sensitive topics those times are echoing ✧ vigil ✧ through me

[lichenstar]

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cw for discussion of a dead child, general descriptions of grief

He is alike a fledgling... hardly coated in more than a thin layer of feathers that are not thick enough to keep him warm. They are not long enough to take flight, to leave the warm, delicately woven nest. He should be open-mouthed and crying for food, begging a slender-tailed bird to come home with something to eat. Instead, there are only warbling, drawn out calls of a mourning dove in eulogy. Little bird... he is rested carefully, too small in size... too small....

His ardent fur matches the flurries that dot the ground around him... he is aptly named in sorrowful whispers. Snowflakekit. And to the snow he really belongs.

Silently... patiently... unwillingly.... she just stares at him. Waiting... for the sudden, exasperated rise and fall of his chest. Too much time had passed for it to be possible, they'd seen it in the stillness of a willow's dead branches a year before. She understood... she knew. Distantly, she thinks to look for her, for a streak of dark fur, wants to ask her how... why. Did she even have those answers? Hazecloud needed them.

Drawing her tongue nervously across dry lips, the dove-toned deputy cannot fathom what elegy to hum, what carefully articulated words might make it better. Hazecloud was always better with words... In movements that feel like they take moons, she drags her gaze back towards the nursery, making out a shadowy silhouette lingering there with starry-teared eyes. Go back inside... don't look.

When a shame-filled stare snaps away, Lichentail can feel the weight of the world come crashing down on her. That last, tiny connection, that single minimal comfort severed by twin pains. She'd made up her mind... that she could shoulder this alone. That soft curls of cloudy mornings deserved peace. Her throat feels impossibly tight, as if she too might be unable to catch her breath again. Like she might curl up around him on the ground and if she tried hard enough, she might too be reclaimed by the snow... matching in their porcelain color like winter was made with them in mind.

"I..." and she barely squeaks the single syllable clearly. She clears her throat, willing some forgotten pit of her to have some kind of strength, to be as consistent and powerful as the river... To face everything unblinkingly, with the same anger and righteousness that Cicadastar had shown them. To look at the stars and just scream until no more sound would come out.

There's no point.

"Am sorry..."

What is there to even say? All the concern.. all of the doting, the extra prey, the tender care sent towards the nursery. It hadn't been enough. Her conspiring with Snakeblink to keep her mate in warmth and safety couldn't have prevented this. What had he said... when Frogpaw had died? She thinks, in the foggy images of distorted memory... that he had blamed himself too. Would he feel some weight in all of this, that he might be responsible in some tiny way?

The thought festers there as she tucks herself neatly beside a wilted buttercup, pressing her nose into the small crook of his neck. "Please don't be angry with me..." a request whispered in folded ears that would not hear her. But maybe... if StarClan were really watching.. he might still get a chance to listen. It was worth trying... worth begging forgiveness for impatience and selfish timing.


[[ please note this would've taken place around December 26th , sorry for the backdated thread !! this is the vigil for Snowflakekit (with permission from MCs for Lichen to host ]]

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WHAT'S THE KINDEST WAY TO SAY

THE END?​

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[SWIFTFIRE]

I'VE LEARNED LOVE IS LIKE A BRICK — Leafbare was a cruel and unruly beast. It cared little for love, or relationships, or futures talked about in excited and hushed whispers. It would take and take and take until it was satisfied, and though Swiftfire had only been alive long enough to see roughly two of the unforgiving seasons come and go in the past, she knew it wasn't an opponent to be trifled with if one could help it. Yet, she didn't have it in her to be upset with Hazecloud or Lichentail. Others in the clan might have thought the pair foolhardy - selfish, even - in when they had decided to have their kits. Impatience that would cost them all too much. And in a way that might have been true, but Swiftfire also understood the desires that had likely inevitably led to this moment. A desire for companionship. For love, and a family. Desires so many of them had, even if some of them were more willing to shove them down until a more opportune time came along - and really, the former colonist wasn't sure she was in that crowd either. Would I not make the same mistakes, if I had the chance to be a mother? She didn't really know, but she did know one thing.

Now wasn't the time to bring any of that up. Not when there was a tiny body to be buried, and grieving to be done.

Slow steps brought her bicolored form over to where the vigil was, pain shining in her bright green eyes. Remorse and grief meant for a kit that she had never even had the chance to meet. For a child that hadn't had the chance to speak, or play, or have their first bite of fish. A snowflake that had been around too briefly for it to be right. Swiftfire didn't offer any words to Lichentail, knowing there was nothing she could say that would make the situation better, or heal the pain that she felt. Nothing but time would do that, and even then it would simply be a balm over a wound that might never close. The reality of the situation made her chest twist painfully, and she simply lowered her head in respect for both Lichentail and the dead. Her own prayer was so soft that it could hardly be heard over the light howling of the leafbare wind tugging at her fur. "I... I hope Starclan is kind to you." It really hadn't been all that long since she had first learned about the clan supposedly watching over them all, but she found herself hoping more than ever that what she'd been told was true.

That Snowflakekit would still have the chance to be happy, even if it was with stars on his fur instead of the sharp tang of fish and the river.

YOU CAN BUILD A HOUSE ✿ OR SINK A DEAD BODY

• 
  ✧ shorthaired blue and red tabby chimera molly with green eyes
  ✧ 38 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ✧ bisexual; currently not looking
  ✧ daughter of lilou and germaine
  ✧ formerly of the ripple colony; loyal to riverclan
  ✧ easy to befriend; desperate to improve the former colonists' reputation
  ✧ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✧ peaceful powerplay allowed

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[RAVENSONG]

The hardest life to lose is the one who hardly had time to live at all. This was the first kitting he had kept watch over when a kit died shortly after the process. He cannot help but felt the sting of guilt whenever he glanced at the two new parents. He had been avoiding them for as long as he reasonably could. His mannerisms had been reduced to formalities with the two mollies he had held so much appreciation for.

There was simply too much weighing on his shoulders at the moment. He watches Lichentail take hold of the vigil for little Snowflakekit. He is glad she did, he does not know what he could have said. The pressure on his shoulders subsides, and then it comes back in full force. The medicine cat slowly paced over to the small gathering of cats, nodding a silent greeting to Swiftfire.

They aren't. He finds himself answering Swiftfire's words, but Ravensong's tongue remains dry and unused. He looks at the deputy and reaches out in an attempt to place his multi-toed paw over her own. An apology and a comfort rolled into one.

☾₊ ⊹ темная ночь — dark is the night

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• 
  RAVENSONG of RIVERCLAN — LH BLACK POLYDACTYL MALE (CARRYING CINNAMON, DILUTE) a tall, slender creature with pitch-black feathery fur, large ears, and a sharply angled skull held up in an aloof manner. smells of dried herb, speaks with a low and rumbly accent and walks with an elegant slinking gait.
  
  — born in twolegplace and orphaned at a young age, he joined riverclan at its inception and began training as a drypaw warrior known for a bitter temperment until beesong made him his medicine cat apprentice. after his mentor's untimely death, he had been named ravensong at the moonstone, young heart revitalized with anger and guilt. he is a somber and thorough medicine cat that guards every word spoken in the confines of his den.
  
  — secretly loves "the stars but not so much what inhabits them" — openly suffers from chronic migraines — single, but "it's complicated"

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[hazecloud]

It isn't fair.

Was this what she deserved?

Selfishly, Hazecloud would disagree.

I did everything right. Repeated in her thoughts helplessly. She had, in all but timing. The moment she felt even the most minor change within she had allowed herself to slow down. Minimizing any physical or mental stress from her duties until she had progressed enough to move into the nursery. Every precaution had been taken. She hadn't even left camp up until the last week of her pregnancy, taking small slow walks to release the tension building from every kick and roll. She ate prey when it was given. She slept when she was tired.

But it wasn't enough. StarClan wouldn't extend their love to breathe life into each one, instead taking it from the very last. Risking her life each day in that damned mountain wasn't enough. They wanted more, needed more and would never be satisfied if she sacrificed every part of her for it.

Her little tom-kit, too brittle to breathe another gasp. Now displayed openly as an ugly reminder that she had been punished by the stars to their Clan. That she did not deserve their mercy. Hazecloud did not move an inch from the sedge-lined entrance, her gaze dull and unfocused as it pointed to where limp pale fur lay. She should say something- she should be beside the pointed deputy and stand united as grieving mothers but in her selfishness she remained.

Hazecloud wanted nothing more than to move on from this moment, to not meet their sad faces for a moment longer. Swiftfire spoke in prayer that StarClan is kind and she swallowed the scoff in her throat. He would not need their kindness if they had not been so cruel as to take him at all.

For all her anger, she still felt cold. ​