- Jan 15, 2023
- 567
- 142
- 43
༄༄ Grief shrouds the she-cat like fog, dense and impenetrable. The destruction that her mate’s death has wrought is all too clear in the way that she walks, the way that she speaks. The way that once-pristine calico fur has grown unkempt, the way that once-fierce golden eyes have dulled. Her bones do not show, not yet, but it is a near thing. Through it all, one thing is clear: WindClan’s deputy is not faring well.
She hardly recognizes the outside of the den from… over a year ago now, it must have been, when she acted as an escort for Vulturemask. Her tired paws scrape across the dirt with a renewed vigor, though her body still moves as though it is being dragged, rather than walking on its own. "We’re here," she croaks as she slinks her way into the cave ahead of the patrol, her voice worn raw from nights spent wallowing in her own devastation.
She looks at the glowing moonstone with tired, dulled eyes. It feels as though she should say something, offer forth some kind of acknowledgment for each of the stones that they take. For Larkfeather. For Lilacstem. For Bearflight. She feels guilty, having no words to say for any of them, no grand speeches or tales of their lives. She cannot speak of them, because the only name she cares to say is Bluepool’s.
She shakes her head. "Each of you, find a stone for your kin. We will not linger long." Her eyes are once again drawn to the stone that lies in the den’s center. Leaders and medicine cats touch it to communicate with the dead, so why should it not work the same for her? This is her chance, if there ever was one. She could speak to her beloved once again, and tell her one last goodbye. If she had known it would be her last time seeing Bluepool, she would have certainly said more when the silvery tabby left camp. She has more to say—she has so much more to say. So much more to do. They didn’t have enough time. They’ll never… have enough time.
She turns away from the moonstone, regret already slithering its way up her throat. The selection of stones is wide, but one of them catches her eye quickly. Smooth and spotless, a perfect grave marker is plucked from the ground with a dark paw, and the calico stares down at it for a few heartbeats before nodding once, to herself. For Bluepool. My love, now and forever. This is it, until I see you again.
She hardly recognizes the outside of the den from… over a year ago now, it must have been, when she acted as an escort for Vulturemask. Her tired paws scrape across the dirt with a renewed vigor, though her body still moves as though it is being dragged, rather than walking on its own. "We’re here," she croaks as she slinks her way into the cave ahead of the patrol, her voice worn raw from nights spent wallowing in her own devastation.
She looks at the glowing moonstone with tired, dulled eyes. It feels as though she should say something, offer forth some kind of acknowledgment for each of the stones that they take. For Larkfeather. For Lilacstem. For Bearflight. She feels guilty, having no words to say for any of them, no grand speeches or tales of their lives. She cannot speak of them, because the only name she cares to say is Bluepool’s.
She shakes her head. "Each of you, find a stone for your kin. We will not linger long." Her eyes are once again drawn to the stone that lies in the den’s center. Leaders and medicine cats touch it to communicate with the dead, so why should it not work the same for her? This is her chance, if there ever was one. She could speak to her beloved once again, and tell her one last goodbye. If she had known it would be her last time seeing Bluepool, she would have certainly said more when the silvery tabby left camp. She has more to say—she has so much more to say. So much more to do. They didn’t have enough time. They’ll never… have enough time.
She turns away from the moonstone, regret already slithering its way up her throat. The selection of stones is wide, but one of them catches her eye quickly. Smooth and spotless, a perfect grave marker is plucked from the ground with a dark paw, and the calico stares down at it for a few heartbeats before nodding once, to herself. For Bluepool. My love, now and forever. This is it, until I see you again.
- ooc: set before duskclan invasion! @PINKPAW @FEATHERSPINE @sparkspirit
-
SCORCHSTREAK ❯❯ she/they, deputy (tunneler) of windclan
༄ small, slim flame-streaked calico with fiery golden eyes. cold and closed-off, ferociously protective of her clanmates. rarely seen aboveground.
༄ mate tobluepool; sibling to rattleheart & rabbitclaw
༄ mentor to pinkpaw
༄ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
༄ penned by foxlore
