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they were lined with golden amplifiers, i could tell
In the early evening dusk, a small kit manifested from within the thick, swirling mist and sodden earth. The tunnel he originated from loomed behind him as he proceeded along the railroad tracks, seemingly completely at ease in this creepy little sneaky little foreign place. Maybe he ought to have been scared... but he instead found himself enchanted.
Eventually, after inspecting every nook and cranny, he crossed over a stone path and, curious about where it led (which is also how he found himself in the depths of the abandoned mining tunnel in the first place), followed along it until it, too, began to descend into the earth. Though this time, rather than walking into pure darkness, he was surprised to find this place almost glowing-- the pale moon was almost full, and it bled light into the cenote that was then reflected all across the arching stone walls. There were cats all around this place that didn't seem to notice him at first, so, without an ounce of hesitation in him, the brown tabby called out a cheerful, "Knock, knock!"
Snowblister knew everything about everyone, what they did in a day and where they went, their families and friends and those they didn't really like, where they stood socially and how they felt — partially, it was because she had too. She was their deputy, after all, she was supposed to know her clan like the back of her paw, but most of it was simple interest. Before Kate, the only other cat she would have considered a friend (in loose terms, she would never have trusted him enough, even before, to consider their relationship truly positive) was Kier, but that had fell through the roof already.
Nightclan was all eyes, a surveillance state building loyalty off of how willing you were to turn in your own kin, and yet they still surprised Snowblister by how obtuse and unobservant they could be at times. She had been crouched at the bottom of the cenote, at the edge of the water and staring out at a spot that continuously rippled, just out of reach. If someone were to ask, she would say she wasn't looking at anything at all. Knock, knock! Usually, Snowblister kept herself away from the kits outside of classes (she found them unnerving, almost, not that she would ever admit that), but something was off, and so she hauled herself to her paws and padded towards the voice.
She knew everything about everyone, and yet this kit was a mystery.
"And where did you come from, kit?" She said it rather distastefully, her face drawn in an agitated sneer as she stepped into the path of the little tom. "If you don't mind, I'd prefer you not go any closer right now — you might be diseased, and we really don't want to spread that, do we?"
"Hiya, ma'am!" The little tom-kit piped up, unfazed by Snowblister's accusatory words or the disgust emanating from her. He did offer a sheepish grin at the implication that he would be carrying a sickness, resisting the urge to itch at his admittedly flea-bitten pelt. "I'm from the city, ma'am, isn't that cool? I saw a lot of cats out there, but not like this- or like you! D'you think my fur will get that long someday?"
He was either oblivious to the effect his presence had here, garnering more notice from the wild cats now that Snowblister was speaking to him, or he simply didn't care. He seemed perfectly content to be here, to be gawked at, while he chatted with this amazing mammoth of a cat.
She noted the unruliness of his demeanor, eyes scrapping over him judgmentally, and she leaned forward to give him a few sniffs before standing up again. "No, it won't, and you'd pray it won't — not if your fur is usually that filthy." She gave a scoff of a laugh and padded forward, past the kit, beckoning him along with her tail. She stopped at the edge of the water again — the ripples far off had stopped — and placed a paw in, watching the water only come up just past her ankles.
When the kit got close enough, she shoved him the rest of the way in, shuffling back only an inch (she tried not to think of the familiarity of it). "Don't lean too far back, it gets deep once the rocks fall away. We might live in caves but there is no way you're walking in like that." She paused, contemplating. Truthfully, she could have sent him away — perhaps she should have, who knew how Kier would imprint on the young outsider, he always had a soft spot for cats like too much like himself, but Snowblister had gotten to him first. He might be in her debt for her gracious kindness towards him, and she could steer it towards an unwavering loyalty not to Kier, but to herself. Sometimes, her genius was startling.
"The city is a long way away," she continued, "and I'm assuming you're alone. Do you have a name — not that it'll be of much use here, of course. You'll get a new one. A proper one."
He bounced after the she-cat as she invited him closer, deeper into the lion's den, and was leaning heavily into his front paws when she swept them right out from under him. He gave a startled cry, one that was silenced as his head disappeared beneath the turquoise mirror. To Snowblister the water was little more than a puddle at present depth; to the kit it was about as vast and as deep as the ocean.
His small legs fought the subtle current, emerging from beneath the water in time to catch some of what she was saying: --it gets deep once the rocks fall away. He paddled closer until his paws caught purchase, finally able to drag himself back out, and cast a now fretful glance behind him at where he'd fallen into, noting the way the hue of the water darkened considerably. His tail-tip twitching more frantically, it was dawning on him that this situation might not be a positive one to be in, but his watchful amber eyes couldn't discern an easy escape route past Snowblister. He pasted another grin on his face, trying to veil the growing panic blossoming through his chest.
"Where is this?" he asked, a little more quietly now, less eager. When she asked his name, and then subverted the curiosity with a dismissal, he debated being honest-- but his 'ma would turn over in her grave if her little boy started fibbing now. "My name's Jackson, ma'am, but my 'ma called me Jax. What's a proper name? What's..." hesitation made him pause, but he braved on, "what's your name, ma'am?"
She watched as he clambered out, and a look of annoyance crossed her face. She was about to say something about how that would hardly get the muck off, about how a little water wouldn't kill him, but, surprisingly for how much he enjoyed speaking her mind, she kept quiet. Despite the irk, she understood — he was young, small, and new, he didn't quite know what was right, what he should be doing, and so she found herself choosing her words more carefully, though her chilly demeanor hardly changed. Kittens still made her feel awkward, robotically so, and she never knew what to do around them, something that was an advantage when it came to classes and she had to be the cold, demanding, stoic Snowblister that judged and graded and looked upon them unfavourably — how else would they learn — but a disadvantage any other time.
Where is this? She noted the drop in his enthusiasm. "Nightclan, we're a. . . group. There's other clans around, but they're hardly important." She got up to lead him along again, away from the water and towards camp. Her fur rose at the curious glances that found them. "Jax? Hm," it was a quick, mocking sound, "yes, improper name, indeed. A proper name is when you have a prefix, something your parents chose, and then a suffix afterwards, something you earned that represents you. My name is Snowblister. Snow," she slowed her voice as if he wouldn't understand, "was chosen for me, blister was earned. Snowblister. Kits like you get 'kit' after your names because you're too young to have earned something to represent you. But we'll worry about that soon."
She led Jax up a small elevation and into the main cavern, stopping just before it. A tall, imposing pillar stood in the centre, stalagmites cluttered the ground and ceiling, and it was rounded, dark and dusty. Various entrances led to dens or to deeper areas of the cave. She teetered between giving him a proper welcome or not, but ultimately decided to, once again, keep quiet.
Despite that she'd just tried to kill him, Jax stayed close to Snowblister throughout her condescending spiel and uninviting- because it seemed less like he had a choice to follow and more like she would successfully dispose of him if he didn't- tour. He remembered his pa mentioning something about clans before, and the slightly dreamy look that'd been in his eyes, but he hadn't expected to stumble into one so soon. He would have been more excited about ten minutes ago.
His little nose turned up at the way Snowblister enunciated everything slowly for him. "I'm not an idiot," he grumbled below his breath as they approached the central cavern. Despite himself and his dwindling enthusiasm, his eyes began to sparkle- this place was cool! He wanted to run ahead and inspect every nook and cranny, see everything that couldn't be seen from here either from shaded veils or rocky outcroppings, but Snowblister's imposing presence rooted him where he stood, though he buzzed with contained energy. "So will I be, uh, Jaxkit, since my parents chose that name? Am I gonna live here? Is everyone that lives here as big as you?"
"Mostly," Kier answered for Snowblister — which was an obvious joke, since he was tiny compared to his deputy. He padded over from the shadows under the pillar to get a look at the little intruder who'd wandered in, stopping beside the hulking she-cat. "You know, I'm really very curious how a kit managed to just stumble in here. Which tunnel did you come through? I suppose those guards are fine to do without ears since they very clearly aren't using them."
So will I be, uh, Jaxkit, since my parents chose that name? "Oh, so you do have parents?" he replied dryly, sitting down in front of the kit with his shoulders hunched to peer down at him. He was beside Snowblister, but he ignored her. Really, he felt a little defensive on her behalf; she was being the gentlest he’d ever seen her and this kit wasn’t appreciating it. He didn’t know what a tyrant she was ordinarily and what special treatment he was getting; Kier was almost jealous. He hated Snowblister — anyone else doing it irritated him; she was still his friend. "And where are they?" It was said with a mocking, condescending sort of disbelief, eyes widening briefly, more a statement than a question; one half of his mouth twitched up into a hooded-eyed grin as he looked down at him. This kit could drown and Kier would just watch and laugh; it could be a good thing, logically, to have a young tom-kit wander in ripe for indoctrination, but he was also just in a very relaxed mood, and that lent itself to petty cruelty. "No, Jax, you wouldn't be Jaxkit, because there is no such thing as a jax. We'd have to redo everything about you and really that's a tremendously inconvenient thing to ask us to do on short notice."
I'm not an idiot. She only hummed, a drawn-out, disbeliving sound, not taking his claims seriously at all. He might be, in the future, but for now he was nothing but an insolent annoyance, a young mind yet to be warped in her favour and therefore unworthy of her care, her good graces. Soon enough, she hoped, he would be — she ran the classes, and when he got suited enough in Nightclan (because he couldn't possibly leave now) he would be joining them, joining her, and she'd already begun to slip in very careful rhetoric about Kier's weaknesses, especially without her. When it had only been Aspenstar at the reigns of Nightclan, she understood how his intelligence could have been of use in turning Nightclan into something new, away from her influence, and she supposed it worked, just not in the way she had wanted it to. Now, in a time of power struggles and intense social hierarchy, they needed a strong, graceful force — one quite like herself — to take the lead and lift them once into grace once again. Starving Inferiors, as good as they were as body shields, were not viable for the long run.
Mostly. His voice made her still, but she didn't startle. Instead, she swiveled her gaze onto him, icy and challenging. Where the kit used to be just a tool for herself, he was now the rope in a game of tug-of-war — Snowblister knew that he knew that she wanted this kit for herself, that she was setting him up as a pawn for future reference. Already, she was attempting to start a new generation to overtake the previous Kier-loyalist ones, a generation that followed her instead. The younger ones were already used to her command, she certainly wasn't gentle with them during classes, but it didn't quite seem like enough — not in comparison. She lived her life on edge around him, and even if she was ninety-nine percent sure he didn't know of any plans, despite their newfound hatred with each other, there was still that one percent that said he did know, and she focused on that, instead, driving her further and further down a rabbit-hole of paranoia. Now, even when he could have just seen her leading a new, young face through the crowd, he was stealing something from her, he was trying to intimated her, he was trying to get under her skin. When she looked at him, he was nothing but a faceless shadow, shifting and twisting with the air, slipping and slithering around across the floors and the walls. Sometimes, she mistook the shadows left by tall pillars or stones for him.
"Yes, I suppose it was too much of a hassle when you joined, wasn't it, Kier?" She butted past him, stepping closer towards Jax. "Palmkit," she said suddenly, too quickly, as if she hadn't really thought it through. Nightclan didn't have palm trees, most weren't familiar with them, and they were far-out and foreign, something strange, something new. It was quite silly, but the more she looked at him, the more it stuck. "There, simple. Wasn't it, Palmkit?"
Oblivious to the tension blossoming in the atmosphere, Jax puffed his chest out indignantly. "There is a such thing as a Jax if that's my name," he insisted to the ugly black rat thing, sidestepping closer to Snowblister. There was a line already scored into the proverbial sand, and he was unwittingly bounding across it, confusing hell for a haven. Snowblister, though he was more than a little scared of her, looked powerful and steady, and Kier was weaselly in all the ways that screamed don't trust him, and Jax was just a dumb idiot with too much innocence to understand what kind of danger he was in, forced to choose which poison he was going to drink before he could even knew what poison was.
He chose to ignore Kier's further prodding as Snowblister interjected, branding him a new name and clasping the shackles around his ankles. "Palmkit," he echoed miserably, cementing the reality of his predicament. He wasn't bright enough to understand his role in this power grasp between the adults, but he did recognize that his freedom was being erased. He wanted to be excited about being in a clan, but... He looked at Kier and shifted even further from him. He really was ugly.
