sensitive topics fukai mori | death

[Tornadopaw]

If you don't like me, that's your problem

Dark paws carry Tornadopaw aimlessly throughout camp, moving from one warrior to another, asking if anyone knew the whereabouts of Snowmask. Thankfully she had one lead, the molly had gone hunting earlier but had yet to return. Knowing her mother it shouldn't have taken her so long. Her face draws up, illustrating her confusion as she continues the search alone. Her paws are moving again, pulling her from camp to look beyond its walls. Yellow eyes skim the wetlands shroud in shadow until she finally reaches an area heavy with undertones of death permeating just beneath the stench of the marsh. The suddenness of it makes her recoil a step, curly fur prickling as citrine eyes searching for death's unfortunate victim.

A buzzard's call makes her shift on weary paws, whipping around to face several of them flocked around a once ivory figure now slathered in hues of pink and dark crimson. Snowmask. Her breath hitches in her throat, delicate pipes constricting, tightening at the gruesome display. "Mom...?" It's hardly a whisper, barely audible and certainly not enough to gather the bird's attention. She falters forward one step then another, hoping to wake from some nightmare, but this was reality. "Stop." She shouts as a few hop around the body, drawing ever closer. Tears spring forth, welling up and spilling over as another dares to pluck at the remains.

She's sprinting now, claws extended as she swipes at a dirty beak. "Get away!" Grief and anger roll off of Tornadopaw in crashing waves, her body constantly pivoting to fend off the hungry predators still closing in. "Leave her alone!" She wouldn't let them have her, she couldn't. Vision blurry from hot tears, she swipes at another and this time curved claws hook and rend flesh and feather. The buzzards retreat, leaving the black smoke in shambles. Turning upon trembling limbs, her sides heave, breaths uneven and staggered as she crumples beside beside her mother. It seemed as if something far larger than had gotten to the molly before the buzzards as she notes jagged scores across her hide and various puncture wounds.

A broken sob filled with anguish escapes her parted maw, face buried deep into the scruff of the warrior's neck. The hole in Tornado's heart once closed by the reappearance of her mother rips open once more never to be filled again. Her claws pierce the ground both as an outlet and to keep herself grounded, but it's far from enough. Guilt joins the mix, ears flattening in the process. "I'm sorry. This is my fault, it's all my fault." Had she stayed put all those months ago they never would have been separated. Snowmask never would have wasted her time searching for her. She wouldn't have needed to join shadowclan just to be with her daughter. "If I'd listened...you wouldn't have-" She starts but she cannot finish. ​

When I let it bother me, that's my problem​

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[Starlingheart]

Starlingheart was out on one of her many searches for herbs. Lately, it seemed like these searches were eventful in some way. Wether it was conversing with a StarClanner or something as simple as encountering a patrol on the borders or a new clanmate...

Tornadopaw's mother had not been here long. Starlingheart still remembers the day she had come to the border, how jealous she had felt that Tornadopaw's mother had come back to her. She wasn't jealous now though.

The smell of blood is what guides her paws swiftly to the smokes side, but when she sees Snowmask's body she knows her hopes of helping would only be in vain. She pauses for a moment, saddened eyes gazing upon the ivory fur tinted with red. She cant help but wonder if the same thing that had stolen her brother from her had taken her friend's mother as well. But the gashes are different, bigger.

"It's n-n-not your- not your fault" she says softly. It is something she needs to tell herself but it is easier to say to another then it is to believe it yourself, she knows that but she is not sure what else to say. "we-we sh-should we should take her b-b-back to camp so we can hold a uh a v-vigil and bury her" that way the buzzards couldn't keep eating her. She does not say those words aloud but it is implied as she casts her gaze back up to the sky where she can see the,m circling through the pines.

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[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

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they never forget the smell of death. it always seemed to be lingering... waiting. and when it hits, it's like a jolted memory. something that's too familiar and painful all at the same time. it isn't even a welcome one. it's filled with a sick sweetness that makes even the strongest of stomachs twist. they didn't wish for anyone to get used to it, but as cats of the wild, this was their reality. the sound of tornadopaw's outcry makes chilledstar tense. they quickly make their way over, wincing at the sight of it all. they gently nudge against starlingheart for a moment, before turning back to tornadopaw.

"she's right... it's not your fault at all. come... we will... we will give her a proper burial. alright?"

they usually wouldn't have dared to be so kind about this... but this was a more sensitive topic. tornadopaw needed a few shoulders to lean upon right now and as leader, they needed to be that for them. there was nothing more they could do. they moved closed, aiming to push tornadopaw upon her own paws, gently gesturing towards camp. it would never go away– the feeling of grief– but with a few pawsteps at a time... she would get past this. they all would.
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[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ The scent of death is always an unwelcomed thing. Spurring anxious emotions. Blood alway an indicator that something may have gone horribly and terribly wrong. Even now the lilac chimera doesn't know if he wants to see what just happened or what has happened. He wants to continue on his merry way but alas his paws wish to take him there. His mind formulating different scenerios of what he might actually see. A figure laying upon the ground, blood pool with a missing body. Who knows. And then he knows. Stepping carefully he sees what everyone else sees. Pale soft monochrome fur splashed with blood and viscera. It doesn't catch him off guard and oh how he hates the fact that it doesn't. He tries to suppress the laughter that threatens to spill from his throat. That nervous and anxious habit of his not needed now. Please not now. Swallowing hard he jerks his gaze from the body. "Yeah, yeah, I can carry her back and...well, you all know the rest."

Yeah, of course they knew all the rest. It has happened much tol frequently and he wishes another mother isn't the target again. They didn't need more of their youths without their parents. He knows that sting and reflexively he looks at Starlingheart, wanting to ask if she is okay.​

 

[Magpiepaw]

Silent and unblinking the black and white apprentice stares. Once again he finds it jarring to see a cat dead, not because of the loss of life but because of the significant difference in death that a body held. Limp, cold, heavy as stone, the soul kept a form lifted to walk with ease but once it had passed on it was left to sink to the earth, a weighted and gruesome thing attempting to rejoin the world from which it was born from. Magpiepaw is both fascinated and horrified by the implications. Heaviness meant to drag downward, the body yeilded but did the soul truly ascend? Did they gain their wings to reach StarClan or was he incorrect. Terrifying to think of, so he refused, his focus shifting to joining Starlingheart and Chilledstar, bumping into their limbs as he wobbled forward to reach Tornadopaw and a loping stomp of a movment pressed him forward to gently bump his head into her side. The other tom is volunteering to carry the body to camp, before the carrion birds can finish what the predator started but he does not move out of the way. Not yet.
"We are never in control of fate. Things happen we can not stop, no matter your strength. Please don't cry, her wings will be beautiful. I think white, with black tips."
He longs for his own one day, but he had promised Starlingheart to not seek it sooner than time would allow. Death came for them all eventually anyways. Why rush the process for a chance to fly when the world down low was so interesting and unique. "Flowers. We can pick flowers. You and me, we can get some. Where she lay will be nice."
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[Tornadopaw]

If you don't like me, that's your problem

The voice of Starlingheart barely registers, still too wrapped up in the shock of it all to fully comprehend what was said. However, Chilledstar repeats the phrase in their own way and for some reason she cannot bring herself to agree. It was in fact her fault. Neither one of their lives would have ended up this way if she'd stayed nestled within the nook of gnarled tree roots. "She didn't deserve this." Tornado voices after some time, tone shattered as she is manipulated to her paws by the dual toned leader. Chittertongue offers to move the body towards camp and her jaw quivers, stumbling away as Chilledstar leads the way back to camp. Another nudge gathers her spacy attention long enough to spot Magpiepaw in the midst of her mental fog. Flowers, he was proposing they gather some for Snowmask's vigil. Truthfully all she wanted right now was to be alone, to have her time to grieve. But she owed the ivory molly this and as painful as it were it would be her final gift to her mother. Words were no longer something she could muster, instead she gives a shallow nod of her head. ​

When I let it bother me, that's my problem​

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