camp call the hounds // vigil

[cottonsprig]

She's watched Wolfsong do this more times than she would like. Saying 'when yellowcough was rampant' makes the days of plague and pestilence seem so far off, when truly they aren't that displaced from the mass tragedy. Those days fed the soil far too plenty - graves were pre-dug, pelts were woven with lavender to be rid of the stench that comes with stale death and lost lives. She remembers tangling a bloom pitifully into Weaselclaw's fur, before his body was dropped into a ditch dug by her mother, her siblings.

And now, she ties lavender in with cats that've died, who's motives she's not sure aligns with her own.

Cottonpaw does what she can to obscure their wounds - clotted moss and miscellaneous (but wilting) moor petals precariously balanced in the cavity that was once Hummingbirdheart's throat, similar but different acts obscurity to the killing wounds that mar Lynxtooth. She makes them look alive, with clean pelts and softened expressions. It's her first vigil, and she will be selfish with its flourish if it is a means of hiding her bleeding heart.

Two cats will not have their fur groomed or littered with blossoms. Two cats, by her mother's request, will have their corpses tossed into the river like the rogues before them, ravaged by the rapids, scavenged by any beast willing to take a bite. She says nothing, only looking up to announce, "We will bury them tonight," her tone solemn, quiet. Her emotions remain on full display but appear as if she's saddened by the lost lives of the two, not the terrifying trajectory and uncertainty of her home. "Now is our last chance to share tongues, should anyone wish." StarClan will not have them.​

 

[SOOTSPOT]

He was not an affectionate cat, but the venom in his veins felt different that day, freezing him to a point of numbness as he stared down at the cats. They were bodies, not clanmates, their usefulness expiring with their last breath, and he didn't know how he felt about being unable to discern the difference. It could have easily been him had he not chased Downypaw underground, to bleed was to be a vulnerable thing and he had seen too much treachery to feel comfortable showing that his blood was just as scarlet as everybody elses'. Cottonpaw began the vigil and the chimera's head was a thousand tail-lengths away, thinking about everything but the two before him. Thinking about how he'd known for moons, thinking about how knowledge had not saved anyone from heartbreak, thinking about how the clan might finally listen to him now that his broken clock had struck right for once. Sootspot reclined on his haunches, as if the weight of being one of the best cats in WindClan was too much on his fatigued shoulders. Petals and copper mixed in his nostrils and chartreuse eyes slowly closed as if drifting off into a trance. He was calm, a lone feather drifting on a pond, the perception of grief a duty.


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[BLUEFROST]

The moon begins to rise. Bluefrost sits a foxlength away from Sootspot, her green gaze trained distantly on Lynxtooth and Hummingbirdheart’s bodies. They had been her Clanmates—she’d known Lynxtooth to be a stern and fierce warrior, and he’d imbued a sense of discipline into his sons, she’d always thought. But it had been Slatetooth who had fastened his fangs into his father’s neck. It had been Wolfsong, a cat who had held a place of authority in WindClan since her nursery days, who had murdered Hummingbirdheart. There are two cats she’d called Clanmates prior who were shoved into surging watery graves without lavender curled into their pelts.

She feels divisive as she approaches first one body, then the other. “I am sorry you could not be proud of your sons in the end,” she murmurs to Lynxtooth. It hurts to say. She turns to Hummingbirdheart and presses her nose into cold, stiff fur for just a heartbeat. “I am sorry you were betrayed. Rest easy in—rest easy,” she murmurs, nearly forgetting herself. These warriors will not be welcomed in StarClan, and it will do her no favors to utter the name of their starry ancestors here. Her mother is still mired in a war with StarClan, after all.

Perhaps none of us will go to StarClan after this. She shudders—not from grief, nor from the cold, but from a fear she cannot shake anymore.

, ”​

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[MOCKING-GRIN]

Today is the day where they will bury the honorable. Those who have died fighting for what was right. However, he can't help himself be influenced by the somberness of it all. The two before them now would be groomed or littered with blossoms. When Cottonpaw announces that it is time for them to share tongues a final time he moves towards the pair before his mind can catch up. Mismatched eyes would land on Hummingbird first. Her end was unsightly, but it is more disturbing to see what has been done to hide such a fact. He is grateful for it, yet it causes turmoil in his heart. His heart is fooled into believing that she is alive. Maybe it is because she was alive not too long ago. When he looks at her now it is difficult to say the least to admit she is gone. Even if he shook her as hard as he could, no breaths would come.

Bluefrost mutters her own words and when she finishes he begins muttering to Hummingbird, "You fought bravely. If there's anything you feel sorry about, don't. You were wonderful." With that he touches his nose against hers for a moment before moving onto Lynxtooth. When thinking of what happened to this tom in particular he seethes with rage. While he was not close to the warrior he wants to make a promise to him. He understands because his own sister is a traitor. If he was killed by her then he'd want one of them here to kill her for him. He presses his nose into Lynxtooth's fur and mutters only for him to hear, "I'll make sure your son pays. Mark my words."

OOC NOTES . ◭ . CHARACTER INFO

• ooc : —
  
• — mocking-grin / windclan moor runner / masculine pronouns / 24 moons
  — heterosexual / single / looking / open to flirting and crushes
  — high white long haired chocolate smoke with heterochromia
  — may powerplay minor harm / can powerplay healing
  — biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by velou

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[PEONYBREEZE]

❀༉˖° Despite all the logical cogs in his brain, Peonypaw watches.

His eyes follow Cottonpaw's movements as if they're glued to her, and it's difficult to think the same solemn, sour face was able to smile so bright before. He watches and wonders if she's thinking of Wolfsong, if he would do the motion the same way, if she was remembering his teachings. This is certainly not new to Cottonpaw; WindClan had enough tragedy and deaths to ensure that, but this is probably the first time she's done this alone.

He cannot help - if anything, maybe his gaze is an annoying spot at a certain spot at her spine that she just wants to swat at and is avoiding it to not look unprofessional. Peonypaw looks away, sometimes, but the two still bodies don't have stories to tell anymore. Cottonpaw does. He'd probably feel differently if he knew Hummingbirdheart and Lynxtooth better, and now that will never be reality. There's a bitter tang in his mouth no matter how many times he tries to swallow - nothing will get rid of the harsh reality that their own Clanmates did this, that they killed two WindClanners before fleeing.

But, that's all there is. Peonypaw is furious at them, devastated, but he cannot make him care any further. He has no words for either of them, and is mostly here out of respect. They worked alongside one another after all.

Peonypaw's heart twists when Bluefrost and Mocking-grin talk to them, and instead of adding any more words, he simply closes his eyes and dips his head. In his mind, he thanks them both for their service - and if he still believed in StarClan, he'd wish for them to join the stars comfortably.

°
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[✧ Honeybadger.]

NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND I
WE SHARE THE SAME SUNSHINE FROM THE SAME SKY ​

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honeybadger & 13 moons & male & he/him & windclan moor runner ​

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Despite everything, honeybadger does not have words of comfort to offer the dad - his head is still spinning. The shock, the anger - it's all to much. The stout tabby tom only joins the vigil in silence, cold steel gaze burning holes into the bodies laid out before them. " We'll avenge them, certainly - those... rats can't hide from their crimes forever, " he mutters - words meant for the ears of the living, not the dead. Tail flicks irritably, and then he falls silent once more.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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━ W E ━ W E N ' T ━ B L I N D ━ G O I N G ━ E Y E ━ F O R ━ A N ━ E Y E ━

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