sensitive topics NOW COMES THE PHOENIX \ scorchstorm's vigil

[BLUEFROST]

BLUEFROST

SHE / HER ◆ WINDCLAN QUEEN

The lingering cold feels right, for once; there are icicles beneath her fur, stinging her flesh, driven into her like leafbare's claws. She welcomes it and the numbing it bestows upon her. She had fallen to her belly when Scorchstar had returned, bearing her daughter's body like a banner destroyed. The Clan itself had seeped from their nests, from their duties, blood congealing around a stiffening wound. Death wreathed them like smoke; WindClan had lost so much, and their sorrow has pooled, sticky, around their paws.

But to lose their deputy—to lose Scorchstorm, who had the blood of WindClan royalty, who had championed their Clan on the journey to find lungwort, who had stood steadfastly at Sunstride's flank during the rebellion, who had fought and bled and died for the moorland she'd been born to—Bluefrost regards the stars with blatant disbelief.

Her fur no longer tastes of fire and ash and all-consuming heat, she notes, almost blankly. The fervor is gone, replaced by lavender and a choking iron force. She resents that she is the queen left to prepare this body for its burial; she resents that StarClan has driven her Clan to its knees again.

She is the first to speak, tonight, if only because WindClan is choked by the stifling silence Scorchstorm has left in her wake. Bluefrost's gaze is blurry; the faces of her Clanmates have softened into shadows, suggestions of cats she had known. I could have chosen differently, she thinks. I could have chosen my Clan, my loyalty. I could have chosen you. She presses her nose into tortoiseshell fur, remembering the sensation of Scorchstorm's tongue scraping against her pelt, of a lingering sunfire gaze on her body. Her playful invitation: "Maybe I can teach you fearlessness, and you can teach me cunning."

"I am in no position to speak about the kind of warrior Scorchstorm was." Her voice, often bladed and precise, is dull like a sword that has faced battle one time too many. She curls her tail against her body, holding herself together. "But I can talk about the kind of friend she was. She was… warm. She believed in justice, but even when she did not want to, she believed in redemption, too." She remembers the hushed quality of the other she-cat's voice, the closeness of her breath. "You're a good warrior, Bluefrost." "She would have you believe she cared only for battle, and for protecting WindClan, and she did. But she could be tender. She could be…"

Scorchstorm's voice, shattering upon impact. "There are cats here who loved you. Could have loved you."

"She should have lived for seasons to come." She struggles, now, her breath catching. "She deserved to find a mate who could love her like she deserved. Who could give her the family she wanted back. I only hope…" Bluefrost finally lets her gaze linger on Scorchstorm's body, but it's her spirit she pleads to now: "I only hope she finds all of that and more in StarClan."

She bows her head. She wants Thriftfeather to press himself to her, to hold her steady; she wants the cat she chose, she wants the reassurance that she did not deserve.

ooc:

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Bluefrost is a WindClan queen. She is small, apprentice-sized, with a thick and fluffy gray-smoked pelt. The fur lining her cheeks meets her chest and creates the appearance of a silvery-white mane. Her face is decorated in sparkle-like ivory markings. She has narrow, elegant emerald eyes and dark blue-gray "stockings" that end in white forepaws.

Sootstar x Weaselclaw / sibling to Shriketalon, Sootspot, Moorblossom, Addervenom, Harrierstripe, Cottonsprig / mate to Thriftfeather / mother to Rimekit, Comfreykit, Foalkit, Sootkit, Asterkit
mentored by Sootstar / previously mentored Brackenscar / mentoring none
25 moons old as of 01/14/2025

penned by Marquette

 

[THISTLEPAW !]

THISTLEPAW

HE/HIM WINDCLAN APPRENTICE

There is part of him that hates seeing Bluefrost to be the one conducting this vigil. He wants to snarl and bark at her, tell her to leave because she does not deserve to be here. But he doesn't, because this isn't about Bluefrost. This is about his cousin, his deputy, who now lays decorated by flowers and smelling of lavender. Scorchstorm does not look like herself, big and powerful like she always was. Domineering. He could only hope to one day be like her.

He recalls the mission she placed upon his shoulders, then: to avenge Rattleheart's death at the paws of RiverClan. But if she isn't here at his side to see it through. . .

Cruel. StarClan is cruel, he decides. Thistlepaw bites his cheek, strong enough he feels it begin to bleed. They only ever took others from him, from his family. Rattleheart, Bluepool, Frostwind, Gravelsnap, Scorchstorm. . . they let a fox paralyze his sister, so they can never run among the moors together again. If their ancestors were so intent on seeing them suffer, then he will forsake them in return. He looks up at the stars with a scowl, steel-blue eyes sparkling with defiance.

His gaze returns ever-so-gently to Scorchstorm, and he presses his nose to her unmoving body ( the warmth leaves her slowly, like it too doesn't want to say goodbye ). "May you find peace." among the stars, he does not add; Scorchstorm does not deserve to be lumped together with their barbaric ancestors. He breathes quietly, tenderly, like his words might hurt her more than the badger did. "Thank you for all you have done for WindClan. I hope to see you again one day. I hope to make you proud of me."

ooc:

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Thistlepaw is a short, prickly-furred seal-point apprentice of WindClan.
venomstrike x rattleheart / sibling to splinterpaw, breezepaw, crunchypaw and bunnyglow / nephew to scorchstar
mentored by gravelsnap
11 moons old as of 02/02/2025

penned by nocthymia

 

[SPLINTERPAW.]

SHOULDA TAKEN A BREAK, NOT AN OXFORD COMMA​

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splinterpaw hasn't a word to say. what could they say? that they don't want to see her gone? beg the stars to bring her back? it's useless, and a waste of a breath. to be here was a waste. it did not honor her memory. it only left them with the burn of being left behind to deal with the pain yet again. they sit, with their jaws clenching and unclenching, claws quietly digging at the dirt beneath them. this was a waste of time. their tongue draws over their whiskers, and when their brother finishes speaking, they decide to do the one thing they can think of. they place a skull of a vole on her body. they say no words, offer no comfort nor do they even look at anyone else. they twitch their ears, and step back taking in a quick breath before simply leaving. they're not sitting around to watch another love one buried. it just won't do. they have things to do, and scorchstar can get made at them for it later. they don't think they could give any less of a fuck.

​

 

[Silkpaw]

She doesn't sit still. She can't. Her paws shift against the cold ground, muscles twitching with unspent energy. A part of her still expects Scorchstorm to call her name, to snap at her for fidgeting, to tell her to focus, to get her head on straight. Her mentor's voice had been strong, unyielding, familiar, and it still lingers in her ears as an echo. She will never again hear that voice, not until she herself joins the starry ranks of their ancestors.

And the body before her is silent. Silkpaw had helped carried her home. Had felt the weight of her, so heavy, so wrong. Had seen the blood that had once made Scorchstorm strong spill uselessly onto the ground. She had fought. She had won. But she had died anyway. It's not fair. The words churn in her chest like bile but she swallows them down. Scorchstorm wouldn't have wanted her to break here, to be weak. Her mentor had fought with everything she had - shouldn't she do the same?

The young apprentice's jaw tightens and she forces her ivory paws to still. And then, finally, she speaks, "You once told me that I was in good paws." Her voice wavers as she recalls the day of her apprentice ceremony, how excited she'd been to be paired with the clan's fearless deputy, but she clenches her teeth and steadies herself. "You were right. You were…the strongest cat I've ever known. I feel so fortunate I had you to teach me, even just for a short while." Her throat tightens, her breath stuttering as eyelashes flutter. "And I swear to you…I will remember everything you taught me."

Her ivory claws curl into the dirt. "You deserved better," She whispers. "But you died as a true WindClan warrior. And I swear on the stars I won't let your sacrifice be for nothing." No, she will grow to be the best warrior she can be in her mentor's memory. She will do it for her. She bows her head and her shoulders shake just for a moment before she forces them still. She must appear strong, so she must not cry here. Without another word, she steps back with her heart still hammering in her chest.
​

 

[HALFKIT]

In Halfkit's short five moons being alive, she barely got to know their deputy but nonetheless respected her as the fiery, brave deputy who co-led and disciplined many more fine warriors. Halfkit could read the air--heavy with sadness, despair, and even a hint of anger. She was shy approaching the crowd. She very well knew what was going on and the mourning had affected her own emotions. For that, she felt embarrassed that she was not strong enough to hold in her own tears as her clanmates before her struggled desperately to hold onto them. She did not cry for the connection they had, since there was none. Her silent tears were directed to death itself. Death was many things. It was not only the actual, physical life leaving the body, but it was also a feeling. Something that the clanmates who truly adored her were actually feeling. With Scorchstorm being dead, so were the warriors surrounding her. It was polluting the air. She couldn't imagine what those close to her were experiencing, and that made her even sadder. She was hidden in the crowd, staring at her black paws to silently pay her respects, and let those who have truly lost someone they love take the spotlight. Halfkit prayed to StarClan, asking them to inform Scorchstorm that she was genuinely loved. ​

 

[Deerpetal]

His role models are slipping away from his paws like sand, it seems; guidance dangled close enough to see, kept just out of his reach, before being snatched away again. Stormshade's distant disappointment in his failures had weakened and died in a foul-smelling sickbed, and Scorchstorm's untouchable fire was snuffed out by the gush of her own blood. Deerpetal is left adrift once more.

As a kit, Stormshade had pointed Scorchpaw out to him, the leader's daughter and mirror image, and told him that was the kind of cat he was meant to be. Try as he might, Deerpetal never could live up to her, not in the slightest, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to her and ask how she was such a perfect apprentice, a perfect warrior, the ideal he was supposed to strive for; his mouth would go dry and his pads clammy and he'd feel like throwing up from nervousness. He'll curse himself forever for failing to work up the courage before she died.

He decides he doesn't have the right to speak about her, so he lingers towards the back of the crowd, unable to look at her body, as if refusing to acknowledge the husk she used to inhabit would make it less real.

-ˋˏ ❁ ˎˊ-

DEERPETAL.ㅤ BIOGRAPHYㅤ/ㅤTOYHOU.SE
✦trans male (he/him)ㅤ/homoflexible, single
✦ㅤ15 moons oldㅤ/ㅤages realistically, every 2nd of the month
✦warrior of windclan for 2 moons
✦ㅤdeerflower x stormshadeㅤ
✦ㅤmentoring n/aㅤ/ㅤmentored by featherfrost
✦ㅤpenned by solaireㅤ/ㅤmessage aurumbones on discord for plots!

deerpetal is a slender chocolate ticked tabby trans tom. he has a pale underbelly cut through from chin to mid-torso with cotton-soft white. he has large coppery eyes set in a triangular face which tapers down to a pointy muzzle, framed by large ears and silky cheek fluff. he's known for being soft-spoken, empathetic, and nervous.

 

[Mallowtail]

MALLOWTAIL

WINDCLAN LEAD WARRIOR

Mallowtail lingered in the back of the crowd as Bluefrost gave her speech on Scorchstorm, and soon others joined with their own goodbyes and grievances to their fallen deputy. Scorchstorm was always more than the domineering she-cat that seemed unstoppable and being a mirror copy of her own mother. She was a beloved daughter, cousin, and clanmate; she was her best friend ever since they were in the nursery together as kits. The tortoiseshell went through an endless loop of trials that could only be set for a protagonist of a story. Scorchstorm volunteered to join the others on the journey and brought lungwort to the clans, bringing peace against Sootstar's tyranny alongside with Sunstar, dealing with Duskclan and rogues that threatened Windclan, and much more. She always tried her hardest to maintain a strong front despite the fact that she kept losing the people she loved—friends, family, and clanmates.

Even up to the point of her death, all that was on her mind was protecting Windclan from a stray badger, even if it meant her life. Now, without Scorchstorm, what would she do? She would never be able to see sharp dual-toned eyes as they were forever closed until the day that she joins the other in the starry grounds of Starclan. Her honey-golden gaze shifts downward at her paws, where she'd meticiously spent her time searching for the perfect accessory to give the other. The perfectly defined wings of a Cabbage White butterfly held a bright milky white that would perfectly reflect against her dark-toned fur.

Mallowtail thought it would be the ideal accessory to serve as a reminder of her tattered Blue Morpho butterfly, which she had retired to her nest to be kept safe as it accumulated deterioration over time. When her honey-golden eyes finally return to her friend's corpse, she can only feel a pit in her heart, which makes her dip her head while digging her claws into the ground. "What will I do without you, Scorchstorm?" She would whisper as she wiped away the tears that threatened to spill. Oh, she wishes selfishly that they had found someone else and that her friend was still here.

The thought makes her eyes widen that she could imagine something so horribly that it causes her to close her eyes tightly. Bluefrost was right; she deserved to have someone to give her the love that she deserved, but she was always afraid to (or was she?). How could she ever have feelings for her best friend when she gazed upon the blue smoke with hidden feelings and stuck to the other before she returned with Thriftfeather? It would be selfish for her to swoop in while Scorchstorm had feelings for Bluefrost and while she grieved the betrayal of the other, along with those that she lost. These strange, elaborate feelings that welled in her chest would never be understood or resolved.

Maybe one day, with age, she would be able to comprehend these feelings. But right now, she wanted to vanish into her remaining best friend's medicine den. Mallowtail gently grabs the butterfly's wings and disappears in the crowd in the direction of the medicine den, where she could escape the strange feeling in her chest with someone she was close to.

i.