pafp SLOW CHEETAH ✧ losing a life

[BLAZESTAR]

“I don’t… understand,” Blazestar all but pants, head lolling about in the moss. He has shriveled from lack of prey—even when a cat brings him what meager food there is, he cannot force himself to eat enough to sustain this life. His ribs are stark against his thick golden pelt, blades rising through sunset and cream. His face is gaunt, showing advanced age that he feels he has earned despite his turns around the sun. His vision swims through a sea of water-blue, through Dawnglare’s veiled eyes and Fireflypaw’s wide ones—he does not see what they see, though.

“Why… did she come to you, and not to me?” He rasps, clawing fitfully at the edges of his dried-out nest. He had been moved back to the leader’s den to make room for the other patients, those without the sanctity of their own den. He had insisted after the feverfew had whittled away his delirium. There’s no reason for me to take up space others need, he’d told his son before erupting into a fit of coughs.

He’s seeing shapes wreathing around Dawnglare, silver and aimless. He searches them for faces he knows, for the faces of the cats he'd sent to their deaths in the mountains. He does not see a familiar face, not his daughter's, not Bobbie's, not Orangeblossom's or any of the other cats, but his fears are not assuaged.

The fox-furred medicine cat is looking at him with an expression Blazestar cannot read. The Ragdoll hears him speak, but the words are nonsensical, empty. They are not the answer Blazestar wants to hear. “Is she… disappointed in me,” he strains, his teeth clicking together in a grimace. Chills flush through him, his skin hardening under his shaking pelt. On its heels are the red, snapping jaws of fire that cause him to writhe uncomfortably. The fever is back, and it’s progressed too much for the herbs to touch it.

“She wants me to forgive you,” Blazestar wheezes, sightless dark blue eyes fixing through Dawnglare, pinning the sepia tom in place. Tears prick the corners of the flame point’s eyes. “She said… she said don’t cry, but I can’t—” He blinks furiously, and the tears slip like rainwater down either side of his face. “Dawnglare, I want to forgive you… I want to…” He seizes, limbs going still, tail fluffing out behind him.

A pale silhouette comes to sit beside the prophet. It is not Morningpaw. Blazestar’s eyes begin to dim as it approaches his nest. “They’re here,” he says, softly. “Can you feel her beside you?” As she nears Blazestar’s sickbed, he can see the fur she’d worn in life had been white, white as the stars she now wears on every angle of her body. “I don’t want to go…”

Blazestar’s eyelids slip surreptitiously over each cyan orb. First one, then the other. The breath begins to rattle in his throat as he whispers, “…I miss you.” It tapers off, and then all is silent.

ooc ✧ 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓌𝓃, 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

• please wait for @DAWNGLARE :,)

• 

• 

  — blaise . blazestar
  — he/him ; leader of skyclan
  — pansexual ; divorced ; single
  — longhaired flame point Ragdoll with blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Mercibun

​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

He had only been able to stand idle as the supply of Lungwort dwindled. And in his absence, all he has to fall back on are boons for Yellowcough’s symptoms, but not much more. A sore throat could be soothed, a fever could be lessened. The worst of it, and not descriptly linked to any one herb was the delirium. Hushed whispers uttered from a dry mouth; non - things conjured from a dying mind. It was better for some, worse for others. He thinks, in some act of cruelty— or perhaps, relief to the one receiving— it worsens when they are closest to death.

There is a prime example in front of him; in Blazestar, who, despite his efforts, has only worsened across the past few sunrises. He is fairly certain that he can do no more, before the inevitable comes. Dawnglare is still, left to watch the writhing with half - lidded eyes. There are tired lines slashed across his face. He keeps his paws tucked, making himself small, because he did not feel that he belonged here. He stays, anyways. Not just to be a messenger of death, but, well…

He is spitting nonsense now, and Dawnglare ought to pay him no mind. It’s a rule that he breaks easily, for Blaise.

" ...Morningpaw? " he is hesitant to speak. Eyes of moon - shaded blue pass over the leader with a question in them. To make sure the fog has not lifted over his eyes. The question is nonsensical. " ...It's what I am here for. " he tells him. Was that not enough? The reason for everything, after all, was so he can be liaison between the living and the stars. " Is she… disappointed in me? " And at that, eyes wide and breath a ghost, " Why would she be? "

It is uncomfortable – or perhaps a feeling beyond, to see the extent of Blazestar’s suffering. His other deaths had been merciful in that, they were swift. He would like to tear his eyes away, away, but the feeling is not mutual. Blaise’s eyes would be so much like his own, if not for the sheen of sickness that slid across them. It reminds him of when they were younger. The click of claws atop white - painted wood, and they would talk until sundown. Only then, it had been Blaise who had waited on all he said.

She wants me to forgive you, The medicine cat blinks. “ She said… she said don’t cry, but I can’t— " And then his face is wet with tears, and the face Dawnglare makes is ugly in just the same way. " Blaise... " His stomach lurches, worse than anything he’s ever known. He blinks back his own sadness, and his eyes are wide, wide upon his old friend. Why can’t you forgive me? he would like to ask. He would not say it, but he is hanging on every word. He comes closer, as if doing so would let his absolution be so.

And then it all comes apart. Dawnglare does not move, when he speaks. He is blind to implication, stricken by the sun. " Can you feel her beside you? " Wide - eyed, he shakes his head. " I don’t want to go… " And he feels the urge to cling to him for dear life. Like a fool — Dawnglare nearly tells him not to, but such a thing was not within the paws of either of them.

Despite all the death he’s seen, for no one else, had he been there to watch them slip away.

The lights go out.

The sigh he lets out is long and deep, as if he did not know that Blazestar would wake again. The stillness that comes is almost too much to bear. He reminds himself that Blazestar would not need that touch of lavender; that he need not shed tears, over this. Quiet emptiness fills the den. So suddenly, it is just him there.

" I should have been kinder to you, " he says to no one. His eyes slip shut, and he laments. " …I never really left. " Because he is doomed to care, despite everything. I miss you too, left in quiet subtext.

Dawnglare slips from the the den, whilst surely, the spirits of StarClan were talking to the fallen leader. Dawnglare slumps to the ground once he glimpses the setting sun, tucking his face into his own paws.

OOC 𓆩♡𓆪 9.16.2023 𝘚𝘠𝘕𝘖𝘋𝘐𝘊 𝘚𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘖𝘕 𝘛𝘖 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘖𝘜𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘏𝘐𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎

• OOC:

• 

• ( 𝙒𝙃𝙔'𝘿 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝘼𝙆𝙀 𝙎𝙊 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂? ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
  —— He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
  —— Currently 56 moons old. Mated to Mallowlark
  
  Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest.
  

  You may find him kinder to others than is typical, exhausted from the yellowcough blight and heart heavy in a way he has never felt.​

  Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads

​

 

[DOGBITE]

✦ With every cat falling ill and the borders under threat from outsiders, he had been staying closer to camp than usual. Hunting as many small critters as possible but often coming up empty.

Unyielding in his determination to protect the more vulnerable he pressed on. Despite his resolute demeanor, their pelt betrayed the truth—matted, dirty, unkempt, far beyond its usual haphazardness. Their wiry frame highlighted every rib, which were more visible by each step, and the hunger in his eyes unmistakable.

Approaching the meager prey pile, he paused a moment. I wonder if Blazestar has eaten today? Given the selflessness of the flame-point tom, he assumed the opposite. Shifting course with his small catch, he followed the outer edges of the den and halted at the hushed voices emanating from within.

Eavesdropping wasn't their intent, but to an outside observer, the scenario could only be described as such. Stopping a few steps from the entrance, he barely caught the words exchanged. Distinguishing them and exhaling a startled gasp at the leader's pained exhalations.

In that moment, an immense discipline held all four paws in place. Dog fought the ravenous urge to burst inside and demand answers. Instead, he leaned closer to the sound of approaching pawsteps.

Silence blanketed the air as they stared at the arriving medicine cat who paid little interest in the presence of Dog. The look on the other cat's muzzle left him stunned. Gradually, his facial nerves began to function, and he lowered his head to croak out. "Did he just... die?" Fortunately, shock rendered him inactive, not feeling, with wide eyes.

Thankfully, the situation became clearer, and his frazzled expression darkened with understanding. They guessed from Dawnglare's spot on the ground that this wasn't a mere casual occurrence; it squarely addressed their earlier pondering.

He has only been briefly educated on the fact leaders received lives, but seeing it was an entirely different experience. Worse still, he couldn't conjure up words of comfort for the individual who had endured it.

Nor could he face the reality of Blazestar's live's dwindling away. Swallowing the ball of nerves, he gave the Medicine Cat a heartbroken gaze. Dog had no right to listen in on the conversation. As an unspoken apology he wouldn't utter a word of it to any cat.

Being a healer, bringer of knowledge, and the guardian all in one couldn't be an easy role to shoulder. He wondered how so few cats could carry an entire clan on the brink without snapping under the daily pressure. Leader's receiving nine lives started to make far more sense than before.

Still, affection and comfort weren't his strong suits, but he felt an overwhelming sensation of respect for those who could bear such a burden. Rather than continue with empty words he simply sat and took the situation in. Accepting the stagnant quiet for what it was.

•°.⋆ INFO

• ooc ;
• 
  
  
  
  ✧ 28 moons old
  ✧ skyclan warrior
  ✧ he/they ; single
  ✧ child of npc x npc
  ✧ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✧ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ✧ penned by tasmagoric

​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar sits outside his body, the StarClan warrior brushing against his pelt. “It’s almost time,” she murmurs to him, and he looks at her with a bleak expression. “Yes.” He still has a Clan to lead, away from this darkness that has plagued the forest and choked them in blood. He closes his eyes, and tendrils of his soul begin to seep into a body abandoned. Warmth returns to cold, lifeless limbs, and glazed eyes sharpen, focusing on the living. StarClan is gone—but Blazestar has returned.

He rises stiffly, a last gasping cough wrought from tired lungs. He knows the sickness is gone from his body—for the only cure for yellowcough is not lungwort, but death as well. He is luckier than some, though he rests precariously on the edge of permanent departure for StarClan. Three more times, he thinks, eyes settled on Dawnglare’s form slumped just outside his den.

Blazestar brushes past the elderberry bush and hovers over his old friend. A gentle nose brushes against the other tom’s ear. He says nothing—in fact, he remembers very little of their conversation, him wrought with delirium and Dawnglare fighting his grief—but there’s sorrow like excess water in the bottom of his belly, and the gesture is filled with a love that transcends arguments.

After a moment, he lifts his tired gaze to Dog. “I did,” he rasps. “But I’m back now.”

ooc ✧ 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓌𝓃, 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

•  

• 

• 

  — blaise . blazestar
  — he/him ; leader of skyclan
  — pansexual ; divorced ; single
  — longhaired flame point Ragdoll with blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Mercibun

​

 

[BRIGHTFLAME]

Brightpaw had seen a few cats die, though in more recent moons she had had her fill of them. She no longer wanted to see more cats die, yellowcough and twolegs already causing enough damage to the apprentice's mind, but so far those who had yellowcough now were slowly dying. They knew of a cure - even if they no longer had it, they knew of one - and so far Dawnglare and Fireflypaw had been doing well with healing those that were sick, keeping their symptoms down and making it so even if they were sick they weren't dying so although Brightpaw knew Blazestar had yellowcough - and he had it bad - she had told herself that they were taking care of him, that he would be fine and he would be healed once the cats who went on the journey came back... whenever that was.

What she hadn't expected was to walk by as Blazestar died, as Dawnglare looked towards the dead body of their leader and Dog asked if he was really, truly dead. Time seemed to freeze around the apprentice and as Blazestar soon rose once more, sputtering and coughing, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. The first words her leader spoke was a confirmation to Dog and quickly Brightpaw turned around and hurried off, knot forming in her stomach as she got away as quickly as she possibly could.

She had never seen Blazestar die, never seen a leader die, and she didn't think she ever wanted to see it again.

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅. life gets shorter, teeth grow long

• quick in and out unless stopped for some reason!
• 
  ⋆ brightkit - brightpaw - bright???
  ⋆ she/her - 12 moons
  ⋆ bisexual - open to relationship
  ⋆ apprentice of skyclan
  ⋆ attack - speech - thought
  ⋆ penned by tikki

​

​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

Twitchbolt had not strayed into the medicine den. Though he wanted to for the sake of kindness, because it felt cruel to just sit around... logic pointed him elsewhere. Orangeblossom and Slate were journeying, and... with Blazestar ill, responsibility had rested on the shoulders of him and the rest of the council. If he got sick too, dwindled their numbers more... the risk hurt to skirt around, but he had to do it. He hoped Blazestar wouldn't think it was because he didn't care what happened.

Dog's voice carried, and Twitchbolt's ever-sensitive ears picked up the noise. There was an odd lurching feeling in Twitchbolt's stomach, his reflex emotions always, always confusing. Blazestar had died. To not have to watch... that was a relief, and for once the patchwork tom felt a strain of pity toward Dawnglare, hunched low to the ground, reeling into misery from something Twitchbolt could only guess had been watching.

Usually, for the rest of the Clan... that was it, then. Blazestar had died, but he was back now- and everything could go back to normal. But a skeeter of a thought buzzed, pitchy and unignorable, at the back of the scruffy tom's mind. How many lives did he have left? Nine was a lot, but even a lot was finite. And... and he had seen a fair amount- monster-paws, dog-jaws, Sootstar, yellowcough... there would be more he was forgetting.

Spiralling silently into pessimism, he tore his gaze from its stupor and fixed Blazestar with a distracted look. Silent, his expression was strange- shoulders slumped with relief, but there was a tumult of other concerns tempesting in his eyeballs. Blazestar was cured, but had died all the same. More had been taken from them, more time with Blazestar that they would have otherwise had, and... it was difficult to be purely relieved about that.​

penned by pin ✧​