sensitive topics if you wait for me - intro and death

[owlpaw.]

"don't be biting tails, little one."

a coo of words he hardly understands. he had caught the swishing tail between two small paws, gnawing happily with tiny teeth. a chocolate paw reached forward to gently bowl the kitten on his side, and was met with pinpricks of claws battling the paw.

a small chuckle came from mama, followed by coughing.

it had seemed that after a day of simply smelling weird, a sour scent that owlkit was too young to understand. another not mama came to feed him, "I'll take care of him, Dewchaser. Please, take care of yourself. Ravensong will help you, you can't stay with him.. You have to get better."

"I'll get better, I have faith." Her voice was hardly the same, always so tired now. She just kept sleeping.

he felt uncomfortable curling up to not mamas side, tilting his chocolate and silvered head to question where mama was. he'd not seen her, he didn't understand why she left.

he had flipped, his mood was more rambunctious, hiding the fact that without his mother he was simply scared. "You not mama. I need mama."

Snot nosed face, and crocodile tears would follow as he couldn't comprehend the word 'sick'. He didn't care if she was sick- he wanted her. Where was she?

And now, he seen her, his nose sniffing a long a sweet scent, mismatched eyes looking curious. "Mama. Miss you- play." But there was not the familiar purring. There was a rancid smell under neath the sweet scent of herbs. "Suns out! No sleep," he whined, pawing her side. The small body of a kit barely two moons had escaped the nursery at the sight of his mother who had been gone a week. It was definitely a long game of hide and seek.

"Mama, what's.. wrong?"

​

 

[SWIFTFIRE]

I'VE LEARNED LOVE IS LIKE A BRICK — Death. It seemed to be following Riverclan like a ghoulish shadow these days, ever present and watching - waiting for the chance to strike again. Leafbare was a silent agent of death, working to whittle down strong cats through a battle of attrition. They'd all been doing their best to fight against it - and had at least been blessed with a relatively mild season this time - but certain threats would always linger. Starvation. Sickness. Especially sickness that preyed on the weakest among them, the cats that were already fighting to keep not only themselves but their family alive and well. That was part of why the queens were always fed first, Riverclan as a whole hoping to build their strength and make sure the mewling bundles in the nursery weren't left without parents to guide them into their future.

Certain things just couldn't be wholly prevented though, and it seemed as though Dewchaser had been the latest victim of death's ghastly influence. Swiftfire hadn't known her well - had only seen the queen during her brief trips into the nursery to deliver food - but losing any clanmate felt like claws being dug directly into her heart. There wasn't even anyone to be furious at this time, knowing that Ravensong had likely done everything possible to try and save her. It wasn't something as simple as a rogue attack, where blame could be put to a face and a life that would be snuffed out in revenge.

Sadness filled her usually bright green gaze as she watched over the corpse, a body decorated with herbs that would need to be put to rest before long. Her jaws parted to speak - to talk with others present, or say a small prayer for Dewchaser's spirit - only for a confused and tiny voice to whine from nearby. Swiftfire glanced down at Owlkit, an almost strangled noise erupting from the back of her throat when she realized the poor child's confusion. "Oh. Oh no. Little one... your mama is with Starclan now. She's not... you should be in the nursery." She didn't quite know how to handle things, unsure of how to tell someone so young that their mother would no longer be around. Doing it in the right way felt impossible, but letting Owlkit stay and see her drained of life felt worse than anything else.

YOU CAN BUILD A HOUSE ✿ OR SINK A DEAD BODY

• 
  ✧ shorthaired blue and red tabby chimera molly with green eyes
  ✧ 38 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ✧ bisexual; currently not looking
  ✧ daughter of lilou and germaine
  ✧ formerly of the ripple colony; loyal to riverclan
  ✧ easy to befriend; desperate to improve the former colonists' reputation
  ✧ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✧ peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[RAVENSONG]

Ravensong had just finished mingling the mint in Dewchaser's coat. The smell of death was unrelenting, and no matter how often it occurred, Ravensong had never quite gotten used to it. He knew she was raising a kit, and he found himself stalling on providing the news to the family. Only a moon or so ago he had prepared mint and funeral rites for a little baby. That had been the worse burial. And yet, he thought, as his fur spiked up in surprise when Owlkit managed to toddle his way over to his passed mother, he decided burying a mother in front of a baby was just as disheartening.

"It's fine, Swiftfire." He mews, surprising himself with a sudden change of mind. When he was younger, he might have wanted to shoo the kit away, but it must be the heavy gloom that seems to follow him around ever since Dovethroat's disappearance that he becomes more relaxed to letting the young know of the world's brutal truths.

"She's gone." He repeats, crouching to be eye-level with Owlkit. "Do you see these leaves?" He snags mint in his claws and leaves it on the ground for Owlkit to investigate. "They are not healing leaves. They help ... give her back her sweetness." It always felt like a cruel jab that death had to end in such a smelly, undignified way. "You can say your goodbyes now, Owlkit. Here, use that leaf and weave it in her fur. I am sure she would have liked you to help."

☾₊ ⊹ темная ночь — dark is the night

•  
• 
  RAVENSONG of RIVERCLAN — LH BLACK POLYDACTYL MALE (CARRYING CINNAMON, DILUTE) a tall, slender creature with pitch-black feathery fur, large ears, and a sharply angled skull held up in an aloof manner. smells of dried herb, speaks with a low and rumbly accent and walks with an elegant slinking gait.
  
  — born in twolegplace and orphaned at a young age, he joined riverclan at its inception and began training as a drypaw warrior known for a bitter temperment until beesong made him his medicine cat apprentice. after his mentor's untimely death, he had been named ravensong at the moonstone, young heart revitalized with anger and guilt. he is a somber and thorough medicine cat that guards every word spoken in the confines of his den.
  
  — secretly loves "the stars but not so much what inhabits them" — openly suffers from chronic migraines — single, but "it's complicated"

​

 

[claythorn]

Claypaw normally didn't give much care to Riverclanned-blood's deaths. She did not know them- she didn't want to know them, because death came for them all. The rogues that had come for her had made sure she knew that from a young age. She knew well the scathing truth of the world. Owlkit did not. Owlkit made her throat close with emotion, her ears flatten against her head. Claypaw's own mother had not been worth mourning the loss of- though the loss was not tthe same.

Claypaw moved closer, sitting down in silent mourning. A queen lost was always tragic, regardless of how Claypaw felt about Riverclan, the politics, the drama, or death in general. None of it mattered, since a kit would be out a mother, lost in a world of grown-ups who didn't know how best to parent a kit that wasn't their own blood. Claypaw exhaled softly, sharing a look with Swiftfire as Ravensong spoke. "... Let me know if you need anything." The apprentice offered towards the medicine cat, because that's all she knew how to do.

The apprentice did not know how to mourn properly for someone she did not know. There were other cats in camp that were closer with this queen then her, for sure. But Claypaw would do her best to be respectful, regardless of how close she felt to the deceased.

✧　°　.　♦　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
  "yuh"
• 
  
  a large, lh chocolate torbie towering, nine moons old, she/her. well-build and muscled. a drypaw. former river colony cat.

​

 

[Feathergaze]

Dewchaser looked so peaceful in death. Even so, Feathergaze almost couldn't bear to look at her. All she saw was Icebloom, dull and faded and still. Disease was by far one of the crueler things the young molly had ever witnessed. She's... she's happy now. A poor comfort. An even poorer one once Owlkit had stumbled onto the scene. His confusion, his innocence was too much. Tears spilled from pale olive eyes as she leaned down to lick the child between his ears. What happiness can there be for her if she's had to leave her little one behind? StarClan, you didn't even let her say goodbye.

Ravensong was doing his best to be a comfort, to guide Owlkit's actions before Dewchaser was gone for good. Feathergaze felt lost, out of place. You need to stay. It was only right. It was time she dealt with feeling useless for once, rather than running away. She stepped back from Owlkit, leaving him to Ravensong. I'll take him back to the nursery after all this, she thought, sitting now beside Swiftfire. Then she watched on. Ravensong, who'd done everything a medicine cat is capable of. Claypaw, who looked just as unsure as the silver molly felt. Owlkit, the child who would be forced to learn how to live without a parent.
"Do you think... Do you think Dewchaser can see him?" Feathergaze murmured ever so softly to Swiftfire. "Do you think she would've wanted him to say goodbye, even if it meant seeing her like this?" She had been in the shoes of a mourning youth before. Her last moments shared with Icebloom were her most cherished ones. But what must it be like, to know you're leaving behind a hole that can never be filled?​

 

[owlpaw.]

q

Starclan was something mama talked about frequently. She made sure Owlkit knew that the stars up above were something to confide oneself to. Starclan was a comfort for Dewchaser.

Hearing Swiftfire say that his mother was with Starclan made his head tilt up towards her. She wasn't a star, she was... right here. She wasn't gone, as Ravensong had put it, she was right here.

But.. something else lingered in his stomach, a twisting feeling that made him drop his gaze from the two not mamas.

Gone.

that word lingered heavily on the kitten, watching the black furred not mama that smelled of flowers and pretty things guide something sweet and ask Owlkit to weave it into her fur. To say his goodbyes.

He knew heavily what goodbye meant, at least. But it was never forever, but his head sulked a little bit. "No g-goodbye!" He seemed to whine, his ears flattening. He didn't want to, he couldn't.

"Love mama! Mama... happy!" He said in his broken speech, voice heavy and shaky. Starclan made Mama happy. Owlkit made Mama happy- so.. mama was happy.

A defeated sigh escaped him, before looking up at the sky with pleading mismatched eyes, then back at Ravensong and the mint leaves. "Really... gone? Starclan... made sick?" He was trying to find a reason why. If mama loved Starclan so much... why did they make her sick? Why did they take her?

He looked to Ravensong with an expression as if he would know all the answers. Hoping, he could answer the questions he could not know how to ask.

​

 

[RAVENSONG]

An ear flicked backward toward Claypaw in acknowledgement. Unfortunately, there was nothing more to do at the moment. One more vigil would have to be done for Owlkit's mother. They had far too many of those now.

A paw curled over the remaining mint leaves as he left a few of them for Owlkit to use if he saw fit. He did not think his actions were inherently morbid, but the level of acceptance he was teaching the poor, impressionable young kit was not something a younger Ravensong would have thought he was capable of. The kits were innocent... they needed to be protected. He had always thought that, but now, with death lurking around every corner, he came to the realization that perhaps reality was the best coping mechanism.

His throat choked at the next words, but he could not afford to let his waning belief show now. "They know what they are doing." Ravensong replied. But even he was not sure of it.

☾₊ ⊹ темная ночь — dark is the night

•  
• 
  RAVENSONG of RIVERCLAN — LH BLACK POLYDACTYL MALE (CARRYING CINNAMON, DILUTE) a tall, slender creature with pitch-black feathery fur, large ears, and a sharply angled skull held up in an aloof manner. smells of dried herb, speaks with a low and rumbly accent and walks with an elegant slinking gait.
  
  — born in twolegplace and orphaned at a young age, he joined riverclan at its inception and began training as a drypaw warrior known for a bitter temperment until beesong made him his medicine cat apprentice. after his mentor's untimely death, he had been named ravensong at the moonstone, young heart revitalized with anger and guilt. he is a somber and thorough medicine cat that guards every word spoken in the confines of his den.
  
  — secretly loves "the stars but not so much what inhabits them" — openly suffers from chronic migraines — single, but "it's complicated"

​

 

[DAWNSTORM]

die with memories , not dreams .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He stared at the kit, words confused and it made something inside him twist in odd ways, so sharp that it stabbed into soft tissue. He had wondered that too, when he first learned about StarClan, confused and wondering if he was stepping on invisible cat tails that it nearly sent him up into a panic, apology hot on his lips that he doubted anyone would have thought he was sane. Or made he was insane, and no one told him. Was he?

Blinking, Dawnstorm gravitated toward the grieving kit, settling down on his haunches as he observed Dewchaser’s cooling frame. “Did not.” He answered Owlkit’s question, mismatched hues sliding to the tiny body, mint leaves intending to be woven into cold fur. “Wanted relief, tired from being sick.” His answer sounding choppy, unsure of how to comfort a grieving kit, confused about death, one Ravensong did his best to answer. “Didn’t want to leave.” He then added, brows creasing. “Starcaln relieved her from her illness—helped.” He blinked, peeling his gaze away from the corpse, plumed tail curling around his paws. “Still with you, but not here.” He voiced, wondering if he’d gotten it right.

“Need help?” He gestured toward the mint leaves, paw rising over his tail, claw poking out to touch one leaf, and then gesture to Dewchaser’s frame, ears angled in a tilt. ​

​

thought speech​

 

[owlpaw.]

They know what they are doing.

Those words seemed so... weird. And before the child could prod more, a tortie approached. Answering things is broken words just like his own. Easy to follow, to understand.

He did not understand relief, he understood tired though, and his head dropped a bit more, shuffling his paws uncomfortably. Starclan was only helping her... he had to understand.

"Yes.. help.." He responded softly, frowning as he stared at the mint leaves that the medicine cat laid before him. To help. between two claws, he'd pick a leaf up and set it on her chest, tears sliding down his cheeks. "Love... mama. Need mama... safe."

He choked back a sob, teeth gritting as he turned his head with his white paw remaining over the mint over her chocolate chest. "Mama, tell happy. Always happy. "

please, stay happy.

​