sensitive topics i can see your halo fall / bed-rotting

[Needledrift]

☾ CW: extreme depression, death, grief, (assumed) loss of a child, mentions of personal neglect, insect imagery

TL;DR Needledrift is curled up in her bed in the warriors' den, bed-rotting due to the depression of losing Chilledstar, Magpiepaw, Smogstar, Snowypaw, among others. You do not have to read the entire post to interact. She made a little noise and you can assume that your character has come to check on her in some manner because of that.

It was no secret that Needledrift had days that were worse than others. Her summer-storms drifted in and out of her psyche, the rain falling swiftly and then passing just as soon as someone noticed she had not eaten very much in the past week as the rainfall flooded her mind. She was, for all intents and purposes, a constant sieve, never quite shaking out the rocks and shards of flint that cut up her interiors as the water sloshed them around.

Usually, the rains would abate with a cuddle, or a cry, or a long talk with nobody in particular, but today... today a cuddle would not fix this. A cuddle would not fix any of it. Needledrift curled deeper into her nest today, her fur oily and dirty from weeks of disinterest, the beginnings of mats sitting at the base of her tail and the little place between her shoulders. Glassy green eyes stared forward, unable (or maybe... unwilling) to sleep, but too dry to cry. Ferndance had come and gone, setting small trinkets or bits of food beside their shared bed, and clearing away the bits when they had gone uneaten for too long and other warriors had begun to complain.

None had complained about Needledrift herself, not yet, not within earshot, though she felt that if she could read their minds, those sickening, awful insults would be sitting just at the forefront. Maybe if she could hear what the others were thinking, she could focus less on her own thoughts and more of the external, but unfortunately, her clanmates did not suddenly offer her omnipotence to abate the storm, and so it raged on, a constant bitter refrain of everything the little she-cat could not verbalize fully.

Magpiepaw was first, and Needledrift had stood, waylaid, her ears going numb until she heard nothing but cicada-buzz echoing between pinnae. She didn't know what to say, she hadn't had word to give when the clan was told, just the cold feeling that it was very, very unfair.

Then Snowypaw disappeared. Her sweet girl, her baby, the baby until the younger three were born. Her heart had been ripped out then, torn from her chest in one fell swoop. Distinctly (distantly) she remembered Ferndance laying beside her that night, her tongue rasping over her ears: we'll find her, she's not.... she.... The cicadas started again and whatever her wife was trying to say was drowned out by the white noise and grief. Their bed was a little bit colder after that.

Then Chilledstar was gone. Chilledstar was gone and in their final moments, Needledrift hadn't even been able to look them in the face and give them a goodbye. She had stood off in the background, her face buried in her nest, her paws clamped tightly around her ears SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP, believing that if she would just fall asleep then she would wake up in the morning and Chilledstar would be fine and she would have more time. They would have more time.

And now it was Smogstar. Maybe next it would be Ferndance, maybe Bonepaw, maybe Wheattail, all the while the cicadas would overtake her body and turn her into a shambling corpse of a woman with only white-noise in place of her soul. The thought alone made her whimper, and she shuddered violently in her bed of dirty moss, a few strangled sobs tearing their way out of her exhausted body. Her claws flexed against her face, reaching for her ears as the cicadas started again in her head. "Make it stop.... make it stop....."​

 

[MARBLEPAW]

The camp is awash with sorrow. It seeps from every discernible pore; the very earth is sodden with it. Marblepaw's own limbs feel heavy in the morning, sluggish — it as though time refuses to move, and yet it does, unrelenting, the sun ascending and falling behind the pines despite the rest of her body staying confusingly in place. The pale tawny she-cat works mindlessly beside Starlingheart, even as the camp buzzes quietly with talk.

"Smogstar is gone. Another leader, already gone." Eyes flash accusingly, though toward whom, Marblepaw does not know. She cannot know the way ShadowClan's very bones ache with loss. She cannot know the framework it had been built upon is thick with blood, with grief, with decay. Siltcloud had been a product of that, but so, too, had others who persevered, who remained stalwart in the face of agony.

Needledrift is one. She had always been kind to Marblepaw in the nursery, though she had remained standoffish toward the gentle queen. It's something she regrets. She had wanted her true mother, had wanted the draining cold of the Twolegplace, and her cousins' dam had seemed a poor substitute. But Needledrift had lost something of herself in recent moons. The she-cat has become reclusive in the face of death after death, disappearance after disappearance, and she rarely leaves the nest she shares with Ferndance in the warriors' den.

Marblepaw feels ShadowClan's hurt, and she yearns for something greater to heal it. She wants to ask Starlingheart, but her mentor's words ring through her head, echoing: "There are some things we cannot heal, no matter how much we want to." Is Needledrift's broken heart an example of this?

There isn't an herb that can bring all the she-cat has lost back, after all. There is no poultice that will fill the emptiness where Snowypaw had once been.

The medicine cat apprentice hears a weakened muttering from the center of the den, where ShadowClan's most respected warriors slumber. "Make it stop," Needledrift murmurs. "Make it stop." Marblepaw can't. She stares with helpless, frightened green eyes. "I'm here," she says, but she is not Starlingheart; there is no confidence behind her words, no real comfort. "I... I can get you something. Are you in pain?" She stares at Needledrift's matted pelt, at the fresh-kill languishing by her paws, and she feels as helpless as the first day she'd been apprenticed.

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

• ooc: —
• 
• Marblekit . Marblepaw, she/they w/ feminine and non-gendered terms.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — 8 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.

​

 

[Needledrift]

☾ Initially, Marblepaw is completely ignored. With her paws clamped tightly over her ears and the cicadas buzzing loudly in her mind, Needledrift can't focus on anything but the dull ache that the noise had brought with it. Her eyes squeezed shut against the mental onslaught, so tight that she might cry just from attempting to shut out any external stimuli. Make it stop, it's now an internal plea, a cry inwards to herself, to whatever was in her head. The cicadas quieted a little, their haze slightly clearing as another sound became more obvious. The dull ache remained, but beyond her paws, Needledrift sensed that tinkle of a little voice. One of her children, maybe? Or a kit?

She looked up at the newcomer with her glassy eyes, unspilt tears blurring the frame of Marblepaw's little body, turning all of her angles into softness. Too wrapped up in the misery of hunger, anger, and exhaustion, Needledrift can't even make an attempt at shame for her darkness or decline of health. Still, her voice (so distant... is that really how she sounds?) is soft when she can finally offer something to her niece: "I'm sorry. Was I too loud? I didn't mean to bother you... I don't want you wasting any of your free time on me." ​

 

[Bonechill.]

*+:｡.｡ Grief was such a violent thing despite it's unbearably silent nature. It weighed heavier than a felled oak tree and dug deeper than the fangs of an adder, poisoning but never truly killing. Bonepaw would've chosen death himself if he hadn't had more family keeping him up and going, losing Snowypaw had taken from him something he couldn't say he'd survive losing a second time. His poor mum on the other hand...Bonepaw couldn't imagine - he feared that if he tried to, he'd simply fall apart - the pain she was going through. Losing so many people...even with so many more right beside her - just as a million souls could never be enough to replace Snowypaw singular bright one, he'd assume the price would be just as infintesmally large for Needledrift, too. His kind, loving mother with a heart as soft as the downy feather he'd stuck to the fur of his neck.

He notices Marblepaw approach the warrior's den, where he doesn't doubt his mother persists. He hadn't seen her leave the den since he went on his first patrol that morning...nor had he seen her much the day before. Claws dig harshly into his chest, the realization of just how long he'd neglected his own mother making him sick to his stomach. No longer hesitating, the young man trots forward - rather, jogs - and catches the conversation just as it concludes.

There are no words to describe the devastation Bonepaw feels. Hearing Needledrift's words, the rasp as she speaks - the way her physique is no better, if not worse. Bonepaw chokes back a whimper. "There must be something you can give her" Bonepaw hisses at Marblepaw, keeping his voice low enough that only the medicine cat's trainee can hear. Although he has enough self-awareness to understand that it's illogical to blame everything on Marblepaw, a part of Bonepaw wants desperately to cuff the younger girl for just...just...standing there while his Mum wastes away!
But the fire leaves his spirit when he's reminded that he's, truthfully, no better.

Digging his claws into the soil, he blinks hard against the frustration that threatens to well up as dew upon his lashes. The pain he felt at Snowypaw's disappearance still throbbed in his soul, ever resilient against healing to the point where if anyone dared tell him it would be okay he'd likely take a life with his own two claws...what was there, then, to say to help Needledrift? Was Bonepaw meant to just...watch his mother die, slowly and painfully of a broken heart?

Fear suddenly compels him forward, driving him to lay at her side in an instant. He sets to work grooming at Needledrift's mats as he lays down beside her. Does he loom over his mother because he's outgrown her, or because the sickness of grief has stolen so much of her? The thought threatens to leave him in shambles, but he forces himself to rumble out a soft purr. An instinctive, wordless lullaby, the very same he often drifted off to when he was small and curled up against her belly.

"Ma, you need to come outside. Stretch your legs" voice catching to the back of his throat and coming up as a rasp for the effort it takes to peel the words free. He can't bring himself to push her any harder, however, so despite his plea, he continues grooming his mum. If nothing else, he'll stay right by her side. I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner.

*+:｡.｡ Updated 9/21/24

• 
  
  GENERAL:
  ☠ Shadowclan — apprentice
  ☠ DMAB— He/Him — Unsure
  ☠ 12 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
  ☠ Son to Ferndance x Needledrift
  ☠ Littermates with Bloodpaw, Shadepaw, Splashdance
  ☠ Half-brother to Gigglepaw, Morelpaw, Branchpaw
  ☠ Apprenticed to Nightwhisper
  
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ☠Physically easy | mentally hard
  ☠ Attack in bold #738171
  injuries: None currently

[/u]​

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[MIRESTAR]

Even the ever-jovial Mirepurr cannot always come up with something nice to say. It is an embarrassing thing to admit, how they had almost avoided Needledrift... endlessly cruel to not visit their friend every single day. Helplessness has turned Mirepurr into something they are not — but it is their own heavy sorrow that finally kicks them back into gear.

Needledrift deserves someone by her side. She has Ferndance, she has her kittens, she has the Clan itself; but no amount of loving hearts are enough when she is that deep in her turmoil. One more cannot hurt.

Hesitant pawsteps approach. Mirepurr's ear flicks as they hear the low mutterings of Marblepaw and Bonepaw — bless their hearts, for the way they do not cease care towards Needledrift. Marblepaw has been thrust into this new path of life at the worst of times... and Mirepurr is not certain that the experience she will no doubt gain will be worth it in the end. It must be heart-breaking to see your Clanmates waste away, mentally instead of physically, and know that there is next to nothing you can do about it.

"A stretch sounds good," Mirepurr says, nodding beside Bonepaw. Even if Snowypaw (Splashdance) cannot be here to aid her mother... at least the others can be present. "If you can't come outside, we can do it here. I don't like doing it alone." A sweet little lie to encourage Needledrift. Mirepurr tiptoes around her and flops right beside that too-used nest of hers, limbs trembling and claws unsheathing with a good stretch.
​

 

[MARBLEPAW]

Needledrift lifts her head, her eyes glassy with unspent tears. Marblepaw's own heart begins to flutter, as though it's become a butterfly trapped between her ribs. "I'm sorry. Was I too loud? I didn't mean to bother you... I don't want you wasting any of your time on me." Marblepaw remembers Siltcloud's heaving flanks, the ribs stark under her roughened coat, the blood expelled from her lungs when she coughed. She'd been sick inside — and Needledrift is, too, but in a different way — and Marblepaw's front feet begin to knead the earth.

"No," she murmurs. "Of... of course you aren't bothering me, Needledrift. Maybe I can..." She falters. She can what?

Bonepaw shoulders his way past her, his aggravation clear in the tilt of his ears and the flare in his earth-green gaze. "There must be something you can give her," he hisses, and Marblepaw's ears flatten helplessly against her skull. I don't know, she wants to tell him, but that isn't helpful, is it? Bonepaw is more helpful, in this instance. He goes to his mother and nudges her to her paws.

"Let me... let me check with Starlingheart," she murmurs. She gives Mirepurr a respectful nod, hoping to StarClan they hadn't heard Bonepaw's hissed words, and ambles away, back toward her mentor's den. Needledrift needs something, but perhaps it's the comfort of a son, of a missing daughter, of her leader — not the clumsy, ignorant paws of a she-cat who was never meant to walk this path, in truth.

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

• ooc: —
• 
• Marblekit . Marblepaw, she/they w/ feminine and non-gendered terms.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — 8 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.

​

 

[MORELPAW]

✧ . Loss after loss after loss, ShadowClan faces. The clan is in constant mourning, it feels. Those before him, those now. Friends and family. His mama shouldn't have to mourn so many, shouldn't have to mark another child's namesake as gone from her life with Smogstar's disappearance. And yet she does, yet that's the fate she's dealt. Her children too, in turn — for Morelpaw's list of faces to grieve only seems to grow with each passing day. It's not fair, that.

Does she mourn the loss of him and his littermates too? The loss of them at her side at all hours, the warmth they shared in the nest that once held the lot of them? Though excited for what was next, Morelpaw had cried mere moments before his apprentice ceremony — Morelpaw had feared leaving that nest.

And now, as his mother draws concern, the boy wonders: should he have stayed? Should he have stayed at his mother's side, so she wouldn't have to be so lonely?

She shouldn't have to be so lonely.

It's not fair that Smogstar disappeared, it's not fair that Snowypaw is gone, that Chilledstar is dead, that he and his siblings have to grow up. It's not, it's not.

As he steps into the warrior den, Morelpaw spots a pale-furred older brother beside Needledrift. The gray tom shifts, finds his place beside Bonepaw and mimics his actions, teeth burrowing into knots in a way he can only hope is correct.

His brother suggests that their mother needs to stretch her legs, and Morelpaw nods his head in agreement. It could be good for her, the fresh air.

" I can come with? " Morelpaw suggests, pausing his attempts to return his mother's fur to the soft state he remembers it once being. " And then, maybe we can share a meal together? Bonepaw too? "​

✦ ABOUT

• MORELPAW ✦ AMAB. He / Him. Apprentice of ShadowClan.
  ✧ . A blue tabby and white tom with pale, blue-gray eyes.
  ✧ . Needledrift x Chittertongue ; Adoptive son to Ferndance
  ✧ . Mentored by Briarthorn
  ✧ . Peaceful and healing powerplay permitted!
  ✧ . Penned by Abri ‣ @_abri_ on discord, feel free to dm for plots!
  ✧ . " Speech " ; Attack

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