sensitive topics DESTRUCTION IS ART ♡ BATTLE RETURN

[MIRESTAR]

Dawn breaks as ShadowClan heads home, though the time of day offers no hope like it usually does. The sun rises just like it always does, and just like it always will; but that is no comfort when the patrol brings their fallen, unused weight pressing onto the warriors instead of carrying herself on her own feet. Perhaps Mirestar ought to flee just like Smogstar had — that would be the eaiest way out. No need to break the terrible news to those who are laying in wait, and no need to see the grief reflected in everybody's eyes.

Over the tang of blood, Mirestar cannot smell the poultices and wrappings on their wound anymore, and cannot care about the pain that shoots up their form with every step. Starlingheart had been quick with it even if Mirestar had wanted nothing to do with that sort of salvation, not when their Clanmate had been unmoving just inches away from them. Do they deserve such treatment, right after indirectly culling the life of another?

Needledrift had just been starting to get better... she had uncurled from her stale bedding and had looked at the world with something renewed in her gaze again.

And just like that, Mirestar took that from her.

The camp comes into view, and Mirestar is too numb to feel the fear that would surely drench them now, just like a sudden rainfall. By all accounts, ShadowClan is victorious... but it does not feel the slightest bit earned.

"ShadowClan," they croak, unable to command their voice to rise higher than that. All the yowling and the crying had turned their throat into a dry desert. What do they start with? The good news or the bad news? Eager cats bound up to meet the returning patrol, and oh- how badly Mirestar wishes for there to only be good news. "ThunderClan has been defeated, but the cost... the cost is too great. We lost Needledrift..."

Set after the battle and the journey home.
Sensitive topics, such as grief and description of injuries, may follow.

​

 

[BRANCHPAW]

𓆱 The morning light isn't what wakes Branchpaw—no, he'd been awake long before the sun rose over ShadowClan's camp. He'd been told to remain behind in camp for the night, but the boy had planted himself right inside the camp's entrance. Waiting for his clanmates to return had been mind-numbing boring, but now that he hears them approaching, Branchpaw allows a smile to cross his face. They're home, and he can't wait to ask his moms how the battle went. He strides forward, but Mirestar speaks up and it stops him in his tracks. "Lost?" Did his mama stay behind, fighting against ThunderClan? Why would she do that, if ShadowClan won?

His questions are answered when he sees her. There's blood, too much blood, and there's no light in her eyes, no stiffness to her small shoulders. There's no Needledrift. There's only an empty shell… lifeless. He rushes to her side, to Ferndance's side, and his body stops moving on its own. He can't move any closer, can't bring himself to press forward. Amber eyes fill with tears, threatening to spill over and stain the earth below. "No… no." How could this have happened? Branchpaw looks up, barely seeing cinnamon fur through the tears that cloud his vision. Ferndance was there—why couldn't she protect his mama?

His gaze falls to dark fur once more, and finally the tears begin to fall. "Mama, no. Mama-" his breath catches, and he feels the bubble pressing itself up his throat. It begins in his chest, curls its way up, until it bursts from his mouth in a series of short, sharp giggles. He bites his lip in an attempt to hold it in—the taste of blood coats his tongue, fills his mouth. It matches the scent of blood in the air, and it matches the feeling that the entire world around him has been broken irreparably.

archers never make good kings 𖠰𖠰 fly headfirst into everything

• ooc: interacting with @FERNDANCE
• 
• BRANCHPAW ❯❯ he/him, apprentice of shadowclan
  𖠰 fluffy lilac tabby with white spotting and amber eyes. quiet and seething, but a natural storyteller.
  𖠰 son of ferndance and needledrift ; brother to bonechill, bloodwing, shadewhisker, splashdance, gigglepaw, morelpaw
  𖠰 mentored by flintwish
  𖠰 peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  𖠰 penned by foxlore

​

​

 

[FERNDANCE]

It wasn't Needledrift upon her back anymore, it was a corpse, heavy and weightless and so beyond what Ferndance wanted to carry that she could scarcely move through the sickness writhing in her belly. Another's words had told her what she herself couldn't believe, that her beloved bug was no more, but confirmation felt like a betrayal as if the hope others had instilled in her that things would be ok had been ripped away. She was angry. She was empty. Tears spilled so freely on the journey home could no longer fall, her paws had grown numb, and her senses dulled to a point where even Branchpaw appeared as nothing more than a shape and not a son.

Ferndance had kept so vigilant of where her kittens were that she hadn't considered she could lose something else instead of them, that protectiveness of one thing could result in the death of another that meant just as much to her. Needledrift would no doubt hear the millions of apologies to her from her place amidst the stars, but regret was a vicious thing - there was so much she could've done, so much she could've tried, so much they could've done together. Needledrift had just started to smile... and now her beloved would never get the chance to be happy again.

How was she supposed to tell Branchpaw it was her fault? She leaned down, watching with horror as her boy began to hiccup and giggle, her nose so clotted with copper she couldn't tell that he'd hurt himself. As she moved to press her forehead against his, something within her broke and she froze. "I'm sorry..." She breathed, sorry that she could not be the mother he needed. It was a tepid silence she held herself in.

Another face flashed into her mind. One that made her brain splinter and fracture, hoping to free itself against the confines of her skull. It was a vile pain, but one she could embrace if it meant knowing that she had not died too. Mirestar spoke and she whipped her head towards them, claws unsheathed. "We need to go back, we forgot her." Her tail lashed, her dreamy voice boiling into something akin to a nightmare. "The one who did this, she needs to see me. She needs my smiling face to be the last one she sees before I pluck out her eyes and share her intestines with the crows." 'I trust you'. Words unspoken. 'Promise me revenge.'
​

 

[sneezeduck]

The rising night feels blinding. Sneezeduck's head pounds like the heavy pawsteps of battle. He sways, even as his companions, Amberhaze and Sharpshadow, hold him - occasionally he falters as his legs buckle and cold paws stumble. Each little painful mistake is met with a frustrated hiss and a glare towards the cats that flank him on each end, both a reminder that he is not capable.

The faces of battle don't come to him anymore. The first apprentice, that white-furred girl, is nothing more than a blur in his mind, nor her screaming mentor. The only face he sees is the mangled snarl of a murderer, and the cold face of Needledrift. Needledrift.

In his blind anger, he had sought vengeance - only for another injustice to occur right under his very nose. How could he let it happen? How could he?

My work is not finished, Sneezeduck thinks forlornly as he casts a long glare up towards the sky, where the night's last stars make their dimming descent. He can feel it already, the scoring claws of an angry starry mentor, her face warped into something angry and disappointed. He anticipates it.

As the ShadowClanners stumble into camp, Mirestar turns to speak, and Sneezeduck almost misses it. If not for the crying of little Branchpaw, and the subsequent sickly sweet tune of her surviving mother, he may have shrugged off his companions and dragged himself straight to bed to mourn. But their pain brings him back to reality, his new reality, and Ferndance reminds him of his failure, bringing his maw to a sour curled lip.

"I almost had her," Sneezeduck growls, glancing Ferndance's way. Your pain was preventable. I failed you... but the pain of failure is.. too much. He then glares at the cats that support his weight; to Amberhaze, and then to Sharpshadow, whom his gaze lingers on longer. "Needledrift's muh..murderer. You l..let her get away. I almost ha.. almost had her.."

Indignantly, the young warrior sways and bumps his weight against his old mentor's shoulder, making an attempt to shrug her off of him - but in his defiant step away, he feels a wrenching pain in his shoulder that seems to give out beneath him, sending him stumbling. A pained hiss escapes him as he tries to push himself up and find her shoulder once more, with his gaze steady on the floor beneath him. Reminiscing, reliving those moments, wondering.. if he had driven that apprentice off, he could have changed Needledrift's fate, he should have..

A desperate desire to turn back time takes over what empty space is left in his troubled thoughts, a pleading to the stars to give him one more chance. He weeps.




// @Amberhaze @SHARPSHADOW

WADE THROUGH WATER IN DARKNESS YOULL SOON DISAPPEAR ☾

• ✧ ✺ ✹ · ✦ · * * + ⊹ ✧ ✧ ⋆ . * * ˚ ✫ ✫ . . . ✧ * · · · · + · · . · . · · * ✵ · · . · * ✫

  sneezeduck. a young shadowclan warrior with a thirst for vengeance - a self-appointed justiciar. son of duckshimmer. brother to singeglare and swallowflutter. mentored by sharpshadow. mentor to none.​

• 
• ooc. text

​

 

[greywhisker.]

It was well known Greywhisker had a large family. He had a larger family, then just Needledrift and Ternfrost, but he had lost his daughters long ago. He had already felt so much loss, that he clung onto his granddaughters the best he could, without trying to step on toes. Before Mirestar stepped in, the sporadic search for the molly was interrupted. His eyes went pinholed. "No...."

His gaze searched mirestars, but then he finally, he finally found her. His heart clenched. A hand gripped it, threatening to snap it in two like a great beast. It's teeth tore and carved, and his shoulders shook as he clenched his teeth. But tears did not fall. He only held bitter resentment. "Ah should've went." Despite his aching bones, his relief of finally settling down, despite the jagged pain in his shoulder from a long ago wound-

If he would've went, would her life have been saved?

"I... Ah would 'ave went instead o' her! Ma' li'l sparrow," his head dropped, his teeth clenched tightly as the grey and white shaggy elder shook. In a sob mixed and fueled with anger. It wasn't fair. He should've been long gone before then. That's how it worked. Parents shouldve been lost before their children, and their grandchildren. How much pain should he have to endure? Each time he felt a bit better, only more pain. Margaret, Viridian, his leaders, Needledrifts mother-

It wasn't fair. But even he knew.

"Killin' ain't gon' being 'er back. Believe me, ah've tried." His gaze searched the ground, his lips quivering slightly. "Maybe. We is cursed." After all his arguing, that curses didn't exist. He gave in.

"Ah will... Still never b' 'ble t' hold 'er again. Ahm sorry, fern. Ahm sorry branch."

​

 

[scalejaw]

★ She follows not far behind Mirestar. A shoulder to let them lean on, perhaps, if they need it- but Scalejaw herself is largely unhurt. Some scratches, sure, and they burned with each step, but not like the knowledge of knowing they lost one of their own. Yellow eyes swept camp, just as Mirestar speaks, croaking words like a frog about to flee from a cat's claws. A breath inhaled, then slowly exhaled.

Grief is what spreads through camp, but she feels numb. Lightly numb, for grief still attempts to reach her, but this wasn't as intense as Chilledstar had been. It wasn't as intense as mourning Smogmaw, for what she thought was his death, for what she thought was love she'd never begin to experience. That was a grief of betrayal. This, this is a grief of loss. Ferndance, Sneezeduck- they are quick to spit venom. Greywhisker casts doubts. Scalejaw lifts here voice then, hoping it comes like rain- rain, to wash the blood, to clear the air.

"We aren't cursed." Scalejaw speaks, her voice strong despite the talons in her side desperately hooked, trying to drag her down with the rest. "Needledrift died a death worthy of a warrior- on the battlefield, fighting for what she thought was right." She says, stepping past Mirestar. Her head turned, bloodied visage focusing on their leader. Young, too young, she thinks. Her eyes narrow briefly, translating a message to them that only they would understand for the nine moons the younger had spent under her tutelage.

We need to talk.

She looks back towards Ferndance, towards Sneezeduck, towards Needledrift's son. "This blow is fuel for our vengeance. Revenge isn't what I'd call it. I'd call it justice." She feels like her tongue is numb now too. Was she speaking what she really believed? Another breath taken. Her tone softens slightly, if only, adrenaline still roaring in her veins. "I'm sorry for your loss." She utters to those grieving, those weeping, those who gather about Needledrift's body as it is lain before the stars. A brief prayer was uttered moments later.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎┌── AND JUST LIKE THE RAIN ⋅❁⋅ YOU CAST THE DUST INTO NOTHING ──┐‎

• "speech"

• 

• SCALEJAW 🌧 she/her, lead warrior of shadowclan, sixty-six moons.
  ★ A SH black/LH blue smoke chimera with glowering orange eyes, tufts of fur that make her look dragon-akin, and scars that she wears with pride. motherly and stern attitude, with a warm streak for clanmates and a cruel streak for enemies.
  ★ mentoring no one
  ★ padding after no one / / mother to bonerattle, nightwhisper, and shadefall
  ★ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ★ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[Gigglepaw]

Gigglepaw dragged her paws as she entered the ShadowClan at Ferndance's side, battle-warm pelt brushing gently against the cold of Needledrift's as they walked in tandem. Starlingheart had not been able to save Needledrift, despite Ferndance and Gigglepaw's pleas. It was still sinking in that Needledrift wouldn't be waking up, wouldn't be around for one more family cuddle pile. Her first battle, and the thrill of it had been dampened by the truth of the world. There were a great many things racing through Gigglepaw's mind, and she held her tongue as Branchpaw raced to meet them. There were others there, too, but she didn't pay them any mind.

"Everybody... we all tried." Gigglepaw sniffled as she went to her brother's side, pressing against his flank for comfort - for both of them, perhaps. Was that true? Had they all tried their utmost to save and protect Needledrift? She wanted to believe that was true. She wasn't sure what she would do if it wasn't true. "It was..." She sniffed, swallowed, and narrowed her eyes as tears once again threatened to fall not for the first time that day. "It was that ThunderClan deputy." Gigglepaw couldn't bring herself to say the name. Roeflame. The one who had taken her 'ama away from her.

"It isn't anybody's fault! It was over and the older warriors all said so. We just... retreated." Gigglepaw is quick to come to Sharpshadow's defense as Sneezeduck accuses her, and there's more she wants to say. She wants to say: My 'ama isn't yours to avenge!, but the words don't come; instead there are only tears, and Gigglepaw ducks her head, wanting to disappear into Branchpaw's pelt. Scalejaw speaks up, saying that Needledrift's fall in battle was the honorable outcome. Gigglepaw sniffs, and finds herself looking at the lead warrior through teary eyes. Was that a warrior's worth?

If it was, Gigglepaw knew what she wanted. What she needed was to listen, and learn - how to be a proper warrior. One that lived not for oneself, but for the Clan. One that wasn't so swayed by the whims of emotion. One that followed orders.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OOC ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ INFO ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• !

• 

• GIGGLEPAW ✩ apprentice of shadowclan, eight moons
  → blinks incessantly & uncontrollably.
  → peaceful and healing powerplay permitted.
  → penned by Archivist → .archivist on discord.

​

 

[MARBLELEAF]

Marblepaw had been waiting, cobwebs in her mouth; at Mirestar's call, she bounds from the medicine cat den, her pale tabby fur on end. "ThunderClan has been defeated, but the cost..." The celebration dims immediately, and her moss-colored eyes shift, searching for the cats' bodies who move amidst their Clan leader's. Someone — in the halflight, she cannot immediately tell — bears a limp gray body back from the battle, and her breath begins to coagulate in her throat. No, oh...

"We lost Needledrift." Mirestar's mew is flat, defeated, despite the small victory. Yowls begin to pierce the skies; both Branchpaw and Gigglepaw crowd close to their fallen mother's body, and Ferndance is nearby, pressing her spice-colored muzzle into her fallen mate's fur. Graywhisker's ragged lament rings through the air. Grief begins to thicken between her Clanmates, and Marblepaw's feet are stiff, frozen. Why? Why did this have to happen?

She scrabbles in the frost, pressing herself through the crowd. Where is Starlingheart? There are injured warriors here; the smell of blood, the rugged look of torn fur, the defeat in gimlet eyes... Marblepaw takes it all in, and her jaws part in a wordless mewl of panic. She had known there would be high stakes, and she had fretted, but the odds had been with them, hadn't they? RiverClan had fought ThunderClan, too. Their approach had been two-pronged.

When she reaches Needledrift, the bile simmers in her belly. Marblepaw closes her eyes, tight, against the veil of tears that crowd her vision. "I'm so sorry," she chokes to Branchpaw, to Gigglepaw, as they cluster around their mother's cooling body. To Ferndance, whose eyes flash with wildfire, whose lips spill cruelties and promises.

"Please come see Starlingheart and me if you're hurt," she hears herself saying; her lips are numb, both by cold and by pain. She wants to press her flank to Gigglepaw's, to lick Branchpaw's ear, but her duty is to her living Clanmates, for now; Needledrift will be tended to once her kin has finished their immediate rites, their fresh grief.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Marblekit . Marblepaw, she/they w/ feminine and non-gendered terms.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — 10 moons old, ages realistically on the 1st.
  — mentored by Starlingheart ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a
  — shadowclan medicine cat apprentice, formerly a rogue. siltcloud x lilacfur, gen 3.
  — currently mated to n/a.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh fawn tabby with dull green eyes. courageous, curious, introspective, observant, judgmental, snarky.

​

 

[shalestorm]

There are no victors in battle. That is a fact Shalestorm knows very well... and a fact that many of her clanmates, older and younger, seem to be discovering, coming to terms with... it's a difficult truth to be had, but a necessary one. Usually the chipper one in the Clan, Shalestorm does not find anything to be happy about in this moment. Needledrift is dead. They'd won the battle, but there had been a tremendous price to pay for doing so.

Sneezeducks anger and vitriol are palpable, as is Ferndance's, and the rest of Needle's loved ones... but Scalwjaw is right... she died a noble death. It is little comfort.

Shalestorm hadn't been all that injured by the warrior she'd engaged with, really, she'd just had some torn fur and small nicks... perhaps they'd only just been given their name, they seemed unexperienced, and Shalestorm had met them at their level for the most part, so she elects to allow her wounds to heal on their own... the blood that is on her paws is not her own, after all.

For once, she has nothing to say.

if I held your hand // would that be okay?

• 
  ooc -
  
• 
  #e36f90
• 
  (img) Shalestorm * she/her* 27 moons
  blue point/blue chimera w/ low white; blue eyes
  Peaceful & healing powerplay allowed || underline for attack
  penned by Neptune. || Neptune on disc, dm me for plots

​

 

[BATCHASER]

While dawn breaks through the hanging tree branches, the bicolored warrior sat in the clearing with a few others that were waiting Mirestar's and their clanmates return. It was dull, just waiting for them to come home. Large ears twitch, as his head whips around to look at the rustling entrance. They're home! A tired smile broke upon his split - colored muzzle, as he rose upon pale knuckled paws.

The lanky tom strides forwards, his wrinkles his nose slightly at the sharp smell of dried blood and poultice wrappings upon the pelts of warriors. Batchaser shifts his mismatched upon the returning party, they... they look defeated. They look drained of energy from when they left. When Mirestar speaks up, he pauses in his tracks. "We... Lost?" Fighting against the noble Thunderclan and Shadowclan lost? His smile dims to a neutral line upon his lips, before hidden eyes shift to the limp gray body, his breath hitched. Oh no...

When the name falls from his leader's lip, his ears droop down at his dark skull. When yowls pierce among the marshy camp; he spots Gigglepaw and Branchpaw among the crowd of felines, pressing themselves to both of their mother's body. Long tail twitching near the ground, he sweeped his gaze among the bloodied form of his clanmates. Poor Ferndance. He watches as the cinnamon - hued tabby presses her muzzle against her fallen mate's stiff body. Grief thickens among his clanmates. He cringes back, paws stepping in tone to his neck against his chest while he stares with half - lidded eyes at the torn pelts and defeat in different eyes. Riverclan had fought too, yes? But it seems it wasn't enough.

He does not speak when Scalejaw speaks on revenge, he feels numb as he breathes through his nose. "I'm sorry for your loss..." He utters to those that were grieving, the weeping ones and the ones who gather near Neeledrift's body. He closes his eyes as he sends a prayer to the heavens above.

𓂃 𝅄᠂ ⭒ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 ☽ 𝙃𝙄𝘿𝘿𝙀𝙉 𝙀𝙔𝙀𝙎 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙎𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙋 𝙂𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙎

•  

• temp batchaser ref.

  

• ( THAT'S ONE ENEMY DOWN! ) ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ BATCHASER. ╱ shadowclan warrior.
  ― CISMALE ; HE / HIM ; CURRENTLY 37 MOONS OLD & AGES EVERY 10TH.
  ✦ pansexual / not actively looking — mentoring none.
  ✦ a tall shorthaired curly black smoke bicolor with gold/green heterochromia.
  ✦ thoughts ; "Speech, 7077A1" ; attacks only
  ✦ may powerplay minor harm ╱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ✦ smells like rain-soaked pavement, mist & sweet leaf rot
  — all opinions are ic
  
  — biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by calzone
  

​

 

[Amberhaze]

⚛︎₊˚‧ For once, Amberhaze was silent as he strode alongside his clanmates upon unsteady paws, frail limbs trembling with exhaustion yet continuing to hang on as they all knew they must, for this battle was still far from over. Perhaps they had won the war, but the scars left behind would continue to ache deep within their souls like a disease coursing through veins hidden beneath tender flesh. He had lost little, and for that he was thankful, yet the same could not be said for his clanmates- Ferndance and her children throwing themselves upon the soulless body of their beloved mate and mother who had been torn from their loving grasp in the most merciless way. The sight made his stomach twist and roil, and he was unable to keep his gaze fixated onto the mournful scene that seemed to be endless, their grief palpable and causing the air to become thick and heavy with sorrow and rage.

Sneezeduck was no exception, his own anguish apparent as he thrashed about and cast venomous statements towards those who were no longer there to hear them as well as himself. His behavior was sporadic in a way that was almost desperate, and when Amberhaze's eyes met his own for only a brief moment, there was nothing but unspoken regret clouding what was once vibrant with resolve. It was another tragedy in of itself, the loss of a cat could present itself in more ways than just the mortal flesh, this was Amberhaze knew firsthand. Perhaps they had all lost some of themselves this night, the only victory won being materialistic and undeniably temporary in ways that one's life was not.

He was torn from his thoughts as he felt the weight of Sneezeduck fall beneath him in his display of emotion, to which Amberhaze would quickly grasp the exposed scruff of his neck and pull him back onto unsteady paws with a strategic check of his slender shoulder, only releasing his jaws from the other once he was sure he would be able to remain upright. The silence between himself, Sneezeduck and Sharpshadow stretched on just long enough to allow the most battered of the three to sink his head low and convulse with audible sobs.

Amberhaze shifted on his paws for a moment as he shared an anxious and uncertain glance with Sharpshadow. He did not do well with words, unlike the rest of his companions who had all joined together to share their condolences and promise to make right what had gone wrong, and this was no exception. He did the only thing he could think to do then, which was allowing his body to press closer against Sneezeduck's own, hoping that the extra weight and warmth provided might ward off some of the turmoil that could make one feel so helplessly, utterly alone.

✧ ° . ⚠︎ . ° ✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: sorry about the lowkey lame ass response i dont do too well with busy threads </3
• 

  AMBERHAZE — HE/HIM ･ 19 MOONS ･ WARRIOR OF SHADOWCLAN ･ PENNED BY SLOANE

  black oriental shorthair. a short but lengthy black cat with a boney build and striking ocher eyes filled with unveiled trepidation.

 

[Ternstar.]

FROM COFFIN TO THE CRADLE
I GOT DEMONS, I GOT ANGELS​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ternfrost ♛ 24 moons ♛ female ♛ she/her ♛ shadowclan queen ​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Disappointment lines Ternfrost's features - and she does nothing to hide it. That could've been her out there - fighting. Winning. There is a certainty, in the back of her mind, as she watches bloodstained clanmates limp their way ino camp, that she would've fare far better. Be it confidence or foolhardiness that guides her, that irritation still lingers when Mirestar speaks. Eyes shut for a moment - only a second, a mere heartbeat. There is a fresh reminder that despite their lack of closeness, she and needledrift, they are - were - kin. " Did you kill them, at least? " she asks, but Ferndance's voice answers her questions a moment later. Claws sink into hardened earth, gouging out holes as pelt bristles and hackles raised - impassive expression only growing colder.

'Cursed indeed'

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

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I - S H O U L D- H A V E- B E E N- B O R N- W I T H-
A -W A R N I N G- L A B E L

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[SHARPSHADOW]

The ache of her wound makes sure to return to her before she can feel too triumphant for too long. It's been long enough for the pump of her blood to grow sluggish... for the weight of Sneezeduck to blister at her flank. They're all blood-stained. Not just the two of them, not including only the midnight form of Amberhaze at his other side... ShadowClan travels as a collective. The same way they always have, even if they didn't always like it. Dark fur swims with purpled richness. Those of them cursed with lighter coats wear their wounds more openly. Strange determination keeps her head above water, despite it all. Sharpshadow sticks by Mirestar, their other set of claws.

ThunderClan has been defeated. It's something she's wanted to hear her entire life. A corpse sits somewhere. Sneezeduck is wounded. They all sting with injuries, but relief tries to wiggle its way to the surface regardless. Defeating isn't something ShadowClan was made for, she's convinced. Any win is rare. Any attempt to even rarer, it seems. For once in their lifetimes, ShadowClan has done something. ShadowClan has won something.

The cost is too great. Mirestar can't even allow them a moment of happiness. Even if only mentally, taggers turn upon the body of her Clanmate.

How angry could she really be, at a corpse?

Happiness plucked away at an instant, usurped by a body. Did they not realize they could have easily lost more than one? But then- she feels bad. Feels awful even, breathing in at the sight of Branchpaw, of Ferndance, who carries her dead mate upon her back. But then- the fate of a warrior, is it not to die? A cost too great, says Mirestar, but wasn't the cost just what it should be? Something for nothing. Something for nothing was impossible. It always would be.

Sneezeduck stirs; stares, as if she and Amberhaze were doing something terrible by daring to help him. It's not intentional, the way he matches his glare. He doesn't want to be angry, but he is anyways. Maybe it sounds cruel, what he says. "You had her in your grasp, Sneezeduck. You left her alive. " Not like he wants Roeflame to die. No, he couldn't care less either way. He's sure Roeflame had thought the same thing about Needledrift before she'd kill her.

And he pushes her away— pushes her away when she didn't owe him her hide to begin with. " The battle ended, Sneezeduck, " she snaps. Apparently, he's more concerned with his pride than his wellbeing. Of course, she winces when he stumbles. Amberhaze rights him. Sharpshadow didn't owe Sneezeduck her shoulder, but she gives it to him anyways. Her skin crawls with the sound of his crying. She exchanges a grimace with Amberhaze. Gigglepaw softens her grimace into a frown.

Scalejaw makes the most sense of all of them. Sharpshadow breathes in. " She... She died a warriors death. " If it hadn't been Roeflame, it would have been a fox. It would have been disappearance, untraceable, impossible to accept. Amidst the wreckage of endings that were usually too soon or too preventable, a death by the claws of another is... relieving. When he died, he could only hope it would be a death like Needledrift's. She fought for her kits to thrive this Leaf-bare. She's done it, even if she would not be alive to see it through.​