sensitive topics THIS HOT WIND TAKES OUR WINGS AWAY / death

[SNAILSTRIDE]

They had slipped away early that morning before the dawn had cast its red maw on WindClan's camp. The Stars had not visited him, so they would meet the sunrise instead. Movements were ragged with fatigue, each step against his home's soft moors sending fire through his limbs. He was tired, he was so, so tired. His clan had taken many things from them: happiness, freedom, trust, all had been masqueraded for moons under hesitant smiles and half-baked joy, but now, Snailstride was ready for their final act of rebellion. His autonomy had gone from his movements, it was only hope that dragged the tabby forwards, hope that he would get to do something for himself, just one last time. They reached the hill in time, the numbers muddling in the moor-runner's head. Everything was getting muddled, history seemed like the present and the present seemed like the future. At a glimpse, they swore they saw dark brown fur atop the mound of earth, disappearing over it as the feline's blue eyes blinked slowly. He didn't know what was beyond that hill, if he would even make it to the top to witness what he wanted.

Lungs felt as if they'd been dipped in ice as he dared to take one more death and Snailstride lurched over, ready to cough. Only wheezes came out, a faint trail of yellow saliva dribbling from a drooping mouth. He didn't even bother to rub it away. A pawstep was taken forwards, another, another, then, another pause as his forehead collided with the grass below. Tears pricked at crusted eyes, a shaky, voiceless sob escaping Snailstride. No, no, this couldn't be it, he hadn't made it yet. How long had they tried to hide this wretched illness from their clanmates for fear of being cast aside in their uselessness? How could their body give up now? Claws unsheathed and the weakening tabby forced themselves to their paws once more, staggering up and up, making it only a pace further before a flash of white-hot pain entered their head. A whimper escaped them as their hind legs gave out from underneath them. 'I don't... Peri.... Clam... I don't...' Breaths shallow, hoarse as the raven's song, Snailstride bit down on their tongue until blood was drawn, the only thing that kept them conscious enough to finish their thought. 'I'm sorry.'

Kicking out with their hind legs provided no earth to stand on, but that was fine, they would drag themselves to the top of the hill if they had to. One forepaw moved forwards, two forepaw moved forwards, the rhythm was erratic, the fur and skin were beginning to scrape away from the hock, they didn't feel it over the searing in their lungs and the pressure in the skull. They didn't exist, all that existed was the climb. Even loved ones began to fade away, names turned to mush in their mind and faces blended into one. The scents of their home, petrichor, and flowers, were no different from blood and death. They were using the last of their energy to see the sun one last time: for it was better to die free then in the den of a council member. He'd begged once, he would not beg again, he would take this moment whether the stars shut him out for it or not. A scarlet hue appeared in Snailstride's ailing vision and they collapsed forwards, rolling onto their back. Someone was coming for them, they could feel it now, not a parent or friend, but a someone. That tabby, perhaps? Had it been a tabby?

They try to remember as they lie there, vacant stare pointing toward the horizon. Then, they see a flash of it again, a half-moon mask atop a black and copper sky. Snailstride recognised him now, his mouth opened once more to apologise for everything. They had tried to be a good WindClanner, they had tried to use the examples he had given them, they had tried to fight and hunt and do good not by StarClan, but by Sootstar. They had tried, and before they had been given a chance for their fire to burn, yellowcough had snuffed it out. No words came out, but their seemed to be acknowledgement from the other, not acceptance, not rejection, acknowledgement. Their muzzle moved for a final time, a little laugh piercing the silence of WindClan's dawn. Just as soon as it came, the little noise began to fade into nothingness. Snailstride turned their head to the rising sun and smiled. How happy they were to feel it's warmth one last time...

When the first patrols left WindClan, alone on the tallest moor, they would find the cooling body of a grey tabby. A warrior of WindClan, but not the worst.


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[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ I AM SORRY THIS IS ALWAYS HOW IT GOES ❀❀​

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periwinklebreeze & 13 moons & demi-boy & he/they & windclan moor runner​

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Things have been awkward between periwinklebreeze and snailstride since his spurr of the moment confession, since he'd been so brutally turned down - and yet still, he would claim him his best friend. His closest companion - the only one to bear witness to his weakest moments, the to hear the doubts that had he voiced to another would have had even his own sister claiming him traitor. Perhaps it was an apt title after all, but he tries to ignore it, tries not to let it get to him. It's not a rare sight for him to be up all this early, when one takes into account he had never gone to bed, eyes wide open all night as he roamed the moorlands. But as the creeping rays bathe the moorlands in pale gold and peach, the boy cannot comprehend the sight that meets clear blue eyes.

"No," his voice comes out without his permission, loud words spilling forth and breaking the silence before he can even realize he has spoken. He knows that figure, that still form - knows that shade of grey as well as he knows his own. Limbs still in their movements, throat tightening as he chokes. "Nooo- no, sn-snailstride, c-c-an't be," each word is a gasping thing, warbling and breathless, as though he himself is sick. Perhaps he will be, if only of a different sort, as bile rises up and acid burns his throat.

For a moment, he is frozen in place, as though time has stopped and the world has stilled along with him - and then he is pushing forwards, patrolmates abandoned as h sinks to the ground, face pressing desperately into still cooling figure. As though if he presses enough, he will wake up - as if his efforts can breathe life back into the one who has lost it.

But his efforts are useless - snailstride is no leader, they have no lives to spare. Even starclan cannot bring him back. And then he cries, tears falling hot and heavy in a way he hadn't even allowed when he'd been in this same position over vulturemasks body because this is something more visceral, more potent - this is not the grief of a brother. And sure - perhaps he'd had things a bit backwards, now that he knows what he'd felt for them was different from what he feels now for him - but it hurts all the same, as though they have lost a limb, as though their own organs have been spilled out upon the earth.

Because it is a wound of the heart, of the mind, and he simply loses himself to it. Everything fades away, the world around him forgotten as he cries and sobs and grieves for a friendship cut much to short. An apology he'd never gotten to say, a mistake he'd never made right. And now he never will. By the time flanks begin to stop their heaving and mid calms, he's left with only one thought, as bitter and full of venom as there has ever been.

'Starclan is truly just as wicked as their chosen queen'

— the wind blows loudest when you've got your eyes closed ❀

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: i'm not crying, it's just raining
  tw/cw: —
  
• 
  — a lithe figured black and white tom with a false-pointed pattern and clear blue eyes that gleam periwinkle in the right lighting. he seems perpetually worn and exhausted, with heavy bags beneath his eyes and a slouched figure. he has a speech impediment which leaves him with a stutter and sometimes even completely non-verbal, and his fluffy tail is adorned with daisies.
  
  — physically medium && mentally easy && pacifist
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=#ccccff]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

[Clambite]

Early morning rising was easy for somebody like Clambite, who had all the energy in the world. She has been on so many dawn patrols and bounced happily along the beaten path for moons, at peace with Tigerfrost's death. She still wishes she could have bothered him more, wishes she could ask him if he knew she was just playing and that she wasn't bullying him. He hopes he knows that now, at least.

It's a day like any other, she's on patrol with bright and awake eyes with cats who are probably exhausted from her energy so early in the morning. Her curled tail wiggled as if it were a dogs tail as she observed the moors as the sun began its ascent.

She catches the familiar scent of her brother. She isn't alarmed at first, she knows Snailstride enjoyed the sunrise. She decides to bound ahead to meet him. The closer she got, the more an eerie feeling took hold. She slowed to a trot, and soon a steady walk.

Something didn't smell right.

Periwinklebreeze reaches the top of the hill first, and her blood chills at his cries. What does he mean. Snailstride cant be what. What is he talking about.

Terror grips her as she pushes herself up the hill to witness her worst nightmare. Periwinklebreeze pressed into Snailstride, a cooling and still figure bathed in morning light.

"No...." She choked. "Snailstride no- get up..."

She prods his cold body. When there was no response, she prods more roughly. "Get up- You cant- You can't!!!" Her tears begin to fall as she trembles, refusing to accept reality.

"PLEASE- YOU CAN'T GO! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME!" She breaks and wails, crumpling and burying her face into his neck. "YOU HAVE TO...YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP....!!"

When her begging is met with silence, all she can do is weep beside Periwinklebreeze. Why did Snailstride have to die? It isn't fair. He didn't deserve this. She had no culprit to seek vengeance on and it stung, having nowhere for this deluge of grief to go.

Despite the morning light from the rising sun, her world has gotten considerably colder and darker.​

 

[RABBITCLAW]

To think the day she would be above ground would be met with death. it starts like this. She hears a commotion and decides to check out what seems to be the trouble. Ooohh I hope it's a fox! A wicked grin finds itself on her maw as she rushes up the hill to join her clanmates, only to realize this is something much worse than a fox. The grin leaves her face as her ears drown out the sound of Clambite and Periwinklebreeze's wails, eyes trailing over to Snailstride's lifeless body. She knows little about her former clanmate, but she knows that Snailstride was loved by the pair before her. What a sight it must be for Clambite to see her own brother in such a manner. Unfortunately, Rabbitclaw is not the comforting type. She knows not what to say to the weeping pair, but she knows what must be done. They can cry here all they want, but they must bring Snailstride to camp.

She places her paw on Clambites shoulders, "Snailstride isn't going to wake up." That is the truth no matter how harsh it is to hear. Their former clanmate is among the stars and all they can hope is that he met his end with some peace. This blasted disease will kill us all. Who will be next? If she thinks about it anymore she knows she will be angry and lose her temper on some poor animal. Therefore she puts more pressure on Clambite's shoulders to steady herself. "We have to bring his body back to camp where he can be mourned properly. I can bring Snailstride back to camp if you'd like, but you are his sister. Would you like to bring your brother back to camp?" Perhaps to them she is uncaring, but she does care. Snailstride was her clanmate. They might have not known each other too well, but he was a fine Windclanner.

Clambite and Periwinklebreeze are allowed to grieve Snailstride, but it would do no good to remain here until the moon rose. Not only would everyone go looking for them, but the fact of the matter is this. No amount of crying will ever feel like it is enough. If Snailstride was among the stars, then he could visit his loved ones in their dreams. It wouldn't be the same as being beside your friends and family in the flesh, but it would have to be enough.​

 

[Mouseflight]

Just like Periwinklebreeze, Mousepaw had not slept all that night, though his reasons were far different than the bi-colored warrior's. At this point in his training, the apprentice had found himself training later and later in the day until his normal sleep schedule had been reversed, and he was awake while the moon was up, and under the watchful eye of StarClan he had begun his tunnel training underground where the light did not seep through already, but it was especially dark in the night. When the sun began to rose, his mentor had told him it was time to go, time to head back to camp, and so he had dutifully followed until the warrior before him had paused, head raised as he smelled the air in alarm before heading off quickly in the direction of those now gathering on the hill.

'Stay close to me. Get help if it's needed.' He had informed the apprentice, and quickly Mousepaw nod before chasing after him, pausing in his own tracks as he heard the wails of Periwinklebreeze and Clambite. He didn't know Snailstride as well as the other two or as well as many others that were within the clan, but he did know Snailstride as a warrior of WindClan, a needed body and a clanmate. Maw opened and closed as he tried to figure out what to say, it was something new and he hadn't been through this before - clanmates crying over a body that he didn't cry about. There was nothing they could do about Snailstride now, they wouldn't be able to help him as he was already too far gone, body growing cold. So Mousepaw did the only thing he knew, and moved close to Periwinklebreeze, attempting to press to the side of the older warrior in comfort an unusual sight to see, but he felt awkward in this moment, unsure how to handle the grief that the other two were feeling.

Head nod as Rabbitclaw spoke, and Mousepaw looked up towards Periwinklebreeze and over to Clambite, clearing his throat before finally speaking. "Come on." Softer than his usual tone, more quiet, but it was the only thing the tri-colored apprentice spoke.

OOC INTERACTIONS ✧.·:·.*

• [ooc]
• windclan (sootstar) loyalist
  dirty fighter/will aim to kill
  will bully anyone (some more than others)
  

  
  

  likely to attack first
  powerplay peaceful actions okay
  ping if needed in a thread
  
• 
  8 months old
  ftm calico -- he/him
  tunneler apprentice
  
  large ears
  always looks grumpy

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