private oh i've tried ࿐࿔ devotion

[lichenstar]

✦˚.✦˚✦˚✦˚ ✧ ˚✧˚✦˚✦.˚✧

CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY ✧

• Chest constricts with a weighted breath, a stinging burn of a throat that cannot clear the way for fresh air. It's familiar... A life and death now seared twice through faintly fluttering lungs. When the stars crowd the edge of skyward stare, she knows better than to fight it again... fighting hurts (it always hurts). With every last bubble that drifts towards the surface, so too do the fragments of a soul slow to rise.
  
  The pieces come together again far above the reach of the desperate cries of clan-mates, panic-stricken and struggling to keep one another afloat. It isn't the grand, fighting splash that Smokestar had lost a similar life to... it is quiet... it is softened by affection... a polar opposite to the loud crash of his body in the waves, the anger that had guided his claws to the last. Breath, though not needed here, is hungrily taken in out of habit more than necessity. The ghostly touch of someone below, the echo of a name too distant to hear.... It goes drowned by the lift of lashes as they set upon familiar stony fur.
  
  Her maw, hung open in heavenly exhale, closes now in forlorn frown, the crease of cosmos-dressed features foretelling her distaste before she has even spoken. "Missed me, I hope," she starts, tongue impossibly dry even in this weird middle stage of being...
  
  Don't say it, a timid heart begs, Don't say this is where I lose this piece of you.
• about
  
  speech hex code ✧ #6368A5
  
  ooc notes ✦
  tagging ✶ @brookstorm
  penned by tieirlys
• ˚　　★⋆. ࿐࿔　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 .
  
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[brookstorm]

Brookstorm is sat, stiller than the calmest waters, when Lichenstar finds her. Fern green eyes are narrowed, and perhaps to the casual onlooker, she appears peaceful, despite the river's rage far beyond them. But maybe to Lichenstar, despite their moons apart, she is a simmering volcano. A twitch of her curled ear, the gentle sway of her ruffled tail. Lichenstar greets her with saddened warmth, and all Brookstorm can say is, "It's hard to miss you, when you keep coming back."

Bitter. Her tone can only be described as biting as she looks down her nose at the other, though her own warmth settles somehow between here and there. She softens by a miniscule amount, "It's almost like you're rushing to join us." Brookstorm grits her teeth, but its only then that she stands. She presses through the short distance that separates them, her frown still firmly pressed into her features. "Do you know how many you've lost? Or have you forgotten that it's finite, the gifts we give you?" Another pause, a long one to give the other space to reply.
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[lichenstar]

✦˚.✦˚✦˚✦˚ ✧ ˚✧˚✦˚✦.˚✧

CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY ✧

• She can't help but wince against the sharp retort, knowing it to be the truth but still finding the sting in it anyways. She's really not so different from the tiny kit that had flippantly disregarded a fish as being a pathetic catch. Every comment cuts like new wounds, or maybe it just reopens old ones.... Hazecloud had said something similar the first time. Had insisted it must be an intentional nose dive into death, that she missed those at the end of the tunnel more than she cared for those that still enjoyed their lives.
  
  "I'm not," she protests, watching as Brookstorm rises to her paws to approach her. Could StarClan take away lives if they felt they were being spent too foolishly? The clans were so new... the rules invisible tripwires to be stumbled over. She stops just shy of her former mentor and Lichenstar grits her teeth in nervous apprehension.
  
  "This... is the third," she answers, because she is not stupid... She has kept track of every miserable not-quite-final breath. The sensation of a dog's teeth ripping into her underbelly.... the feeling of a slow, miserable walk as blood fled out of a hundred gouging cuts. Had they really been considered useless deaths...? Were the lives she saved only delays of inevitable fate? Would every sacrifice come to bite her in the ass very shortly, a prolonged good-bye she hadn't known she was giving?
  
  "What good... are they... if I don't use them," she hisses, pouting like a kit rather than an adult with years of wisdom to sift through. "I can't... just let them die...." Her brows furrow, finally daring to meet the defiant stare that stands to lecture her. "I'm tired of saying... good-byes."
  
  Let it be my turn... only ever my turn... spare me more heartache.
• about
  
  speech hex code ✧ #6368A5
  
  ooc notes ✦
  tagging ✶
  penned by tieirlys
• ˚　　★⋆. ࿐࿔　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 .
  
  　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　 　　　　 ੈ✧˳·˖✶ ✦　　˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔
  
  　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦　　​

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