camp WAIT FOR ME - clayfur's vigil

[RAVENSONG]

RiverClan has suffered many loses in only the span of a moon. Ravensong never imagined a day where the supplies of mint would run low. He did not think he would have to bathe Clayfur's body in it anytime soon either.

Ravensong had done his best to mend the wounds Clayfur suffered in his post-mortem, to restore him to a complete and full version of himself. The warrior had always been around since Ravensong could remember. The medicine cat would always remember him as one of the warriors he wanted to look up to the most. Unlike the others, Clayfur had been kind to drypaws, seen reason when reason seemed in short supply during Cicadastar's reign. Ravensong wanted to memorialize the tabby's lengthy service toward the Clan, so he did his best to bring him back to brand new.

The moon was shining down upon the medicine cat and the body he had prepared for burial. It bathed their fur in an ethereal, white glow. For a moment, Ravensong could believe that StarClan had reached down and touched Clayfur. A blessing, perhaps. Ravensong felt his body stiffen and he glanced away to squeeze his eyes shut to prevent any tears from coming out. If the colony cats had never been extended the offer to stay, Clayfur would still be alive.

Despite how often this occurred now, Ravensong had never found a templated version to guide him during the vigils. He was more than content with that, since each respective deceased Clanmates deserved their own ceremony.

Do you walk with Clearsight now? Ravensong wondered with a twist to his heart.

"Please join me in a moment of silence and vigil for our fallen Clanmate, Clayfur. He was a warrior with a long history of dedication to the Clan, and he gave his life to defend it. May StarClan guide his path." Ravensong raised his voice for the Clan to hear and gather. There, the silence would fall, only broken by the prayers of other Clanmates.

☾₊ ⊹ темная ночь — dark is the night

•  
• 
  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"

​

 

[SWIFTFIRE]

I'VE LEARNED LOVE IS LIKE A BRICK — For a long moment, Swiftfire seriously contemplated not attending Clayfur's vigil. Not because of any disrespectful for the now fallen warrior, but because of the guilt that clung to her every time she heard his name in hushed whispers. It was hard for her not to carry the loss on her own shoulders, even if she was trying hard to advocate for every former colonist not being pinned with the actions of their former friends. Ravensong's unsaid thoughts were right, even if they would've caused a spiral of pain to echo out from Swiftfire's chest - if the Ripple Colony had never been invited to stay, it was very likely that Clayfur would still be alive. And how was one supposed to deal with that, when they were facing his corpse right before their eyes? Prettied up as it was, it was still the body of a clanmate that mainly cats had respected. Had loved.

It felt worse not to attend the vigil, though. Like she would be disrespecting his memory somehow by keeping her distance. Besides, even if she wasn't directly responsible for his passing, it felt important for former colonists to be present. To make it clear that they were not the bloodthirsty rogues that Deacon represented, and a completely different group of cats entirely. Part of that was showing respect for the fallen, and wishing them well on their path to Starclan. More than ever, Swiftfire hoped that the stories she had been told of the clan in the sky were true, and not just fairytales told to kits in order to get them to sleep at night. It would be a relief to know that Clayfur was at least going somewhere better, to be reunited with the mate that she had heard about in soft murmured whispers upon his body being brought back.

The chimera was silent as she approached, settling into a seated position fairly far from where Clayfur's body laid carefully, pelt smelling of mint instead of rot. It only seemed right, keeping her distance so that those closer to him could pay their respects properly, while she merely hung her head low in respect. Her words were far softer than Ravensong's own, not meant to gather the cats around her but instead a soft greeting to the cats above - a clan of starry-pelted felines that hopefully included Clayfur now. "I... I hope you're alright up there. I'm so sorry for everything that has happened, you didn't deserve this. Hopefully Starclan will treat you more kindly than my former lot did." Her claws dug lightly into the dirt beneath her, forcing her to stay in place instead of doing what her mind was shouting at her to do. Turn and run as fast from this vigil as you can. You're not wanted here. And yet still she remained, at least until someone else shooed her away.

YOU CAN BUILD A HOUSE ✿ OR SINK A DEAD BODY

• 
  ✧ shorthaired blue and red tabby chimera molly with green eyes
  ✧ 39 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

​

 

[LAKEMOON]

LAKEMOON — me and the devil, walking side by side.
The air within camp is thick, somber sapphire optics watched helplessly as Ravensong adorned an all-to-still pelt with various blossoms and fragrances.
Lakemoon’s stance with Clayfur had been rocky leading up to his untimely passing. Deep within her heart, the silver tabby could still remember their endearing conversation, the time he had asked about her and Lilybloom. On the surface, however, the memory of him ripping into her grandmothers throat rippled through the blue depths of her gaze.
Above all, Clayfur had been a clanmate. A comrade. Her beloveds kin.
Ravensong calls for a vigil, and Lakemoon let herself wander over, ready to be a shoulder for Lilybloom to lean against.
Against her better judgement, she settles too closely, her stare burning into his shoulder. His ribs that would never rise again.
Swiftfire speaks, the warriors words a melancholy song that betrays her namesake. Once again, there is a moment of silence.
"May your journey to the stars be one with ease, Clayfur." She murmurs to herself, head bowed under the weight of Riverclans loss, over Lilybloom’s loss.

"speech"​

☾ —

•  

​

 

[FERNGILL]

Something within Clayfur had broken when Clearsight had died- so much that Ferngill could almost, almost be happy, knowing they were together again. Ravensong said as much- they were probably twining their tails in the stars, at last reunited, where they could be happy for moons and moons and moons. Even still, Ferngill hadn't managed to stop crying yet.

He wasn't wailing anymore- but his shoulders still shook with sniffles, and his tears wetted his face. Rainfall from his healthy eye, settled upon his uncle's still form, would likely not cease for the rest of the night. And he would stay here all night, keeping watch over Clayfur's body. Protecting, even if he wouldn't be much good at it. His eyes fluttered closed, and a sigh shattered with tearfulness slipped out of his maw.

"I know you're smiling," Ferngill said, voice cracked. "You're with Clearsight. But I'll miss you so much." He'd never been much good with words- there wasn't much poem to his eulogy, but it came from his heart, as everything did. "I'll see you again someday." The words were a sigh, quiet and mournful, as he pressed a pink nose into his uncle's fur, remembering the lingering scent of his kin for the final time, melded with mint and death. ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

It’s a cruel joke, isn’t it, that the very fondness for his clanmates that gives Snakeblink the strength to go on in this manner is the very same thing now scouring through the flesh of his heart like teeth, keeping his jaws locked tight to hold back a snarl or a sob.

He’s always been told that death is a reunion — a return to the cradling paws of all the cats one has loved and lost throughout one’s life. He’s sure Clayfur will be glad to find his way back to Clearsight’s side, and that their star-strung bodies will find more gentleness in the night sky than they did on earth. But for the living that they leave behind, it feels like the worst departure. Even in the throes of his grief Clayfur had been a constant, steadying presence in the clan, and his death — so soon after the loss of their first leader, their founder, their king — feels like an ending to more than a single life.

Finding himself, for once, out of words, he sighs out the one thing he can imagine Clayfur missing in his last moments: ”Find peace.”
​

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• 
  
  
  — Snakeblink • he / him. 49 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

​

​

 

[Mosspool]

𓆝 . ° ✦ Mosspool kept her vigil with somber stillness. There were no tears or sniffles from her, instead she remained eerily quiet as she sat among her clanmates. Her head was dipped slightly, both out of respect and because it was hard to look straight at the body. Even though Ravenmask had fixed it up, every time she looked for a second she felt a jolt of fear that she would see the terrible gash that had been torn in Clayfur's throat.

As all her clanmates raised their voices for Clayfur, her own silence began to feel less respectful. And yet what words did she have to offer? She had not known him well, even if she wished she had.

Slowly, she raised her gaze to the stars. She had to say something at least, however insubstantial. "Starclan, please grant Clayfur peace and happiness among your ranks. He served Riverclan well, and has more than earned his rest." It was a simple, generic prayer, but still she could not keep her voice steady as she spoke it. Perhaps she should not have spoken. She could not trust her voice. With every word, the memory of Thornmask's teeth tearing through his throat threatened to overwhelm her. She had been right there. It felt like she should have been able to do something, and yet by the time she had driven off the other rogue, he had already been dead.

For a moment she was silent.

"I'm sorry." The words were whispered to the stars, almost too quiet for anyone else to overhear. She lowered her head back down, unable to meet the stars' gaze.

✧　°　.　✶　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
• 

  MOSSPOOL — SHE/HER･ 12 MOONS ･ WARRIOR & RIVERCLAN ･ PENNED BY @empyrean !

  Longhair black tabby with deep green eyes. Mosspaw is a very tall molly, standing a head above most cats her age. She has a slim, willowy physique with subtle musculature built up from a lifetime of constant training that lends itself well to swimming and running. Long, thick brown fur falls over her form with tabby patterning across it. Her eyes are a vibrant green, and shine with a bright intelligence and confidence.

​

 

[Sablemist]

Sablemist sat quietly as others said their peace to the fallen warrior. A driving figure of the clan that was around for as long as she could remember. A selfish part of her wished to blame the colony cats for their loss. Surely if they'd never crossed paths Clayfur would still be around today. Or so she hoped. Her somber expression deepens at the sound of Ferngill's sniffles, dark ears drooping at the sight of quaking shoulders. Her gaze falls to her paws as a plumed tail rests upon his own. Though the gesture wasn't much to drive away the tears Sablemist sought to comfort him anyway. She knew all too well the loss of a loved one and the weight of its sorrow. Her gaze tracks the stars above and in their twinkling silence she wondered if the warrior had met up with Wolverinefang or Stalkingpaw yet. "Rest easy Clayfur..." She whispered softly.

✿ ≖≖ riverclan warrior / sixteen moons old / she/her ≖≖ ✿​

​

​

​

 

[LILYBLOOM.]

When Lilybloom thinks of her uncle, she tries to remember him as he was, bright, happy, and a little eccentric. Even if you weren't close with him, he was definitely quite the character in RiverClan, what with his penchant for eating things he shouldn't have. Lilybloom had been happy for him when he found love with Clearsight and her heart had ached for him when Clearsight was lost to them. A part of Clayfur had died that day, the spark of joy in him had been dampened forevermore, to be replaced with a dark shadow over him.

It was strange to think he no longer walked among them. Even though he had changed in recent moons, he was still her beloved uncle, and she would love him with all her heart. "Rest easy, uncle," Lilybloom mewed, bowing her head solemnly for a moment. "I hope you found Clearsight again. I hope your days will be filled with peace."​

 

[Moonbeam]

Moonpaw had watched quietly as her mentor weaved herbs into the fur of their fallen clanmate, quietly she watched and learned, making sure to help out where needed or asked before stepping back and watching those that gathered around to wait for their time to mourn more openly. She knew Clayfur as a friend to many, as a cat to look up to and who had been around long before she herself had been born and it was odd now to think of the other as someone who would no longer be around and would now be walking around with his dead mate in StarClan. Sad eyes glance to the body of the other and quickly Moonpaw found herself looking towards her own paws, her own silent prayer breaking the deafening silence within her mind as the prayers and small words of her clanmates around her reached her ears.

She could only hope that he was with Clearsight now as many others around her had voiced, that he was as happy in StarClan as he was with them here in RiverClan.

I WISH PLANT LIFE ꕥ WOULD GROW ALL AROUND ME

• 
  MEDICINE CAT IN TRAINING;
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ FLESH WOUNDS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ INFECTIONS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ ACHES & PAINS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ ILLNESS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ BREATHING ISSUES
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ TRAVELING HERBS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ BROKEN BONES
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ KITTING
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ POISONS
• 
  ꕥ SH white masking cinnamon torbie w/orange eyes & small ears
  ꕥ speaks softly & often found humming
  ꕥ 9 moons old; ages the 17th every month
  ꕥ homosexual homoromantic ; interested in beepaw & redacted
  ꕥ currently being mentored by ravensong
  ꕥ easy to befriend/interact with ; hard to anger/upset
  ꕥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ꕥ easy in combat unless in water, focuses on defensive tactics
  ꕥ peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[iciclefang]

Iciclefang wants to remember the Clayfur of her youth—she tries her best to conjure an easy smile on slack lips, does her best to reimagine the gleam in his closed eyes. The rage that has been building within her like kindling shoveled into open flame fights with raw and bloody grief. She can almost hear his voice calling to her and her littermates from the mouth of the nursery; she can almost see the pride in his expression as they’d received their mentors, then their warrior names. She watches Lilybloom bow her head, watches Ferngill push a damp pink nose into Clayfur’s white-streaked tabby fur, and she grits her teeth against a flush of anger.

This should never have happened. Had she been on that patrol, it never would have—she’d have fought her last breath hunting her kin’s slayer to the edges of the forest.

She approaches Clayfur’s body, flank brushing against Ferngill’s ginger side. She lowers her head to just rest her chin against cold, stiff fur. “I will bring you justice. Somehow, someway. Please know that.” She closes her eyes. Perhaps he’s here watching them all, tail twined with the mate who’d had to leave him too soon.

She likes to think he is.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Iciclekit . Iciclepaw . Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 20 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
  — mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring Cicadapaw ; previously mentored n/a
  — riverclan lead warrior. mudpelt x icesparkle, gen 2.
  — currently mated to Stormywing.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.
  
  

​

 

[willowroot]

( ☾ ) sorrow rips the lungs of the smoke feline as they approach the vigil. clayfur looks soft, sweet and almost kitlike in his rest. his fur is groomed to perfection, sprinkled with blooms that do their best to hide the overwhelming scent of death. willowroot finds she can still smell it. she always smells it these days.

moonlight pours down upon the still body, and as ravensong's words ripple through camp like a cold wind, the smoke warrior slips in beside her daughter, pressing gently against mosspool for a moment as she lowers her head. she finds her eyes devoid of tears- she's cried much recently- but still a dry sob rips from her throat, chest heaving in grief. clayfur, her last connection with clearsight, her friend, companion. the tom and her had spent much time mourning the silver warrior, and they'd grown a friendship within that grief that transcended it. now, as she gazes down upon his still body, she wonders vaguely if he's happier in this state.

no more will he crunch on sand to the dismay of ravensong, no more will he crack ridiculous jokes at gatherings to lighten the tension. her friend is gone, and she will not see him until she too meets her end. "rest well, my friend," the feline murmurs, bending to press her muzzle into his fur, inhaling his scent for the last time. "i'll see you in a while."

THE ECHOING HYMN ☾ OF MY FELLOW PASSERINE

• // " speak "
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
• 
  WILLOWROOT ☼ SHE / THEY, WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. MENTORING ROBINPAW. PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a long-haired black smoke oriental with sage-green eyes. smokey long fur coats the length of willowroot's lithe body, with friendly sage green eyes that narrow in an almond shape. her muzzle and limbs are thin and long due to her oriental heritage.
  
  
  
  

​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

—————————————————————⊰★⊱————————————————————

The last time he and Clayfur had a one on one discussion was sometime after Clearsight died when he noticed the tom's distance and sought him out. For comfort? To talk? He didn't know, he only knew he had the same fear then that the brown tabby had over losing someone you loved. How ironic then that they discussed bitterfly that Smokestar would feel that pain countless times before it came to an end only for it now to have been at his own teeth. How funny that Clayfur would realize upon reaching the starry heavens above that he would find his mate waiting and notice that their former leader was not among those who greeted him and that one day, eventually the black and white tom would arrive to hollow silence and no warm patched fur to bury his face in. He can not help but be envious in a small way, mourning this loss but also at peace in knowing that Clayfur would have what he never would. Solace, the comfort of the one he cared most for in life. Two souls reuniting in the ethereal sea, maybe he's a little jealous amidst his grief at the loss of a clanmate; one he'd known for so long. Maybe, in a way, he hates that Clayfur died in battle as he once wished to and could be at peace, stop fighting, enjoy the presence of his mate and no longer feel the burden of life.
Smokestar pauses as he steps forward, a brief pause at the striped tabby head to rest his nose on the distinct jagged markings on his forehead, he lifted his lone orange gaze up and met Ravensong's eyes for a moment before turning to walk away without another word.
The rogues had crossed a line this time, several lines in fact, something had to be done before more blood was spilled and he wasn't sure what.

✘ I've got a reputation and a name to uphold. ✘ Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.

• OOC can go here.
• 
  
  
  Smokestar
  —⊰⋅ Leader of RiverClan
  —⊰⋅ He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ Black tom w/vitiligo & one orange eye.
  

​

 

[lichenstar]

⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ​

He looked peaceful now.

Ravensong had his fill of funerary rites to oversee by now... and in his practice, he had already made great strides towards the illusionary art of making the dead rest. It was almost reassuring, like he might have passed in the middle of the night with dream-dust still lingering on his tongue. But the wounds are still there, regardless... even obscured by mint they are present. Even in silence, they cannot forget the sanguine trail of his final steps...

He was my friend, comes the fleeting, sobbing thought of a molly much younger than her, one that could will herself to throw herself over his body and weep. A pale-furred girl that had sat with him and Mosspaw, debating how best to call after birds. Could see yellow yolks of eggs he'd dropped on an unsuspecting clan-mate's head. So many... good memories, extinguished without his heart-flame to keep them alight.

Smokestar moves past her to depart, a scowl drawn jagged across his face- is there sorrow there, under all that anger?- and she wishes she could find the hot wildfire of fury to take comfort in. But it is cold here... like a stone beneath the icy river surface. There is stillness.

With long strides she moves to say her good-bye, to press her nose tenderly into his cheek, to breathe in one last time that warm, honeyed scent that had been his in life.

I wish you could've stayed... but I understand. You missed Clearsight so much.

Now you don't have to.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, the deputy steps back to allow others their moment of quiet grief. Pairs of crystalline-shining eyes peer from the nursery... and even they who did not really know Clayfur are in need of consoling. She lifts a paw to beckon them to come sit with her, to include them in this ritual so they might be able to cope with it, so they might not feel alone.

Or maybe it is a more selfish want than that.

---

CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS

FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY​

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[hazecloud]

For how talkative the molly could be she was never good at finding the right words in a vigil. It didn't feel right to speak in these moments- a vigil was meant to be an observation. Their community gathered to watch their fallen one last time dressed in fragrant herbs and pretend they looked just as they did while living, only sleeping. A final goodbye but not for forever.

"That's kind of you, Swiftfire." The queen's voice is a whisper to the former colonist. It must not be easy sitting there, facing the blood thats been spilled by ones she called friend or perhaps family, even. Do they not understand this hurts them even more? It was useless to believe the selfish could think of anyone but themselves first, she knows, but its hard to ignore the obvious impact it would have.

She brushed her pelt against Lichentails in quiet consolation. Hazecloud was not close with Clayfur but he was hardly a stranger among RiverClanners. He was kind, he was a friend, he was a warrior. He loved and he hated and he lost and he won and he sacrificed plenty to earn the respect and honor his Clanmates graced him with this very evening. They mention Clearsight, they know he is in his mates embrace.

I hope I'm never left in waiting. The thought is so sudden Hazecloud is left blinking in her own surprise. She promptly pushed it down and instead met her mates gaze in the nursery's direction, encouraging them to approach if they felt brave enough. ​