private SEE HOW IT SHINES [ robinheart ]

[willowroot]

( ☾ ) the chirp of crickets beckons night towards the horizon, a swath of dark sky dotted with milky star clusters. the sun has long since vanished behind the skeletal trees, and from the river, the lone call of a loon rings out over the silence of the slumbering camp. two figures sit, perched on a recently fallen log, dark fur outlined by the silvery glow of a waning moon. hunched shoulders and gentle murmurs foretell a not-so-joyous conversation, but the two mollies sit close together, the taller’s tail wrapped around the shorter’s back. there is a mournful air to the both of them, a grief currently being spoken.

willowroot feels grief very deeply, and has her whole life. what she feels ill equipped to do, every time, is comfort others in their own grief. poor robinheart has dealt with death since a young age, the loss of brookstorm not even her first loss, but there is something different about the loss of a mother. apricotflower’s drowning due to the flood is still fresh in the young queen’s mind, just as it is fresh in willowroot’s own. that robinheart’s mother had not lived to see her grandkids apprenticed is a horrible tragedy.

“i’ve got you,” she murmurs lowly to her former apprentice, tail gently flicking against the girl’s back in some sense of comfort. “your kits are safe, gladefrost’s litter is as well. we’re going to figure this out together, little bird.” a rasping of her tongue across robinheart’s ear, the rumble of a comforting purr.

THE ECHOING HYMN ☾ OF MY FELLOW PASSERINE

• // sorry this took so long to make! assume they've been in conversation for a bit. @robinheart luv u xoxo "#91A26C"
  
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  WILLOWROOT ☾ SHE / THEY, WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. 46 MOONS. MENTORING ECHOPAW. PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a long-haired black smoke oriental with sage-green eyes. smoky long fur coats the length of willowroot's lithe body, cut through with dark ghost stripes. friendly sage green eyes that narrow in an almond shape, and her muzzle and limbs are thin and long due to her oriental heritage.
  

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[robinheart]

The twilight chorus falls on deaf ears, cricket chirps and loon call a distant buzz in deeply troubled mind. She’s gone. Over and over the realization echoes in the tortoiseshell’s mind, louder and louder in every passing second. Apricotflower had not survived the flood. Her mother… was gone.

The weight and warmth of Willowroot pressed into her side helps to ground the grieving daughter to reality. She’d be adrift in a sea of tears and grief had it not been for her former mentor. Her adoptive aunt. Their conversation is hushed and taken at a snail’s pace. Robinheart is not the same panicked molly she had been with Hazecloud after Brookstorm had passed.

She has learned now to internalize her pain – to put on a brave face for her children and her godchildren.

But Willowroot is neither of those groups. Therefore she allows herself to crack and crumble.

‘We're going to figure this out together, little bird,’ the smoke warrior speaks, tender and affectionately, but such sweet nothings bring forth new tears. A nickname her mother had used for her, still breathed to life by the one who played a key role in teaching Robinheart how to be a warrior. “I feel so lost without her,” the tortoiseshell rasps as she tucks her head beneath Willowroot’s chin, cheek pressed to darkened fur. “Why does Starclan take my family from me? Did I… do something wrong? Have I not atoned enough?”

Am I cursed?​

[ penned by kerms ]​