sensitive topics my materials in pyre — intro, saying goodbye

[SCORCHSTREAK]

[ i don’t have any specific warnings except for canon-typical violence and blood, & this takes place soon after the escape attempt thread ]



Guilt has never sank its claws into her heart, never found any purchase when she knows that she does things for good reason. Sure, sorrow has darkened her nights many a time, and grief is good company—but guilt, heavy and unwelcome? She knows not of it. Especially not now, as she stands over her fallen kin.

Dappledsun—her Finnegan, her sweet boy, her only child—has been her pride and joy from the day that he first came into the world. She’d sheltered him, her beloved, kept him safe from harm and gave him a better kithood than her own. She’d invested so much into her darling boy.

And now, her son is gone. He may as well have never existed, for all Scorchstreak can bring herself to mourn. Dappledsun deserved none of what she offered to him on a platter of gold, deserves less than what he’s being given even now. Because traitors don’t deserve to be remembered, to be treated with dignity. She has half a mind to have one of the larger moor runners dump him into the gorge—they’ll be carrying him out of the territory, anyway.

For a moment, Scorchstreak dips her head, lifts a bloodstained paw to her chest. It is a sendoff, murmured words vicious in their intent. I hope you never know peace, bastard son of mine.

With one final sigh, she raises her head. There will be no tears of hers shed for a traitor. She tilts her face to the sun, allowing it to warm her as she stands. Perhaps she can still find a clanmate larger than herself to dump him into the gorge.
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[ MONSTROUS WOMAN ]​

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[icebreath]

TAGS — Each exile and desertion leaves Icepaw feeling lost, hollow. Cats are turning left and right, dropping like flies, falling victim one by one to Dandelionwish's infectious treachery. As stressful as it is that he'd managed to escape (who knows where he'll go, what he'll do), she's at least glad that his influence can no longer reach the moors. Then again, his sister still remains... If two cats in the litter had wound up being traitors, it's only a matter of time before Shrewtuft falls as well. Maybe she'd only stuck around to spy for her siblings. It's hard to tell whether her fears are realistic or irrational, but they certainly feel realistic. She'd make a plan to keep tabs on the warrior, if only her anxiety and schedule allowed for it.

She hadn't known Dappledsun well at all, but the sight of his corpse is distressing even though it shouldn't be. He'd lost the right to her grief or anyone else's when he sided with that weed, and it's for the best that they managed to snuff out one deserter at the very least (she hates how many got away in the end). Still, though, they can imagine how Scorchstreak must be feeling — he was her son, after all. Putting him down with her own paws must have been difficult, traitor or not. Then again, Juniperfrost had been so cold toward Coyotepaw when he fled, vehemently disowning him and calling for his death as well. The young tom deserves nothing less, she has to remind herself, and the same goes for every sorry excuse for a WindClanner who'd abandoned their home. Maybe Icepaw is just too soft.

The idea is reinforced when she approaches, seeing no grief in the older molly's expression. They feel numb, still reeling from the whole affair, and mental exhaustion is written all across their own features. "Are you okay?" she asks quietly, tentatively.
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[HOUNDTHISTLE]

"BECAUSE COWBOY DAN'S A MAJOR PLAYER IN THE COWBOY SCENE"​

The burn of his injuries, many in the process of either clotting or snubbed by his thick mane as the blood matted it into basically a bandage, made the large grey tom wince only enough to be noticeable as he ambled over. The fiery, murderous rage his amber gaze held only hours before was gone, replaced by that same mellowed, blank stare he always had, idly interested but ultimately guarded. As his gaze landed on Dappledsun, his ear twitched, making a sound that showed he recognized the other even vaguely. Dappledsun had basically grown up in the clan, coming here at 12 moons old with his mother, but Houndthistle knew better then to expect children to hold any loyalty to where they grew up. Afterall, the moors weren't the forest.

Icepaw's question to Scorchstreak pulls his attention from the dead cat before them, amber gaze flicking over before chuffing in response for the tunneler, "He made his choice. Jus' as the rest of 'em did." His words held no warmth, no pity and definitely no guilt. Afterall, the red stains that clung stubbornly out of reach of his tongue remained a brutal reminder of his own actions to Jasperglare. "Le's get this clean't up 'fore the kits wake up, though. Need me to take him from ya, miss?" He stated before offering to Scorchstreak, his amber eyes turned toward her to await permission to discard the trash that laid bare in their territory.
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✦ ★ ✦​

 

[Voidwhisker]

Molewhisker watched a mother forsake her beloved son. She shed no tears, had no regrets. What was it like to love the moorland queen more than your own flesh and blood? To kill your own son and then feel nothing of it?

Truly a heart of darkness, if he ever saw one.

Not that he could judge. The sun would burn away their sins with time, and when it became too much, only then would the shadows embrace them and offer succor.

Yes, the abyss claims all no matter your sins, cloaking you in it's comforting embrace.

Even this boy here, who betrayed his clan for a cursed medicine cat, would be welcome in the arms of the abyss. Cleansed. Purified so that he may stand among the stars.

"Such a shame~" He said with the shake of his head.

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[LEMONTONGUE]

It's a horrific scene to witness.

A mother, throwing her son's lifeless form to it's final demise - a burial unworthy of a true WindClanner. He's a traitor, Dappledsun - one whose actions leave Lemontongue's stomach burning with guilt and fear. Guilt, for not helping Dandelionwish, for turning away from the tom who'd once been a denmate, who'd once been his own mother's apprentice. Fear, for knowing this too, would have been his fate.

Would it have been his mother's too? Sinking, falling, a longer path to the stars? Would he have had to watch, as he does with Scorchstreak? Or would Lemontongue be in Scorchstreak's place, shoving his mother down such rocky depths?

Lemontongue shakes his head, frown pulling on his face. Enough.

"I hope he rots in darkness," he mutters out, tail twitching behind him. Isolated in his own thoughts, Lemontongue quietly mourns for the traitor's life; silently begs the stars to forge a path for Dappledsun.
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[SCORCHSTREAK]

Of course, her clanmates should be concerned for her mental state. As though she’s some grieving mother, withering under the weight of her sadness. Icepaw approaches, asks whether she’s okay, and the tunneler turns warm eyes upon them. "Just fine," she says, voice low. Does it hurt, to lose her only offspring? Yes, of course. But does it hurt her to lose a traitorous rat such as the one laid out before her? Gods, no.

Another clanmate joins them, and he’s tall and powerfully built. The perfect moor runner to aid her in getting Dappledsun out of the camp. Houndthistle recommends they get him moved before any kits see, and she agrees—it may not bother her, but this is no sight for innocent eyes. "Please do. I would do it myself, but…" she flicks her tail, gestures to the tom’s staggering bulk compared to her own. Truly, she does not care what happens to Dappledsun. As Houndthistle says, her son made his choice; now she makes hers.

Scorchstreak agrees with Molewhisker, her fellow tunnel-dweller. It is a shame that such a promising warrior had to be lost, but he’s better dead than a threat to the clan that she’s pledged herself to. What if he had remained alive, and attempted to take revenge on WindClan? Who would have suffered? An apprentice, perhaps? A litter of innocent kits? A blood connection means less than nothing in comparison to the lives of the next generation. She nods, glancing to Lemontongue, with his hopes for Dappledsun to rot. "A shame he squandered what he was given. He will rot in the blackest pits."
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[ MONSTROUS WOMAN ]​

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[WEASELCLAW]

Scorchstreak sits vigil for her son without tears. Her eyes remain dry as sun-scorched sand, her scorn sharp and obvious in the features of her tortoiseshell face. Weaselclaw does not mourn the loss of a traitor, either -- they all stand in solidarity, grieving only what a waste his life had been. Dappledsun could have been a great WindClan warrior, could have died with honor defending his Clan. Instead, he chose to go against StarClan themselves.

He shakes his head. Scorchstreak must be bitter that her efforts had ended in waste. Weaselclaw could not imagine being in her place -- one of his own kits someday bringing their Clan shame, lying dead at his paws.

He does not like to think about it. He does not want to consider what he would do if one of them betrayed WindClan. Would he be able to run them down like they had Coalfoot, Coldsnap, Jasperglare and Thymeroot? Would he be able to extinguish their lives for the sake of his Clan?

He shakes his head. "I can help," he offers, inclining his head to Houndthistle. "A traitor does not deserve more of a vigil than we've given him."​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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