camp 𝖊𝖕𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖕𝖍 ➺ saying goodbye

[Magpiepaw]

Grief felt heavier than he expected. The news carried and he didn't see a body nor was he present when it was found but it still stung. Magpiepaw watched the camp seem to dissolve into chaos, cats were harried and upset and he didn't know exactly what was going to happen next but he did know he was afraid. Afraid of uncertainty, the world thereafter, the way all things come to an end. His first sign of newleaf, green and fresh suddenly sullied by this stain of understanding mortality and what cost there was to living. Living meant to hurt when other things ended. Carrying on past this hurt was what truly existing meant. Some cats, he had heard, mentioned it made one stronger. He felt the word resilient might suit better, but what did he know. He was just an apprentice.
All Magpiepaw could think of was the sound of hungry birds, they cried and sang in his head as he glanced around the camp; starving and wishing to feast. Whether the birds were actually there or shadows playing tricks on him, he didn't know, but he could not deny their voices. Distance and mournful, yearning for sustenance. It occurred to him they wanted Pitchstar and he worried at how a soul might ascend without being torn to pieces by many avians. If only he could speak to them, ask them not to take the rosette leader's spirit away before he could touch the sky. Suddenly inspired the black and white child tripped and tumbled his way back to his new nest into the apprentice den to get to work.

It took some care and patience, of which he had plenty. Funny how his paws did not tremble so when he worked with them sitting as opposed to when he tried to walk without a struggle. Moss stuff between carefully bound twigs, tree sap used to secure bits and pieces in place; his most treasured trinket a single black feather jammed into the back to mimic a tail. It looked like a clump of garbage, but to Magpiepaw it formed the proper shape of a cat and would work well for his intentions. He did not know where Pitchstar's body was, too afraid to go near it and wary of seeing a corpse for the first time-especially one he had been fond of when it once bore a soul, but he tried to find a cat with authority he recognized anywhere in camp with his little creation held in his teeth; Starlingheart or Chilledgaze would do-he was not as familiar with the other she-cat with authority here. Magpiepaw wobbled along, wide eyes seeking one of said cats and trying his best not to trip and fumble his craft less he break it before it can be put to use.
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[Starlingheart]

It was easy to find Starlingheart, if you were looking for her. Rare was it for the black and white she cat to leave camp for anything other than herb gathering. Always on stand by, in case someone needed her. The loss of her older brother had made a mourner out of her. It hurt worse than when her mother had died, she had had barely any time to know Briarstar, the spiky black she cat had only occupied a small part of her memories whereas Pitchstar occupied nearly all of them for nine moons running. He had been there with her when she had taken her first steps as an apprentice, and then again when she had received her medicine cat name. His absence hurts worse, but she knows better than anyone that death is not the end. She tries to find comfort in that, at least.

When Magpiepaw approaches her she is not surprised. It feels as though the black and white tom is always seeking her out, and she truly doesn't mind. "Ma-magpiepaw hi! I-I'll be with you in-in just a muh-muh-moment" Her ears flick to acknowledge his presence but she doesn't turn all the way, not at first, she is too wrapped up with making a small bundle of herbs, an emergency kit she likes to keep stocked and by the entrance of her den in case she needed herbs fast. Basic stuff it was, but to her it is important. Finally, after a long moment, she finishes and turns her attention to the apprentice, about to ask him what's up when she sees something in his mouth. "Wha-what do you g-got there?" she asks, curiosity drawing her closer.
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[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

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chilledgaze had felt the loss too. they could even say they blamed themself, though it wasn't even their fault. they couldn't help but believe it. if only they'd went with him, or if they made him stay in camp– they shake their head. they can't hold onto what ifs. they shouldn't hold on to what ifs, though their mind kept drifting back to it. none of this felt real. it was as if they were still waiting to see pitchstar walk through the camp entrance with that silly frown on his face– as if chilledgaze didn't see his limp and cold body laying there. denial was one hell of a thing.

they walked around, paws stopping as they landed next to starlingheart's, their brows raising upwards. huh. what an odd little thing magpiepaw had ( the little tom has always been a little out there, so to speak, so this doesn't surprise them ).

"it looks... interesting. what's it for?"
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[Magpiepaw]

Magpiepaw waits, shuffling in place and swaying from side to side as he patiently lets the medicine cat finish whatever strange plant things she was doing, tucking them into tiny bundles of some kind for a purpose unknown. Her ways were strange, but she had done so with confidence so he could only assume there was a purpose for it all. The deputy soon joins them and he can not help but stare in wonder at the other, briefly remembering his prediction and pondering if perhaps he had unknowingly laid the pieces that had so violently shattered and sent the clan in disarray. Magiepiepaw thinks perhaps he keep his fortune-telling to himself from now on. What did it matter if anyone knew their fate?
The black and white apprentice sits back on his haunches, paws fumbling at his mouth to remove the item from his mouth without damaging it before presenting it up to both Starlingheart and Chilledgaze.
"It's Pitchstar. I made it so when he goes to StarClan he can use this..." His voice dropped low, blue-violet eyes darting around uncomfortably for a moment as if afraid he would be overheard by something, "...so the birds don't peck him. They will peck this instead." It felt traitorous to deny the birds their fill, but this was a cat he liked and the child was willing to play the villain in this case. The body was nothing, though his clanmates might disagree, and they could do what they wished with it; but a soul was fragile. He liked to think they were like the snowflakes he had seen so often in his kithood, delicate and melting at the slightest touch, the faintest breath.
"Do you think his wings will have spots too when he gets them?"
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[Maggotfur.]

EYES COVERED IN INK AND BLEACH​

maggotpaw | 04 months | female | she/her | physically easy | mentally hard | attack in bold mediumpurple

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Death has always simply been a fact of life for Maggotpaw. It is not as though she has anyone she'd grieve - her only loved one had died to bring her into this world. But where Magpiepaw goes, Maggotpaw is often quick to follow - if only for the entertainment he provides. Wandering over with a rather disinterested look upon her face, she listens to the chatter of the adults idly. The boy is rambling on about his superstitions again, but this one is a new one. "Mmm... so he's going to get wings? Then why wouldn't they have spots," it's said in in the way of a mother indulging a child - a fanciful musing that she doesn't quite believe in herself but sees no harm in enabling.
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[Starlingheart]

Tears spring into her eyes, fresh and biting, as Magpiepaw explains what this gift that lays before the two of them is for. "Th-that's very kind of yuh-you" So the birds do not get him. Vaguely she remembers her conversation with the young black and white tom. Magpiepaw seemed to covet the birds of this world, and seemed to think that cats got wings when they went to the heavens. She wonders how he feels about acting against the wishes of the winged creatures and it dawns on her how important this is to him. She would not tell him that Star Clanners did not have wings. Let him believe whatever he wanted. She envies the childhood she was denied.

She simply nods "Y-yes of c-c-course" she answers in regards to the question about spots. "I-im sure h-h-his wings are beutiful.." she closes her eyes and tries to imagine what her brother looks like in the stars. His pelt was clean, well groomed and he didn't hold the same haunted look in his eyes that he held when he was alive. He was at peace. She hopes that is true.

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