sensitive topics FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS ( HALFSHADE'S VIGIL ) ༊

[APPLEJAW]

The day that she and her siblings had been caught in the wildnerness with their mother; forced to hide from the snapping jaws and black eyes of a beast, Applepaw had been infinitely more concerned for herself than she had ever been for Halfshade. Why worry about someone at all, when you believe with all your heart that that someone is invincible? Invulnerable. Applepaw’s parents could bend the very world to their will — the world that was ShadowClan, and only ShadowClan, in the eyes of a child. If Applepaw only did her best to mimic them, then surely she too, would be invulnerable.

Halfshade’s body is cold. Applepaw chases any warmth that’s left as she presses her nose to her mother’s fur. She would get closer, if she could. Applepaw feels like a kit again, wanting to keep close enough to be nuisance beneath Halfshade's paws. Applepaw never allowed herself to be, but she very well could’ve been.

The same applies here, where she would not bring herself any closer. Her siblings might not think it possible to be too emotional — she thinks back to her sister’s wailing; her brother’s screeching ( and Swanpaw, who could only lie and watch with eyes half - lidded ). Applepaw was not like them, but that didn’t mean she wanted to leave her mother’s side. Was it a childish thing, to miss her already? She feels smaller than she ever has before.

For as long as she is allowed. she will stay by Halfshade’s side. And she hopes – prays, that Smogmaw would return safely, still. " It isn’t fair, " her murmur is spiteful, and for a moment, she looks ruefully to the stars. At least now, they might find favor amongst them

ooc ༊ 𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂

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• ( I'M OBSESSED WITH THE MESS THAT'S AMERICA. ) APPLEPAW. kit of shadowclan. eldest sister to swanpaw, ashenpaw, and garlicpaw. ( + birdkit, halfkit & tanglekit )
  —— she / her; confused by the use of others.
  —— currently 6 moons old as of 9.27.23. ages every 17th.
  
  longhaired blue torbie with a white chest, paws, and underbelly. A young cat you would describe as " bossy, " Applekit is quick to take charge of any situation she sees herself as the probable head of. A rule - follower to a T, and thinks herself better than the majority of her clan for this. Not ignorant enough to think herself above a warrior, but seeks to gain that status as quickly as possible. Intensely self - motivated to be the best in a mixture of blind, childish desire, and never wanting to be afraid of anything ever again.

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[Garlicheart]

Her eyes and throat hurt from crying. She sits near her sister, looking at Halfshade with a weary, hollow look in her eyes. Tears wet her cheeks as she gazes upon her mother, her once powerful and beautiful form now a hollow shell of the cat that once was. She has come to terms with Halfshade's death, even now fighting the urge to shake her as if it would bring her back.

She stares at her side that once rose and fell with life, still as stone. She watches as if it would spring back to life. But she knows it wont. Her delusional hope only serves to wound her heart more... She's gone.

Tears continue to roll down her cheeks. She shivers, the cold leaf-fall air intensifying how cold and alone she feels inside. Its not....Fair.

Its NOT fair.

Why Halfshade? She repeats the words she has thought so many times before. She's thought them so much it probably wore a rut in her mind. Why her, why not someone else from another clan, why anyone at all.

She approaches Halfshade's body and curls up beside it one last time as if she were a kit in the nursery again. She buries her face into her fur no matter how cold it is. At least this way, she can pretend nothing happened. She can pretend everything is okay, that Halfshade is just sleeping. That its early in the morning and her siblings are still asleep. That she would wake up to go run outside and play.

But its not real.

It's not real anymore. She's gone. She's never coming back.

A quiet sob leaves her as she forces herself back to reality. There is no color in the world anymore. No warmth, no life. She doesn't think she'll ever be able to go back to how she used to be. The pain in her heart feels like it will never heal.

"It's not fair..." She says quietly, agreeing with Applepaw. "You were supposed to be with us forever...." She continues, speaking into Halfshade's fur. "B-but...But at least....You're still watching us from Starclan, right..??"

It doesn't bring her any comfort. Halfshade should be HERE. Not up there.​

 

[scalejaw]

—————————————————【 she/her | menacing 】————————————————

【◈】Scalejaw sits nearby, her ears perked. She had not known Halfshade super personally, no, but she knew Smogmaw. Some part of her felt as if she owed the tom-cat this respect, but part of her knew that they lost a pillar in the clan with Halfshade's passing. Children left without parents to steer them in any kind of true direction, even though the apprentice's that mourned Halfshade's body this evening had mentors to rely on, as well. It had been many moons since Scalejaw had lost her own parents, and she had no one to rely on afterwards.

Perhaps that the other reason she's sitting here too. She is not their mentors. She is not their mother. But she'd be there if they needed. Silence encapsulated her, letting Halfshade's children mourn with lit eyes. Her vision dropped from the stars, where a new ball of light was to join those in the sky, to Applepaw and Garlicpaw. Part of her itched to speak aloud that it would never be fair. Sickness, death, war, none of it ever was- but that's not what they needed this instant. Scalejaw shifted from where she had been incredibly still, a breath gathering. "She's watching." Scalejaw murmured.

"Don't ever forget that. No matter what, her eyes are on you." Scalejaw offered softly, her tail twitching now.

"yuh"

[penned by dallas].

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[GRANITEPELT]

There is something immensely satisfying about Flintkit getting the dose of lungwort that could have saved Halfshade’s life. His son will prosper, and this detestable she-cat will wither away until she is bones amidst mud. Granitepelt hovers near the back of the funeral procession, his eyes flicking from the pale figure in the middle to her crying daughters nearby. Applepaw will know hardship now, as he had. Some of the privilege she’d known from kithood—the security of a loving, well-respected mother, a father in a prestigious position in the Clan—that will be stolen from her, the way it was from him, the way it was from Starlingheart.

She will be stronger for it, he thinks to himself. He pads closer to her, but keeps at least a foxlength between them. Scalejaw has come to comfort Garlicpaw, wretched little creature, but Applepaw stands alone, firm, her expression cold. “Nothing is fair.” He answers her in a low voice meant only for her. “But now you will make her proud from the stars. You will be that great warrior you told me you wanted to be. The best.” He sits, glowering at Halfshade’s twisted form.

ooc ✧ 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖊, 𝖎 𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖙 𝖙𝖔𝖔 - 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗, 𝖎 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚?

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  — granitekit . granitepaw . granitepelt
  — he/him ; warrior of shadowclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Starlingheart
  — short-haired gray tom with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Meg

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[DOGFUR]

There are many reasons Dogfur should care about the passing of Halfshade. While they were not close to the she-cat themselves, he recognized that she was an important pillar for the deputy. He can still recall how that stone-furred tom had become delirious with foolishness as he announced their courtship. He cannot imagine how this would pan out for the deputy. He can get some sort of idea from the kits. Applepaw is far more muted than her siblings—and Dogfur can understand Garlicpaw fairly well due to their mentor-apprentice relationship. He thinks of how glad he was to have been finally rid from his own mother and he gnaws at his lip.

Granitepelt seems to be more angry than anything else at Halfshade's limp form. It's a curious thing but Dogfur does not make a sound. He doesn't say anything. He does not comfort his apprentice. Scalejaw is the one to do that.

What a bad omen this is. Dogfur thinks and braces himself for the storm.

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[Skunktail]

Skunktail didn't really know Halfshade well but he respected any cat who didn't hide who they were, who walked with confidence and spoke their mind and she was probably one of the best at it. There was never a moment he felt she was hiding something because she was so unapologetically herself. Her disdain for their clan's structure, her annoyance at how underhanded their clanmates were - all things he himself noticed and disliked yet he bit his tongue. It would've been nice to be like her, openly opinionated and not caring about how others viewed you but perhaps some of it came from being the deputy's mate. Kind of hard to worry over anything when you had that kind of shield.
He offers her offspring a polite nod each before staring at the body in silence and scanning his clanmates in a moment of brief peace.

Granitepelt seemed especially angry and he wasn't sure why. The tom and Halfshade were not close, you could even say they hated eachother with the looks they gave one another in passing but maybe that was it. Maybe he was petty angry that she died quietly and not to some awful bear attack or something - he seemed that vindictive. Skunktail sighed quietly, dipping his head in a respectful nod one last time before turning to go.
"Go with StarClan, you've left behind a legacy of strong young cats who will carry on in your stead."
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[ASHENFALL]

˚⊹₊‧ 𖦹 Ashenpaw screamed at Starlingheart when his mother died. He didn't regret it in the least—he doubted that he would have been able to shove down his reaction even if he wanted to. Rage had bubbled and threatened to drown him from the inside out had he not allowed it to burst.

Now, though, he was quiet. Perhaps oddly so. The tide within himself came slowing to a crawl upon chilled, waterlogged sand. It retreated now, falling back into the ocean whence it came, leaving only foam behind—at least for the time being. Soon enough it would all come crashing into him again, and Ashenpaw would have to tear fur from his own tail, or claw the moss out of his nest, or banish himself to go scream into the bog or the carrionplace. Now, at his mothers' final send-off, he would be quiet. Though, he doubted he held the steely composure that Applepaw seemed to embody, even as she whispered into Halfshade's cold fur. Ashenpaw's quiet was staticky, each breath passing cycling through his lungs trembling with the effort. Tears flowed freely from his face and became one with the soil below, yet he could not sob like he would do so easily otherwise.

He sat alongside his siblings, or at least the two that were well enough to be sitting alongside of. He wanted to bury his head into her fur like he did so many times as a kit, but he settled on nosing along it gingerly, careful to not soil her coat with his own tears and smooth down any messiness in her fur. She hated getting her fur all messy...

He sat alone for the moment, and this he was somewhat grateful for. No one else besides his siblings—and Smogmaw, when he returned, stars help him—could feel what he was feeling. Only Starclan knew how he would react should someone the likes of Snakefoot tried to do something as sickening as try to give him advice...

Had he not already been submerged in his muted state, Granitepelt's words from the other side of Applepaw's flank would have made him hiss. Ashenpaw hated Granitepelt more than he hated the man's mate, he thought. The soft-voiced grim reaper at least had the decency to put on airs of sadness and sympathy at Halfshade's death. This grey-pelted dingus had the gall to take this as an opportunity to inflate the ego of his thick-skulled sister, who cared about how good of a warrior Applepaw was going to be?! This wasn't about Applepaw! His stomach twisted with disgust, but all he did was screw his eyes shut and try to block out any shallow murmurings Granitepelt or anyone else wanted to toss at the bereaved.

He should say something, shouldn't he? Something nice, that was fitting for a respectful vigil.

His mouth opened as if to speak, yet nothing came out. Why wasn't he saying anything? It had been so easy to scream and cry and spit venom at their medicine cat, yet he couldn't bring himself to say one thing in the final moments he had at his mother's side. What kind of shitty son was he? Ashenpaw's throat clenched around nothing, and the only thing he could bring himself to do was cry more.

FOLLOW THE TIDE ˚⊹₊‧ 𖦹 WITH THE MONSTERS ON YOUR SHOULDER

• OOC:
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  — ashenkit . ashenpaw
  — trans male. he/him. 6mo apprentice of shadowclan
  — gay ; single
  — longhaired muted blue torbie with heterochromatic pale blue and amber eyes
  — smells like rainsoaked ferns and swamp milkweed
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — fullbody by tropics
  — penned by eezy
  — currently in an era of grief and anger, approach with caution. all ic opinions!

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