overwhelmingly consuming me [sorting stones]

[GRAVELSNAP]

➴➴ Their collection of rocks did not dwindle since the clan was driven out of their camp by rogues, remaining miraculously untouched by it all. This time, though, some of the pebbles are notably missing. The special one, the one that they’d been given specifically by Bluefrost, is gone—nowhere to be found. The thought makes the hollowed-out feeling in their chest grow, but at least… at least they still have some of their rock collection. The only problem is that they have to sort out the bad ones, now. And the best place to do that is at the gorge, with their paws dangerously close to the cliff’s edge. The dead loyalists are buried, but throwing rocks over the edge feels the same as throwing bodies. It’s freeing.

Sootstar. Thornrunner. Nightmareface. Harrierstripe. Hollowcreek. Harbingermoon.

Each stone is dropped over the edge with a sense of finality, dulled hazel eyes following their path downward. They cannot hear the splash that’s sure to follow, but they don’t care about it. Knowing that the rocks are gone, just like their clanmates, is enough. But the stone that remains beside them, the yellow one with a bold stripe across its middle, causes them to freeze. Thriftfeather’s loss is the greatest of them all. Their first apprentice is a traitor to his clan, an exile now—they may never see him again. They have utterly failed as a mentor, as a friend, as a warrior. Their jaw clenches, as does their chest, and breathing suddenly feels like a greater struggle than it had been back when they were sick with yellowcough.

"Goodbye." Their voice is hoarse, choked with emotion, but they don’t let their tears fall. Not for traitors. Not for cats they’d grown up with, trained alongside, and cared for despite their annoyances. Gravelsnap does not care about any of them.

With one final swipe of their paw, the Thriftfeather pebble, balancing precariously at the edge of the gorge, is dragged back to their side. They can’t let it go. That can’t… accept that he’s gone, just like that.​

​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

Throughout the last few days, Rattleheart had been able to provide sympathy to the cats around her, offering them a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen if they needed it even if she couldn't truly understand the pain they were going through. With Sootstar's children especially, she had found herself supporting them even without any experience in losing her siblings, or losing a mother that she had been truly dedicated to.

In the case of Gravelsnap's loss of Thiftfeather, though, she could provide empathy.

Her chest still ached intensely whenever she thought about her own failures regarding Peonypaw, the apprentice that she had tried so desperately to take along with her when they had initially fled Sootstar's loyalists. Even if he had made his own decisions in the end, taking his fate into his own paws, she still felt responsible for losing him. She should've been able to do more - should've been a better teacher to him, somehow. Maybe if she had, he would be sitting in camp alongside the rest of them, instead of driven off into the distance where even Starclan couldn't watch over him. She felt terrified about taking on another apprentice because of the loss, even if others had tried to tell her over and over that she had done all that she could have.

A need to just walk was what brought her out to the gorge today, desperate to stretch her legs and soothe her own mind after so much time spent in camp. It was a relief to be back in their proper home, but even she needed an escape once in a while. Her bumping into Gravelsnap was entirely incidental, yet she found herself watching with interest as they dumped rock after rock down into the pit below. It took her a moment to realize what they represented, remembering what their collection was made up of. Rattleheart cleared her throat to grab their attention as she approached, sitting down beside them and peering over the edge of the gorge. "I hate that we've all had to lose so much. It doesn't feel fair no matter how much I think about it." She then looked towards his side, towards the brightly colored stone that still remained. "You did good with him, you know."

It's all she can think of to offer them, even though she knew she wouldn't believe the same words directed towards her over Peonypaw.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[MOORBLOSSOM]

Outings into the moorlands' outermost reaches are the best avenue for escapism within Moorblossom's means. With the backdrop of civil conflict and its extensive death toll, it's no marvel she senses isolation and estrangement in its wake. At least when her steps glide through moorgrass with a set destination in mind can she find comfort in a sense of direction—that she's advancing forward towards something, anything at all, and not idly basking in a camp made stagnant by collective grief.

Today, wayward paws shepherd her the gorge's way, where Gravelsnap sits hunched over its lip while Rattleheart extends whatever compassion is available. It would appear a little escapism is penciled into everyone's plans.

There is no fault in this, none whatsoever. For every clanmate that weathers these times better than others, there is a mirror opposite, an ally in pain, a comrade in need of consolation. This kind of heartache makes for a puzzle where the pieces don't always slot together cleanly, but any guidance in reordering the chaos helps. Moorblossom may not have the seasoned experience to facilitate their burdens. But, she has seen death, and she has lost her brother, like Gravelsnap has lost their former apprentice.

She slows into the two cats' orbit, noting the rock that Gravelsnap is crouched near. "Hey," greets the she-cat, her meow somber, "it'll get easier, I think." In a manner akin to Rattleheart, she moves to settle herself by the cliff's brink, though at a proximity broader than the long-furred warrior. Her lissom figure shudders, not from the cold. "It doesn't make sense," she contributes to Rattleheart's remark. "And I wish it never happened. But, it did, and... I just don't know. But it'll get easier, 'cause it has to."

Though uncertain of how far-reaching her input will be, she is satisfied with it nonetheless. Regurgitating that line about it getting easier, a platitude passed down and parroted so frequently in this stricken state, is, on some level, a comfort unto herself as much it could be to them.

Because she knows Harrierstripe won't be coming back, not ever; but she knows time and routine will dull the ache at some point. Such was the case when her father died, and it stands to reason this, too, shall pass.​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

HE COULD NOT BREAK SURFACE TENSION
HE LOOKED IN THE WRONG PLACE FOR REDEMPTION ​

---

periwinklebreeze ❀ 18 moons ❀ demi-boy ❀ he/they ❀ windclan moor runner​

---

Periwinklebreeze, like many, is well aware of what the pebbles gravensnap holds in his grasp symbolizes. He can recall musing over battle strategies, offering his own stone to add to the collection. But... there are many cats who are no longer among them. Its a fitting end, he thinks - to be thrown into the gorge, into obscurity. They should no longer hold any place in their hearts, in their memories - even vengeance takes its toll on a cat. He'd know, wouldn't he? And yet... he cannot blame his friend for not wishing to part with that particular rock. Tongue traces teeth anxiously as jaws part, shifting from paw to paw in uncertainty only to close again in silence, head turning away. This is his fault, he thinks - if he hadn't asked him to leave... if he hadn't fought thriftfeather in battle, this guilt wouldn't be consuming his friend. Wouldn't be consuming them both.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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D O N ' T ━ L O O K ━ A T ━ M E ━ W I T H ━ T H O S E ━ E Y E S

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[sparkspirit]

Sometimes, in the pale night hours after sunset, when his clanmates are in their nests but a faint glow still clings to the horizon where the sun had said goodnight, Sparkspirit lies awake in his nest and wishes he had gone with Granitepelt. Or maybe more succinctly, he wishes that he had not betrayed the two cats that seemed most proud of him throughout all of time. It's bad of him to hope that, isn't it? Sunstride's rebels had won the day. They are, without question, the good guys. He had seen that with clarity in the moment he attacked Heavy Snow, promising to find his littermates and run. But now that the moment has passed, guilt rules his head. The pride in her eyes and her voice when she gave him his name is branded to the back of his eyes. Now the world has changed into a place he does not fit into.

He wonders if those that had followed Granitepelt feel the same. If Weaselclaw were still alive, he would undoubtedly be there too. Would he be missing Sparkspirit the way that Gravelsnap so clearly misses Thriftfeather? Were these pieces of WindClan always going to be so irrevocably tied together that they will never move on? Moorblossom promises that they will. He doesn't think he believes it. Even still, the young warrior presses into the group housed by the gorge's edge. He seeks comfort, even if none of them are all that close to him. Were things just slightly different, his own pebble would be swallowed by these depths. "I think–" Unwelcome, yes, but a thought. "I think. . . it would be okay, if you buried him instead. He doesn't have to be gone forever."

𝘛𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘓𝘌𝘋 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘋𝘚 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐  ･｡ﾟ  🗲  ╱╱ 11.07.2023 𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘚𝘈𝘠 ˊˎ＜

• OOC. —
• 🗲　　. 　 ˚　.  SPARKSPIRIT. HE - HIM - HIS. 14 MOON OLD MOOR RUNNER OF WINDCLAN. VERY LOYAL TO HIS CLAN. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  ————
  
  
  ——  a trim mock tortoiseshell tom with mostly black fur splashed with the occasional patch orange. he has a singular white mark on the back of his neck shaped similarly to a lightning strike, and a small scar across the bridge of his nose. his eyes are a shocking electric blue.
  

  ✦ ECHOLIGHT x ELMBREEZE. ADOPTED BY YEWBERRY. BRIGHTFAM, BUT SOMEWHAT ESTRANGED DUE TO HIS LOYALTY TO WINDCLAN. ————————

• "speech"

​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

➴➴ Their mourning is interrupted by pawsteps from behind them, but for once Gravelsnap can’t find it in themself to be upset with their clanmates for checking in on them. They’ve been acting strange, off-kilter, since they’d followed Sunstride instead of Sootstar. And Rattleheart, ever perceptive and attentive, settles herself at their side with an offer of words of comfort. They recall that the tunneler’s own apprentice is missing these days, gone in the same way that Thriftfeather is. They are linked in their pain, sharing the same uncertainty of whether the apprentices they trained are dead or alive. Gravelsnap wishes that they had found something else in common with the tunneler before this. But she says that they did well, and in that, she is incorrect.

"I did everything wrong," they manage to say, their voice coming out thick around the lump in their throat. They had trained Thriftfeather from kit to warrior—how can the blame for his loyalty to Sootstar lie on anyone else but themself? And then, after everything, they had abandoned him. "I left him. He needed me." The black-patched warrior looks up at Moorblossom as the she-cat joins them near the gorge. She says that it will get easier; Gravelsnap believes her, because the memory of their mother’s death has grown easier to deal with in time. Time heals all wounds, after all—or at least, it suppresses them. They think that Moorblossom is being a bit too optimistic, yet she’s undoubtedly correct.

The next cat who approaches is Sparkspirit—he’s never particularly liked nor disliked the red-patched tom, but he’s ignored his existence for the most part. Despite the distance between them, the other warrior offers comfort by way of suggesting that he could bury Thriftfeather, in a way. It wouldn’t be the same as burying a body, but burying the stone could… help. He wonders if Sparkspirit’s family would want the stones that represented Larkfeather and Lilacstem, to bury them. If Rattleheart would want Rumblerain’s stone. If Moorblossom is angry that Gravelsnap threw Harrierstripe’s stone over the edge without hesitation.

He has been guarded all this time, keeping his clanmates held at a tail’s length, not allowing many to get close. He has pressed through with forced smiles that feel more like grimaces, with muttered “I’m fine”s. But this time, he truly isn’t alone. There is not a cat in the clan who has gone untouched by loss in these past months. They all understand, and that is perhaps what frightens him the most. They must all see the cracks in his carefully-crafted façade… so maybe it’s time to let it fall. "Yes," he sniffles, feeling pathetic as tears begin their steady drip down his face. "I’ll bury him."​

​