sensitive topics tell me where the good men go — death

[CLEARSIGHT]

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// takes place immediately after windclan's retreat

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➵ He's a dead man walking. He knows this.

He's known since halfway through the battle, trapped under Heathclaw's weight, when something crunched in his chest that shouldn't have — when the single worst pain he'd ever felt lanced through his body — because Clearsight has been around long enough to know that a broken rib is a death sentence.

... and he thinks he's bleeding enough to do him in regardless. His vision keeps graying out, and as he takes a shaky step toward the retreating attackers — to do what, keep fighting? Scream curses after them? — he slips on it, sticky red liquid soaking his chest and his legs and starting to puddle on the ground beneath him. The camp feels so silent in the aftermath of battle. Or maybe it's just his head that's silent: absent of racing thought, now that he knows he's going to die. How strange.

He wonders where Clayfur is.

He wants to scream, actually, because he'd spent so much of his life alone and thought he'd stay that way forever — but here was a love that changed all that: there was just something about Clayfur that made Clearsight feel like a kit with a crush, made him feel younger, lighter. His sweet hazel-eyed bard. They could have spent years together. They could have had children, maybe.

Clearsight opens his mouth to speak and finds that he — can't. There is blood in his mouth; it bubbles out instead of words. He takes another stumbling step and ... he pitches to the ground, front legs giving out at last, adrenaline from the fight finally faded.

He hits the sand hard, collapsing completely, a heap of blue tabby soaked blackish-red. He thinks of Gillpaw, beloved charge, and prays vainly that the boy won't see this. He wants another moment. He wants clarity, and kin gathered around him; he wants to clear the blood from his throat and give last words to everyone he loves.

"Shi... t.."

StarClan, but it hurts.

Clearsight gasps for breath against the blood filling his lungs, staring into the distance with wide golden eyes.

// broken ribs, punctured lung, and hemorrhagic shock ,, he will die in his next post </3 i am genuinely really torn up about this but i think it's going to be a good storytelling choice.
​

---

& we've all got battle scars ✗ ​

 

[CICADASTAR]

theyd attacked their camp. vivaciously, just as they had upon skyclan not too long ago. sootstar cared not for her warriors, cared not for the lives she risked time after time — but cicadastar. he cared, and he suffered for it. bleeding heart, ruled by emotion and ever - present fear he mistakes for passion. they’re retreating and he follows after them, sees clearsight begin to do the same from the corner of his eye. and at first, he doesn’t notice — clearsight hobbles but the tom is resilient. nothing was ever wrong with clearsight, no. he’ll find beesong. he’ll find clayfur, find gillpaw, and he will be okay. clearsight is always okay. the rock that many of them had rested upon in their darkest times, a pillar of support for anyone lucky enough to cross his path in life. he’s sustained wounds, but windclan would never be enough to take them down. not any of them, but certainly not him.

but starclan seemed to enjoy proving him wrong as of late.

he hits the ground, and that finally rips pale eyes away from the darkness in which the patrol had run, tilts ears that had been pinned to his head forward in alarm, “ clear.. “ he begins, furrows his brow, turns his muzzle towards him. tired.. he’s just tired. he’s tired, he thinks, as he watches the blood around him begin to bubble out, pooling wide around his body. he’s watching, and he feels beside himself — as if watching from outside his body, floating above the sudden quiet they’d been left in. this wasn’t right. no, this wasn’t — this wasn’t right. the leader stumbles back towards him, calico fur jutting from bloodied claws, covered in dirt and muck and viscera, unsure of how much was his, how much was windclan, “ clear — clearsight. clearsight. “ this wasn’t real. it wasn’t, this didn’t happen. this couldn’t happen, how could he have let this happen? the blue tom is heaving like a beached fish and his chest is burning with more than pain, budding with more than the blood that seeps still from wounds at his underside.

the man collapses at his side, crumples deer-like limbs beneath him without an inch of the grace he often had, “ look at me, look. mein freund, eyes on me. “ sun - laden gaze is far away, mouth open and frothing with blood. the sound of his wheezing forces itself into his brain and he would never forget the sound, the wet squelch of lungs forcing open around hot, dribbling fluid, closing with a squish and another thin tendril from his maw. no — no, that wasn’t good, but it would be fine, it would be fine, “ you’ll be okay. you’ll — you’ll be alright, you’ll be.. you will. “ he’s lying, wasn’t he? through clenched teeth, through the rip in his face where drool and fur clings to a long, red - tinged canine. who is he trying to convince? pain fills the area around him, fills the air with tension, strikes his stomach with nausea he’d known few times before. the warrior was in pain, agonized, gasping as if drowning above land. the phantom wanted to look away, to rip his gaze from the last moments of his dear friend — but he does not. pale blues never waver from him, do not move even as his voice lifts.

“ CLAYFUR! “ not beesong. just beneath a scream, a yowl — he wants to dig his paws into the ground and dissolve, wants with all his heart to reset. clearsight been fine upon this sunrise, he’d been happy. windclan. it was always windclan, his problems would forever reek of soil and shit, but they weren’t good enough — they weren’t good enough to take one of his earliest friends from him. it wasn’t possible. his paws tap anxiously aside him, fast, over - rapid. what did he do? what could he do? his head whips back to the blue tom, teeth gritting. stay awake, stay awake, “ can you — talk to me. talk to me. “ stay awake, “ clayfur will be here soon, ja? in just a moment. you did so well, who.. “ who did this? who did this? tell me, i’ll bring their pelt back to keep you warm in the medicine den. it’s cold, you know.

who was he trying to convince?

− ♱ information out of character ⟐ visual reference translated ♱ −

• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• TINY I AM ATTACKING YOU LIKE A FERAL DOG !!!!!
• 
• none.

​

​

 

[LILYBLOOM.]

Bruised and bloodied from her own fight with a WindClan warrior, Lilybloom is nearby when Clearsight collapses. The startled gasps of her clanmates alert her to what is going on and she looks around to see what has caused the commotion. She moves over to Clearsight slowly, her body aching from the previous fight.

She hopes faintly that his wounds aren't as bad as they appear, that somehow Beesong could perform some miracle and he'd pull through. But as her bright green eyes take in his fallen form she knows what is coming. He's dying and there's nothing any of them can do. "Oh, Clearsight..." She sighs sadly, turning her head away. She doesn't want to look at this she doesn't want to see him die. Although they hadn't spoken much in recent months, she had always liked the older tom, both for his words and his skills. ​

 

[CLAYFUR]

In the wake of the WindClanners’ retreat, Clay can feel nothing but relief. He’d managed to escape with few injuries, a few nicks and cuts to his shoulders and only a somewhat nasty bite to his tail. But it’s all over just as soon as it began, and WindClan is gone and he’s looking around, hoping to spot his family, his apprentice, his Clearsight. Any of them.

The shout of his name draws Clayfur’s attention—that was Cicada. For what reason could the leader possibly be calling his name? Who is hurt that would need him there? His stomach drops to his paws; oh god, what if it’s Antler? He could never forgive himself if his apprentice was hurt while out of his sight.

He takes off running like his life depends on it—doesn’t slow until he spots the night-dappled pelt of the clan’s leader, looking ragged but still standing. Lilybloom at Cicada’s side, also injured but remaining upright. His gaze drops to the ground before them—and everything stops.

His love is dying. That much is clear—fuck—from the start. Blood pooling all around him, wetting his mouth, his chest… it’s everywhere.

Suddenly, all those months that he spent apparently not realizing that they were already mates seem less like a funny slip-up and more like a fatal error. It’s been his own mistake, only getting to spend a month with Clearsight as his mate—when he could have been spending all that time with him. All his hopes, his future plans, everything he’s dreamed of… it’s all being ripped away from him. Washed away in crimson floodwater, soaking into the earth below.

He takes a stumbling step forward, feeling as though his legs have been swept out from under him. He can’t do this. He never thought that he would have to do this—he was supposed to die first, not Clear. "Clearsight… Honey-" His throat feels like it’s closing up, tears choking him as he lifts his head, licks across his mate’s neck, trying in vain to clean at least some of the blood. His mouth tastes like iron, though, and he doesn’t think it’s just from the blood on Clearsight’s fur.

His voice wobbles, eyes falling shut as he sobs, shaking his head furiously. "You’re fine. You’ll be fine. I love you, you can’t die!" He doesn’t care for the state of his own pelt as he presses it against Clearsight’s, shoving his face into bloodied fur. He can’t look his love in the eye as he dies, he can’t.

"Please…" He doesn’t know who or what he’s begging, understands that it’s hopeless. He’s seen cats come back from terrible things, but he understands that there’s not much even Bee can do here. RiverClan can only watch as one of their best dies in front of them. "I can’t do this without you." There was so much we didn’t get to do.


// it’s 7am you can’t do this to me
​

[ WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? ]​

​

 

[Cindershade]

She's torn open and bloody, bruised ribs inhale shakily as adrenaline teeters down and leaves her aching. Her ear, oh how it stings with being split open in a wide gnarled gash. It'd never heal back properly, a forever trophy and remembrance of her battle with Tigerfrost. Oh, he'd remember her by for what she's given him as well. They fought like gladiators, dealing blow for blow and standing tall under the retreat was sounded. She had followed them out, made sure they had retreated for good and there wasn't some other ambush waiting for them. She turns back, limping through the clearing and exhaustion weighs heavily on her crimson blotted features. She doesn't quite notice Clearsight was in as much pain as he was. She had nodded to the silver tom, in fact, before he crumbled from behind her.
The first voice to call was Cicadastar, his accented tone a mixture of fear and fiery rage and finally soft coos. She whips around to see her fellow clanmate collapsed before them all, dark scarlet pooling around his head as he struggles for rasping breaths. She rounds to his other side, and her heart begins to crack while staring at his feathered features—now disheveled and matted with blood. A reverberating cry comes from the phantom on his other side, but not for who she expects. He screams for Clayfur. Oh Stars, no. Her inner self begins to tremble so violently that her own paws quake at the ferocity. The earthen tom was here in a moment's notice, collapsing beside his love as he pleads. Her jaws clench and grind against each other, an overwhelming tsunami of emotions crashes into her and the warrior nearly reels back from it. Tears welled within her glowing eyes, threatening to spill. She could not. WindClan did this. Sootstar did this. The pooling waves washing within her, push and pull now flash frozen to ice. Glaciers now resided in her heart and she goes still, watching her clan mates begin to grieve over their valiant warrior.
He's dying. The ragged breaths of him fighting for the last bits of life, to say his goodbyes. She crouches down while tucking her limbs beneath her chest, the seering pain of her wounds long forgotten now. RiverClan may have held their own, but a life was lost and it was a loss to RiverClan. She places her muzzle within his flank, staying close along with the others. She'd be damned if he would feel alone on his journey to the Heavens, they would all make sure of it. He would go out knowing that he was loved and respected, he was appreciated and he was a damn fine warrior. It was all she could do until the last pull from his lungs.
​

[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​

 

[RAVENSONG]

Still angry and panting after the retreat of the WindClan invasion, Ravenpaw trembled on unsteady paws. He was alive. One more day. The black cat wheezed and turned before a loud thump hit his sensitive ears and Cicadastar's howl.

It was Clearsight. Ravenpaw struggled further, coming up alongside Lilybloom's side and the others, looking down at the warrior's broken body. He looked away, ears laying flat against his head when Clayfur rushed toward his side. Ravenpaw swallowed. He wouldn't press any further, to let Clayfur have this moment. He cannot even begin to imagine how it feels.

"Can nothing be done?" He whispered miserably to those close by him. He did not want to believe in the heavenly Clan the others did, but for this one time, he bowed his head and said a prayer. A simple Please.

​

 

[DARTERWING]

(=^･ｪ･^=))ﾉ彡♡ —Clearsight’s pain and condition was enough to make her forget all about her own wounds. The monochrome drypaw stands off to the sidelines, gazing on as those closest to the warrior rush to his side. Even from where she stood one could see blood seeped from his wounds.

In the chaos she happens to stand nearby Ravenpaw, can nothing be done? He asks. Darterwing says nothing, but gives him a sorrowful knowing look, she doesn’t have the strength to utter the word no. She too begins to pray, ”StarClan give Clearsight your strength… give him the power to…” her words quiet, into the air and to the stars. Though she was sure there was nothing they could do, the warrior was already halfway there to them.— tags​

 

[LAKEMOON]

✵ ღ ☾ IT TOOK ME BY SURPRISE - Shallow cuts burn, the intensity gradually rising as her adrenaline begins to fade.
She’s huffing from exertion, but otherwise fine, her opponent leaving little to remember her bye.
When the commotion begins, Lakemoon fears for the worst.
One glance at the bleeding tom and her fears are confirmed. She has barely come to Lilybloom’s side before Clayfur’s grief stricken words ring in her ears with a heartbreaking wince.
She would attempt to press against Lilybloom then, resting her chin delicately on top of the molly’s mottled head, as if she would actually be able to protect her from her own sadness.
Ravenpaw speaks from the other side of the tortoiseshell and Lakemoon frowns, taking in a a heavy breath. ❝ It’s up to Starclan now, Ravenpaw ❞ she speaks lowly, taking the edge of her naturally brunt voice. She had never spoken to the warrior herself, but he was a fine one- sacrificing his life for his clan only solidified that opinion.
Her expression is sorrowful as she watches on, but her thoughts are daunting, bitter. The thought that the next cat dead at the claws of Windclan could be her Lilybloom, Houndstride, her family on the other side of the river.
They got their eye for an eye. She thinks with a sickening pang in her stomach.
I hope they burn.
❝ Speech. ❞

THE HATRED IN HER EYES​

​

 

[GLEAMPAW.]

Gleampaw was no fighter, she knew that much. During the battles, she had stuck close to the nursery, opting to protect RiverClan's future and trying to soothe them.

"Everything will be okay, little ones. Those fighting are strong, the stars will protect them, nobody from RiverClan will be going to StarClan."

She was wrong, she was a liar, she had just made something up to try and ease them. She had confidence that everything would be okay, but that confidence was shattered at the sight of a dying warrior.

Clearsight was one she had not spoken to much, but any cat in their ranks being lost was a tragedy. Lives were so fragile, the rival that had been by your side since kittenhood could be swept away to the stars in an instant. The person you hated most could simply deteriorate and wither away. A stranger could be killed by another in retaliation for someone simply protecting themselves and their Clan.

She recognized that there was no helping him. 'It's unfair,' she thought to herself, eyes widened in shock, in fear.

If she had just fought with her clumsy fighting skills, if she had fought instead of instilling lies into the heads on the youngest members of the clan... No, there was nothing she could do, never would be something she could have done - her inexperience would probably have just gotten her killed too.

The battle, the casualty...

It was another one for the nightmares, of the repeating tragedies in her mind during the night. Things that she wished she could have done more to stop, but in the end, she would never be able to. Instead, Gleampaw whispered soft, near-silent prayers for StarClan to welcome him warmly, care for him, and make sure that he arrived safely.

"Speech"​

---

LIGHT UP THE SKY WITH SPARKLING HEAT!​

​

 

[willowroot]

( ☾ ) fury courses through her veins, hot and streaking like fire across her body. blood oozes from wounds long forgotten, eyes watering with tears unshed as the patrol flees into the darkness. the whispered swear behind her barely turns her head, but the small tilt is enough for her eyes to widen, her body spinning around in shock as she witnesses the silver, moonlit form of clearsight slipping to the ground. her hot heart pulls into her throat and she feels it there, a lump impossible to swallow down as she races towards the scene. clanmates have already gathered, horror dawning on their faces. clayfur howls his misery, and all willowroot can feel is rage.

they had just talked yesterday! just sat down and gossiped about their love lives, each teasing the other with friendly tones, gently nudges and soft laughter. he'd spoken about his future with clayfur, his love for the tomcat, maybe even kittens one day. now, he lies, fading, on the muddied ground, windclan scent all around him, no future ahead.

she pushes in close, lets her maw hang open to scoop up the rest of his scent as if it might fix things to keep his smell close. she doesn't even notice the tears running tracks down her smoked face, eyes of fern bloodshot. her chest heaves with a silent sob as anger gives way to angish. "please, clear darling, hang on," she begs him, silently curses the stars for taking too soon. "where's beesong? beesong, clearsight needs you! hang on, sweetheart, stay with us. stay with clay." ​

( THE LIGHT YOU GAVE ME )

 

[GILLSIGHT]

WindClan has retreated, a hard battle fought. Gillpaw's head pounds from his own throes of battle - sides heaving and gashes on his shoulders stinging with every step he takes.

Golden gaze searches the battlefield, the shambles of RiverClan's camp for the familiar swirls of blue and white he'd been separated from in the midst of chaos. Where? Where was he? Clearsight, did he see how well Gillpaw fought? Did he see how difficult of an opponent he had?

There's a crowd. There's a crowd in his sightline, all huddled around something. Someone.

And, Gillpaw truly doesn't know who it could be - who could be so harmed by WindClan's strikes that the clan surrounds them, as if protecting them from any more harm - does he? He doesn't know, and yet. And yet, the sight shakes him enough to have a feeling of who it could be.

Inky black, inky black, inky black. He's drowning again.

His pain doesn't matter anymore as he pushes himself forward. He has to know for sure. He has to know. Crimson-dyed paws bound forward, and the pool of blood is more visible than its owner. Gillpaw pushes through the cats, panic setting in. "M-Move, I-- I n-need to--"

Oh, how he wanted to be wrong. Oh, how he wanted to see a different fur color - red and black, perhaps, instead of blue and white.

Clearsight lays before him in a puddle of scarlet.

"N-No," he squeaks out at the sight, at blood seeping out of his mentor. It's everywhere, it's drowning him. "Cl-Clearsight...?" The boy has seen him injured before, but this is worse. This is... if Gillpaw didn't think he'd survive then, Gillpaw fears this is it.

His mentor, his family. He was supposed to stay here. Supposed to, supposed to -- Supposed to watch him become a warrior, oh, how soon he's supposed to become a warrior! He can't do it without Clearsight. He... He can't! Can't he stay until then? Can't he stay longer than that? Live out his days, find a home within the elders' den with Clayfur when the time came for them to retire?

A hiccup of a sob, and tear-blurred vision looks to the nearest warrior. To Cicadastar. To anyone. "S-Someone help h-him!" Gillpaw shouts. Why weren't they helping him? Why were they all just watching him? He can... He can survive this! "G-Get B-Beesong! H-He... He needs help!"

What did the medicine cat use to stop bleeding? What did... cobwebs..? Gillpaw will find it. Gillpaw will help Clearsight himself, if he has to.

He can't lose him.
​

 

[Redpath]

She was here again, watching a friend bleed out before her with nothing she could do. It was like water slipping through her claws, no matter how hard she tried, the water always slipped through.

Beaten and bloody, she watched the scene unfold with sorrow written in her eyes. This wasn't fair, Clearsight didn't deserve to die this way...

Those damned moorland wretched. All they do is take and take. She wanted to return the favor tenfold. Take EVERYTHING from them.

Watching Clayfur and Gillpaw broke her heart to pieces. All she could do was cry. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she wept silently. There was nothing she could say here.

All she could do was bleed and cry, just like last time.
​

 

[FERNGILL]

Fernpaw didn't think he'd ever get used to how quickly everything could split at the seams. A pattern that seemed so tightly woven... that it could unravel in a matter of milliseconds was unfathomable to him. But here it was again- a crowd around an incident, yowls splitting the sky in two. This time, they weren't wails of fear- no, they were puling laments, and his uncles keening tone careened above the rest. He'd never heard Clayfur's voice sound like that. It seemed unnatural, but- what seemed even more unnatural was the sight that had set him and everyone else into the throes of quaking grief.

He felt his breath shudder in his throat as he toddled forward. Clearsight. A saviour in a time of need, someone who did good deeds, who did good things...

Wasn't life supposed to be karmic? Good things happened to good people. It was what he'd always believed- and the same for evil deeds. But Clearsight- he'd never done anything wrong, not that Fernpaw had ever seen. Not bad enough for this. So what was the reason he was bleeding so much? What was the reason he was staggering- that everyone was crowding around him as if in some death-dressed wake, when he wasn't dead yet? Was it- an inevitability?

He moved, stance wobbling a little as he stared. His words came out small, smaller than he felt, and he was smaller than most anyway. "It's not- fair, what..." Trailing off, bulging blue eyes misted over with tears. He felt like he shouldn't get any closer in case he did something wrong. It was Clearsight, wasn't it? So- why was he scared to get any closer, just because he looked like he was going to die?​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[iciclefang]

WindClan has stolen from them. Clayfur keens his grief, begs for his mate to stay here with him, but Iciclepaw can see Clearsight is on his way to walk with starry warriors. She remembers seeing him throw himself into the battle, battling a warm-toned tom. Slipping like riverwater through the WindClan warrior's claws.

Iciclepaw can see Fernpaw's thin orange body tremble. "It's not- fair, what..." The tortoiseshell moves to press her flank against her brother's. "I know," she answers him, her voice hoarse with sorrow. "He deserves to be here with us." Spite glitters like frost in her pale eyes. She wants to find the tom who has done this to Clearsight and tear the pelt from his back.

But her own body begins to tremble. She could not have saved him. She had barely been able to save herself from a similar fate.

Suppressing a silent gasp, Iciclepaw presses her face into Fernpaw's neck fur.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[stoatsplash]

Their paws are numb.

Stoatsplash's flank heaves as they set themselves down beside Iciclepaw, blue eyes wide with horror as they take in the mess that is Clearsight. There's too much blood, thick in the air and making the striking tabby feel ill, but at the same time their attention refuses to shift from their dying Clanmate. Dying. Not yet dead.

"Beesong!" They screech, launching themselves to their paws, scrabbling along the bank in search of their medicine cat. They don't know if someone else has done the same despite the calls for the curl-eared healer, but they take off towards the camp at probably the fastest pace they've ever been seen to move. "Beesong, it's Clearsight!"

// looking for @BEESONG and hopefully returning with him in tow<3​

 

[hyacinthbreath]

This is all your fault.

She watches from afar, violet-tinted hues narrowed with sadness as clanmates gather around the dying Clearsight- she knows this could have been avoidable. If she had just handled her temper better, if she hadn't have killed Juniperfrost. For the first time, regret sets in under her fur as she walks forward, expression unreadable as she examines the body from behind her clanmates. They had done so much damage to him.. Poor guy.

"I'm.. I'm sorry, I-" She had no right to apologize, had no right to say such words in front of their friend's body. So, she shuts her mouth instead- eyes shutting. A shuddering breath leaves her.

It's all your fault. It's all your fault. If you would have turned yourself in..

Hyacinthbreath mutters a soft prayer beneath her breath for the tom. For the first time in a while, Hyacinth prays to StarClan. Please forgive me, She begs them for mercy, but none comes. He's dying, fading away right in front of her. "I.. I didn't mean for this to happen."​

❝ there are wounds inside me, gaping holes of disconnect.
can you drown inside your own body? can you suffocate within this mind? ❞

 

[SMOKESTAR]

He limps, tired orange gaze drifting listlessly across the destroyed camp and the cats all slowly licking their wounds and pulling themselves together. There is no fire in his eye, no burning desire to go racing across the two-leg bridge to the moorland to continue the fight as he had once thought he wanted, just a tired exhaustion at the many injuries and the scent of blood so strong in the air it overwhelmed every other sense. He is accutely aware of Clayfur's name ringing out like a scream; shattered and uncertain and it is the recognition of the owner's voice that sends him forward as quickly as his battered frame would allow.
Clearsight. It felt like only the day before the tom was laughing, making some remark at him for his spots, telling him he'd scared him with his stunt on the bridge. Who was scaring who now then?
Smokethroat stares, there is so much blood it stains the eye; burns itself into his vision as spots, yet he sees no wound. The slow dribble of liquid from the silver tom's mouth signifying the injury is deeper inside than any cat could hope to quell; that even Beesong's skill would be useless here when it came to mending the broken pieces inside.
The dark tom comes to a stop next to Cicadastar, cats plead and beg the stars; Clayfur's voice the loudest-he hears whispers of fetching Beesong despite the futility, he hears cats already praying him safe passage away, it is Gillpaw's frantic and tearful voice that is the one that brings him back to focus for as much as he wants to curse and swear at WindClan, to demand the tabby stay with them despite it all, it would not do to crumble apart when the clan most needed stability, unity. That crown must be so heavy, he thinks wryly, single gaze dancing across the mottled leader with his head dipped in reverance. Clearsight had witnessed him dying before in what felt like a lifetime alongside himself and the brown tabby tom now thrown across the other in dismay but they had seen the miracle of StarClan first hand when their leader returned. Clearsight wouldn't be coming back. Cleartsight was dying. He would never return, never see his apprentice made a warrior, never get to enjoy the warmth of the sun of newleaf coming back to them proper, not get to indulge in the company of his foolish partner who Smokethroat couldn't stand yet felt nothing but sympathy and despair for all the same.
"My friend.." His tone lacks its usual cold monotone, airy and light like a whisper, "...we'll miss you."
Perhaps the river belonged to them for they continued to fill it.
​

 

[CLEARSIGHT]

---

➵ He gets his next moment, but not the chance for last words — the blood in his lungs and the pain seizing his muscles make damn sure of that.

Cicadastar reaches him first.

The man whose kingdom he dies for; his leader, but now — in this moment — just his friend. Just a broken man begging him to stay. To lead this clan is to lose and lose, to see nine lifetimes' worth of death, and Clearsight does not envy that job and he'd never have wanted it — but he'd have walked Cicadastar's side for seasons to come, river phantom's faithful soldier.

"Eyes on me — you'll be alright — Talk to me. Talk to me." Clearsight is grateful for the closeness, the comfort, though his mind is hazy with pain, hardly able to string thoughts together — let alone sentences. He does meet Cicadastar's eyes — and his own fall shut, blinking slowly, meaningfully. He wants his words but he will settle for this, the last solace he can offer.

And then here is Clayfur.

Crying hardest of all, sobbing, pressing his face into Clearsight's fur — the blue tabby feels his own heart break, knowing he leaves his love behind. Knowing all they'll never get to have. With the final embrace comes another wave of pain, ribs shifting beneath the force of it but Clearsight doesn't care — would pull Clayfur even closer if he could — leans into it with all he has, tears gathering in flaxen-gold eyes.

"L ... Love," he manages, blood dribbling from his maw around the word, and there is so much more on his tongue, so much he needs to say to his best beloved. He wants to apologize for leaving. He wants to say: You were the best thing in my life. You are so perfect and so bright. He needs Clayfur to know that. He needs to — make sure.

"I can't do this without you."

A wet and ugly sound is torn from his bleeding chest, because Clayfur will have to and he cannot fathom how the stars would choose a fate so cruel for his love.

Cindershade is next at his flank, pressing her muzzle against him as more cats gather; she'd saved his life before, but not this time. She helps to ease his death instead: she's right that he won't feel alone. If there is any kindness in this it's that he dies a warrior's death, surrounded by the kin that he's fought for, their prayers ushering his journey to the stars.

Smokethroat is next, to his own mate's side — hold him tighter, thinks Clearsight, aching. Keep him closer. Let them not forget this love was mortal, as he had. The dappled tom stands strong, the stable force that Clearsight has always known him to be, though his words will betray his pain. Then Willowroot, dear companion, her scent ever a comfort — "hang on, sweetheart, stay with us" —

Stars, if he only could. If he could save them from mourning — if he could save his Clayfur.

And then among them, a voice he'd hoped he wouldn't hear: Gillpaw.

His apprentice is distraught, and for the first time, there is nothing Clearsight can do, no comfort he can offer. He cannot check Gillpaw over after this battle, praising and reassuring — he cannot ease the boy into warm spring water, soothing fears of cold and inky black. Who will watch over Gillpaw when he's gone? Who will see him through to warriorhood? Will they be gentle enough — will they love him well?

Clearsight's vision blurs, gathered clanmates fading to smudges of color in the dark, their voices warped and distant. No — no. He wants more time. He needs more time. Weakly, he curls one paw into Clayfur's pelt, holding as tight as he can. He takes another gasping breath, clings to the scent of his love, of his clanmates — he's not ready. He's not ready.

... The stars are so bright.

What could the next season have brought, he wonders? Or the seasons after that? He imagines a child with Clayfur's hazel eyes, growing up in RiverClan with two loving fathers; he imagines battling next to Gillpaw full-grown, seeing the boy he's raised become a man; he imagines retiring alongside his friends, some years down the line, bickering as elders do and telling children's tales.

He'll never know now.

Clearsight's last agonized breath shudders out of him, last tears falling from empty eyes.

So it ends.
​

---

& we've all got battle scars ✗ ​

// had a blast playing this dude and i will miss him so SO dearly. thank you to everyone who has plotted and posted with me along the way, it means a lot that folks have cared so much about him. both icly and oocly. and. im GONNA GO CRY NOW​

 

[CLAYFUR]

He can hear more clanmates gathering around, can feel their presence. He buries his nose into his mate’s fur, then lifts his head. Pleading eyes cast around to Cicada, to Lilybloom, to Willowroot. They can’t do anything, can’t stop what’s happening before everyone’s eyes. And Gillpaw, he shouldn’t have to see this. He’s such a good kid, a perfect apprentice, he shouldn’t have to watch his mentor die in front of him. The boy is screaming, calling for Beesong as if the healer could do anything even if they were here.

And he knows. He knows there’s no fixing this, any of it. There’s no fixing his mate’s broken body, no fixing his own shredded, tattered heart. How it’s even still beating in his chest, he doesn’t know—because it’s surely been ripped out, right? He thought they’d be together forever. He didn’t know just how little time they had left.

He shakes his head, ears pinned as far back as they will go. Hears Gillpaw, sees the poor apprentice screaming for someone to help, for someone to get their healer. He doesn’t realize that it’s useless—either that, or he doesn’t want to believe it. And it sits like a stone in the tabby-striped tom’s stomach, that Gillpaw. Gillpaw. Bright, cheery Gillpaw, is seeing his mentor fade from life right before his eyes. He thinks he’d have swapped their places, just to spare the boy this pain.

"Gill, come here," he urges, turning teary eyes upon the apprentice. He should be near, he thinks, but he won’t be forced if he doesn’t want to. Be with him. It’s your last chance. He will see to it that whoever is assigned to mentor Gillpaw will treat him with care, with patience. He doesn’t deserve this.

It feels like his own ribs are breaking, throat harsh and hoarse around his sobs. He can’t bring himself to stay strong, or whatever it is anyone would expect of a dignified warrior of RiverClan. They got a month, and barely that. They didn’t get enough time. There are so many things he wishes he’d said sooner, but he gathers his wits and lets it all fall out between his sobs. "I love you more than anything, more than anyone. You’re the best mate I could have asked for. Thank you. You’ve done so well. I’m so proud of you. I will love you forever. You’re the best part of my life." He refuses to speak of him in the past tense; after Clearsight there will never again be a best part. Where once he saw a lovely future, golden like his mate’s eyes, there is only a black hole, swallowing everything that could be beautiful.

He wants to scream, to empty his lungs until he’s hoarse and unable to even speak. None of this is fair. It shouldn’t be Clearsight. It shouldn’t be any RiverClanner, he thinks, but most of all his love. His love, whose final word is love. Whose death is official, now, as he draws his final splintered breath—and it’s all ended in what seems like heartbeats.

The light of his life, his beloved, his warrior, gone so quick. They were supposed to have more time. They were supposed to have forever. Kits, arguments, tests of their love that would prove that it could never be broken. Is this a test, then? He’d like to think they’ve passed it, if only at the steepest cost. He presses himself against the paw that Clearsight managed to extend—it’s selfish, to be so close while he was not the only one who loved the warrior, but isn’t he allowed one final touch?

His face hurts, he realizes, but it’s detached. The pain isn’t registering anymore, overflowed enough that it must be draining like the floodwater. He sobs quietly, endlessly, into the river-blue fur he adores so much. His eyes are screwed tightly shut, an attempt to hide from the world—from reality—in his mate’s pelt. The voices of his clanmates fade out around him, meaningless in the face of his grief. The sun will surely rise when morning comes. but for Clay, it may as well have set forever.
​

[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]​

​

 

[DogTeeth]

There’s blood in his eye, ringing in his ear. He’s left breathless as Windclan retreats with the hum of hammering paws, left standing and bleeding. They all were, but only one pelt is still lying against the ground- no. Moments pass, Cicadastar is calling for Clayfur not beesong.

Broken, twisted, shattered. Prayers and tears are whispered and woe is upon them.

A sob pulls from Dogteeth’s bleeding jaws, bobs painfully in his throat as his heart breaks for the scene. Clayfur rushes to the side of his dying lover. It’s a punch in the gut, a stab and twist of the knife. Dogteeth like a few, has to turn his muzzle away. Half of his vision is painted red, suddenly he feels the wires of hatred twist and thread through his bones. Feels his teary frown tear into a bare of teeth, daggers of ocean blue pierce the darkness.

He seethes, tar swelling in his veins. Never had his heart known such hatred, had never allowed such darkness. Now he swore if he pierced his own heart it would release leafbare once more. Windclan and all who followed them, may they learn what hell is- swiftly.

​

OOC INFO REF

• —
  
  
• — Dogteeth
  — twenty-five moons
  — 2023 VOICE & ACCENT
  — warrior of Riverclan
  — gay | crushing on n/a
  — small curly-furred blonde and tan tom with blue eyes.
  — very gentle soul / easily upset and sensitive
  — deals a nasty bite
  BIOGRAPHY——— ✧
  
• 
  
  

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