development crying from the heart's cracks ღ grief

[whitedawn]

Whitepaw was a young cat who carried her heart in her paws. It was a known fact of the matter. She was soft despite she didn't show her emotions often beyond her quiet happiness. Really, emotions were sometimes difficult for her to understand. She felt a lot, but in most cases, oftentimes didn't know what she was feeling. When Juniperfrost was killed and they were shown his body, she thought the brief cold numbness and shock that took over her was grief. She was never sure though. Could you really grieve over someone you never knew, respected as they may have been by others? However, now, Tigerfrost, a warrior Whitepaw admired and really liked, had gone to join the stars after being killed by rogues. The thought sent the feeling of claws digging into her heart. All she could think of was the regrets and opportunities that'll be forever missed. There had been things she always had wanted to ask the lead warrior, as gruff as he was, even if the times had never come due to the fact the warrior was a moor runner and most of her training resided in the tunnels. It hurt, almost, if not just as much as it did when her own mother rejected her. Maybe this was grief? This pulsing pain that made her want to cry? If it was, it was a pain that she wanted to avoid more than anything. Though it was unlikely wasn't it? Dying in battle was an honor in Windclan, and as much as the thought plagued her with fear, it was a likely fate to befall many of her clanmates, even her treasured friends. It was days she knew she'd fear.
Tigerfrost's body had been returned not long ago, and the vigil wouldn't begin for some time. Whitepaw was currently sitting in a barely shaded corner, pawing through a pile of flowers she had gathered. She was staring at the blooms with a furrowed expression. "....Maybe roses?" Was her murmured whisper as she continued to focus on her little task? "Roses and... something else... maybe bramble...?" She continued further, her voice occasionally hitching as she raised a paw to wipe her face, attempting to fight the tears before they could spill. ​

[I'M BREATHING]​

 

[PEONYBREEZE]

✿ — Time and time again Peonypaw runs into the subject of grief. Long gone are the naive kitten-thoughts that hoped for the passing of another to be few and far between; arguably he is just a few moons older, but he feels like he's already lived through a lifetime at times. The older warriors would snort in amusement at such an idea, but Peonypaw can't quite disagree with the notion that witnessing death changes you forever.

Tigerfrost is not someone Peonypaw knows- knew very well. An icy demeanor, pelt full of scars, company revolving around the other higher-ups in WindClan. He might not be shedding tears for the former lead warrior but he would pay his respects all the same.

He ushered the question of just who might be next away.

"Whitepaw?" Peonypaw all but murmurs as he makes out the stark white under shadowed corner, paws silently carrying him towards the fellow tunneler. It's a question not meant to be answered, but rather something to catch her attention before he scares the life out of her.

Roses, something else, bramble. Peonypaw just about catches her words.

Realization hits him and threatens to leave him breathless but he pushes on despite the shine of Whitepaw's tears. "I have lavender, if that works." His paws fish out the few bits of the pale purple from his short fur, carefully setting them beside Whitepaw's own pile of sentimental flowers. He doesn't comment on her struggle against crying or how she feels about all of this - undoubtedly horrible -, instead leaving it up for her to open up or shut Peonypaw out.​

❝ I DON'T WANT TO RUN — JUST OVERWHELM ME ❞​

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[Bluepool]

Bluepool does not understand the younger generation of the clan. Cats like Whitepaw and her own apprentice. They seemed to be so emotional, so quick to show exactly what it was that they were feeling- and they seemed to feel everything and anything. Bluepool thinks they are weak, that apprentices should be more like Snakepaw. He was an upstanding example, in her mind, of what a young cat should be. She says nothing about it though as she watches Whitepaw sort quietly through her flowers. Tigerfrost had been a respected warrior. It was only right that cats grieved for him, mourned him. She did too, though privately and out of the eyes of the others. She would never let anyone see her cry, not if she could help it.

"I have some wool too if you want it" she offers "Maybe we could ask the elders if we could make him a nest to lay in when he is buried, we can weave some of these flowers into it if you'd like" everyone deserved to have a comfy place to rest their bones at the end of the day, and what was death if not the ultimate end? Perhaps he could take the nest with him to StarClan, it was a nice thought at least. She hopes for a good ceremony and a nice place to rest when it is her turn to be returned to the dirt.

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[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 He and Bluepool differ in that perspective. Wolfsong is not especially fond of Snakepaw, whose blustering often grates, and he can only imagine how much worse he would be if he had Sootstar for a mother simply for the liberties he would take. It is not a failing to be seen grieving; at times, among the cats of Wolfsong's birth, it would manifest violently, not as a sign of weakness but how important the dead were.

Roses, lavender, wool— all thoughtful displays. Wolfsong has considered feathers, and he will also present Tigerfrost with the bones of prey, though he wishes he could offer him those of his killers.

Wolfsong steps closer, passing Bluepool and nearing Peonypaw and Whitepaw. He goes to her side, and settles a gentle paw on her back. "We will make for him a memorial so bright he will see it from the sky," he says, wondering whether the cat truly has gone to StarClan, but he must have.
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