sensitive topics ya’aburnee | death

[robinheart]

[a direct continuation of this thread]

In life there are beginnings, full of trepidation and hope. A first step into newness, clumsy and wobbly, that eventually leads to an easy stroll through whatever is to come. Brookstorm and their love had survived that stumbling start - the rocky path the blue and tortoiseshell mollies had to blaze to get to where they are today.

Were today.

For unbeknownst to Robinheart, in their deep and blissful sleep, another star lights up the sky.

Morning filters somber light through woven reeds. The hushed cricket song of the night before is silenced now - even the songbirds withhold morn’s choir out of respect for a love and life lost.

Robinheart doesn’t remember when she awoke. Her heart tells her it was in the moment Brookstorm’s ceased.

She has yet to open sunbright eyes; she has yet to move or shift away from stilled body. She can’t. If she looks she knows it’ll be real. If she moves she takes with her the last bit of warmth clinging to her lover’s fur. So she’ll remain for a moment longer. Until the nursery residents begin to rouse and warriors arise to go about their day. Until the others notice trembling queen huddled close to her lost love, she will remain.

‘Do not love me back until I have fixed what I have broken between us. Do not tell me you love me in return. Not until all is perfect again. Promise me that.’

Brookstorm’s words play over and over in her mind. A shaky sob builds in crested breast as Robinheart realizes this was her mate’s final attempt at fixing what had been broken. Fulfilling a promise that needed to be fulfilled before time ran out. “Y-You were r-right on time, weren’t you…” she whispers as large tears roll down her cheeks. “… you made everything perfect.”

She finally chanced opening her eyes. A ghost of a smile rests on forever sleeping features. Peace surrounds Brookstorm, perhaps for the first and last time of the warrior’s short life. Though her heart shatters, Robinheart shifts to bury her nose in quickly cooling scruff. She breathes in her mate’s scent and exhales a pained sentiment muffled by fur she would no longer groom. “I love you, Brookstorm.”

In life there are beginnings, and where there are beginnings there will always be ends. Robinheart’s hope blinded her from seeing her lover’s end - but perhaps that had been one of Brookstorm’s final gifts to her. The stone blue molly died in the arms of the one who truly loved her for who she was, who loved with reckless abandon and made sure the warrior’s unknown final night was spent in pure adoration.

That night had been enough to free her lover, to release fragile fledgling into the dawn and watch it rise above the clouds to reunite with lost loved ones.

“I will always love you, Brookstorm… I promise.”

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[ penned by kerms ]​

 

[lichenstar]

✦　˚ 　✧ ˚　.˚　✦ 　✦

CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY ✧

• They'd known.
  
  A confessional shared between heaven-sent and heaven-bound. Quiet... whispered like hymnal prayers that it might be just as peaceful. Just as soft as the words shared in hushed murmurings. It had been fear that had kept her away from Robinheart... and in doing so, really only kept her from her own kin as well. Her children were old enough now to wander about camp and explore, were not far off from their sixth moon (how had the time moved so quickly... and so cruelly?) so it was easier to hide from the nursery's inhabitants now. Easier to pretend she did not know that a nesting dove would find itself without its partner soon enough... would be cooing in mourning song soon.
  
  Brookstorm wasn't in Moonbeam's den that morning.
  
  She knew as her paws skipped over the shifting pebbles under-paw that they would not take her in long strides to joy, to a scene of elation and relief. It's deceiving enough... the way sweeping blues shroud a shivering bird in peaceful blanketing of a final act of affection. The denial doesn't come... not in the same way she still wildly clings to it in hopes that Smokestar will come back and take the weight of the clan off her shoulders. It's harder to ignore the stillness of a body you can see... rather than one you can't.
  
  Sweet nothings leave a warbling beak, one that shudders with the effort of miserable breathes between sobs. Tiny versions of the two mollies wriggle at Robinheart's belly, blissfully unaware of the potential futures they've lost in shades of gray and loving greens. But Lichentail knew... and Robinheart knew... Felt it in the spaces between skipped heart-beats, in the tightness of a chest that could not so easily catch its breath.
  
  "Robinheart..."
  
  The distance that had lingered awkwardly between them is closed in a few, long (shaking) strides. A tear-damp face pressed against for reassurance... as some sort of physical confirmation that she wasn't alone. Did not have to sit there and feel the warmth leave the body of someone she loved. "I'm so sorry..." No apology could make it better... and Lichentail could not pretend to know the loss of a mate, a partner, the mother of her children. But she did know Brookstorm... knew her kitten-sharp teeth... the feeling of sturdy shoulders slamming to knock her mentor off balance... the way the corners of her lips always seemed to sag towards a serious frown...
  
  The smile on her face now... it orchestrates a melody of memory. Reminds her of a time when she was just a kitten... full of light and hope and carefree attitude. She'd found comfort in her last moments, even if they'd come far too soon.
• about
  speech hex code ✧ #6368A5
  ooc notes ✦
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  penned by tieirlys
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[willowroot]

( ☾ ) death is an old friend to willowroot. it creeps behind her at every turn of her life, dwells within her shadow and curls around her at night like a comforting blanket (like a strangling vine.) when she thinks of death, she sees a kindly face, a stern but soft old thing, who scoops souls along, whisking its tail around them and pulling them towards the stars. she tries to think of death that way for every loss she's borne, but every loss has been so violent, so unholy, that her image of the kind face has been soured. no longer is death a wizened, respected figure. rather, death is the claws of a windclan warrior, the teeth of a fox, the breath of yellowcough, the chill of leafbare shattering the trees. death has put on mask after mask to destroy a specific piece of the smoke feline's heart. it is no old friend, rather an old tormentor.

their conversation with brookstorm the past evening had been soft and low, a quiet bonding between niece and aunt. they can still feel the feverish warmth of the storm furred feline under their smoky pelt as they awaken. dawn colors the sky in fantastical hues, rose and violet flooding beneath a pale, clear blue. it's reminiscent of periwinkle eyes, of mornings spent in the water with family long gone. willowroot slips from their den and knows, without having to check, that something has changed in the dynamic of their life.

it had been a goodbye, the conversation they'd shared with their niece, despite the begging they'd silently done with the stars after it'd concluded. lichentail pads across camp with a somber look on her face, and willowroot cannot bare to look at her, to see the mentor of the one she knows is gone, or will be within the hour. the deputy slips into the nursery, soft voice rumbling from the den with anguish on the tip of her tongue.

brookstorm is not in moonbeam's den this morning.

the nursery looms like the storm clouds that had conjured up brookstorm's warrior name. tightly woven willow branches and soft moss dampen the outpour of grief she knows will hit her upon entering. it is with a breath that she enters anyway, allows the sorrow to slam into her and carry her, like a river's current, towards the new family. it is so beautiful and melancholy that willowroot's heart breaks anew. her chest fills with heavy sorrow at the sight, dappled red and black mixing with dark gray, the formation of their love sleeping soundly between them. buckgait's last child is gone, and with it, willowroot's last connection to her sister.

the promise of legacy in brookstorm's kits barely infects her mind, so focused is she on the tender sight in front of her, of lichentail's soft apology and robinheart's sweet nothings, of the content smile gracing the always somber maw of the now deceased. slender paws step forward to curl gently around her niece on the other side, dark nose breathing in the girl's scent for the last time before death's signature smell takes hold. this is the first time since kithood that willowroot can truly picture her idea of death, the promise of an old friend, and imagine its feathery tail hooking around brookstorm and sweeping her up to the stars.

"i made you a promise," she whispers into stone hued fur. "and i'll keep it. hear me, brookstorm, i'll keep it."

THE ECHOING HYMN ☾ OF MY FELLOW PASSERINE

• // "#91A26C"
  
  
  
  
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  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.
  
  
  
  

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[Tigersplash]

Tigersplash had hoped Brookstorm would make it through -she wished so dearly she'd been there when the river had swallowed her if she was would the warrior still be healthy and laying proud against the back of her mate staring proudly down at her kits as they grew up? She would never know, she shouldn't blame herself it wasn't anyone's fault just a horrible accident, a accident she should've lived through Tigersplash knew the young mother was fighting, that like any parent she would until her final breath but it's all for naught and Starclan had called her to it's ranks. She'd been given a chance to see her kits, gotten a chance to say goodbye had found the strength to lie besides her mate one last time but it's still so unfair. She'd just woken up, had only padded close to the nursery to poke her head in and ask if Robinheart needed her to fetch her something to eat - but before the revelation spurns itself into the public she knows. Brookstorm's scent lingers in the nursery where she shouldn't have been, Willowroot and Lichentail's postures even in the shadowed den hide nothing; they mourn over the dead. Her ears flatten to her head and she can only stare at the backs of the she-cats who had already entered.

She and Brookstorm hadn't ever been close but they'd been apprentices together for a time and she respected her clanmate like any other. Losing her was a loss to all of Riverclan but especially for Robinheart. It's for her that she pushes through into the den, her head is held low, tail tucked in mourning. It's heartbreaking seeing how the gray warrior lays almost peacefully in eternal sleep around her mate, her flanks don't move and there's nothing there anymore but the worn body of a fighter who'd fought her last battle. She makes another tentative step in

"Robinheart." her throat goes dry, she clenches her teeth. "I'm - I'm sure she knew she was loved... " they should've been able to share so many more happy memories, should've been able to fix whatever had broke and gone strange between them. This wasn't fair! "I'm so sorry" she and the rest of the clan who'd help keep her memory alive, who'd look after the kits in her wake wouldn't be enough just a paltry replacement of what shouldn't have been taken.

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  Tigersplash ✩ She/He, Warrior of Riverclan, 19 moons
  ⭃ A chocolate/cinnamon chimera she-cat with high white and amber eyes
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots. ​

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