- Dec 31, 2022
- 158
- 46
- 28
————— ☀ —————
YOU ARE THE DAYLIGHT
YOU ARE THE DAYLIGHT
Sunflowerpaw's brother was buried last night.
Half-brother. Brother. The difference doesn't really matter. He was their brother before the half- was appended onto it, through bond and not blood. They claimed him as their brother long before they knew of the mother whose blood bound them. She doesn't matter either; abandoned them, never a mother in any way that matter. Snowfeather was far more mother than she, even if the young Sunflowerkit was too naive to see it.
That doesn't matter either. Snowfeather is gone now, just like Vulturemask.
Vulturemask is gone. Dead and buried. Up there with the stars he so loved. Did he get to see his friend again? They don't know. They don't think it's worth it, if he did. They're still here. He's gone and they're still here, and now they have someone to wait for.
They don't want to wait.
Sunflowerpaw's claws tear into Vulturemask's nest, shredding it to pieces.
They're supposed to be looking for something, they came in here to look for something, where is it where did he put it? He can't have thrown it out, he wouldn't, he wouldn't. They thought it might be in his nest but it's not and he doesn't need a nest anymore, right? He won't mind. He's not coming back.
(And the thought of someone else using the nest makes them angry. It's Vulturemask's.)
They tear chunks from the moss with a frantic and single-minded fury, strewing them across the den. And then, a breath. Shaky. They're looking for something. It's not in the nest. With panicked steps they begin to ransack the den, brushing aside herbs with only slightly more delicacy than they tore the nest up with. It's got to be here somewhere. Whoever comes next mught throw it out, they have to find it.
And then —
There. Discarded but not fully, lying in an out-of-sight nook but still kept in his den. A delicate weaving of flowers, once bright shades of orange and red now turned dried and dead. Made for Vulturemask with their own paws.
Movements careful and delicate now, Sunflowerpaw slides the flower crown towards them. They pick it up oh-so-gently, turning towards the mouth of the den, seemingly heedless of the attention they've drawn through their destruction.
Half-brother. Brother. The difference doesn't really matter. He was their brother before the half- was appended onto it, through bond and not blood. They claimed him as their brother long before they knew of the mother whose blood bound them. She doesn't matter either; abandoned them, never a mother in any way that matter. Snowfeather was far more mother than she, even if the young Sunflowerkit was too naive to see it.
That doesn't matter either. Snowfeather is gone now, just like Vulturemask.
Vulturemask is gone. Dead and buried. Up there with the stars he so loved. Did he get to see his friend again? They don't know. They don't think it's worth it, if he did. They're still here. He's gone and they're still here, and now they have someone to wait for.
They don't want to wait.
Sunflowerpaw's claws tear into Vulturemask's nest, shredding it to pieces.
They're supposed to be looking for something, they came in here to look for something, where is it where did he put it? He can't have thrown it out, he wouldn't, he wouldn't. They thought it might be in his nest but it's not and he doesn't need a nest anymore, right? He won't mind. He's not coming back.
(And the thought of someone else using the nest makes them angry. It's Vulturemask's.)
They tear chunks from the moss with a frantic and single-minded fury, strewing them across the den. And then, a breath. Shaky. They're looking for something. It's not in the nest. With panicked steps they begin to ransack the den, brushing aside herbs with only slightly more delicacy than they tore the nest up with. It's got to be here somewhere. Whoever comes next mught throw it out, they have to find it.
And then —
There. Discarded but not fully, lying in an out-of-sight nook but still kept in his den. A delicate weaving of flowers, once bright shades of orange and red now turned dried and dead. Made for Vulturemask with their own paws.
Movements careful and delicate now, Sunflowerpaw slides the flower crown towards them. They pick it up oh-so-gently, turning towards the mouth of the den, seemingly heedless of the attention they've drawn through their destruction.
YOU ARE THE NIGHT
————— ☀ —————
————— ☀ —————
-
SUNFLOWERPAW named by their half-brother vulturemask after his friend and mentor.
— they/them, 7 moons.
— windclan apprentice, mentored by wolfsong.
— reserved yet loyal, distrusts most. rarely speaks.
primary character, high activity. penned by saturnid. -
"SPEECH"
-
Last edited: