on the black tom’s face, Spiderlily blinked and looked a bit closer at the small she-kit he had pointed out. “Mm…” The executioner almost seemed to be considering the name, but smirked as she glanced to Pripyat. You she; she understood what his sister meant to him…and what this would mean for him. “It’s a good one fer her.” She nodded, clearly accepting that as a name.

But. “Chernobyl?” Spiderlily echoed, the foreign rolling off of her tongue heavily under her street brogue. Her gaze became questioning as she glanced between the largest of their kits, wanting to know what it stood for – as it was certainly not something she’d heard of before.

Oh wait, two more kits needed their names. Seeing that the little toms had been left to her, the killer reached out with a paw to indicate the second-born, a jet black male with lighter black mottling on his small legs that looked to one day be the onset of some sort of marking pattern, “Grave.” It was short, simple, and sweet – and Spiderlily said it with the same no-nonsense matter that it was settled with. She then indicated the youngest of all the kits, the second black male. “Hm..” For a moment, the she-cat fell into silence, tail flicking every now and again as she looked over the small newborn. “Vincent would work, yanno.” They weren’t very clan-ish names, considering how cats seemed to love being named in the Valley, but to her they were sensible names.

Now if only Pripyat agreed…

[Pripyat]

satan, satan, lend me a dollar.

Pripyat purred. Transal the Second. Transal. Trantran. It was like having his sister back, only so much smaller.
Do you...like it, Tranny? I'm really sorry. I said I'd make it up to you, didn't I? I miss you! I can't wait until you're bigger.
He reached out, with infinate gentleness, and touched the little she-kit. "Transal."

Then he swung to look at the others, following Spiderlilly's gaze.
As she repeated his second name, he paused, catching the question in her tone. "Do you like it? I can pick a different one, I mean, they're your kits. Kiev is nice, even if it's a little tomish. Or Yvaty?" The foreign words rolled off his tongue with ease, taking on a strange, exotic sound. They would not have sounded odd among cats of Pripyat's bloodline, and seemed to spring into his mind of their own accord; perhaps it was a kind of race memory, for Pripyat knew little of his heritage.
But as he spoke, a tiny frown stuck to his face. He still liked 'Chernobyl' the best.

He angled his ears forward as Spiderlilly spoke again. "I like Vincent," he purred. "And Grave sounds a little like the names of some cats I knew back in FangClan. There was Bury, who died not long into training, and Morgue. Transal and I shared a nursery with Morgue for awhile, and we trained together. In fact, we did just about everything together; I guess you could say we were friends."
Pripyat digressed easily, and now his train of thought was winding backwards, down deep alleys of memory.
A look that was almost fond, but not quite, touched his blue eyes. "She was only a few moons older. I wonder what happened to her? She was still alive and kicking when I left FangClan."

Pripyat blinked, his thoughts looping back smoothly to the present. "Grave is a good name," he confirmed, a look of simple satisfaction settling on his face.

[/blockquote]

[Spiderlily]

Spiderlily knew then, as she watched Pripyat and little Transal, that he would probably always have a special place for the little kit – likely more-so then even her brothers and sister. For a moment, the tabby glanced toward the entrance of her den – if there was some sort of afterlife, not that she ever cared to believe in one, she knew that his sister would be happy in him now.

“Chernobyl.” Spiderlily tested the name again, rolling it over her tones before nodding. “No no, I like it better’n the others. S’good one, no?” Wherever the names came from lay back in his past somewhere, along with his odd little family that didn’t seem all that right in their head. The tabby glanced at the kits, wondering silently to herself if any of them would develop the same twists of madness that their father’s line carried…but wasn’t that a matter for later? Hm.

“Might still be there, yanno.” Spiderlily didn’t, and for truth she was at a loss at what to say in response to her mate’s story, a new snippet of his past she hadn’t known before. While, soon after she had lost her squad, she had asked herself those damnable ‘what if?’ questions over and over and over again – she had no one back there to wonder such things about. Dreamreaper had been heavily disliked by her and even she had left the city in time too – going to Duskclan, was it?

Everyone else was dead. Gone. Her friends, her partners…

“Glad you like it.” She quipped quickly, not allowing her train of thought to spiral even further back into the past then it already had. The she-cat seemed sleepier now then anything else, moving to circle herself around her little family and then looking with half-lidded eyes to Pripyat.

[Pripyat]

satan, satan, lend me a dollar.

Pripyat nipped throughtfully at his lip, drawing a bead of blood that glittered in the dark. "I wouldn't think so," he meowed. "She was disconcent in FangClan, at the end."

But he shook the thoughts away. There was no point in speculating; their paths had parted long ago, and there would be no reconcilliation here.

"I like all the names," he purred, brushing a paw over the sleeping bodies of his kits. His voice grew hushed and reverent as, one by one, he named them: "Chernobyl. Transal. Grave. Vincent."

Pripyat mimicked Spiderlilly, curling himself around his new family. Family. Not just two cats, moving side by side through a tumultous life--but a real family.
The family I never had.
He laid his head on his paws, his blue eyes hovering over the kits. His purr took on an edge, a subtle tone of fierceness as his mind flashed briefly back to his kithood.

Opening his eyes. Wandering camp for the first time. Voices. Noise. Colors! Shiv, drenched in blood. The first scent of iron, of red. Jigsaw, with her face in ruins.
Morgue, mocking. Transal, small and warm. Love. Fear. Indifference. The sound of screaming, painting vivid yellowgreen over his eyes.
FangClan.

Not my kits.
Pripyat had been cradled in screams and nursed in blood. There was nothing of a mother's love in his upbringing, no father but an empty space, no warmth but the warmth of a winter sun.
But there would be summer heat and love for his kits. He would kill if he had to, to bring the sun to them, to warm them as he would have wanted as a kit.

The ferocity ebbed slowly but surely, as Pripyat's blue eyes grew foggy with drowsyness. He had not given birth, of course, but the rush of emotions in him tired him.

"I love you all," he murmured, his voice thick.

[/blockquote]

[Spiderlily]

“Seems to be’a common happin’, hm?” After all, Pripyat seemed to have felt the same as well – unless he left for another reason. From what she knew of his sister, Transal had been completely miserable. What was this clan truly like? Spiderlily, however, smiled when her mate fondly brushed a paw over the sleeping kits, before moving to join her circled around the little bundles of fluff.

And ear flicked, and half-lidded eyes glanced to him when his familiar purr took a fiercer undertone to it – but it was not against the kits, never. The tired mother did not question what he might be thinking to induce such a reaction, but she leaned closer to him and purred softly, eyes closing completely.

Her mind took her back too, for a moment, flicking lightly over the points in her life with her family – not much of one. Her mother, her mother gone, her sister, her sister’s betrayal. Her family had become her squad, and now they too were gone…just silent paws padding the way into oblivion.

Her father…

Spiderlily shifted; nestling the kits almost protectively close to herself before murmuring, “Love’ya too, bub.”

Sleep finally choose then to closed in and claim her.