sensitive topics SEE HOW IT SHINES | gladefrost, frecklepaw, and mothpaw’s vigil

[robinheart]

cw: brief mentions of blood and death

Her paws work on autopilot, mechanical movements repeated from moons past. Sharp herbs bite at her sense of smell; sharper memories bite at her mind. In weaving mint into silken chocolate braided pelt she catches glimpses of stone blue and ivory hues.

She has been here before.

Her throat tightens at the distant cries of newborns. It feels like deja vu. Tears silently stream down her cheeks as she mourns a mother who will never know her kits. As she mourns for kits who will only know of their mother through stories. As she mourns a part of her heart cut from her chest unexpectedly, a loss of love she could not prepare for.

Why did you leave?

Why did you leave me?

Gladefrost's body is eerily still, cold and still faintly perfumed with iron and milk scent. The tortoiseshell continues to prepare the fallen queen for her vigil, tucking more sprigs of herbs into plush pelt she will never lean against again. Robinheart wishes she could curse her best friend for slipping away from her, for leaving camp and kitting far from home. If she had stayed… if Moonbeam had been there… if Gladefrost had learned anything from the queens who came before her, the kittings that had gone awry in an instant…

There were herbs that could have stopped the bleeding!

She tries to stifle her grief filled sniffles, pulling away to wipe a paw across her flooded gaze. Through blurred vision she sees Moonbeam prepare Frecklepaw and Mothpaw's bodies. Three lives taken too soon in one night. Three foolish decisions made and no one to blame. Robinheart aches for the losses her home has endured.

Does Starclan ache as well? Or do they rejoice in family reunited among the stars?

Robinheart does not ponder such a thing. Not while her paws tuck the final leaves of greenery into Gladefrost's mane. Not while she grooms down a stubborn lock of fur upon the tabby's brow. Not while Moonbeam deems the bodies ready and begins the vigil.

Perhaps when she curls up in her nest tonight, tear stained eyes vigilantly watching Gladefrost's kits nurse from a queen who did not birth them, she will wonder about the will of Starclan. The decision to pull the life from her best friend and chosen sister despite the tabby making a mistake. Others had broken codes before, made mistakes, but their lives remained intact. So why Gladefrost?

And why Frecklepaw and Mothpaw? They were borne of the river, just as Brookstorm had been. Why too did the river take them?

A shaky breath escapes the tortoiseshell queen. She presses her nose to Gladefrost's cheek and lingers for a moment, mind searching for the right thing to say. "Goodbye my dearest friend. I will look after them for you… I will love your kits as I love my own… As I loved you. I will tell them all about you when they are older, I promise," she murmurs, squeezing her eyes shut and feeling hot tears further soak her cheeks. "Tell Brookstorm that I love her. Keep her company until I am able to join you among the stars," she concludes in warbled voice.

Robinheart rises from beside Gladefrost and shifts to Frecklepaw and Mothpaw. She presses her nose to their foreheads in turn, blinking back fresh tears for two lives lost before they had barely begun. "May Starclan guide you both. We will meet again someday, my friends." In her heart she hopes they find redemption in the shimmering rivers of Silverpelt, swimming and fishing among other Roverclanners who reside there. She hopes they are at peace.

//this canonically takes place the day after the meeting since they passed away the night of the meeting
@Moonbeam
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[ penned by kerms ]​

 

[iciclefang]

How could you not remember Lilybloom? Iciclefang's blue gaze is dull as she sits a respectful distance from the mint-strewn bodies. Her eyes settle almost reproachfully on Gladefrost's. You knew how dangerous it was to give birth, even with the aid of a medicine cat. How could you leave camp, knowing no one could help you? Her sister had done everything right — she'd had Moonbeam's help, she'd had Lakemoon and Iciclefang by her side, and it had not been enough to save her.

Gladefrost had chosen the cold, the wilderness, isolation. Iciclefang cannot understand why, why — why, when she had a nursery full of experienced queens, a medicine cat adept at aiding with kittings, a Clan who loved and cherished her and her impending kits?

Selfish. You are lucky they did not perish with you. Iciclefang's judgment is harsh, even through the sting of her sadness. She is only glad the young queen's kits had made it back with Lichenstar and Hazecloud, that they seem to be growing with Claythorn's help.

And speaking of selfish... she shifts her gaze to Frecklepaw, to Mothpaw. Too impatient to wait for the passing of their assessments. Too filled with want, with need, to let their senses guide their paws. It was a damn shame to lose not only a vibrant young queen, but two soon-to-be warriors as well. They are hardly older than my own kits.

Iciclefang's paw pads prickle as she approaches Gladefrost first. "Rest well. Your Clan will ensure your kits are cared for," she murmurs into her earthen-toned fur.

To Frecklepaw, she makes the same motion. "You will be a warrior in StarClan. Safe hunting."

To Mothpaw, she presses her nose into the young cat's pelt and murmurs, "Safe hunting, young one."

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Iciclekit . Iciclepaw . Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — 28 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
  — mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring Pinepaw ; previously mentored Cicadaflight
  — riverclan lead warrior. mudpelt x icesparkle, gen 2.
  — former mate to Stormywing ; current mate to no one.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.

​

 

[TURTLEDOVE]

This is my fault, is the first thought that comes to mind. Turtledove can't help but think that. Her and Pebbletail were supposed to be watching the entrance of camp, and they were. They just hadn't spotted the two apprentices slipping from camp or the heavily pregnant queen. Stupid! She cringed at her own incompetency and watched as her clanmates approached the three bodies growing cold in the clearing.

It felt senseless. First Magpiepaw and now these three. She knew in her heart that StarClan does what they can, but she couldn't help but be confused and angry at these senseless deaths. Turtledove hung her broad head and shook it slowly. She couldn't bring herself to approach the vigil. It felt cruel to taunt their deaths even further by appearing as the cat that let them down. I'm sorry, she thought to herself, hoping the message appeared loud and clear in StarClan.

✧ ✧ YOU COULD LET IT ALL GO

• ooc: -
•  
• — large stocky silver charcoal tabby she-cat with short tail and green eyes
  — 12 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  — bisexual(?) ; currently not looking
  — child of Pondstep and Shadoweye
  — riverclan ; loyal to licehnstar
  — easy to befriend ; trust levels
  — "speech", thoughts, attacking
  — peaceful powerplay allowed and encouraged!

 

[rivuletpaw]

Vigils aren't for kits, Rivuletkit tells herself as a great pressing weight lingers in camp. She lingers obediently by the nursery, green glimmering eyes flitting from body to body before her, before them all. Capable cats, each of them - yet each cut down too quickly. Grief holds the child but she does not understand it. She knows what death means; it means that they will hunt with StarClan now, rather than in their home terrain. That they will be without pain or hunger. But if the blessed beyond is without strife, then why do the living fear it? Why then, when one crosses the threshold into the ether, must she mourn their loss? Will she not see them again, when it is her turn to join them?

She breaks rank. Her mother is crying, and it is her duty as a child to cheer her up. But as she pulls to the red and ashen hues of Robinheart, she cannot pull her gaze from the still flank of Gladefrost - of Mothpaw, of Frecklepaw. It's eerie... It's unfamiliar. Maybe the discomfort is what pulls tears from her eyes. Rivuletkit cannot put words to emotions, and so she cries in silence, stationed beside her mother.​

 

[FERNGILL]

Why- a whirling thought, cyclical like the ringleting sway of reeds. Ferngill was sure he was not the only one- if he squinted hard enough, he could see it on Iciclefang's face, he'd like to think. he doubted their opinions much differed. Guilt clawed through him, a sourceless thing ... but Gladefrost, in fleeing camp, had saddled them all with it. Every cat who had knew her, who had loved her would be asking themselves that same question, scolding themselves for being so profoundly unaware.

Lilybloom's death stung sharp in his memory, too. Huddled, loved, and still alone. His heart trembled.

Frecklepaw and Mothpaw, too- it struck close to him, too close for comfort. The scar on his face wasn't merely a mar, but also a jagged-edged reminder of how lucky he was. When Ferngill had failed his own warrior assessment... young, scrappy Fernpaw, newly blessed with green eyes and a fuller figure, sure he deserved more than what he had achieved... he'd charged headfirst into danger. It was a selfish thought, maybe... but he sickened thinking of how that could have been him.

And how he wished he spoke about it more ... that he had failed his initial warrior assessment, but now stood strong as a lead warrior, as a cat with a good collection of achievements under his belt. If he shared the story more, wasn't afraid to laugh on how idiotic it was... maybe Frecklepaw and Mothpaw might have spared a thought.

Emotion wobbled so fiercely at the end of Ferngill's tongue that he found he could hardly speak. "Y-you had so much to give, still..." he murmured to the apprentices, lowly. Then to Gladefrost, he glanced... "I wish we'd been better friends." ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[MIDNIGHTASH]

જ➶ The knowing and understanding of Gladefrost's death means little to her. They never got along anyway and she can not force herself to have any sadness in her heart for a molly that tried to ridicule her. Instead the only reason she has found herself here is because of both Frecklepaw and Mothpaw. Perhaps one more than the other but they consume her gaze. Cold and lifeless forms drapped out within camp. One a friend and the other an acquaintance but she still finds herself shedding tears for the them both. Life cut too short just like Magpie. Their names never gotten. The warrior tilts her head to the sky then and takes in a deep breath. Shuddering, a pain gripping her chest before she releases it. "It's not fair..." But when has left ever been as such. Even now with how maby that have been so suddenly taken from them.

Flexing claws she finally places amber orbs back on the two bodies. Her words have all but ran dry anyway. She will miss them. Wish she had gotten to properly hang out with them. But it is too late to want to now. Too late for anything.​

 

[Moonbeam]

She is silent. There are few words for such a loss, for the loss of so many all at once, and so silence takes the place of the usual words that Moonbeam would speak. Usually they were spoken to a crowd surrounding a single soul, a single clanmate, but this is the first time she'd had to prepare herbs for three bodies, the first time a vigil was held in mass instead of one at a time. It was heartbreaking, soul crushing, and it made the medicine cat swallow a large lump within her throat as she watched clanmates gather and speak, watched friends and family mourn.

There was not much she could say or do, simply look upon the stars and try to read them to see if there was something she was missing, and when nothing came to her she'd look down once more, and she is heartbroken, so she is silent.

CAUSE LIKE CONTELLATIONS ꕥ A MILLION YEARS AWAY

• --
• ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ flesh wounds
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ infections
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ aches & pains
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ illness
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ breathing
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ traveling
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ broken bones
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ kitting
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ poisons
• 
  ꕥ SH white masking cinnamon torbie w/orange eyes & small ears
  ꕥ 15 moons old; ages the 17th every month
  ꕥ homosexual polyromantic ; mated to beefang, crushing on redacted
  ꕥ currently mentoring none
  ꕥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ꕥ easy in combat unless in water, focuses on defensive tactics

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