camp 'Cause your presence still lingers here || Discarding nests and having a breakdown

[Morningsong~]

Morningsong finds it therapeutic to discard the nests that belonged to Sootstar's loyalists. Some others are working on the same task, and its all for the better. The quicker they are gone, the quicker Windclan can heal. Each nest his paws come across is tossed into a pile to be dealt with all at once. He handles them with little to no care, the only bit of consideration being the fact that he has simply gathered them instead of destroying them so that others can look for their loved ones nest and do what they want with it. These nests belonged to the cats that killed Lilacstem and Larkfeather, but his consideration for his clanmates feelings shines through his urge to just rip all these nests to pieces.

It's only until he comes across what remains of a familiar nest in his work that he pauses. Stiffly standing with unblinking eyes, he looks down at the remains of Larkfeather's nest. His composure dissolves quickly, and his persona of a deranged clown crumbles to dust. He crouches and crawls onto the nest and buries his face into it, breathing in the last of his sister's scent. Grief overwhelms him and he doesn't care if anyone can hear him. Doesn't care if his cries are disruptive. His sister is gone forever. Damn him for offering to go out to look for those Shadowclan kits. If he had stayed, he could have been ther to save her. He could have saved Lilacstem. But he didn't, and now there are two gaping holes in his heart that will never heal.

He thinks back to their kithood, slipping and sliding on the ice and playing games in the snow with two loving parents watching over them. He thinks no further, unwilling to sully the good memories with the negativity that followed a certain fateful night. Even so, the memories of better times still open the wounds further and cause his tears to stain the dried up moss.

"I want my sister back...!" escapes his lips in a mournful whimper.

It's not fair. Larkfeather never did anything wrong. She deserved to live and be happy, not suffer a horrific death at the claws of that wretched snake that Sunstride decided to keep alive. All Morningsong wants is for his family to be whole again, but it will never be without Lilacstem and Larkfeather.​

 

[SCORCHSTAR]

༄༄ Loss has plagued them all over the past months, and it may have ended for now, but the hurt still lingers. Those who died are dead, and those who remain are left to pick up the pieces of not only their broken clan, but their broken hearts and families. Scorchstreak herself has wrestled with the feeling of loss, but hers is mainly made up of regret.

The calico means to help clear out whatever nest Rumblepaw—no, she scolds herself, they have chosen Rumblerain—had laid in, when she spots a hunched figure in a nest. Morningsong, normally the epitome of everything that Scorchstreak and her sense of order despise, sobs into a bed of dried moss, the picture of devastation. The tunneler understands how suffocating grief can feel, and the loss of control that comes along with it. It is likely that the young tom hadn’t meant for his words to escape his own muzzle—but she has heard them all the same, and she thinks of the two she-cats who were lost.

At least they are dead. At least they died the deaths of warriors, rather than following in Sootstar’s path of destruction. At least there is closure, of a dreadful sort, for their kin. "Your sister was a good warrior. She and Lilacstem may be gone, but they still watch over you." Her words are just that—words—and she knows that she cannot truly offer comfort to the tom. But knowing that her loved ones walk in StarClan and smile down upon her, feeling their reassurances on the breeze like they still walk beside her, has been a great comfort to Scorchstreak. So while she cannot offer a better reality to Morningsong, she can offer an ear to listen to his cries and a pair of eyes to watch his back.

"We may not have their bodies, but we can give them a proper grave," she adds. She plans on doing the same for her Dappledsun, when the time comes. It will be much essier than digging a grave and dragging a body into it, and a grave without a body can be placed anywhere. If Morningsong desires, he could keep a moonstone right in his own nest—his sister’s grave could always be with him. The choice is up to the family, and to Sunstride, but it sounds a good one to her.​

​

 

[Bluepool]

Sootstar had always had a vendetta against Brightshine and her family. Traitors, she had called them. It runs in their blood, she had said. But she had disliked them long before they had ever dreamt of betraying her. Why? Bluepool is uncertain. Perhaps she felt threatened by them, perhaps she knew that they had been here longer and thus held more of a claim over the moors than she did. Perhaps she was afraid that they would uproot her from the throne she had clung so desperately to. She couldn't say for certain. All she knows is that now, when she looks upon Morningsong and the rest of his family all she feels is the immense weight of guilt weighing heavily in her chest.

When Mallowlark had fled, she had celebrated. She had chased Emberfang like a hound, had cursed Echolight's name after her dissapearance. Spat on the ground and uttered 'Good riddance'. Do you regret anything? Periwinklebreeze had asked her once. At the time she had said no but now... Now she thinks she has finally found something she does indeed wish she could change.

Bluepool has never experienced the kind of grief that comes from loosing someone important to you. Maybe there was something wrong with her, something unconnected in her brain, but even when her own father died she did not mourn him nor did she mourn her fallen clanmates, or even her sister. She had lost Sootstar long ago, she realizes, and she would mourn the cat she had once been but she would not mourn her death.

When she comes to stand next to Scorchstreak, it is, at first, in somber silence. She was not well equipped to handle the emotions of others as eloquently as her tunneler counterpart so she is content to let her do the majority of the talking. "I can help you retrieve the stones. If you’d like." but she would understand if the young tom did not take her up on that.
​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

Most of the time, Rattleheart had heavily mixed feelings on Morningsong. He was always more than happy to play the role of the clown within Windclan, and while she could certainly appreciate a bit of levity in trying times, there were times his attitude grated against her nerves. Such as when Snakehiss had woken up, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes at his antics. However, it was so much worse to see him in his current state, curled over a nest in agony rather than joking around or snickering at the misfortune of others around him. The tunneler found that she vastly preferred a cruelly amused grin curled on his face, compared to the mournful expression that gripped him now. It seemed that Scorchstreak and Bluepool were in agreement, their tones softer and kinder than she was used to when it came to Morningsong in particular - Morningsong and his kin, when it came to Bluepool.

Slipping up alongside her sister, her gaze lingered on what remained of Rumblerain's nest nearby. Just the sight of it forced a lump up and into her throat, but she hastily turned her attention away from it and onto Morningsong. "Scorchstreak is right. I can't blame you for wanting her back. I mean, I can't imagine how pain you must be in, but... they are watching over us all. And I'm sure they must be so relieved that you're still here, and safe." Finally safe from Sootstar and her loyalists, and the kind of attitudes that had led to him and his family being shunned for so long. Rattleheart had never approved of it, but before she had been too terrified to speak up, not wanting to risk getting herself thrown out and forced away from her own family. Her own past cowardice was one of her biggest regrets now, but there was nothing she could do to change it.

She could just be better in the future.

Looking over what remained of Larkfeather's nest, her head tilted over to one side and she surveyed what last bits of the other warrior's personality might still be around. "We could also... bury their nests, or whatever else is left over that they cared for. As a sort of symbolic thing." It was the best suggestion that she could think of, considering there was no way for any of them to magically ease away Morningsong's pain. Only time and Windclan's hopefully bright future could do that.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[Echolight]

In her almost eight seasons of life, Echolight had felt loss before, even before her life began she was abandoned by her father alongside Mallowlark and her mother. Where her aunts once filled that faceless shadow, there was no cat who could step in to replace her daughter, to soothe the agony that made her want to crumble, no cat who could recreate the support Lilacstem had offered her throughout her life.
She had fought alongside her former clan in the name of justice, but even with the battle won and her place within the moors restored, the warrior could not shake the emptiness, the guilt.
The sight of her son angrily disposing of old nests is what draws the mother drifting, though seeing him crumble is quick to make her break into a run.
I want my sister back! He whispers, and Echolight is there, draping a feather tail over his as she brings her kit into a heavy embrace, pressing her nose to his temple as she did when they still dwelled in the safety of the nursery.
"I know darling, I know." She whispers back, her singular eye flickering to the nest clutched in Morningsongs grasp.
The familiar scent of Lilacstem drifts in the air, alongside a half-foreign scent, changed from the last time she had seen her daughter.
Clanmates come to Morningsongs aid, and Echolight blinks gratefully in Scorchstreaks direction, biting the inside of her cheek in an attempt to keep her own composure together.
"That’s a wonderful idea. Thank you." Her voice trembles, but her tone is genuine as she pauses to direct her words to Bluepool and Rattleheart as well.
It is strange to think about how these same cats once may have happily pounced upon her the moment they were given the order to, and now to see them standing in front of her and her grieving son, sympathizing to the best of their ability.
Turning to Morningsong once more, she withdraws her tail whilst still keeping her flank blended with his. "Perhaps…we can give them a proper goodbye." Now, her voice splinters a fraction, the emotion heavy in her low tone.

"Speech."
​

[ WHAT A TIME ]​