sensitive topics I TOOK NO TIME TO TAKE CARE [ ✦ ] grief

[Starlingheart]

tw: Starl is not in a good headspace at all and is very much grieving

For a long time after the confrontation she could not bring herself to face the medicine cats den. To go into a place she had shared with her mate since she was much younger than now and look upon the nest that up until yesterday they had shared and to know that they would never share it again. He was not dead, but he may as well be. The Granitepelt she had thought she knew was gone and as much as she could beg and plead she knows that will never change, that he was never really there to begin with because he had killed her brother a long time ago and really she knows that she had lost him long before that.

She spent that night outside, alone, looking up at the star-filled sky with tears in her eyes, her gaze sweeping over the heavenly landscape in search of a certain star. If WindClan was not a threat she would run straight to the moonstone, run until her paws split open and bloodied that sacred ground and her sides were heaving, until her body felt like it was on the verge of collapse. She would go there and she would press her nose to that familiar cold stone and she would beg forgiveness from her brother, from her mother, from Ghostpaw and Poppypaw and Tornadopaw. Beg to be absolved for loving the wrong person and not knowing this whole time.

I'm a damned fool

Dawn breaks over the horizon and finally that is when she rises. Her bones ache from sitting in one place for too long, her neck sore from peering up at the sky all night searching for answers that were not there. Her eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep but still she turns them to the medicine cats den. She wonders just how many ghosts could fit in one space alone. Finally though, she is brave enough to pass the threshold. Or at least she thought she was. The second her eyes fall on the nest that she had shared with her mate - with a killer she stumbles forward and then collapses onto her forelimbs and from her jaws a single mourning wail escapes and then she breaks out into sobs all over again, paws moving to cover her eyes as she lays hunched in the entrance of her den. how could you? she thinks over and over again, the words replaying in her mind like a chant. How could you have ever loved him? How could you do this to me? How could you do this to us?. Because he loved her he had said. He had killed so many cats she cared about in her name and if he had not been found out she wonders just how many more lives he would have taken from her.

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[FORESTSHADE]

The cry of the medicine cat stirs many from their sleep, Forestshade included. She slips out from the warriors den, expression somber as her ears train on the wailing from the herb-stained den. She can’t even begin to imagine what Starlingheart is going through. Forestshade had a mate once, if she could even call him that. The father of her kits, it had been brief and fleeting and a whirlwind of feelings before he broke it off. And now he lays dead in the ground somewhere, she’d heard through the grapevine, buried she assumes in WindClan’s moors.

But that hadn’t been love. Forestshade has never been in love like the she-cat sobbing before them all has. Her ears falling back, the torbie slowly approaches, hesitant in her steps but unwilling to leave her alone. They’d never been…friends, but their kits grew up together, they’d been queens together. That counts for something.

“Starlingheart,” She offers, voice gravelly as she has yet to fully wake up. What do I do now? “Um….can I do anything? Catch you breakfast?” Her tail swishes uncertainly against the floor; she really isn’t well-versed in things like this, but sympathy rolls off her in waves. She can’t do nothing.​

 

[NIGHTSWARM]

TO BE NORMAL IN A WAY I COULDN'T BE — Nightswarm awakes at the cries of their sister feeling their heart aching in the slightest for her, they push themselves to their paws from their nest and stifle a soft groan. Admittedly, they struggled to find sleep as of late especially with a large feline missing from the warriors den and Night spares a glance to the empty nest wondering where he had gone but shakes their head deciding that they would not linger on that but rather focus on their younger littermate. They give their chest a quick lick before slipping out from the warriors den to see that Starlingheart had not only woke them up but Forestshade, their ear flicking to the side as the molly offers to catch their sister breakfast. The coal furred tom would walk over to press against Starlingheart's side only to rest their head gently on her shoulder giving a few comforting licks of their tongue.

"Do you want some water?" He inquiries quietly to her with a small frown on his maw, he was doing his best in not coming off awkward, and comforting his younger sister even if in the depths of his mind, he hopes for either of her kits or their other littermates to arrive. Her eyes bloodshot and concern paints his facial features as he presses his nose into her head.

SO C'MON, C'MON ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ AND LOVE ME NORMALLY

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• 
  ✧ longhaired black feline with fiery amber eyes
  ✧ afab; goes by he/they pronouns
  ✧ 34 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ✧ asexual demiromantic ; not interested in anyone
  ✧ child of briarstar and amber
  ✧ sibling to to chittertongue, pitchstar, skunktail, lilacfur, and starlingheart
  ✧ currently mentoring nettlepaw
  ✧ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✧ peaceful powerplay allowed

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[FLINTWISH]

It hurts to see Starlingheart this way. Flintpaw is down one parent in no uncertain terms, but perhaps he has lost the other one to her grief. Her pitiful sobs ring out through camp, through the medicine cat's den he can no longer bear to sit in, through the bracken that fortifies the walls of his own dwelling, resonant through the pounding ivory of his very skull. Flintpaw had not slept much, either, though his restless evening had been thanks moreso to anxiety than mourning.

Still, he trudges from his place to her side, dull eyes narrowed. So far, Forestshade was being kind — that much he can be grateful for. He expects similar kindness from Nightswarm. But Flintpaw would personally vet any other ShadowClanner that dared approach his mother in her grief; himself in his own. He would judge their intention single-pawed, would ensure that any word that dared rolled off their tongue would only be kind. He would not allow it to be any other way. Starlingheart has suffered enough — she will be spared from any suffering a la carte.

Vigilance gathers the fur on her shoulders into short, ruffled spikes. Flintpaw touches his nose to Starlingheart's shoulder, silent but present all the same. If he knew the nest had been the source of her grief, he would have shredded it to pieces, but it remains mercifully untouched for now.

𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 ✧ 𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

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• 
  
  — flintkit . flintpaw
  — he / they / she ; apprentice of shadowclan
  — short-haired solid blue tom with low white and blue/green heterochromatic eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — headshot by me, signature by dreamydoggo
  — penned by meghan

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[smogstar]

Grief is but the second contagion to consume this swamp over a miserably succinct timeframe. It lies in the mist and upon the very ground under their paws, and hangs in their noses like a foetid stink. It's ineludable, and it's incessant.

Were he of a nobler nature, or had done better to retain a righteous air about him, Smogmaw might've been equipped to soothe his clanmates' wounded hearts with words. As it stands, though, he's no noble soul, and there's no comfort he could possibly offer that wouldn't feel hollow to some capacity. Everything has taken on a certain hollowness, lately. Hauling Granitepelt from the leader's den and ousting him from the clan (in full view of his kin, no less), and the spiel he'd delivered during the discussion—it'd felt superficial, like it hadn't held true to the sentiment beneath it.

Insincere. Yeah, that's a better word to describe it.

Starlingheart's grief is utterly foreign to him. To learn such horrible truths about her beloved, how he'd deceived her in so despicable a fashion, it cleft her heart and severed something integral to who she is. It must be hell. Though he finds little to no relativity within himself concerning her turmoil. Her ex-mate yet lives, and therein lies the distinction.

Knowing that she'll never lay her eyes on him again - and if she does, it'll be upon a withered shell scarcely resembling the cat she once adored - is not a mercy, nor is it punishment. It's just different. A different kind of pain. A different measure of loss.

Such is why he abstains from giving the same consolation as Forestshade and Nightswarm. Lingering just beyond the warrior den's brambles, Smogmaw endeavours only to remain as a passive observer. Eyes sidelong, ears alert. He cannot piece the words together. They'd ring like a lie; false and fraught with hypocrisy. Chances are, she and Flintpaw have no interest in hearing from him anyways. ​

 

[Starlingheart]

To no surprise, her wailing has attracted spectators. Cats she is vaguely aware of stand over her, concern in their eyes, in their voices. Forestshade asks what is wrong and her brother asks if she wants anything and immediately the flood gates open, she explodes. "Its-its this nest this-this damned nest" she chokes out between sobs. "How am I-how am I supposed to- to sleep here in this- in this nest that I shared with him? In this- in this nest I slept in while he- while he killed my best friend right- right in front of me. This nest where-where he came to sleep after killing Pitchstar, after-after killing Ghostpaw?" How am I supposed to sleep in a den so full of ghosts? She cannot stop herself from crying any less than she can stop herself from breathing. It is all just too much. Granitepelt had been the cat she was meant to spend the rest of her life with. He had been there since the beginning, his presence such a prominent memory of her first days alone in the medicine cats den. She had never been alone in her nest in here before.

And then a nose presses softly into her shoulder and she looks up with tear filled eyes at her son. Her beautiful son and her gaze softens, her sobs grow quieter. "Oh Flintpaw.." she says, her voice so filled with sadness "Im so-so glad you and- you and Nettlepaw are here. If anything good came-came out of your wretched father it is-it is that I have you and your siblings thanks to him" and she rests her head on top of hers, closes her eyes and cries quietly, no longer sobbing but the tears still flow freely onto her cheeks, the pain of it all still twists her heart like moss being wrung out to dry.

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[SINGEGLARE]

*+:｡.｡ He's not unfamiliar with sobbing. He's made his fellow kitten cry more times than he has digits on all four of his paws! It's an annoying noise, crying. It makes his spiky ears flatten and his head hurt, and in more than one occasion he's gotten cuffed over the ears for telling cats to shut up! But this kind of crying is different. It doesn't make his head hurt, but it pulls at something deep in his childish chest, makes his skin crawl and his body feel cold. It's an awful noise, but not in the way spiders clawing along den walls or crickets rubbing their ugly little legs together is. This noise hurts.

Singekit can't help but investigate. This time, his paws don't stomp the ground with a vengeance for attention, but instead scamper quietly, uncertainly, as he pads his way over. He walks a few fox lengths, pauses to judge Smogmaw's reaction, walks a few more, pauses again, and repeats. Eventually, he sidles up beside the deputy, aquatic blue eyes narrowed with wary but aching curiosity. He looks upon the larger tabby tom for ideas on what to do and information on what is allowed. Smogmaw just stands there like a statue, a willow that hangs protectively over a marshy pond, keeping the chaos hidden beneath the murk protected with its shade but doing little to ripple the water itself. But the quiet presence doesn't stop the sobbing.

Singekit's ears flatten against his skull as on and on it continues. Heavy breaths and stuttering words, a pain Singekit doesn't understand filling the air with a music he dare not touch, lest he break the fragile calm by doing so. Especially when he doesn't understand what it is about this situation that feels so...breakable. He doesn't understand grief, doesn't know yet about betrayal, and frankly, he doesn't think he ever wants to know!
But finally, he mustered up the courage to whisper one question at least.

Quietly, and only for Smogmaw's ears, Singekit asks, "What...what do we do if it's the medicine cat who's hurting...?" he mulls over his question, before looking up at his deputy with wide eyes, "How're we supposed to help her?"

*°:⋆ₓₒ Updated 11/12/23

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• 
  
  
  
  GENERAL:
  ⚙ Singekit
  ⚙ Cismale — He/him — Questioning sexuality
  ⚙ 1 moons — Ages 1 moon every month on the 2nd
  ⚙ NPCx NPC (brother to Swallowkit)
  ⚙ Shadowclan — Kit
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ⚙ Physically easy | mentally easy
  ⚙ Attack in bold ruddy
  ⚙ Can be power played just ask
  injuries: None currently
  

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[Frostbite]

Frostbite cannot imagine what Starlingheart is going through. He doesn't even know where to start trying. If he were in her position, he thinks he'd go into a frenzy, a grief stricken, violent frenzy to avenge his lost friends and clanmates. But Starlingheart is not like him. She is not violent, she is not a beast that thirsts for the blood of those who've wronged her.

She is soft and kind, truly the best of Shadowclan. And to see her like this, it hurts Frostbite's heart more than any wound can.

He closes his eyes. What is there to say? Nothing he can say will help. He approaches quietly to those gathered around Starlingheart and sits nearby as to not crowd her further. She speaks of her nest, now poisoned by Granitepelts lingering presence. She cries her heart out and Frostbite almost wants to cry with her.

"We can change your nest." He offers gently. "Make you a new one that isn't full of tainted memories."

He hopes a change of nest will help ease her pain. It will be her nest, all hers, and not polluted with the dying scent of a monster.​

 

[MISTMOON.]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Tears cause elongated ears to perk and a masked-face to swing in direction of such sounds. Grief? Mistmoon questions, trying to put a name to this crushing feeling that wafts from the medicine cat den so heavily, like flood waters threatening to drag many more down with it. Perhaps she'd, one day, succumb to such a feeling, when one she cares for and dotes upon were to turn traitor, or, worse, leave the very plane she is roaming. And perhaps that thought of how would she feel in such a situation, as hypothetical as it is, causes her to glide over wordlessly on her tufted paws, coming to hover curiously behind the rest of her clanmates as they attempt to comfort the poor grieving young molly. Mistmoon sniffs, her eyes focused entirely on Starlingheart's tear-stained, twisted features, studying the signs of grief like they perhaps held some sort of deep-seated answer to a question she'd been asking for so long.

She turns her head to Frostbite as he offers to change Starlingheart's nest, giving the alabaster cat a tilt as she softly murmurs, "The memories would still be tied there... a scent can change... but can you change the meaning the den holds as easily?" Her tone is pondering, as though genuinely asking if such a thing were possible. If they can stop Starlingheart from crying, can change the entire meaning this den stands for to her, then perhaps grief is as easily flitted as anger or mere sadness. Can they change that grimace into that soothing smile that Starlingheart gives so easily? These questions turn her monochromatic eyes back to the black and white she-cat as she stands quietly, going right back to observing how one behaves to losing someone so important to them.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── BELIEVE ME, DARLING ☽◯☾ THE STARS WERE MADE FOR FALLING ──┐‎

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  SPEECH
  

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• MISTMOON ✩ she/her;they/them;it/its, warrior of shadowclan, 13 moons old
  ⭃ Small black cat with wispy fur and white mask on face and tips of front toes.
  ⭃ important relationships on this line / / family, mate, apprentice, kids, whateva!
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by Angelkisses ↛ @Angelkisses on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[FORESTSHADE]

Forestshade’s ears flatten against the choked sobs of the medicine cat. Others offer water or ask questions, but the torbie stands silently for a moment, trying to think of what she can do to help. Her tail flicks Singekit’s shoulder briefly, muttering, “You shouldn’t be in here, kid. Get back to the nursery.” Blind eyes still facing downward, she pads forward to now stand next to Frostbite, expression scrunched. “Let’s shred the thing,” She offers with a tone of malice in her voice, tail lashing once, twice. She’d gladly destroy any evidence that the tom had ever been here.

The young warrior can’t help but grimace in response to Mistmoon, her ears twitching in frustration. “Oh yeah, very comforting. Thanks for that, Mistmoon.” Her voice drips with sarcasm as she whirls around towards the nest and stalks towards it, but waits for Starlingheart to say something before doing anything else.​