MY COSMIC EYE \ prompt

[MALLOWLARK]

What little could bloom in winter he held between grin-dressed fangs. Ianthine petals, stark in purple permanence against the ice-cap flash of his fur. All that differentiated him from the snow and overcast sky above was the tar hue of his paws, skipping fervently forward, set upon a path. Often empty in intention but there nonetheless, his smile seemed sharper today. Kept there, but not comfortably- as if it was an ache to keep his grin the way it was. If it faltered he would fail his purpose, let break his vow of endless mood- he was determined to keep himself this way, and such a thing was perhaps readable.

Day by day, the ague of parting grew more tiresome and seemed more pointless. The moors had always been his home, the grounds dwelled upon by his family and no-one else. When they had joined it seemed a simple compromise in keeping the moors as their family home- as theirs. Aunt Pollen was gone now, alongside Aunt Ember- where he could not tell. If they were even alive- well, for once death was not something he thought it amusing to think about. With no way to reach them, he had retired to another grave- one that had lay upon this moor for moons before WindClan had even been a spark in the flame of Sootstar's mind.

It brought the light back to his eyes- the smallest spark that made his deadened grin seem a little more alive. "I still miss you," he murmured, placing the flowers upon the spot. "But it's getting easier." The words reached more than the bone beneath the ground, but were meant mostly for them alone. ​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 /lil cw for references to corpses jic

Graves are strange places of simultaneous presence and absence. Here they are, a grave says, and here they are gone. The burial mounds of Wolfsong's birthplace were well-tended and visited, but he had never counted himself among the visitors except once. Most of them were cavities filled by whole bodies laid for their final journey, breaths taken by illness or battle. At the mound marked by Wolfsong's baby teeth, only his mother's back right paw rests under the cold soil. At his father's, guarded by six stones and a crow's skull, there is nothing. Their resting places— ha. He was only a child and he'd realized their graves were more likely the bellies of scavengers.

Wolfsong has not visited the graves of WindClan, knowing that whatever remains would not recognize him or he them, but he notices Mallowlark's flower-burdened trek. The pale, ever-grinning feline is one of many he's decided to watch, and so he follows him. There is no mistaking the warrior's intent when he settles the purpled petals across the ground, speaking lowly.

He will not ask, though he is curious. Wolfsong isn't familiar with the moor customs regarding the dead. "Lovely. Where did you find them? I thought all the flowers here hide their faces from the chill."
​

 

[DAZZLEPAW]

Hmmh, what was going on here?. Dazzlepaw had not been prepared for anyone else to be down by the graves today to be honest. He had just left one of the tunnels out of curiosity where it would lead, he was still learning after all. To think he would end up all the way out here though. His slight disappointment was quickly replaced when he saw Wolfsong and...was that really Mallowlark?. Heh!. Never had he thought he would see that warrior of all cats down here looking so gloomy.

Dazzlepaw was good to sneak up on others and so that was what he did, suddenly appearing up beside Mallowlark and as he sat down beside them he lifted a paw and attempted to pat them on the shoulder in a comforting way...he guess. " Oh Mallowlark i'm so sad for you buddy. My heart really goes out to you. It must have been so rough to lose..." he paused to blink his eyes. Hmh. He was missing something here wasn't he?. " Wait, who are we mourning exactly?." he blurted out suddenly, casting a side glance to Wolfsong as he for a brief second thought they might know. Neh, probably not. It was never easy to know what was going on in the head of the flower bird!. So he returned their gaze back to the black pawed white tom with curiosity.
​

 

[Badgermoon]

Badgermoon had certainly lost those he had loved - sometimes to death, sometimes simply to circumstance - but not while he had been a WindClanner. Thus no one whose heart he had known, or who had known his, was buried in the graveyard near their camp. Still, he made trips to the flat stretch of land sometimes, if only to remind himself that it was there and that the moor they tread upon had been walked countless times before. Today it was not an intentional trip to the graveyard which brought him into the company of a trio of tomcats: rather, he had been pursuing an unwise thrush who had been pecking its way from clump of tall grass to windswept shrub to small, wizened tree. The black-and-white tom attempted a pounce but missed, and swore under his breath as he watched his prey escape, its wings flapping in a way that he could not help but perceive as mocking. Next time. he thought to himself, amelioration for his bruised ego.

Straightening up, he groomed one of his paws as he contemplated his next move - though as it happened, it was a choice that he would not have to make, as he heard voices nearby. White-tipped ears flicking upright, Badgermoon glanced over and spotted three WindClanners in the graveyard with a jolt of surprise. He had not realized he had strayed so close to these burial grounds. "Best to not imitate sincerity, Dazzlepaw. Fake sympathy is worse than no sympathy at all." he said as he padded over, voice stern but not unkind. With this being said, he gave Mallowlark a little nod, which he hoped would communicate things words couldn't - or at least couldn't be in his own clumsy mouth.​

 

[WEASELCLAW]

Weaselclaw had not known serious loss before joining Sootstar's cause in the moorlands. His mother had still lived somewhere in the Horseplace, though since he was weaned he had detached himself from her. Layla had gone on to have other kits with other toms; his father, a Horseplace loner named Dusty, had long since moved on. His littermate Vole had disappeared into the arms of the Twolegs, and from what Weaselclaw knew, Vole had not fought this fate.

But WindClanners know loss. He had seen Rosepaw's small body covered with soil, a heartbreaking burial. Sunsetbreeze's valiant death in battle. His own mate dying twice, once at the cursed paws of twolegs, another to a fleabitten rogue.

He does not know the grave Mallowlark sits at, not at first, and he gives Dazzlepaw a look even after Badgermoon quiets him about fake sympathy. "I doubt Mallowlark would notice either way," he mumbles, audible only to those nearest him. Otherwise, he looks expectantly at the black-pawed tom, wondering if he'll tell the present company who he's mourning.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[Firefang]

Firepaw doesn't ask or try to find reason in whatever Mallowlark does, he just does it no rhyme or reason to it sometimes. He was weird and she didn't like him but at the very least he left her alone and sometimes he could be funny, in the way you laughed at him and not with him anyway! She finds herself getting a glimpse of his white coat among the dull muter color of the withering grass, she passes by the gravesite every one in a while on her usual 'hunting grounds' but sparingly did she find anyone there. Those she did she ignored but something about the fact he of all cats cared enough to mourn surprised her, she doesn't even think she's seen him upset he always wore that unsettling grin after all. Curiosity carries her over to him and to the small group that surrounds the tom. It makes her uncomfortable to see him this way, very cat felt grief he was no exception. She had never lost anyone truly important to her and while she mourned her fallen clanmates over the moons rarely were those pangs of sadness enough to stick with her, she didn't truly grieve. It's something she's bound to experience, she just doesn't like thinking about it.

She cringes at Dazzlepaw, seriously was he good at anything? He shouldn't have said anything at all if he didn't care to know who Mallowlark was mourning. She agrees with her mentor though to her his words are far too soft. ❝He'll be mournin' you if ya don't keep your maw shut mousebrain❞ she hisses at the younger apprentice. ❝Think before you speak❞ rich coming from her.​

( PLACE ME IN MY CASKET TONIGHT ; BECAUSE IM ALREADY DYING INSIDE )

 

[SNAILSTRIDE]

Snailpaw had never lost anyone. They tried not to think about losing their parents or siblings one day, perhaps even their friends, it was in all likelihood that the marbled tabby would die before them. Brought over by the voices near the gravesite all the same, the older apprentice cast their clanmate a hurt look as Mallowlark stood over a patch of earth that lacked any recent disturbances. He concluded it had been some time since the other had lost these creatures, perhaps even before their birth or before StarClan was revealed - would their spirits posthumously be allowed to wander the endless hunting grounds in that case? The internal debate prevented them from interjecting on the reprimanding of Dazzlepaw, instead, they moved forwards on autopilot, their eyes nervously falling onto Mallowlark. They liked the other for the most part, his humour was enough to make the young cat sick but a negative interaction here or there had rarely been enough for Snailpaw to dislike someone. "Did you want to be left alone or...?" Their wide pupils gestured towards the gaggle of cats behind him. Even if his life had been free from bereavement, like most negative emotions, it felt like a thing best done privately.



​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

What a crowd, what a crows! A little audience, eyes alight as they approached his funeral pyre. His grin grew in sincerity and- mildly- in size as a silver gaze swept over those gathered. "Little nooks under big rocks, where the wind can't kill 'em," he murmured lowly to Wolfsong. A good question coming from one less experienced- but when you'd lived on moorland all your life, you learned secrets of the land! Perhaps Wolfsong would be one spared by the madness... if he could help it, he'd extend his immunity.

Pat of a paw against his shoulder, and Dazzlepaw was speaking- condolence, he recognised within the words. And yet he was chided for the gesture, and Mallowlark gazed at the deputy and Firepaw blankly. Though his words had gone unheard by the smiling spectre, Weaselclaw's judgement was rather sound- he hardly noticed the insincerity present in Dazzlepaw's tone, wholly concerned with the kindness of the gesture. An earlier question pointed at him- who it was he grieved, or rather what- was interrupted as Snailpaw's question was asked. Fervently, he shook his head. The company was appreciated- lovely, in fact!

Eyes snapped like clockwork, scarcely a muscle moved, back toward Dazzlepaw. "It's the other bit of my tail," he chimed, shadow-coated song in his voice. A gesture to accompany the words, he wiggled the half that was left, as if to prove it was without a fragment. "Ripped right off by a fox- nyahahaha!" Oh, that was a painful incident! And how hard it had been to balance- and oh, his mother's face when he'd carried his severed tail back to her in the arms of grin-framed fangs! At the time it wasn't funny- but it was now, it was now. ​

☺PENNED BY PIN​