camp my heart is a ghost limb reaching ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ applejaw's vigil


⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆  She has not yet let herself grieve Smogstar. If the stars have claimed him, then they swallowed him whole; no body was left to mourn. They wander the graveyard aimlessly, and there is no stone beside their mother's.

At least for Applejaw, there is closure.

There is relief to be found in the reddened fur of her sister's neck. The lavendars that decorate her body, the mingling scent of iron and pollen - it's familiar. It's almost comfortable (and if she keeps telling herself that, maybe someday it will become true). Death itself seems more kin to her than her own family, these days. It trails after her, a lonesome spectre. She is to bear witness, again and again. It feels almost cruel that she was not there to find the body... Though perhaps, from another view, it could be considered a mercy. Applejaw's corpse would find her one way or another.

They bury their face into the plush, cold fur of their sister. Their heart aches.

They do not cry, and they do not wail. They've trapped all the sounds within the hollow of their chest. Mourning is not a loud thing for Swansong; it is quiet, and it is endless. She is herself a monument to grief, her every word an elegy. They breathe in the soft scent of lavendar, what remains of the swamp-flower scent of her sister's fur.

They have a duty, and they know it well. Prayers are murmured into the locks of her pelt, breathy and pleading. "Take her gently," they murmur, "let her find a kinder rest than her end..."

They straighten, look at her with a wistful sadness pooling in tired teardrop eyes. "Oh, Applejaw..." She sighs softly. They have a duty to the living as well, and they raise their voice to a clarion tone. "The stars... They will welcome you, I know... Though you were never meant... To join them so soon." She was always the better warrior than them, and the better apprentice before. She had dreams of greatness, a glint in her eye. She was alive, in a way that they never felt. Even after Granitepelt, after Comfreypaw, after Ghostmask. She was sturdy, she was strong.

They had always admired her.

A gentle paw cups her face, covers the dried blood woven into the fluff of her cheek. "You were born to rule, dear sister... You were the greatest warrior I knew, surefire and strong. Now take your throne among the stars..." They smile sadly, and step back. Their paw falls to the ground, and they dip their head to allow others to come mourn as well. "And someday... We will meet again..." In dreams or in death, they will see her.

There is comfort in that, at least.


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  • SWANSONG ⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊⋆ she / they, warrior of shadowclan, seventeen moons.
    a pale, silky-furred cream tabby with tired blue eyes.
    dreamy and detached, known for her perpetual sleepiness.
    halfshade x smogstar, littermate to applejaw, garlicheart, & ashenfall.
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
 

[ ༻❄༺ ] There was a numbness that surrounds this, a surreal feeling that Applejaw was truly gone, his yellow gaze trained onto the limp body of the warrior. She had been an apprentice, almost a warrior when he was a kit and hardly an apprentice, yet he still had asked to spar with her. She agreed, even though Applejaw had won... seeing her like this made him grimace slightly before slipping to find a spot next to Swansong, hoping to comfort the older warrior as he let a soft sigh out. "Applejaw was an amazing warrior, and strong" he stated simply, yet his words were gentle as he spoke.

It was a shame to lose not only Smogstar but one of his children in just one moon. This wasn't fair, not to them, and not to the clan. His yellow gaze were gentle while he felt a hollowness inside of him. Could there have been a way to prevent this? Perhaps, yet the damage was already done, Applejaw was gone... So was their leader, and now Mirepurr must take on the place where their ghost of a leader now stands. "I'm sure she's watching us now in Starclan." he murmured slightly, she now was with her mother, with Chilledstar...with so many who have befallen before her.

Hopefully, by the stars, they can catch whoever had snuffed the light out of another one of their clanmates. That they get what was coming for them. For now, they will mourn another loss, and someone Snowlark has grown up with around camp and someone so close in age too that he took a shaky breath. He will not openly mourn for Applejaw. He will not shed a tear for the fallen warrior, because surely in her last moments, she had fought bravely, a warrior. "Rest well, Applejaw" he said softly.

  • "speak""Thoughts"
  • Snowlark He/Him, warrior of Shadowclan, 13 moons.
    Lithe long hair blue lynx sepia with high white, and yellow eyes. Stubby tail, permanent resting bitch face
    Hailfreckle x Mudsplash
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted (ask first) / / underline and tag when attacking
    see battle info here
    penned by Ryn@/Rynnaro on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 
Was closure supposed to feel like dying?

The black pit that’s sat inside Ashenfall since Smogstar’s disappearance seemed to only deepen, pitch dark and suffocating, with no real spot of light to be found. The hurt covered him all the way up, spilling out whenever he made the mistake of being around anyone too long, or being alone too long, or trying to do anything other than sleep. But sleeping and waking blurred together to form a long, agonizing nightmare. So what was he to do?

He was to attend his sister’s vigil.

He slinks heavily to find a place by Swansong’s side, pressing to their flank if they would allow it, and listens to her share her words. She was well-spoken, clear intonations and a gentle composure came easy to her, probably. Easier at least to her than him with all of his sniffling and shaking inhalations.

None of it was fair. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Smogstar was supposed to be home and Applejaw was supposed to be alive, sharing prey with them and getting all pissed off at something small he could tease her about. Tears blurred the vision of her rosepetal and smoke swirled pelt, and he supposed that she was probably getting irritated with him now for crying too much that it was giving her secondhand embarrassment, but she was the one that went off and died all brave and violent and warrior-like at the border so now he got a free pass to wail about missing his sister all he wanted.

It was leaf-fall and the world was ending all over again, and this time he couldn’t find the strength to scream at everyone even if he was mad enough to. That was his sister, stars-damned. No one knew him the way his littermates did, they’d who’d taken all their first breaths in succession, and padded beside him all the way here. That’s not fair, that Apple had to die here, die first. That’s not fair, that’s not fair…

Swansong lapses in her speech and gives room to those gathered to speak, and Ashenfall nods mutely as their denmate offers his parting words. Snowlark remains poised and respectful, and he supposes Applejaw will appreciate it. The silence filling the air after makes him flex his paws, leaning over to brush his nose to her thick fur. It’s cold, and makes him want to cry all over again, but he sits up to speak.

“Dad’s not even back home yet, Sissy, I can’t believe you’re going to make me tell him you’re gone,” a cough of a humorless laugh and he’s rubbing a paw to his cheek, ”I’m-I’m like, actually mad about that...” They both reminded him of each other. Applejaw wore their father’s stony stoicism with poise. Now they..

“You were the best among us, you know. A great warrior, and all that. I was really jealous of how uh, how cool and responsible you were. A-and you were so, so bossy, but everyone wanted to listen to you. I- I don’t know how you did it.” And he felt like he was saying too much and too little at the same time, but the words weren’t coming so easily, but he wanted to speak before he was swallowed up again.

“I miss you. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of-of this,” And he was getting all blubbery again, but he continued, “And-uhm, I’ll see you again soon enough. And I’ll probably throw mud at you when I do ‘cause I’ll still be mad and- yeah.”

To someone not Applejaw, but someone else he hoped he knew, he asks, “Greet her gently, please.”

He’d remain there until it was time to go.

  • OOC:
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  • ashenkit . ashenpaw . ashenfall
    — he/him. 17mo warrior of shadowclan. formerly mentored by smogstar. mated with flintwish.
    — smogstar x halfshade. littermate to applejaw, swansong & garlicheart. older brother of halfsun and laurelgrin
    — a stout, longhaired blue torbie w/ pale blue and amber eyes
    — sarcastic, sharp-eyed, sulky, nostalgic, faithful, impulsive, candid, provocative, remorseful
    — "speech", thoughts

    — penned by eezy
 

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She doesn't feel like she has a right to be here, not really. And yet- the crowd parts for her anyways.

Halfsun's eyes are vacant as she stands a distance away from her older siblings as they mourn their littermate. She listens to Swansong's speech but she doesn't hear a single word - not really - not over the beat of her head saying Not fair, it's not fair over and over again like a thousand angry paws striking the earth. She wants to run into the forest and sink her teeth into the throat of every rogue she finds, guilty or innocent because the incesstant taking and taking and taking is getting to be a little much isn't it?

And she can't help it, in the midst of all these mourners, her lips pull into an angry scowl and a growl releases itself from her throat.

Before she can stop herself, her paws are moving of their own volition taking her away so she doesn't have to lay her eyes on that bright pelt and imagine it with stars anymore. Haven't they taken enough? How many warriors did one clan need anyways? Why why why couldn't they have just spared her. Her tail lashing angrily is the last thing anyone would see as she disappears from camp.
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    HALFSUN SHADOWCLAN WARRIOR; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO APPLEJAW, ASHENFALL, SWANSONG, GARLICHEART, AND LAURELGRIN
    A tall and well-toned she cat with a long half-and half pelt, one side being a dark blue tabby and the other a bright cream, split by a pool of white at her center and travelling up her face like flames she is fire and ice simultaneously swirling into one. Her eyes are a mismatched shade of blue, with one being bright like the daytime sky and the other dark like the depths of the river.
    Difficult in battle + a skilled fighter
 

She did not know the fallen warrior well. Having been one of the three (including Mirepurr [at the time] and Scalejaw) to carry Applejaw's battered and broken corpse back to camp had almost felt wrong. Would it be wrong of her now to speak on a warrior she hardly knew? There was nothing that could be said by her of all cats that would change anything or help to ease the family's pain. It is for this reason that the woman hangs back at the edges of the camp, watching from the shadows as to not invade on the privacy or emotions of the family. Instead, she watches from her self-assigned quiet post, unwilling to move until morning when the elders moved to help the family burry the body of Applejaw.

  • ooc. — ​
  • SALAMANDERSNAP
    ↪ salamandersnap / cisgender female (she/her)
    ↪ 24 moons / ages realistically on the 19th
    ↪ shadowclan warrior
    ↪ lh black smoke
    ↪ "speech" / thoughts
    ↪ peaceful/healing actions may be powerplayed / attack in underline & @/account
    ↪ note: all thoughts/actions are based off ic opinions only !!
    ↪ penned by halimede