love death birth - intro

[Dewfrost]

Her father is dead. Cold Wind has drawn his last breath.

The older tom now rests in the centre of camp, neatly groomed by his clanmates and with some spare flowers and herbs to mask the scent of death. The once proud ShadowClan warrior, and warrior of the Marsh Group before that, looks frail and old in death. He had lived eight full seasons in these lands but had been a strong and dependable fighter until recently. The lack of prey they had endured in leafbare had taken its toll on ShadowClan, but it seemed her father was one of the worst affected. Starvation had taken hold quickly and though prey had come more easily in recent weeks, Cold Wind had not been able to shake the effects.

Dewfrost sits not far from her father's body, eyes studying his form carefully, and a tail curled around her paws. He was not an easy cat to befriend or like but it's nice to see some clanmates saying words of rememberance to him and offering condolences to her. Dewfrost accepts them all with a weary smile, for once not trying to mask her true feelings, and allowing herself to grieve the loss of a parent. The one down side is that her mother is not here. She knows her mother prefers her privacy with such matters, but it still annoys her that Thistlefang is not by her side and sharing in this moment with her daughter and all clanmates.

Eventually, Dewfrost's ear twitches as a clanmate speaks up close to her. "I'm sorry what did you say again?" She mews in the other cat's direction, shooting them an apologetic glance for not having heard them the first time.​

 

[ROOSTERSTRUT]

❪ TAGS ❫ — This was, unfortunately, a scene all too familiar to the young warrior.

A father, mate, and friend was being mourned today. It feels wrong to immediately relate this situation to Roosterstrut's own misfortunes, but the orange tabby cannot help being transported back in time to the day of his father's vigil. He had been so young then, his mother breaking out into hysterics and others gently herding him away from the gruesome sight of Goose's mangled form while he managed to sneak a couple of curious glimpses. Roosterstrut found himself wondering what it would have been like for his parents to have lived long, fulfilling lives and dying from old age as opposed to other tragic circumstances.

Dewfrost had not heard him the first time, which he doesn't blame the she-cat for. Death was disorienting, as if everything were some cruel nightmare that you couldn't wake up from. "I'm sorry for your loss." Roosterstrut pauses for a moment, nearly tempted to tack on that he knew how she felt, but this wasn't about him. The only thing that they could all do for Dewfrost now is be there to comfort her if she needed it, or leave her be if she wanted space. "Cold Wind was a great warrior. We'll all miss him." The tabby tom meows softly, a gentleness gleaming in his round and heavy hues. Why must ShadowClan be plagued with such grief? Would they ever be able to truly find happiness once more?​

 

[Ravenwatcher.]

So I walk alone down the darkest roads​

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Death has always been an unfortunate thing, it takes what it wants and leaves many others in despair, yet why couldnt she mourn for those who were lost? She never cried when her mother died, murdered by a fox keeping it away from her as a kit before becoming a part of Shadowclan in itself. She did not mourn even when Pitchstar was murdered in cold blood and those around her had the loom of the darkness crease their face, she did not mourn. Her paws shuffled slightly as her gaze drift to Dewfrost wondering what it was like to be in this situation, to see your own parent lifeless, prepped for vigil and empty...she didn't know how it felt and Roosterstrut had begin to comfort the other.

Her gaze drifted back dowards to the lifeless body before sighing gently and her cold ocean-blue eyes softening a bit before looking over at the two and making her approach. "He lived a long life and he got the chance to see his family grow. Now he'll watch from the stars and your journey. I am sorry for tbe one you lost of course but know he is still here in your memories and heart" Ravenwatcher said calmly, not one to comfort but alas Ravenwatcher thought of the words her mother would have told her, and how even then her mom would express that she'd always will live on in her memories and that was something Ravenwatcher grasp on dearly in her heart. Though her face was stone and apathetic she did feel empathy for Dewfrost and for that of who she lost. ​

"speak""Thoughts"​

 

[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ He wonders for a moment as he hears words of condolences if anyone has ever been that kind to him. His mind thinks back to his father's death and then flies to his mother's before ultimately finding purchase with that of his brother's. No, he doesn't remember it. Doesn't remember kind words but he doesn't find any agony with that. Yet his smile is strained tight and he looks to what used to be Cold Wind and his maw parts. Unthinking words are blurting out of his maw. "At least he is intact. No missing bits to cover up. That's the best part." His voice sounds tense and he narrows his eyes for a moment. Yeah, that's the best part. No twisted limbs, no torn open throats.
It's clean. With a smaller grin, a smaller huff he steps back from the gathered cats whom sit vigil for a warrior lost. Too much of scene that is too familiar. He wishes. They could all have happiness. Maybe one day they will get a fair hand in all of this.

For now, he supposes they must suffer their dues. He hopes his mother is happy. Yeah. He just hopes because that is all be can do. No more death unless it is old age. No more. ​

 

[✧ Siltcloud.]

WHAT AN EXPENSIVE FAKE
siltpaw | 09 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally easy | attack in bold #ddadaf

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Siltpaw is unaccustomed to consoling others. It is not something she thinks much about. Her only experience lies in ignoring whatever the hell is going on with poppypaws mother - that utter fox-heart - and those silent days spent in the nursery with nettlepaw in grief. In both situations, she'd cared considerably more about herself and the impact on her life. Cold Wind... is all but a stranger. Another faceless shadowclanner who had probably whispered behind her back as a child just like the rest. And just like the rest, she will not grieve his loss in any real way. She stares blankly at the group, dull green gaze observing as she gives a respectful nod - out of expectation really. Flickerfire, pitchstar, cold wind... they're all just dead bodies at the end of the day. Food for the worms. "...Sorry for your loss," One less mouth to feed - one less soldier to go to war. Whatever.

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[Dewfrost]

It was Roosterstrut who had spoken, reiterating that he was sorry for her loss. She looks at him carefully for a long moment before nodding stiffly. "Thank you," She mews.

After Roosterstrut, more cats approach, offering more words of condolences and telling her he was a good warrior, though Chittertongue is notably blunt in his remark about Cold Wind still being intact. Well, there was that she supposed. His body might have been rendered weak from the effects of starvation but he could have died in worse ways. Crushed by a monster, poisoned to death, or torn apart by vicious animals. "My father would be touched at your words," Dewfrost says, glancing around at the cats present. Perhaps not openly, of course, but he would have basked in this attention in his own way. "I am sorry my mother chose not to share in our grief today. Know that she does not do so out of spite but because she will grieve in her own way, away from the eyes of others."​

 

[smogstar]

Death itself imbues the air in this swamp. It is like a curse, or an ever-present omen, hanging over the heads of ShadowClan cats at every moment of their being. Lingering in the stagnant pools, plaguing the dew-drenched soil beneath their very paws, the miasma of death holds a stubborn grip on this StarClan-forsaken terrain. Rainshade. Flickerfire. Pitchstar. Snowmask. A modicum of those who've succumbed to the land and the perils which lie within. Their names echo in whispers among the surviving members of the clan, and the sight of a ruined body in the heart of camp portends a similar fate for Dewfrost's father.

Dark-smeared limbs would amble towards the congregation of clanmates. The deputy's eyes, sunken and sullen, skim over the faces nearby. It comes as no surprise that the pervading mood is dismal—a clanmate lost, another life cut short by the unforgiving conditions here, comes as an utmost reminder of the difficult lives they lead. Perhaps Dewfrost may find solace in the fact her sorrow is shared by those around her.

A black-capped ear twitches at Cold Wind's surviving daughter. She remarks on her mother, and the way in which she chose to cope with the loss. "That you are here, his own progeny, standing by his side; it would make him smile, I am sure," he offers, alongside a dip of the noggin. He did not know the fellow too well in life, and thus the validity of his statement hangs in the air. "The echoes of Leaf-bare have claimed him. Chilledstar must ensure sure that we are better equipped for the next one. Losing good warriors to hunger is unacceptable."​