private there's a part of me that knows ࿐࿔ forgiveness

[lichenstar]

✦˚.✧˚✧˚✧˚ ✧ ˚✧˚✧˚✧.˚✧

CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY ✧

• Throat bound in tightening webs of spring-sickness stuttering under heavy breaths to try to break through. A fluttering of a bird-breasted hoping that one more attempt might unwind the coils, might release the tension of exhausted lung- like wing-beats of a frantic bird doing its best to fly away. The breeze carries itself with lofty disloyalty, whipping around with the celebration of new life and new wonders while doing nothing to chip at the ice that clings to blue-toned humors. No amount of sweet ambrosia-like honey will cure the ache, clear the sickly taste of her own breath... no loving dose of catmint had battled away the tickle of a cough, ever persistent and growing more violent in its rebuttals. Splatters of crimson coat the back of pearly teeth, find the inside of a pale ankle stained by what they try to hide. What they try to deny.
  
  Improvement windows had come and gone... ever the hopeful lull after something new was tested, followed to swiftly by the tumultuous crash of a night spent hacking, an afternoon spent staring at the weaving roots of a willow and growing dizzied by it. At some point the stars felt closer than others... always pitied with eyes that understood what great waste this felt like. Life after life spent decaying... rotting... surrounded by ones that loved and cared; it was the death of an elder. Not a warrior.
  
  Not a leader.
  
  Bleary skies search for the blinding light, a halo of simmering glow that approaches on feather-soft paws. Noon had come so quickly... glaring through the den entrance with a furious sort of warmth in the dandelion stare of its center. The dripping steps that trail the worn paths of visitors reflect it, the star-stunning brightness... it gleams painfully against icy eyes, winking closed again with a wheezed sigh of protest. Head rings with ripples of newfound torture... even behind closed lids there are rings of its memory, seared there in glimmering permanence.
  
  The willow leaves shift... and with it, the dusty earth does too. A tell-tale admission of presence, smelling of nothing more than the dewy leaves... than the petrichor that clings to the earth even as it tries to warm in the bath of mid-day sun.
• about
  
  speech hex code ✧ #6368A5
  
  ooc notes ✦
  tagging ✶
  penned by tieirlys
• ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .
  
  . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦ . . ˚ . ✦ . . ˚ ੈ✧˳·˖✶ ✦ ˚ ✦ . . ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔
  
  . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦ . . ˚ . ✦ ​

 

[Moonbeam]

It was difficult to make excuses to those surrounding as to why cats could not see Lichenstar, why cats could not see Moonbeam. Robinheart was competant - she was doing well in her trainings and the medicine cat was proud of this - but she knew that there were many within the clan that would rather see someone fully trained in healing than someone still learning, especially after all they had been through, but with all that Lichenstar had been through she did not want to leave her side for longer than she had to, so when she was able to get away she would do so in hushed tones and whispers, and though she knew rumors and words traveled quickly she could only hope that any words spreading of illness through the clan would be kept secret as the leader was one that stayed within her own den away from the warriors. She did not share a den with others so that it could not spread quickly, and although lives had been lost and the illness had not been quelled - to the medicine cat's dismay - she was thankful that it had not been spreading as far as she had seen.

Frown carefully creased along her maw as entrance to den parted and the white moggie moved within the den, wet moss and herbs in tow, any herbs she could think of using wrapped carefully amongst themselves as the final life of her leader fluttered in front of her. She couldn't tell if it was the flutter of a life willing to fight, the flutter of a life wanting to even, but she knew that she would be there for her, be there no matter the answer, and quickly paws moved forward as moss was dropped and rolled in front of the older feline. "Here." She'd speak, motioning towards the moss, guiding the other to it if need-be - and StarClan she hoped the other was strong enough that she could drink the water without help - but she knew, deep down, the answer. The rattling of bones, the shaky breaths, the sickness and slowness of breathing. The medicine cat settles by her leader's side, paws readying by herbs just in case, whether they be to try to ease ailment or suffering.

CAUSE LIKE CONTELLATIONS ꕥ A MILLION YEARS AWAY

• --
• ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ flesh wounds<br>ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ infections<br>ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ aches &amp; pains<br>ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ illness<br>ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ breathing<br>ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ traveling<br>ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ broken bones<br>ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ kitting<br>ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ poisons
• 
  ꕥ SH white masking cinnamon torbie w/orange eyes &amp; small ears<br>ꕥ 21 moons old; ages the 17th every month<br>ꕥ homosexual polyromantic ; mated to beefang, crushing on redacted<br>ꕥ currently mentoring none<br>ꕥ "speech", thoughts, attacking<br>ꕥ easy in combat unless in water, focuses on defensive tactics

​

 

[lichenstar]

✦˚.✧˚✧˚✧˚ ✧ ˚✧˚✧˚✧.˚✧

CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY ✧

• Halo forms into soft edges and sundrop eyes rip away from the sun's center. A familiar shape of a clouds draped in heavenly light, star-dusted waterlines that droop towards a knowing sadness. A lack of willigness to see more suffering endured. Fragments of sapphire skim the den's surface, listening for cotton-breathed offer... Here.
  
  A single word that held lines of comfort in its chords... I am here. We are here. Still here... Parched throat scratches at swallowing down the bile of relief that swims upward, springs towards tired eyes. Aches she would sit through for a hundred moons if it meant another chance to wrap her limbs around Hazecloud for another night. To run her tongue through the thick curls of Cicadaflight's unruly fur. To offer a gravelly lecture to the phantom of a friend she missed dearly. To weave flowers in the tangles of Salmonshade'a coat. To walk the plains with her children, admire their growth... Tell her clan-mates that their mistakes didnt have to be their forevers. That she could...
  
  Forgive.
  
  If she understands what chance at a drink she is offered, the lynx point makes hardly any indication of it beyond the great inhale that foretells a will to try. An attempt that goes painfully short-lived in the half movement of a scarred arm to reach towards the moon's mercy.
  
  "Moon.... beam..." What other herbs had she brought in a desparate plea for change? Would it be something sour to inspire a twist in fate and lip alike? Could it be something softened in floral tones, fostering a blooming will to continue? Another sunrise... Another horizon spent admiring the evening's beautiful palette? Sit under the twinkle of Silverpelt's woven patterns?
  
  "This..." lashes squeeze together, wincing against the grating sensation of her admission rushing towards the open air of a quiet den. "Is all... I have.... left..."
  
  The last life to give.
  
  Could she see it in the brightness of the pale white kiss where StarClan had pressed the sharp deliverance of their gift into her chest like a knife. Waiting for it to wiggle loose... to see the wound grow in a well of scarlet sacrifice and wonder when it would bleed too much to muscle through.
• about
  
  speech hex code ✧ #6368A5
  
  ooc notes ✦
  tagging ✶
  penned by tieirlys
• ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .
  
  . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦ . . ˚ . ✦ . . ˚ ੈ✧˳·˖✶ ✦ ˚ ✦ . . ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔
  
  . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦ . . ˚ . ✦ ​

​

 

[Moonbeam]

She watches as inhalation signals an attempt at a drink, ears pricking as eyes flick between feline and ball of moss sadly for just a moment before wheezing name spill from star-blessed tongue, and it takes so much strength from Lichenstar to speak the words of confession that she does, even though they are little, even though they are few. "I-" She pauses for a small moment, swallowing the small lump that was forming in her throat before she continues on, pushes through, "I know Lichenstar, I've known." She's known every time the other has lost a life, saw it in her eyes, seen it in the way her body moved and felt it in her soul that she grew closer with StarClan with each life lost.

"Does anyone else know?" She felt deep down that she knew the answer, ever the secret keeper was Lichenstar, not wanting to worry those within the clan, not wanting to worry those close to her, sitting inside her den dying over and over again, sneaking out from it to die sick in the territory only to not get better. Was this StarClan's will, to take RiverClan's leader like this? Was this what the stars were telling them that it was time for Lichenstar to come to Smokestar and leave the rest of them behind?

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 21 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

​

 

[lichenstar]

✦˚.✧˚✧˚✧˚ ✧ ˚✧˚✧˚✧.˚✧

CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY ✧

• It's a cold comfort that she knows... that as much as she'd tried to keep it quiet, keep it concealed, there was always that little scope of StarClan's gaze still watching. Still knowing. Still sowing the information where it might best be kept tucked away. A nagging tittering asks if this is Robinheart's curse too... or if it is a special burden placed upon those deemed 'studied' enough. Could you ever learn enough to embrace that sort of knowledge and swallow it down?
  
  Dampened stare glimpses the shift of her face, the sullen and somber duty she relegates herself to when she asks- her own lips in turn twist into a grimace. A grief spared... a self-inflicted loneliness with her condition. There are no other two than those in this den that understand the severity... To anyone else this is a set-back. A momentary lapse.
  
  "No..." they murmur softly, a broken tail curling around herself tighter like a kit trying to soothe its own sore feelings. What was the point in being miserable over misery spared to others? Just a last-second wish for more 'once mores' and nothing else... Would Hazecloud have stayed a little longer that morning, if she knew? Would Pebbletail be wasting his time in this den again rather than embracing his newfound joy? Snakeblink...
  
  He'd just sit at her side, unflinching... lamenting that she'd promised not to leave him too quickly. Cracking hissing jokes to ease every aching breath? To hear another raspy laugh.
  
  "I couldn't... do that... to them..." Subjecting them to a pre-mature vigil, of nights spent fearfully hovering over her listening for every rise and fall of her chest.
• about
  
  speech hex code ✧ #6368A5
  
  ooc notes ✦
  tagging ✶
  penned by tieirlys
• ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .
  
  . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦ . . ˚ . ✦ . . ˚ ੈ✧˳·˖✶ ✦ ˚ ✦ . . ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔
  
  . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦ . . ˚ . ✦ ​

 

[Moonbeam]

Eyes search the other, gaze wondering where her leader's mind was at in that moment when she found out that one other knew her secret, that one other knew of the last life that was bestowed upon her was seemingly soon over, rattling ever so carefully out of her chest with every breath, pained after being seen as so strong and fearless, now whittled down to this, using the strength she had left to still protect her clan from the truth that she knew would hurt them.

A soft hum is all that could be heard from her for a moment, whether it be thoughts churning within her head or simply an acknowledgement of the words Lichenstar spoke to her even Moonbeam did not know, "I think it might be for the best." She'd speak, unsure in her own way if she was sure if it was, though she understood why it wasn't shared. A leader was given their lives to share them with the clan and a leader with only one seemed so fragile to so many, something to protect and fret over, whether they needed it or not. "Even if it wasn't your last, there's no stopping StarClan from taking more than one if they wanted." StarClan had taken so many from Smokestar after all instead of just the one, who was to say they couldn't take all nine in one go if they wanted?

Corners of her maw twitched down for a moment as head moved down to look at her paws before they glanced towards the herbs that were brought with her, the vast array of things carried close to her just in case, to keep out of reach, to keep close, to teach with. A paw would move forward carefully and claws would hook into the wrapped bundle before the sweet smell of honey would surround the two, the aromatics of dried herbs and bark. She could tell Lichenstar was in pain, the blood coating the back of their ankle showing the inevitable of pain and suffering and prolonged death of withering away in a den. "How much does it hurt?" Being stuck in here, stuck like this unable to move, being alive, a shell of a cat she once was.

When Lichenstar answers her paws move, and honeycomb is carefully squeezed over herbs over willow bark, and carefully it is moved towards Lichenstar. "This will ease your pain."

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 21 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

​

 

[lichenstar]

✧˚.✧˚✧˚✧˚ ✧ ˚✧˚✧˚✧.˚✧

CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY ✧

• For the best.
  
  That was what it was all about. What everything was for. Every breath taken, every move made. Every swing of claws, racing of paws over the open fields, the nights spent keeling over in the medicine den waiting to have salves run over stinging wounds. Whatever benefitted the clan... whatever left the fewest scars behind. Even if it wasn't the last, she would still spend it fighting, bleeding, coughing, dying... it didn't matter. She'd promised it to them...
  
  She'd promised it to herself when she'd chosen a side in the Great Battle. When she'd left her parents behind to pursue a new adventure... when she'd left her sister behind. So many choices made, so many paths diverged over and over again to find her here. The whys start... the what ifs.... how many histories were there where she'd died a long time ago? How many more exist where she hadn't died in the ways that she did?
  
  It's something they both know in this air. Stiff... tense... but also familiar. A resigned sense of duty. That this is the beginning.
  
  And the end.
  
  "How much does it hurt?"
  
  Too much.... too much to call it a life, to call it living. Not enough... not enough to keep her eyes open. "It's... a sign.. I'm still... here.... right," she asks, though her tone battles between bitterness and grief. A grief for herself... a pity... a bitterness to have suffered so many deaths and know there is still one more waiting for her. "Is it.... selfish," the air grows heavy with anticipation... with the baited breath of her own words, "To be.... tired... of hurting?"
  
  She who was afforded so many chances... so many experiences. What would Mudpelt have given to taste the birth of his grandchildren? What would Gladefrost have given up just to hold her kittens a little longer? Oxbowpaw... an apprentice in starlight. Brookstorm, a mother with no chance to lick the top of her children's heads.
  
  Her eyes sting with frustration, the budding drops of a tearful fit. To feel selfish... and selfless all at once and have nothing to show for it. Stubborn in her insistence not to take up too much space in other hearts... not to get attached because it hurt more to grow close just to be pried apart. To roost in this den with only Moonbeam to stare at every fluttering of her ribcage. To know they are together... and so miserably alone.
  
  A promise... to ease the pain.
  
  "Thank... you..."
  
  She's heard it before... trusted it. Would continue to trust it, if only because it was her. That round, smiling girl named Ratkit... So patient... so kind. Willing to lie if it spared someone else some heartache.
  
  She offers herself the strength of her will to believe it again. To reach out, draw it closer... sink her teeth into the tough bark, the soft honey... chewing it into a gritty paste of bitterness and sweetness. Just like life... full of highs... soured by all the lows. It takes effort... to keep chewing... to swallow down the bumps in the road. To move past the losses, the spots where it gets stuck in your throat... where chokes you-
  
  It chokes you.
  
  A stifled cough... a hammering of panic rising into a flurry in her ears. The rush of blood... the symphony of her fear. Resignation turns to blood-shot terror, mouth falling open into an anxious, unspoken question- or maybe a plea for help? Whatever words are left to say die in a strangled wheeze, a tensing of claws dug into the dirt.... Whys... what ifs... In how many histories... was this her last day?
  
  Her sides twitch in vain efforts to suck in a breath... a drive to persist still. A choice that has been removed... a mercy blanketed in the tenderness of her voice. The sympathy of her stare... the honey-warmth there that begs her to stop fighting. To relax.... to accept that with every second, things grow duller... The ringing isn't quiet so loud... the vibrance of the sun behind her dulls and no longer leaves an ache throbbing in her skull.
  
  There is only calm left... No more bloodied coughs. No more nightmares of friends missed. No more impossible decisions to be made.
  
  Her brows furrow, head lolling into the plush rest of her feathered nest... and with a hallowed understanding Lichenstar closes her eyes.
  
  You didn't lie....
  
  I'm sorry you had to choose...
  
  When her eyes open again, there is an unfamiliar weightlessness that courses through constellation-dusted fur... the spirit so starkly similar to what rests in well-earned slumber at the ground. Scars do not go missing to indicate a distant time spent more joyfully than her last. To have lived and fought for RiverClan... to have loved it with every sacrifice... That had been the duty she'd promised to Smokestar.
  
  "You did what you had to...."
  
  She'd told him that too. Her eyes lift towards the rush of a gentle wind, the billowing silver-braided fur with a resigned smile. A finality... and a relief. A unsuspected reunion... but one not scorned. "One last journey...?"
  
  This one would finally stick.
• about
  
  speech hex code ✧ #6368A5
  
  ooc notes ✦
  tagging ✶
  penned by tieirlys
• ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .
  
  . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦ . . ˚ . ✦ . . ˚ ੈ✧˳·˖✶ ✦ ˚ ✦ . . ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔
  
  . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦ . . ˚ . ✦ ​

 

[brookstorm]

The scene before them is one of serenity, acceptance - peace, even if wrought with pain and discomfort. Brookstorm looks on from her starry place with understanding, not a drop of frustration lingering on her taut countenance. For once, the blue molly does not hold disappointment in her fern green eyes. They are clear, if not rimmed with starlit tears. She had been counting; this would be the one. This would be... the end.

She swims from her space in the stars to the realm of the living. She glimmers as if water has dappled her pelt and mingled with the cosmos itself, and waits. Moonbeam's movements are deliberate if not sure, slow only for the starry onlookers to see what she may commit. Brookstorm waits in the billowing quiet, listens as the faint choking echoes in the end, and watches as one parts from another. Moonbeam waits, maybe even sees her leader part from their body, maybe even sees her.

Brookstorm does not smile. But she doesn't frown, either. Again, understanding writhes in her glittering gaze, and she looks away from Moonbeam and to Lichenstar.

The other is torn and ripped as they have been in life. Brookstorm blinks, but doesn't comment on it. Her own chest still tightens with every unneeded breath, her throat strained with an illness that has long since left her. It is not lost on her; in StarClan, they remain as they were in their happiest moments. Lichenstar had bore witness to RiverClan thriving once more in newleaf, to her grandkits playing in the warming waters - the laughter, the song. She did her duty as leader. Of course she's content with how she ended; what more could she have wanted?

"We can stay a moment longer," Brookstorm rumbles. Her tone is just as dour as it has ever been. Levity still hasn't found her in death. Her gaze holds to Moonbeam once more, whether or not the molly has stayed or left yet. Her curled ears twitch, "Or we can go. You have plenty waiting for you in the stars." You'll see them all again soon. But she does not pressure her leader. She does not push her mentor - her mother, in a way. Instead, Brookstorm knocks her cranium against the other's and ghosts something close to laughter. "Snowflakekit has been eager to show you how good his mossball skills have gotten..."
​