pafp so that's my refrain } bodies



His actions are almost automatic after Sunstride's voice rings out, mind taking a back seat as he allowed himself to usher others around. Rattleheart doesn't offer any orders - it isn't his place - but he does make an effort to get others over to Wolfsong's den, nudging at their sides or even helping the worst of the worst over by their scruffs. It isn't until he's fully satisfied with the injured that he turns his gaze to the dead, heart sinking at the unmoving bodies of loyalists that littered the camp. The tunneler wished he could separate himself from his emotions, cut them off so that he didn't feel so much pain in his chest looking at them. After all, they had just been on opposite sides of a war. They would've killed him without hesitation given the chance, and yet... they were still his clanmates once. Warriors that he had brushed shoulders with and respected. Friends.

Now they were gone, all lost in the name of a leader who didn't even care about them.

He forces himself into numbness, steps labored as he began to grab scruffs and pull them from their bloodied spots, trying to secure their home and clean up the carnage as best as he could even with his relatively petite form. Rattleheart was vaguely aware of others doing the same alongside him, though he barely seemed aware of them for the moment. He was wholly focused on the task at hand, nose wrinkling at the stench of blood and death that clung to his coat with each body moved. It was only after he let loose the scruff of Buzzardmask that he allowed himself to step back, taking in the small crowd of cats before him. They had fought for Sootstar until the very end, but he couldn't bring himself to hate them - couldn't bring himself to hope the majority of them would be thrown from the stars above. Not when they had all gone through the same manipulation, the same claims that Sootstar was Windclan, and that it wouldn't survive without her guiding paw. He mused aloud, soft and barely enough to be heard above the general working of those around him. "What will we do with them?" There was so much hurt to be undone. So much trauma left behind to be dealt with, and yet disrespect for the dead - even the dead they had fought against - didn't feel right.

It was with that in mind that Rattleheart raised his voice enough to be heard, turning in the direction of his fellow Windclanners nearby. "They should be buried, shouldn't they? Even if... even with everything. I guess there are other options..." The gorge. Leaving them to the birds and the scavengers. Letting the snow and the ice swallow them up until they were nothing but bones left behind by Sootstar's rule. "...They all feel like what she would do. They deserve something, I think." Perhaps that was a controversial thought, maybe the rest of camp would end up shouting him down and deriding the very idea of such a thing - though that seemed out of character for those that were left - but he didn't care. He'd promised himself that he was done being silent and lingering in the shadows, and he intended on keeping that promise.

// please wait for @SUNSTRIDE !
[ PENNED BY EO ]
 
The answer had been simple with the rogues. He thought them unworthy of a place upon these moors; truth be told, he still does not regret that decision. They were not to be a part of their history. Their home or their hearts. Rogues were not worthy of mourning. Yet these cats? Ones that he had known and named and fought beside, who he had watched train and shared meals with? Even as they move their bodies, pulling them slowly, carefully from this ruined camp, Sunstride cannot see anyone but a clanmate in the corpses. Had it been that something Sootstar would have done, and her alone, he knows that he should feel guilt for all that had transpired. No. While there was horror at knowing the dead were discarded so brutally as he fled to the barn, it still seemed...practical. And in a way, acceptable. Their bodies no longer housed their hearts. Why should he worry for them?

Yet truth remains. Even with everything.

He pauses in his motions. His gaze returns to Sootstar's den, the guards that remain there. So many had died for her words. That she is not among them is an injustice to them all. Pallid eyes briefly close. "They cannot become a place of mourning," he says firmly, quietly. "Their graves would become a monument to the pain that we all have felt– not to her victims, but for those that wronged us. All of us." They cannot be buried, he tries to tell Rattleheart. What a disgusting, horrific thing to say. They could not be buried, but neither would he throw their bodies to the ravens. Neither could he erase these proud cats from his mind, those who had stood by what they believed, even if it was so terribly wrong.

"We will make a grave for them. One that will not be marked; a place that we do not pass down to our kittens, or they to their own." We will remember, but in time, WindClan must forget.
EpC61GT.png

  • OOC.
  • 75520456_7ilCehUbViZ0qy8.png
    SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
    ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.
    NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.

    TH ╱╱ LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.
 
➴➴ They have returned to where Gooseberry’s lies—partially out of guilt, and partially to ensure that the tom does not stand back up again. Blood still drips red down their face, dribbling slowly into their eye and spreading its iron taste across their tongue. Scarlet splash-stains cling heavily to white paws, and they can feel flakes of blood caked into the curves of their claws. They will visit Wolfsong in time, but their injuries are not as bad as they could be. In comparison to others’ wounds, their cut-through scarring will be alright if left alone until the others have been treated.

They look to Rattleheart as the other black and white warrior asks what they’re to do with the bodies. Sunstride’s response is surely the result of some line of thought that Gravelsnap has not considered, but it makes them frown all the same. "Just one grave?" They speak softly, night-black tail flicking. They do not look forward to digging graves at all, especially for those loyal to Sootstar—but digging multiple graves for each of them, rather than just one, sounds like a special kind of punishment.
 
It didn't take him long to find Gale's body amongst the fallen. He had been lucky enough to not gain any significant wounds, a few scratches, but nothing terrible. Any blood that was on him was not his own. He does not know what became of his opponent after he beat them out of the tunnel, nor does he care anymore. The small lilac tom sits beside Gale's body with empty, sullen eyes devoid of any light in them. The others talk about what to do with the bodies, but he pays it no mind. His eyes don't blink as he takes this moment to say goodbye to another dear friend.

"I never got to thank you. You're the reason I'm still here. If not for you, I'd have let myself wither and rot away long ago like I keep telling myself I deserve. And maybe I still deserve it, but I'm still grateful for your companionship." He says quietly. "I hope you can find peace...I hope you and Sunsetbreeze get to be together again. I don't know what will become of your body....But I can at least pray that your spirit can rest."

He knows these cats will probably throw him to the vultures and predators. Yewberry isn't big enough to drag Galeforce to the graveyard on his own, and he knows better than to ask for help. They'll just spit at him for daring to suggest it. He was right, though. They did kill their former clanmates. They're no better than Gale was, yet they'll still try and find a way to act superior. They too killed or maimed someone's loved one, someone's friend. Everyone here has bloody paws now.

But this is for the better. Sootstar's cancer has finally been excised, and a new dawn rises over the moors. From the bloodsoaked soil, a new clan will grow. Yet even so, Yewberry's mind is locked in the past. All those he has lost haunt his memory and weigh him down, leaving silent tears to drip from sunset amber eyes.

"The people I love and care about keep dying. This must be Starclan's way of punishing me." He speaks, barely a whisper. His only wish is that Starclan would punish him without hurting anyone else. He presses his head to Gale's pelt one last time. "Goodbye, Gale..."

When he lifts his head from Gale's pelt, he wraps his tail around his paws tightly and tries to choke down any sobs that try to escape. "You aren't even the last one I need to say goodbye to..." The choked whisper escapes him as he thinks of Larkfeather and Lilacstem. Would he even be allowed to? Would Echolight's family want him around? Does he even have the right?

He'll find out in due time, he supposes. One thing at a time.​
 
I will assist with the digging,” a small, demure voice comes from behind Rattleheart. Bluefrost’s green gaze sticks to Buzzardmask’s torn pelt like burrs—she cannot look away from him, from the other scattered corpses that litter WindClan’s war-torn camp. Her throat aches—both where her wound is located, and behind it, where a lump begins to thicken, tighten. Surely, even if she is no better than a prisoner, her help would be appreciated. She cannot bear to let cats she'd fought alongside go to rest without at least an unspoken eulogy, given by her in her head.

She unsheathes her claws, sifting soil between her paws. Gravelsnap asks if there should just be one grave, and the gray she-cat’s jaw tightens.

Had things been different—had Rattleheart given her a fatal bite instead of mercy—she would be sharing this grave instead of helping to dig it.


  • ooc:
  • 69334192_7vVwuq2U19bWMTh.png
  • Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — 13 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
    — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a.
    — windclan warrior. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
    — penned by Marquette.

    lh blue and white she-cat with emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.


 


Sootspot drifted between corpses, only ever looking for one... one that he couldn't find. Clanmates that he'd once held some sway over as a Lead Warrior, now nothing more than food for maggots whilst he sat uncomfortably with the ones who'd made them that way. 'StarClan has forsaken you, brothers... And they have forsaken me too.' The thought caused his heart to skip a beat; had he been one second later to the barn, or had he chosen to stay with Shrikethorn, he would be dead.... nothing more than an ambitious child with nothing to show for it. A paw pressed against something firm and the Tunneler shifted back to reality, glowering down at the body that lay in his way. They'd lost their meaning when he'd seen so many of them, friends and traitors alike. He could not mourn these ones, but, tufted ears twitched all the same as hushed voices grew louder and louder. Talk of burial... then, talk of an unmarked grave, to forget them all together.

His attention hovered onto Sunstride, blinking rapidly in thought. 'If Shrikethorn does not deserve a grave, then no one does.' Gravelsnap's words made his jaws tighten. "We have all done things that Sootstar has done previously," he observed from a place of seeming introspection, casting Rattleheart a glance. 'Your sister and my mother are too alike now...' Yet, she had been a stalwart supporter of Sunstride, he could picture her becoming Deputy if nepotism did not strike the spotted rebel. He tilted his head softly. "Motivation is what differentiates our actions from her own. She dumped them over the gorge to desecrate them, we could do so not to spite them, but to help WindClan heal." The sound of digging fills his ears, but he couldn't look at Bluefrost even if he tried. He was only one social step above her, he could not demean himself by sinking to her level... even if there was much that needed to be said. "And... it would be faster. Our camp is in a sorry state, I question if we have time to bury so many dead if we are choosing to forget them anyways." The chimera's tone was steady, posture as open as the guarded tom would allow - he seemed open to being convinced otherwise, and instead waited to see how the new guard would react to boundaries being poked.


 


An unmarked grave for them. It seemed like the most merciful solution, one that would give the clan a chance to heal while also not tossing bodies down into the gorge like they were nothing more than the bags full of bird seed that had sat in the barn. He nodded slowly, looking between both Sunstride and Gravelsnap before he sighed. "One grave would be easiest. Both to keep unmarked and for the bodies themselves. The last thing we need is for future tunneling to run into something so grotesque." With the graveyard it was easier, considering they could see at a glance where every body was without needing to scoop up paws full of dirt until their claws hit bone. With an unmarked grave, they'd need to be more careful. Make sure that it was out of the way, so that there wasn't a risk of accidents happening.

He did spare a glance towards the pale frame of Yewberry nearby, though he didn't say anything to try and break the other from his mournful muttering. Rattleheart had already made his thoughts on Gale abundantly clear when he was alive, though that didn't mean the tunneler took any pleasure in his death. It was really more of a solemn neutrality, though he didn't believe the other should be tossed in with the bodies of the loyalists. He had fought alongside them, even if it was only for his own selfish revenge. The graveyard hardly seemed appropriate either, considering Gale had spent his last days doing nothing but spitting venom about how Windclan had treated him. Where would he have liked to be buried? Would Yewberry even know? "Some of the barn cats are still around. You might be able to get one or two of them to help bring him back for a proper burial." There was no animosity in the suggestion, Rattleheart figuring it was better for Gale to be buried away from the place that had clearly caused him so much anguish.

With that said, he turned to begin helping Bluefrost with the digging - only to pause when he heard another voice emerge from the crowd. He blinked at Sootspot, his face shifting only with a slight downturn of the edges of his muzzle. "Their bodies would be desecrated and destroyed regardless of the intent. How would you feel if your corpse was being tossed down there alongside them?" It isn't meant to be a threat, but a genuine question. After all, Sootspot had only seemingly changed his ways just before things had started to go downhill. Not much of a stretch needed to be made to imagine his body among the others. "At least this way they'll be buried alongside the cats they saw fit to die fighting with." Rattleheart then gave a loose shrug of his shoulders, turning and following after Bluefrost to get to work on the digging. If Sunstride saw some wisdom in Sootspot's words then he would say so, but in his mind it was better to get to work on what needed to be done.
[ PENNED BY EO ]