we’d miss the mornings in the sun || lilacfur

[loampelt]

StarClan is, naturally, perfect.

There is plenty of prey, the water runs crisp and so clear the bottom can be seen without effort, and the world is always washed in a gentle, silvery moonglow. Everything and everyone — Loampelt’s own scruffy and rattish pelt included — is star speckled. It exists wholly above the grit of the world, cloud nestled and so fucking idyllic that Loampelt already feels the need to scratch at the edges to uncover something messy, something real, under the deluge of Greenleaf bliss.

But Loampelt has a visitor.

He recognizes Lilacfur immediately. She isn’t star speckled and dead and caught on the wrong end of a forever-youthful beauty: she is allowed to return to where Loampelt cannot. He doesn’t let the jealousy that burns through him show on his face, rather, he softens his expression.

“T-tuh-tough luck,” Loampelt says instead, because he should be allowed a little pettiness, “I-eee-uh thought you huh-had a few more m-mmm-moons left in you, buh-buh-but that landslide surprised all of uh-uh-us.”

@lilacfur ​

tags ∘ starclan warrior ∘ solid black with hazel eyes ∘ curled front foot ∘ 15 moons​

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[lilacfur]

Though she does not rise in the same place as the last time, Lilacfur feels as though she had been here before. She recognized the unnatural pastoral peace in this land. The way birdsong chirped in harmony in perfect rhythm. It had been the same when she emerged from the old nursery that she was weaned in, fluffy clouds dotting a hazy sky yet the sun's light was still present.

Lilacfur doesn't even think to look down at her paws to confirm she's still well and alive. Twilightfall had said as much, it was not her time, just a small visit to remind her the stars were still there. Still watching, protecting. When a dark pelted tom greeted her and the fur at her cheeks began to grow warm. Loampelt. An odd mix of joy and unease find its way, nestled into memories of his limp form underneath her best friend. Wails of grief echoed when she met his gaze.

The rosette tilted her head, tough luck? Amber eyes grow wide and now she glanced down at herself, paws pressing against her limbs and her face and she finally released a breath she had been holding in. "That was cruel." But she laughs despite it. "Don't think I won't tell Siltcloud. Well, she might not get mad at all actually... I think she'll like to know you're waiting for her here." So soon after his death she had fallen ill, but she was stubborn. Fighting off the yellowcough with everything in her body. She wouldn't make her friend bury another, she wouldn't make her sister bury a sibling.

"Have you gained any special wisdom since you've gotten here? Anything cool you can share with an old denmate, perhaps the secret to the perfect hunt?"​

[ sad hello's and mad high low's ]​