- Nov 14, 2022
- 260
- 54
- 28
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Lavender used to be a sweet, floral scent and nothing more but now he associated it with the masking of death; there was always a lingering trace of rot and decay now when he picked it up between his teeth - even if no body had festered away near it he imagined it there so much that it was all he could smell now. Such a pretty, purple bloom, a flower you might decorate your pelt with, but he thought it horrid now.
To find their lavender stock so low on his return was a reminder of failure, but most of the clan survived and so one could only look forward from there. Lavender was the same color as lungwort, he thinks, setting it upon the calicos form and leaning back - it was just lighter as if the saturated hues had bled out of it like the bodies it swathed in pastels. Stumpyspot was one of the few cats to greet him upon his return - not even their leader had done so. Smogmaw had, but he got the sense the deputy was not pleased to see him....Maggotfur had and outside Starlingheart she was one of the few he was pleased to know made it despite the tribulations. Stumpyspot had called out in cheer, referred to him as 'the boy' with a welcoming mewl that almost made him forget how much he dreaded coming back.
The old molly looked peaceful, what took her was not a final victim of yellowcough but something else; something unknown. It frightened him in a way he wasn't sure how to express. Sickness was defined by obvious ailments, what did they do when they could not see the signs so easily?
Magpiepaw has set this vigil up himself, his first time holding one and preparing a body alone, because he insisted. His mentor had buried enough in his absence, he would ring the bell that tolled of death, he would sing the carrion bird songs to usher them away. It was not a debt he needed to pay, but he'd offer a coin for each eye all the same.
"...She was a rare ray of sunlight through the weeping trees, a laugh muffled in bird feather through clutched prey, something we lack...something we need returned. Joy, vibrant, untethered by age and unbothered by melancholy. She mourned but her sorrow did not spread like dark pools, she cried but her tears did not stain. She will be missed...I will miss her..."
Lavender used to be a sweet, floral scent and nothing more but now he associated it with the masking of death; there was always a lingering trace of rot and decay now when he picked it up between his teeth - even if no body had festered away near it he imagined it there so much that it was all he could smell now. Such a pretty, purple bloom, a flower you might decorate your pelt with, but he thought it horrid now.
To find their lavender stock so low on his return was a reminder of failure, but most of the clan survived and so one could only look forward from there. Lavender was the same color as lungwort, he thinks, setting it upon the calicos form and leaning back - it was just lighter as if the saturated hues had bled out of it like the bodies it swathed in pastels. Stumpyspot was one of the few cats to greet him upon his return - not even their leader had done so. Smogmaw had, but he got the sense the deputy was not pleased to see him....Maggotfur had and outside Starlingheart she was one of the few he was pleased to know made it despite the tribulations. Stumpyspot had called out in cheer, referred to him as 'the boy' with a welcoming mewl that almost made him forget how much he dreaded coming back.
The old molly looked peaceful, what took her was not a final victim of yellowcough but something else; something unknown. It frightened him in a way he wasn't sure how to express. Sickness was defined by obvious ailments, what did they do when they could not see the signs so easily?
Magpiepaw has set this vigil up himself, his first time holding one and preparing a body alone, because he insisted. His mentor had buried enough in his absence, he would ring the bell that tolled of death, he would sing the carrion bird songs to usher them away. It was not a debt he needed to pay, but he'd offer a coin for each eye all the same.
"...She was a rare ray of sunlight through the weeping trees, a laugh muffled in bird feather through clutched prey, something we lack...something we need returned. Joy, vibrant, untethered by age and unbothered by melancholy. She mourned but her sorrow did not spread like dark pools, she cried but her tears did not stain. She will be missed...I will miss her..."
- OOC can go here.
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Magpiepaw
—⊰⋅ MCA of ShadowClan
—⊰⋅ He/They
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
—⊰⋅ Black tom w/a white throat and blue-violet eyes.
