OVER AND OVER ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ ASHENFALL

[Swansong]

⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ 　They are back at their favorite haunt. Again and again, Swansong and Ashenfall wander the graveyards. The two of them have become as much a fixture as the stones themself. Two ghosts, one pale as the death-chill of snow, one a poor mirror of a woman long-gone but never forgotten. They haunt her grave as restless spirits, mournful and trapped in the lingering dregs of memory.

Applejaw had always been above it. She had forged ever-forwards, eyes set high on their father's throne rather than their mother's resting place. She had been the best of them, ambitious and proud and everything a good warrior should be. Yet her ambitious was brittle; Smogstar's disappearance sent her plummeting to her own demise, and now there is one more grave for her siblings to tend.

Swansong places the wilting flowers by the graveyard's newest stone. A few paces back, and she is by Ashenfall's side once again. Her mournful crescent-moon eyes are downturned. "It is strange... To have no grave to mourn..." she murmurs. She needs not name who she speaks of; Smogstar's absence aches like a missing limb. She sits, leans her head to gently bump against her brother's own. "At the least... Our dear sister can have the season's final blossoms..." It is a pitiful comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

‎‎┌── BUT NO ONE❜S REALLY THERE ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ DOES THAT MEAN IT❜S DONE IN VAIN? ──┐‎

• @ASHENFALL
  
• 
  
  

  "SPEECH"

• 
  SWANSONG　☾　she / they, warrior of shadowclan, eighteen moons.
  ★ a pale, silky-furred cream tabby with droopy blue eyes.
  ★ dreamy and detached, known for her perpetual sleepiness.
  ★ halfshade x smogstar, littermate to applejaw, garlicheart, & ashenfall.
  ★ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ★ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[ASHENFALL]

Ashenfall wondered if he had done something to will this into being. If their insistence on returning day after day to circle the clearing and dust off grave stones attached misfortune to them like mud on their paws. Or perhaps there was another lesson to be learned from this. Ashenfall kept his gaze lowered, he had never entertained the same ambition his sister dug her claws into. He lingered below, counting shadows and committing the days passed to memory. He wondered if she knew why he felt compelled to do so. He wondered if he could have ever expected how immense the weight would be when he was tasked with catching her body. He didn't think so. Or, he knew he didn't, now.

Swansong understood it, he thought, perhaps more than he did. Ashenfall was more like a collection of instincts, his mind buzzed like a dragonfly and flitted across the marsh without an idea why. His sister, for all of her inscrutable philosophizing, had a clearer vision of the things that lay beyond. He didn't think he asked them about it, not directly anyway. She had a more intellectual grasp on these things, though, he knew.

He watches her place the wilting flowers atop the stone they linger next to, and he twitches a whisker at the petal that comes loose and drops to rest upon the still-too-fresh dirt. His expression returns to its grim resting place when she speaks, though he accepts her head-bump readily still. "I think she'll appreciate them, even if they're all... wilty," he says in a way that he intends to bring about some lightness, but his voice cracks and he falls silent again for a moment.

And it does ache like a missing limb, and all of the pits he balances around the edges of crumble a bit more, and he can feel himself lose some of his footing, and his stomach turns in the way that he expects nowadays, and he's angry that there's nowhere safe to climb to.

"... How is it fair?" he asks her, not knowing if he's expecting an answer, only knowing that he can't ask anyone else, there's no one else left that'd find it appropriate, "I don't understand why." Why had they been taken? Why now?

He hated leaf-fall.

YOULL ASK WHAT CAN I DO? ⭒☽⛧☾⭒ AND THERE WILL BE NO ANSWER

• OOC:
• 
• 
  — ashenkit . ashenpaw . ashenfall
  — he/him. 18mo warrior of shadowclan. formerly mentored by smogstar. mated with flintwish.
  — smogstar x halfshade. littermate to applejaw, swansong & garlicheart. older brother of halfsun and laurelgrin
  — a stout, longhaired blue torbie w/ pale blue and amber eyes
  — sarcastic, sharp-eyed, sulky, nostalgic, faithful, impulsive, candid, provocative, remorseful
  — "speech", thoughts
  — penned by eezy
  

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[Swansong]

⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ 　Just because she understands death better - as much as she can, trapped within a frail and mortal body - does not mean that it is an easy thing to accept. She had thought, before, that she knew the workings of the stars. She had thought that she knew their will, the very force which drives her wandering paws. Their voices hum like a droning insect in her head, and it grows harder and harder not to doubt their cruel whims.

Applejaw had always been alive, always moving forward. Not like her, not like Ashenfall. She burned bright, and she burned fast. Maybe it is only fitting for her to go out in a blaze of anger, blood spilling from her throat. A scream of indignation at the loss of their father. They stare down at the wilted flowers, and they hardly feel enough. "I should only hope she does," they murmur. Their voice is flat, a monotone whisper. Ashenfall's cracks like brittle ice, and they do not comment upon it.

He speaks the questions that they reserve only for their dreams. Swansong shuts her eyes, does not waver. Why, she has begged the stars. They have not spoken to her clearly in so long; it does not feel fair that they should leave her alone to provide this solace.

"There is... purpose to all of this, I know..." She has to believe that. She tries to make the words sound genuine. "Death may not be kind... But neither is it... aimless..." Fate is a fickle thing, after all.

Her voice wavers. "It is not fair," she agrees softly. "But... we are still here. That has to mean something... She only wishes that she know what. Her mother died so that she could be reborn, and now... Now, there must be some reason why they have been spared again. They cannot live only to grieve.

‎‎BUT NO ONE❜S REALLY THERE ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ DOES THAT MEAN IT❜S DONE IN VAIN?‎

• 
  
• 
  
  

  "SPEECH"

• 
  SWANSONG　☾　she / they, warrior of shadowclan, eighteen moons.
  ★ a pale, silky-furred cream tabby with tired blue eyes.
  ★ dreamy and detached, known for her perpetual sleepiness.
  ★ halfshade x smogstar, littermate to applejaw, garlicheart, & ashenfall.
  ★ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ★ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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