camp 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 ╱ 𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

[SUNNVAR]

What had once been Sootstar's prison now stood empty before him. Where he had once held council with a cat he thought worthy, deserving of his trust, however tentatively, had become a marker of all her misdeeds. And he knows that if this place is to be anything but that, it cannot remain as it once was. The molly's nest, stale and scented with blood and sickness, not of body but of mind and soul, still remained. In this place he sees Weaselclaw, too, and knows that this is a farewell to more than just her wickedness. But he cannot hesitate in saying it.

With a slow, deep breath, he enters the founder's final sanctum and pulls,, her nest coming apart beneath his paws as he pulls it backwards and into camp. There are eyes upon his back, he knows, but Sunstar does not capitulate to them. Explaining himself would serve none. Instead the burnished tom delves back in, pawing out the scraps that had come loose — a femur, a rib, the remnant of her skeleton from this grave he now excavates — then, once more, they are nothing but twigs and piles of moss. He exhales harshly. At the day's end, this would be nothing more than refuse. Another part of the rotting farewell. For now, as he stares down upon it, he almost wishes to call her kittens here in a final mourning. Instead, Sunstar paws across his own face and sighs.

⋆°•☁︎ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃  ╱╱ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝗕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 〚 02.11.2024 〛 𖤓

• OOC. set before the gathering, but after sedge and badgernose return!
• 

  SUNSTAR. LEADER OF WINDCLAN.   ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, MOUNTAIN CATS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING RIVEPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ A LARGE, FRESHLY SCARRED CHOCOLATE AND WHITE ROSETTE TABBY TOM WITH SEAGLASS BLUE EYES

• "speech"

​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

AS HE RAISED HIS FIST BEFORE HE SPOKE — It was hard to imagine the weight that would come along with taking up residence in the leader's den now, with the heavy shadow of their founder that hung over it. Rattleheart had little idea of whether Sunstar planned on actually using the den himself or not, but he knew just as well that it couldn't just sit there. Not when it would simply serve as a monument to their former leader's misdeeds, smelling of death and rot and sickness and reflecting every splinter of Sootstar's madness. He didn't question what their new leader was doing for a moment, though his pale green gaze did linger on the nest that Sunstar had dragged out along with him.

Torn to shreds and falling apart just like she had been, in the end.

He temporarily abandoned what remained of his meal, moving over to Sunstar's side and offering him a smile that the tunneler hoped would brighten his mood at least somewhat in spite of the task at hand. He gestured with a paw into the shadows of the den, glancing between the small cavern itself and the rotted nest. "Is there anything else...? I can help with the cleanup, if you need it." The task would surely be easier if it was split between the two of them, not just because of the actual work that would come with making sure the scent of decay was properly cleared out. That way the emotional weight could be spread over the shoulders of the both of them, instead of sitting like a boulder on Sunstar's back alone.

THE RIGHTEOUS HAND OF GOD 𓆩♡𓆪 THE DEVIL THAT YOU FORGOT

• 

• 
  ❥ longhaired black and white tom with pale green eyes
  ❥ 48 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ❥ afab; uses he/she/they pronouns
  ❥ homosexual homoromantic; mated to venomstrike
  ❥ sibling to scorchstreak, lizardbounce, and rabbitclaw
  ❥ currently mentoring downypaw
  ❥ somewhat difficult to befriend; wary but kind
  ❥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ❥ all opinions are ic

​

 

[SCORCHSTAR]

༄༄ The dappled tunneler stands as Rattleheart does, golden gaze settling on Sunstar as he draws an exhausted paw across his face. She wonders, briefly, how Sunstar feels about having to clean out the den that had once belonged to a cat such as Sootstar. Does it feel the same as she had, when she had discovered the tattered remnants of the butterfly wing beneath Rumblerain's nest? Does he wish that he were anywhere else, at any other moment in time? No, surely he doesn't, because why would Sunstar feel any guilt about putting down the very cat who attempted to kill him? "Good riddance," she hisses under her breath, low enough for none to hear but herself. Even after months, the words still don't fit right in her mouth; there is something sharp about them. It threatens to make her gums bleed. She had spent so long at Sootstar's paws, her ever-loyal attack dog, no better than the hounds that the leader commanded until her last stand.

Broad paws pause in another moment of hesitation before the calico slinks her way over to stand at the tabby-striped leader's side. Defeated, he appears—or perhaps simply tired. Tired of the pain, of cleaning up the same camp that both their litters of kits had been born in. The bloodstains may fade with time, but WindClan is forever marked by their former leader. They have much to make up for, a nigh-unbearable weight that every warrior must carry. And the first of the things they must carry is this: removing every last trace of her from their home. The debris left within Sootstar's den-turned-prison smells of blood, the stench of a wounded beast left to suffer in its final moments. These are the last physical evidence of the smoky-furred leader—her ashes, her soot. She sighs, dark ear flicking. "I can help as well. It will go faster, with the three of us."​

​

 

[Bluepool]

Her sister's den is the last thing that remains of Sootstar. Forever would her name be a stain on WindClan's history, and Bluepool has no doubt that her shadow would haunt her, haunt all of them, for quite some time. Getting rid of her would not be so easy as burying her body, as throwing her nest and all the items she had kept in her den down into the gorge. Not when her dying breath still haunted her nightmares and not when the other clans still held her so fresh in their minds.

She watches Sunstar work for a good moment, neither moving forward to help or backwards to free. This should be cathartic so why does she feel so saddened by the scene playing out before her? Finally she is broken from her reverie by the hiss of a achingly familiar voice. 'Good riddance' Scorchstreak says and Bluepool blinks. Yes, good riddance indeed. This was a good thing, for her, for the clan. This was what healing looked like.

Rattleheart is there too, offering his assistance, but it is Scorchstreak she is drawn to like a rabbit to a burrow. She comes to the other mollies side and nods in the direction of Sunstar. "Make that four, I'll help as well" she says, though her eyes refuse to look at the nest at his paws.

​

 

[SUNNVAR]

Gratitude is a wound, he learns this now. It comes as a spear through the entirety of him, as one after another of his warriors offer themselves to this gruesome task. None of them ask about the necessity of this; none question what future he seeks in doing so. Without judgment or explanation, each face before him carries understanding, and he feels the wound begin to weep. His chest is raw, his ribs splayed, so that the raw center of him is displayed plainly across his face. Wide, soft-edged eyes, an untouched sadness and grief, but beyond that, hope, in the rounded corners of his maw and the whiskers that twitch with surprise. Towards who, precisely? Bluepool, for standing by him even now, as he tore the remnants of her sister from the dirt? Scorchstreak, who is shameless in her quiet celebration? Any of them, for offering their assistance. Or maybe, plainly enough, he has been reminded that he does not need to stand alone in this weight.

That each of them were eager to see this place returned to what it once was — no, what it was intended to be, so many moons ago. A sanctuary and a refuge. A home beneath the stars with the scent of sweet moor heather and gorse. "Yes," he rasps, an odd weight to the word. A whole speech rests behind it. There is no point in saying all of it; they will hear it just the same. "We will need fresh moss once it is done. And something beyond fresh air to clear the smell." Flowers are lost to leafbare, but his mind wanders to Wolfsong, and the den that he has made his nest in since the day they spilled their heartblood between them. Perhaps he will make his request in the nights to come.

⋆°•☁︎ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃  ╱╱ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝗕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 〚 02.11.2024 〛 𖤓

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTAR. LEADER OF WINDCLAN.   ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, MOUNTAIN CATS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING RIVEPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ A LARGE, FRESHLY SCARRED CHOCOLATE AND WHITE ROSETTE TABBY TOM WITH SEAGLASS BLUE EYES

• "speech"

​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

AS HE RAISED HIS FIST BEFORE HE SPOKE — He couldn't even begin to deny the relief that spread through him when Sunstar accepted their offers of help, glad that the leader hadn't turned them away out of some misplaced sense of duty or pride. Regardless of the position that he now held, his council was meant to stand alongside him and offer their support. Raise their voices up so they could be heard and so that he could know that he wasn't alone in shaping Windclan's - hopefully bright - future. This was, in a way, just the beginning. A more mundane task after all of the rapid rebuilding that they had gone through, but one that held a massive amount of meaning for their clan as a whole. It was enough to make the tunneler smile in spite of the dour nature of it all, dipping his head Sunstar as he let out a hum. "At least it won't be too hard to find fresh moss with the coming change in the season. We wouldn't want you freezing in your nest." A frigid nest of frozen moss in the leader's den - the mental image roused a rough chuckle from the back of his throat.

With that, he silently slipped past the gathered crowd of most of the rest of Sunstar's council, half dark form practically disappearing into the shadows of the den. The scent inside was enough to make him recoil, ears flattening for a moment before he turned and began to sweep out the scattered bits and pieces of nest that had been left behind in Sunstar's wake. The action was almost therapeutic despite the smell, and he looked briefly between the heather tunnel and his clanmates, expression thoughtful. "Maybe we could decorate the den with heather once the flowers are beginning to sprout all around again. That way it would smell much nicer... we'll need something else in the meantime, though." His attention also turned towards the medicine den, though he didn't dare think of taking potentially valuable supplies away from Wolfsong. Besides, such an ask would surely be more easily swallowed if it came from Sunstar, rather than any of the rest of them.

THE RIGHTEOUS HAND OF GOD 𓆩♡𓆪 THE DEVIL THAT YOU FORGOT

• 

• 
  ❥ longhaired black and white tom with pale green eyes
  ❥ 48 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ❥ afab; uses he/she/they pronouns
  ❥ homosexual homoromantic; mated to venomstrike
  ❥ sibling to scorchstreak, lizardbounce, and rabbitclaw
  ❥ currently mentoring downypaw
  ❥ somewhat difficult to befriend; wary but kind
  ❥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ❥ all opinions are ic

​

 

[SCORCHSTAR]

༄༄ Bluepool pledges her assistance to the cause of cleaning out the former leader’s den, and the calico flicks her tail a bit closer to her friend’s. It must be difficult, she understands, for Bluepool to go about normal daily activities after all that’s happened. Seeing her sister dethroned—helping to hold her down as Sunstar struck the final blow—must have left some kind of mark. That she is willing to help cleanse this den of Sootstar’s influence tells how resilient a cat she is. Sunstar accepts all their offers to help him, though the tom brings up the question of how they will cover the scent. Airing out the den will do a lot to clear it out, but Rattleheart’s suggestion of heather sounds like a nice solution. It is simply unfortunate that flowers will only begin to crop up once the season transitions fully to spring. It is clear that both Sunstar and Rattleheart are considering using herbs that Wolfsong has gathered—but to use the clan’s precious herb supply for such a trivial matter as making a den smell better… The idea sounds absurd.

"This shouldn’t take long with the four of us," she says, slipping into the den to join her sibling. There is still much to be done, but with all of them working together, they will surely finish it up before the day is over. "Do any flowers grow near our borders?" Were it her decision, she would suggest that new dirt was brought in. Tunnel dirt, though it would certainly be difficult to move, could make for a good addition to the floor of the den. It would smell better than this, at the very least.​

​