sensitive topics IS SHE A LOST EMBRACE? ♱ death

[cygnetstare]

// tw: death, mentions of blood and gore

She looks surprisingly normal.

It couldn't have hit her too hard, since there's no mess of viscera—almost unfortunate, for she no doubt would have enjoyed such a death—no great gouts of blood and insides on the pavement around her. Just a small halo of blood sprayed around her head where it hit the asphalt just by the Thunderpath's edge.

Their kits had just been apprenticed (finally, finally, finally), and since that distinctive rotting scent trail snakes out from a tunnel entrance until it's overwhelmed by the stench of tar, one could only assume this had been a foray out. A testing of the waters, so to speak, a rediscovery of the tunnels that had been so familiar before the nursery had, quite by accident, become her home.

It's anyone's guess what made her want to cross. She certainly can't answer now.

Does it really matter? What's left is a thin black - and - white body curling into itself onto the pavement, blood running down its chin, sides long still, pink eyes gone blank.

// i've made the decision to say goodbye to cygnet, i think she's past her time as a character i still want to write and i wanted to give her a proper death. i will miss you all in windclan (for now) and i rlly enjoyed playing her as long as i did! </3

"speech"

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[SCORCHSTAR]

CW for descriptions of blood / gore



༄༄ The thunderpath is a place the calico normally avoids—it is too risky to approach from aboveground. Too many cats have been sent straight to the stars on this path, good cats. Even the nine lives of a leader could not protect a cat from the wrath of a monster, she knows. She had seen the splattering of Briarstar’s innards across the night-black asphalt, had heard of the shadowed queen’s demise. But today, as she slinks through tunnels with caution, her nose is assaulted with the strong scent of blood. Its iron tang floods her senses, and although she can’t be certain, she has a sneaking suspicion of what she will find when she ascends from the darkness of the tunnels.

It must be some kind of prey, she thinks. Murdered by a monster and left alongside the road—carrion, unsuited for cats to eat. Useless now, food for the vultures and nothing else. "What now," she mutters, voice dull even to her own ears. For a moment she considers ignoring it, moving on further down the tunnel. After Gracklestep, after Bluepool… does she want to see more traumatic death, even of something like a hare? But carrion will attract birds of prey, so it is imperative that WindClan be aware of whatever lies dead at the edge of their territory.

She pulls herself from the tunnel, draws closer to the thunderpath—and there she sees it.

Her stomach turns, bile rising in her throat. The body that lies at the side of the road is not some carrion, some piece of prey. Albino fur stands out starkly against the oily path, shaded in familiar patches of black and a sickening red splash. Not. Not now. Not after… The deputy takes a staggering step forth, her heart crashing to her paws. "No. No, Cygnetstare…" The warrior’s kits had only just been named apprentices, had only just begun their journeys to warriorhood. Cygnetstare had only just been relieved of her nursery duties. She had… she had so much more to do, so much to return to. They all did.

Scorchstreak stands still as a stone, one dappled paw hovering over her friend’s unmoving flank. She does not look at their face, cannot bring herself to. But she can’t… can’t bring Cygnetstare back to camp on her own.

☽♰☾ IT WAS WAR, IT WASN’T FAIR

• ooc: —
• 
  SCORCHSTREAK ❯❯ she/they, deputy (tunneler) of windclan
  ༄ small, slim flame-streaked calico with fiery golden eyes. cold and closed-off, ferociously protective of her clanmates. rarely seen aboveground.
  ༄ mate to bluepool ; sibling to rattleheart & rabbitclaw
  ༄ mentor to pinkpaw
  ༄ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ༄ penned by foxlore

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[FEATHERSPINE]

Being a moor runner was just like being an apprentice, a profoundly disappointing reality. Childishly, maybe, Featherspine had thought strength would barrel into him as soon as he received his warrior name. Had thought it would be easier to fathom everything- her claws could touch and shield those she cared about from every disaster. She would loom over every Clanmate, steel-faced and iron-willed, and would never falter- and he would never tire.

If only. And to think of that magical reality now seemed foolish.

The wind carried with it the scent of death- her ability had been honed very sharply by her mentor and by tireless practice, but something that distinctive even the most foolish apprentice would be able to instantly seize the meaning of. Blood is a sickly, sticky smell that tacked to the roof of your mouth- and it was not prey blood, Featherspine knew that for certain, even before he caught sight of crimson matted into dashed albino. Thickly, she swallowed.

To Scorchstreaks side, the marble-striped tom slowly drew. In her eyes stormed a squall of uncertainty, disgust, sadness and pity. Bile threatened to crawl up her throat, burning the sides- but he resisted. Claws sprung from snowy prisons and sunk into the churning earth. THe ground felt as if it writhed as adder coils did. "Is it... is it safe to get her...?" Featherspine did not look at Schorchstreak as he murmured it, automactic, robotic. "She needs a burial." Look to the future, look to the future... forget what was falling apart now. ​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[BLUEFROST]

Like Scorchstreak, she smells the tang of death on the air long before she sees the body. Bluefrost is silent as she pads after the tricolored deputy, quiet even as she is borne into the aboveground and sets green eyes across a crimson-splashed white body. Featherspine is nearby, crouched at the edge of the Thunderpath with grief-glazed yellow eyes. The tunneler had been a staple in her life, in WindClan, and had even recently seen her kits apprenticed. She'd only just returned to duties, and Bluefrost has to admit it's a shame she's met StarClan so soon.

"We must be brave, or she will be battered to pieces by monsters," she murmurs in response to the younger warrior. "A WindClan cat—a tunneler—deserves better." She sighs, her muscles tensing. There are no monsters coming; she can tell by the lack of vibrations in her paws, by the lack of burning scents in the air.

With a leap, she plants her paws onto the Thunderpath; the asphalt is hot, tarry, and it burns the flesh of her paw pads. She hurries, sinking her teeth into the foul, bloated scruff of Cygnetstare's neck, and begins to haul her back to safety. Just before she reaches the far side of the Thunderpath, she begins to feel a familiar shake in the earth. She squints, heaving with all her strength, until she just tumbles back over the edge of the road.

Cygnetstare collapses stiffly into an ebony-and-snow pile by her side.

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

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 16 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan warrior. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

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[SCORCHSTAR]

༄༄ Dulled eyes look down at the corpse of another close friend, not understanding—not wanting to understand. She still avoids those empty eyes that will not stare back, will not register the calico form standing over her body. They will never see their kits become warriors as Scorchstreak has—and their kits will not have a parent left in the world to watch them become warriors. But Scorchstreak can make a promise, here and now. I will protect them in your stead, my friend.

Pale fur brushes against her paw as Bluefrost pulls the body—pulls Cygnetstare—back from the thunderpath. She blinks, freed from her stupor. There is a rumbling beneath her paws, and suddenly she is all too aware of where she stands. The glinting silver hide of a monster flashes in her mind. How long had she stood there, motionless in her horror? How long would it have taken before a monster struck her as well, tore her from this world along with her friend? The deputy’s teeth clench, and she takes a stiff step back from the path. She shakes herself off, whirling to face Featherspine and Bluefrost. "Help me," she croaks out, leaning down to grip whatever piece of her friend that she can in her jaws. She says nothing more before beginning to lift, an attempt to carry the other cat—pleading golden eyes look to the other two WindClanners. She can’t just… leave them here. They need to be buried, just as Featherspine says.

☽♰☾ IT WAS WAR, IT WASN’T FAIR

• ooc: —
• 
  SCORCHSTREAK ❯❯ she/they, deputy (tunneler) of windclan
  ༄ small, slim flame-streaked calico with fiery golden eyes. cold and closed-off, ferociously protective of her clanmates. rarely seen aboveground.
  ༄ mate to bluepool ; sibling to rattleheart & rabbitclaw
  ༄ mentor to pinkpaw
  ༄ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ༄ penned by foxlore

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