sensitive topics OUR LITTLE ARMY BOY ✩ VIGIL

[slateheart]

[CW - blood & death]


Words cannot explain the heartbreak that brings Slateheart to his knees at the sight of Blizzardpaw's body.

Her pristine pelt is stained wine red; she had been gravely wounded, by a DuskClanner as Slateheart was told. Now, her wounds are dressed and closed as if it could heal her. Whether or not Wolfsong would have allowed his presence, Slateheart fusses over the boy's fur, ignoring the metallic taste of blood on his tongue as he flattens her cowlicks, carefully picks out knots (as if it would hurt her if he yanked), and gently draws a comforting tongue on her forehead. Akin to a mother making her kitten presentable for their apprentice ceremony, Slateheart presents Blizzardpaw - Lilypaw - for her last.

He is placed in the center of camp, where Cygnetstare and Nightingalecry were recently rested as well. Adorned with sprigs of lavender that matched his pink gaze, forever closed. It is a queen's duty to prepare a cat for vigil and lead their send off - but Slateheart insisted. Though, of course, he does not reject the help and the right to mourn for others, he ensures that he takes the center stage for this one. He would not miss it for the world.

Slateheart sits hunched over the apprentice with closed eyes for quite some time. He gathers his strength, his wisdom, his parting words - and then lifts his head to the sky, where the stars can hear them. Lilypaw. Lilypaw. Lilypaw. Her name does not leave his head - there is no room for error. " StarClan welcomes a new apprentice tonight. Lilypaw.. WindClan's spring flower, our sprout of hope. She would have made a fine tunneler. " A few moments of silence, and then Slateheart bends his head again, touching his nose to the lost apprentice's ear.

His voice wavers now, and while it is meant for the star-pelted cat before him, it remains loud enough to be heard by all. " You are my child.. my little sibling.. my friend.. " he begins - his voice cracks, and he coughs lightly to clear it. Slateheart keeps going. " You are my kin in more than labels can define. I will not forget you. "

Slateheart remembers the fateful day he found Lilypaw. A kit of pure white on the brink of death - StarClan had granted him a chance at life. There was guilt, of taking him from his mother and siblings that perished during that storm - but never did he regret bringing him home, nourishing him, teaching him. Blizzardkit he had named her - after the blizzard that gave her to WindClan, a symbol of hope and fate after all felt lost. He never thought just how cruel the name could be. Slateheart should have known that she disliked the name. Just as he should have spent more time with her. He should have been there in her last moments. There are a billion things Slateheart could have done to prevent the pain that plagues his heart now. But that is the power of hindsight, isn't it?

" Lilypaw.. it is a better name of hope than I have given you. Wear it proudly, my friend. May you find your kin amongst the stars.. " She must know how sorry he is - that her name was a reminder of her loss, that they have been too busy for each other in the past moon. It bears no repeating. He would rather this vigil center her new life in StarClan's hunting grounds rather than his remorse. As Slateheart's lips curl up into a small, heartbroken smile, he tastes the tears that slowly trickle down his cheek, tears he did not know were there. " Go in grace, Lilypaw. Make new friends, see the wonders of the world and the living through wise new eyes.. I hope to see you again one day. "

Slateheart sits in silence for several moments, letting his head hang down, careful to let his tears hit the grass beneath so they don't seep into Lilypaw's pristine, groomed fur. His shoulders shake with each quiet sob - it is a new sorrow, one he can only attribute to the pain of losing his mother. After a short time, he finally gains his bearings and glances over his shoulder to the surrounding cats. " If you would like to share tongues with Lilypaw one last time .. please, join me. "

SLATEHEART ( he/him )​

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( ooc ) text

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[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── There is a distinct wrongness that Wolfsong cannot quite describe. It is not just that Lilypaw —once Blizzardpaw— has lost a life yet unlived to its fullest, nor that they endured a name which represented a hardship for her. No, it is...WindClan retreated to the barn during Sootstar's tyranny, a mere smattering of cats driven to the brink; and then Slateheart found the pale kit during leafbare's harshness, and brought them into the warmth of the barn. Afterward, they defeated Sootstar and saw her loyal traitors turn tail, forming the blasphemous DuskClan.

And now that same clan has killed that very kit-turned-apprentice. In rescuing the then-Blizzardkit from the cold, did WindClan instead deliver her to a cruel death, a bloody and painful suffering made all the more jagged by the hope of a bright future? Fate continues its unstoppable trek, and Wolfsong struggles to understand purpose in senselessness.

He swallows hard, staring at delicate lavender petals against snowy fur, bright spots of tenderness in the starkness of her pelt. He closes his eye, but the imprints linger in the darkness there, and Slateheart's heavy voice drifts like a lonely leaf in a pond, beholden to the wind — to grief, in his case, and Wolfsong knows it well. His son, charred and stiff, lavender tucked into what remained.

His old sorrow collides with the new, and the golden feline rises to approach Slateheart. He rests a paw on a darker shoulder. "They will never be cold again," he murmurs, blinking away mistiness. "But she will remember the warmth you gave, and one day, he will greet you with it."
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WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 46 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTAR (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  — ★★★☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart and his own pregnancy, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

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[cottonsprig]

Vigils never become easier. Cottonsprig would foolishly assume so, moons and moons ago when she conducted the first few of her own. Cats she dare not bother to name now, cleaned and primped, buried in marked graves where the family of those she truly cares for were lost to the gorge... It had been easy then to separate herself from the tragedy that is a lost life then. And then so much changed, too swiftly, and suddenly it hurt again to send her Clanmates off to the stars with prayers and hopes.

She trembles slightly as Slateheart offers his sentiments. His eulogy is spoken like a father who lost their child, and it is not hard to see how close Slateheart perceived himself to little Lilypaw. They were family, titles be damned, and the tom was hurting on a level only so many of them can understand. Cottonsprig shifts her weight, gracing a paw against her midsection too-briefly as the reminder of what dwells plagues her. Her sadness seems to double but she maintains it as best she can, her paw landing to the floor once again with no consequence.

"StarClan is full of prey, Slateheart," she murmurs after a long breath. "I've seen it, in my dreams. Prey, cool breezes, open skies... Lilypaw is okay now. She will never hunger or hurt ever again." She's unsure if that'll help the dark furred tom at all, but she's tried and she thinks that's enough.​

 

[SHEEPPAW]

From this moment, the apprentice isn’t his joyous self, he is silent. Sorrow rips itself from the black smoke, as he approaches the vigil on shaky legs. Blizzardpaw looks soft, and sweet in her rest. But, he knows she would never wake up, the overwhelming scent of death stings his nose. He was flanked by his mother as he slowly walked with his head hung low. He watches with misty blue eyes as Slateheart speaks of his sentiments. Lilypaw. His friend's new name is spoken from the maw of the lead warrior. He blinks slowly, staring at the lavender sprinkled on his once-denmate’s pale coat.

He presses himself against his mother, whereas his father is silently watching from nearby the pair. His muzzle wrinkles with a sniffle. Sheeppaw still couldn’t believe it, one of his friends was gone. Forever He thought Bli-Lilypaw was cool, he liked the other apprentice. Sheeppaw considered them a friend. He wanted to be the one to call their name when they eventually became a warrior. He wanted to get to know his denmate more.

So… Why… Why did someone just take Lilypaw’s life away? What did they do wrong to get murdered? Letting hooked claws dig into the ground beneath him, as his body shook. The apprentice lets a wet sob rips from his maw, as he listens to his clanmates say their own pieces of sentiments. He wonders if Lilypaw is happier up in Starclan, among the glowing stars.

Sheeppaw lets his mother nudge him forward, until he is up and onto his paws. He slowly walks forward to say his farewell. He makes it to the stiff body of his friend. He sits, tears already wetting his face with his sky - blue gaze resting on his fellow apprentice’s body. He breathed in shakily before he started to speak. "I- I’m sorry. I wanted to get to know you better and hang out with you more. I will not forget you." Voice cracked as his plumed tail twitched from its place behind him. The feline angled his head low as he murmured, towards the cold body. "I’ll see you again some day." His head drifts away from cold— not warm body and gets onto his paws. He takes a step back from his friend, all while he lets Frostpond guide him away from the funeral.

FEEL THE LAUGHTER BUILD ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 SLUMBER PARTIES

•  
• no ref yet </3
• ( HEY! WHATCHA GOT? ) ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ SHEEPPAW. ╱ windclan apprentice.
  ⤷ amab ; HE / HIM ; 8 MOONS & AGES EVERY 29TH.
  ✶ undecided / not looking / open to puppy-crushes
  ✶ a lanky, longhaired black smoke with high white and blue eyes
  ✶ thoughts ; "Speech, 8E7F7F" ; attacks only
  ✶ may powerplay minor harm ╱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ✶ smells like early morning dew & windblown heather
  — all opinions are ic
  
  → biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by calzone
  

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[dimmingsun]

He stares at Lilypaw, green bleeding into white-and-red. He thinks of the queens; they bring forth life, and yet they're tasked with preparing the bodies of those who have passed, ever-maternal as they comb through still fur. He thinks of the elders; they lived through so much, both tragedy and joy, and it is no doubt difficult to bury someone who is lifetimes younger than you are.

Dimmingsun is neither, and yet he feels the unrelenting brute force of grief.

Perhaps it would be easier to wade through without Slateheart's clear pain. There is a certain pang of helplessness that comes with seeing his friend in such agony, knowing that no act or word could possibly alleviate that. Relief would only come in the impossible; time turned back to stop this cruelty in its wake, or air being sucked back into Lilypaw's lungs to animate him once more.

Neither will come to pass, and there is no greater injustice than that.

Maybe one, Dimmingsun thinks. The culprit is free-roaming, breathing instead of Lilypaw, crafting up more wretched plans. It is a decisively difficult task not to let anger shine through his features — he allows himself a too-audible inhale through his nose, and that's that. Revenge... can wait just a little bit longer. Slateheart calls forth the rest of the Clan.

"You've given them a wonderful name," he reminds his friend, voice soft as silk. "I'm sure they appreciated it, even if it wasn't her favorite choice. She survived leaf-bare and came out stronger for it." Dimmingsun still remembers the day of her discovery; of Slateheart saving them from certain doom. They had screeched because their very life depended on it... and what a life it's been.

Dimmingsun's gaze stays on the ground as he comes closer to Slateheart — he's been hovering up to this point, unable to groom the little apprentice himself —, unshed tear sitting on the bottom of his eyelashes. "But even the harshest and darkest of seasons get sunshine in the end. Lilypaw will be that for us now; when the snow melts and newleaf comes to give us some relief, she will be with us... she will be in every ray of light, in every renewing flower." He does not feel wisdom when he speaks so eloquently. Both Wolfsong and Cottonsprig promise that Lilypaw is now free of mortal problems... but that does little to mend the breach that her absence has left in Dimmingsun.

Sheeppaw's pained voice is akin to a sharp claw finding itself into Dimmingsun's side. He all but winces, but it is easily veiled within his movements; his head bumps into Slateheart's shoulder, a vague and no doubt useless attempt at comfort.
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[Lakepaw.]

[ ༻ ❊ ༺ ] The numbed feeling coaxed him, his chest tightened at the sight of Blizzardpaw; no, Lilypaw. They were always cheerful, always so chatty and yet...Lakepaw always listened and now to see them cold, lifeless. His bi-color eyes staring blankly at the other apprentice pale fur before coming to stand next to Sheeppaw, everyone speaking their last words...to honor his friend... their friend, a kin, a apprentice of windclan and she was... killed.

Ears flattening across his skull as he gritted his teeth, choking down the sobs, the urge to cry all of it. Slateheart, Wolfsong, Sheeppaw, Dimmingsun, and Cottonsprit all spoke their words, all honoring Lilypaw and all he could do was stand there numbly for a moment, the words lost on his tongue for a second before he made a shaky sigh come from his maw.

"I will miss our conversations Lillypaw, but we will see each other once again, and then we can have all the conversations. In Starclan. This is not goodbye, friend" he said softly before leaning onto Sheeppaw. Lilypaw was in starclan now, and when it was his time, he will meet them again, and hopefully have many stories to tell them. This wasn't the end.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── Somewhere beyond the broken lullabies ──┐‎

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  "speak""Thoughts"
  
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  Lakepaw ❊ AMAB, He/Him, Apprentice of Windclan, 8 moons.
  ⭃ LH Rosette Lynx Minx with low white and bi-color eyes, blind in left eye
  ⭃ NPC X NPC
  ⭃ 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.
  

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