sensitive topics you were made to meet your maker | algaepaw’s vigil

[robinheart]

Repetitive motion is all the tortoiseshell molly is capable of in the hours that had passed since Algaepaw's body was brought back to camp. She grooms her child throughly, meticulously. Each stroke of her tongue through silken pelt brings about a new memory. From Algaepaw's first tempestuous breath as a newborn to his last visit to the medicine den, tail frost bitten yet spirit still alight with hopeful youth. And now… here and now is where the memories will cease. Robinheart's gaze floods with bitter tears; her tongue bitten to hold back anguished curses. Algaepaw. Her Algaepaw. Prepared for presentation to the clan not as a warrior as the medicine cat apprentice had hoped and dreamed for her child, but as a Starclanner.

You weren't supposed to leave yet.

Once Algaepaw's pelt is pristine – fluffed and free of debris and tangles – Robinheart moves to weave sprigs of mint into the speckled apprentice's downy coat. She nearly gags at the scent. The collective recollection of repeating these same steps less than a year ago for her own mate, for her best friend… her stomach twists and heaves at the pain of grief remembered. The literal gut punch of not being able to save her loved ones. The agony of having to live life without them.

You were too young.

Tears slide down her cheeks, heavy and heavy and heavy. Droplet after droplet dapple the work she has done, soaking into kitten soft fur and darkening the smattering of grey and gold freckles that had earned Algaepaw his name. Her vision blurs as she proceeds to add more herbal adornments to the apprentice's pelt. If she is to face the truth… if she is to accept that her daughter walks alongside Brookstorm now… then Robinheart will mechanically urge herself to send Algaepaw into the next life as loved and as lovely as possible.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry….

I love you.

She is finished. A quiet voice of a clanmate informs Robinheart that the grave has been dug. Citrine eyes, vacant… yet filled with remorse, blink in understanding. Silently the tortoiseshell unfurls from around her child's stilled body. Her maw parts to speak though words escape her for many moments. She glances at the somber faces of her fellow RiverClanners and tries to summon the courage and strength once more to speak. "We call upon Starclan to welcome this apprentice… my child… with open arms. To allow him rest alongside silvered w-waters. To grant her b-bountiful hunts with the RiverClanners who came before her. To… To give him peace and c-comfort among her mother and grandparents who resided in Silverpelt," she recites through tears, trembling like a willow tree amid stormy weather. Her gaze drifts back to her child. Glowing beautifully beneath the fading hues of dusk, ready to be caressed in the blessing of starlight. "Until we meet again, Algaepaw."

Robinheart presses her nose to Algaepaw's cheek, breathing in the familiar scent of her child for the last time, and lets her emotions come undone once more as clanmates join her in remembering a life ended much too soon.​

[ penned by kerms ]​

 

[CRAGPELT]

Cragpaw stands at the edge of the gathered crowd with ears flattened against his skull. The air is thick with grief and it presses down on his shoulders like water-logged moss. He isn't sure what to do with it. Algaepaw wasn't his closest friend, but they'd shared a den, shared meals, shared tired complaints after long training sessions. They were supposed to be warriors together someday.

His claws flex against the cold ground as Robinheart's voice wavers through the vigil. The way she speaks, the way she breaks…stars, it makes his chest twist. No mother should have to experience this. He swallows hard and, slowly, the apprentice steps forward, his gaze locking onto the still form of his denmate. He looks…small. The herbs woven into her pelt only make the sight feel more final, a fate there's no coming back from. Exhaling sharply, his ears twitch as he struggles to find words. What do you even say to someone who can't hear you anymore?

"You should be here," He mews quietly, roughly. He keeps his eyes trained on Algaepaw, as if expecting him to sit up, to shake out his pelt and scoff at all this fuss over him. He doesn't, and never will. After a long moment, Cragpaw dips his head, murmuring, "See you in Silverpelt, Algaepaw." He turns and steps back, falling silent once more so her loved ones can spend time with her before the burial.
​

 

[shellpool]

SHELLPOOL

SHE / HER, RIVERCLAN WARRIOR

the sobbing of a grieving mother is something shellpool will never be able to cleave from her mind. robinheart, the ever steady ; soft souled, softer hearted. she is curled to her child's little side, no longer fluttering with life, with giddy laughter and babbling prose. algaepaw shrinks from this world and his mother expands, builds a well of misery enough for them both to carry with her until she met her own fated demise. algaepaw is curled up the way she had when she was a kitten, tucked against her mothers belly with eyes sewn closed . . lavender and mint ribbon her fur. she can smell it through the haze in her head, the tufts of cotton that she feels stuffing her ears and mellowing the harsh cries of those around her in blessed, dazed grief. the river had taken another in return for newleaf's tidings . . someone so young, so full of potential forever untapped. the waters had swallowed her up and spit out her husk, a molt of life and a piteous chance to grieve.

movement comes in the form of a clanmate, paws muddy and face solemn. robinheart chokes something quieter, then. finality washes over her, a relaxing of tense, sobwracked flanks, the unfurl of her dappled body from her son. she does not speak for a long moment. her mouth opens, closes, opens like a minnow gasping for last, wretched air. all too suddenly, she remembers the dog; the mutt that had torn through their walls, drooling maw snapping for the bundle of kits that had been playing near their mother in the gentle sun. she remembers the peace just before, the sheen of dark fur grown a brassy russet in the light for the first time since her kitting. she remembers the panic, of not knowing if her kits were okay, the twinge of pain that furled her delicate features into something stricken. she begins a broken rasp, gentle voice grown rough with her wails of agony . . as she progresses, her body begins to tremble. shellpool takes a step to her side and offers her presence, the way she had since algaepaw had been only algaekit, a shared comfort ; her tail wraps loosely around her haunches, and it feels like she is looking down at streamkit again. the medicine cat apprentice's voice sings in her distant memory.

theres so much i could have done, but instead i am left with what i can do now. what we can do now . . and that is keeping their memories alive. living each day with kindness and love in our hearts for those we have and those we have lost.

cragpaw speaks, and she is rocked by the sudden thought of it. they should've graduated together. sought their names by eachothers side, moved their nests to the warriors den, sat the same vigil . . even she had shared a den with her for a time. yet algaepaw lies on his apprentice nest now and will forever, when the elders bring him to his final resting place. she shuts her eyes through it, letting the early newleaf wind buffet her fur. she can still feel the child's presence at her front, the waft of flowers and something all too cold . . nearly beneath her breath, she begins a raspy murmur of, " you will not be forgotten, algaepaw. we will . . carry the memory of you every day. of your smile, your fortunes, your light . . you will never . . be forgotten. " her voice is breathless. tight. her throat feels wrapped in razor wire, " i pray you're resting now, that you'll watch us from where you dance the stars at night . . a place where your belly is never empty, and your claws always sheathed. " where your kin will greet you with eyes shining like constellations, where tears of joy that are all that's shed.

ooc:

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Aenean mollis quam elementum malesuada rutrum.

. 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𓆝 ࿐

SHELLPOOLㅤ╱ㅤ WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. SHE/HER, 15☽s OLD. ; ELDEST DAUGHTER OF HAZECLOUD AND LICHENSTAR. SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. LIVING WITH LONGTERM ILLNESS. she is always exhibiting the symptoms of a lingering cold : watery eyes, a running nose and frequent sneezing & sniffling. penned by antlers. ₊ ˚ ໒꒱

( ° ❀ ⋆ .ೃ ࿔ * ) she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of dovey lilac curls, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore and plush enough to conceal the juts of malnutrition beneath. tufted eiderdown fur conceals a body worn thin by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with stubborn baby fat in others. her face is delicately constructed as the rest of her ; heart - shaped, fragile, tendered with warmly shadowed eyes. beneath the languor of lapis - veined lids, her gaze brims a rheumy, rosen tinge — ruddy like a pulsing bruise, curtained with heavy lashes that keep her serenely half - lidded.

 

[lichenstar]

✦˚.✧˚✧˚✦˚ ✧ ˚✧˚✦˚✧.˚✧

CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY ✧

• The scent spears the crisp air, floating on it easily and carried to every crevice of the souls left behind. It wraps around them, chilling... a lonely grasp meant to depart too soon. It'd grow stale before the sun had finished its journey that day and then they could finally say that the petal-dusted fur was nothing more than an empty casing.
  
  Once, it had held a hundred firsts. Breaths, blinks, gargled words... steps, bites of prey, adventures outside of camp walls. Nightmares, fears, anxieties... The cruelest first was meant to take its time. It is meant to find you in the end of a long, near endless chapter full of fables. It's supposed to arrive after your mother has already found it. After you've made sure every tale is shared with someone else to hold onto.
  
  Algaepaw's novel is incredibly short.
  
  There is no fixing it, despite what flora wraps itself between Robinheart's toes and teeth, despite how many hearts bleed translucent blood in opposition to such a truth. Pages could not be added now, to fluff out the barrens. He could not be asked to weave one last, grand biography. It sits up on the shelf, out of reach... the transcript final.
  
  Cragpaw and Shellpool whisper their farewells, one more poetic than the other... but in their different articulations is the same grieved disappointment. It shouldn't be you... not yet. She can remember her medicine cat apprentice sat roosting in that den before it was hers to reside in. Talking about the future, about her kits, about who might mold them. What hands might shape them. Who would protect them.
  
  She'd offered herself, a selfish chance at doing better the second time. She wouldn't let Algaepaw crawl into the fate-worn path of her mother.
  
  What a failure that single, self-pitied act had been. To both be held under the water's surface, to choke and sputter and hope for help and die with nothing but stolen futures on your tongue. Algaepaw.... What would she have named him, given the chance? It is too much to consider, leaves a gaping hole before her that cannot be filled now that it has been thought.
  
  Algaebloom...?
  
  Algaecreek...?
  
  Her tongue slides over dry lips, wanting to find the words to speak that might mend some of the hurt. That might make up for the staggering emptiness that has been made. The snow had bit her paws, wrapped so tightly around Snowflakekit it might be convinced that warmth had really returned to him. Did Robinheart wonder too, if holding him close to her chest might share a fraction of her heartbeat? If she just buried her nose in her child's fur deep enough make the scent would warm...?
  
  "No more... early mornings," she murmurs, mouth grown sticky with the mucus of withheld aches. "Only... the sweetest dreams." Not a single night spent with a grumbling belly... no more paws aching from long, frigid patrols. "Enjoy... every moment... of your peace."
  
  We'll see you someday soon...
  
  Because that was the one promise anyone ever had. The rise of the sun... and the fact there would always be a last one witnessed.
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