This ain't the first time I've done this (Philadelphia's kitting, Open)

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    OOC: How many kits does Philadelphia have?


    Wakepaw walked in and counted up the number of kits the she-cat had. Not nearly formal enough. But he had no idea she was the leader, being as new as he was.

    OOC: ~She has four



    IC: London squirmed and flopped onto his back, his chubby kit-legs not working very productively or cooperatively with his body. He blinked, still getting used to the light around him.

    ooc : I think Yew means in total. @Piney: Noner was one of the cats who was in the nursery, stealing the kits.


    Abbot blinked.

    Paris opened her eyes at this new scent. She looked up at Wakepaw, blue eyes blinking wide open. Who's that? she thought, but couldn't figure out how to form the words. He smells funny.

    OOC: Yep - this litter, four. In total, Philadelphia has fifteen, all of them having different fathers. And I see what you mean. x3


    IC: Philadelphia noticed Wakepaw, and with a flick of the tail she beckoned him over. "I haven't seen you around before," she meowed. "Your name, please?"

    Paris shrugged. He was confusing, to be sure. Ah well, it didn't really matter, after all. She let out a sleepy purr.

    Sahara, a cinnamon she-kit, blinked drowsily and glanced around.


    ooc : O__O I didn't even know about this thread. Excuse my lateness.
    Could someone catch me up? I see four pages have gone by. The kits are double-timed, so how old are they now? Has much happened since they were born?

    OOC: Not a whole lot. They're two weeks old today, (real-timed) and that's the age we've been rping them at so far, I think. Philadelphia just oversaw some prisoners being sent to the slave room, that's pretty much all that's happened, you're not too out of date. ;)


    IC:
    Paris yawned and flipped over onto her four paws, standing shakily but upright.

    The post was edited 1 time, last by Phan-space-dino ().

    OOC: Alright, thanks, Piney c:
    IC: Sahara hobbled over and bumped into a sibling; the kitten toppled over and batted at Paris.

    Scarface slipped back into the room, waiting by the door for Philadelphia to notice him. He wanted some time alone with her, wanted to talk to her.


    Paris opened her eyes with a squeak, batting back at Sahara. She looked around. The big, scary looking brown tom was back. He looked like her brothers, oddly. She shrugged and snuggled into her mother's side, content to just lie there and look around.

    London's wide eyes were the usual kit-blue. He glanced around the place he was in, and attempted to clumsily stretch.

    Philadelphia narrowed her eyes as Wakepaw left...oh well, not her problem to deal with. The leader spotted Scarface quickly; it was kind of hard not to notice a large, muscular cat with have his face ripped off. She nodded, purring and gesturing for him to come over. "Yes, Scarface?" Her amber eyes flicked to her kits, then back to her mate. "London, Paris, Sahara, Seattle, meet your father. His name is Scarface, as you can see why."

    London blinked, gazing up at the tom. His first thought was along the lines that he was big. The kit appeared to not notice the scars.

    Scarface lowered his head to the kits, glancing at them proudly. "I, ah," the big tom felt oddly out of place, but forged ahead. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when they were born," he purred softly. "There were a couple things about the RiverClan battle I wanted to tell you about."


    OOC: Just about to leave for a week, camping... if Scarface or Paris is needed, can one of you temp them?

    Wakepaw padded in, holding a half bobkit in his jaws. He blinked at Philiedelphia, then padded toward her, stopping short of the kits. He strecthed his neck out then pulled back. Then he put the newborn kit on the ground and pushed it lightly forward towards the she-cat. A look of question was across his face.

    The post was edited 1 time, last by Hey¥ew!~Frostflail ().

    OOC: Sure.


    IC: Philadelphia purred, although half-sadly, "Neither of my two previous litters' fathers got to see them at birth, either." She flicked her tail; at last, Wakepaw was back. The cinnamon she-cat nodded for the cat to come forward, and Scarface to step aside for a moment.


    Her amber eyes gleamed slightly at the half-bobkit. Blackheart Rogue had had very few hybrids, and only for a short while had they had Holmes, the serval. Asides from that, they had been all smallcat. "Who is this?" she asked, peering at the kit.

    For a brief moment Philadelphia wondered if this tom was mute, like one of her daughters, but her eyes softened a little at the kit. She flicked her tail, beckoning the kit closer to her; the thing looked hungry for sure. "Come here," she murmured.