TW: Sensitive Content Open Camp I'LL MEET YOU OUT THERE [ dustystar's funeral ] IN THE VASTNESS SOMEWHERE

[wheatwhistle]

{$title} cw // mentions of death, grief, funerals

(★) dimmingsun and meadowbloom have graciously allowed wheatwhistle to take charge in the funeral preparations of their former leader. there is no body to be laid delicately before the clan, dusky fur strewn with dried rose and lavender petals, sharp eyes softly closed. she is not curled in the tall grasses of camp, tail tucked around her nose as if she were sleeping. he'd almost prefer to see a body, because then there would be no doubt. still, windclan is determined to carry on, and wheatwhistle will not allow any cat to do so without him. in lue of her body, he has gathered her nest, a bundle of tightly woven grasses, strung through with the odd feather here or there. if he had his way, they'd have scraped at the river's bottom until they'd found her sodden corpse, but this will have to do. dustystar had not been a materialistic cat, and her nest reflects this, but all the same her grandfather had seen it fit to scatter this instead with the customary lavender and rose. he takes a moment before he emerges from her den to lower his muzzle into the soft fibers of moor-grass, breathing in her scent for the last time. "oh m' dust-bunny," his voice is low, gravely with age and sorrow. "yer with yer mom 'n grandma now." lamb will be curling around her little girl now, learning everything she hadn't experienced with her daughter. chicken and alder will be looking on, fondness in their eyes. he wonders vaguely if any of them are watching him at this moment. with them all up there, all that is left for the old man here is his clan. he doesn't know if it's enough.

sniffing, the elderly warrior passes a paw across his face, scrubbing away the tears that have formed. standing, wheatwhistle shakes his fur out before gently grasping the nest with his paws and pulling it from its spot in the den. he emerges to a torturously lovely evening, sun beams reflecting flame off of the snow strewn moorland. dual-hued eyes blink as they adjust, and he frowns up at the sky, wondering why today of all days such a beautiful sunset is to appear. starclan should be mourning their chosen, should they not? no matter. he will grieve enough for the heavens and beyond. tugging the nest to the center of camp, the elderly tom flicks his tail, looking perhaps older than he has ever looked. his fur is messy, ginger replaced with gray in some places, and his eyes are bloodshot. shoulders hunched, he lets out a sigh. "windclan, it is time to say goodbye."

even with these simple words his voice catches, and he has to swallow down the painful lump that threatens to break in his throat. "dustystar was... she was th' light o' my life. my granddaughter was fierce... 'n cunnin', and cared... so very deeply for all of you," his head turns, meeting the eyes of each gathered clanmate with solemnity. a breath rattles in wheatwhistle's throat, chest heaving with the effort. "she found it her greatest pride to lead you here, an' i am certain she will continue to watch us from her place in the stars," swallowing, the ginger and white tomcat leans down, closing his eyes. "i love you, m'girl. travel safe, now."

DEEP GREENS AND BLUES ★ ARE THE COLORS I CHOOSE

• // medicine cat(s) tag @DIMMINGSUN @Meadowbloom " #6c8886"
• 
• 
  WHEATWHISTLE ⏾ tags / toyhouse
  
  ⏾ cis tom (he / him) / bisexual, widower of CHICKEN
  ⏾ 111 moons old, ages realistically
  ⏾ elderly warrior of windclan
  ⏾ sibling to ALDER
  ⏾ grandfather to DUSTYSTAR
  ⏾ mentoring NONE / mentored by none
  ⏾ penned by LAVS / message lavendes on discord for plots!
  
  an orange tabby tom with low white and one gold eye, and one blue eye. short silky fur reminisces flame and rye, darker ginger tabby stripes slicing through the lighter tone. splashes of white are strewn across his face and body, a snowbank covering the flaming base of his coat. his eyes are odd- one crystal blue, the other sunshine golden, peering with a slightly lopsided look.

​

 

[PEONYBREEZE]

Grief is not a new concept for Peonypaw—not back when he had been a stray tossed around in the breeze, and nor as a member of WindClan, courtesy of recent happenings—, but that does not make it any easier to handle. Certainly not when the cat that they had all lost is someone so important.

Perhaps it had been wrong of him to get attached. He knows how these things go, how much more painful saying goodbye is when you allow yourself close. He had not even tried to do that this time; Dustystar's insistence on him had come entirely from her. She had not given up on him, even when she realistically should have, and now... now she leaves a hole in his heart that no other cat can possibly fill. His own mentor did not make it to see him finally graduate from the shackles of apprenticehood, can never see him live up to the potential that she had strangely seen in him.

His gaze searches the crowd. He can't even find comfort in Petalpaw now.

In fact, he doubts there is anyone left that he can confide in this moment. If Dustystar's body had been retrieved, he could push his nose into her fur, soak in her scent one last time... but he can't be granted that warped relief. Maybe one of the stars that begin to appear represents her, still dim from the sun that had not yet fully set. A sob threatens to escape him, and it takes all of him not to give in to the overwhelming sensation.

NOTES
N/A

 

[Cricketpaw Cricketpaw]

'Cause I'd get a thousand hugs from ten thousand lightning bugs
As they tried to teach me how to dance
A foxtrot above my head, a sock hop beneath my bed
A disco ball is just hanging by a thread

.

Cricketpaw felt her heart clench all over again, a deep frown settling across her face as she watched the vigil before her. Again. Again. First Molewhisker... And now this. The realization sank in slow and heavy, like water seeping into her bones. Things would come to pass. One by one. There was a flicker of hope, fragile and trembling. There had been no body retrieved. No final sight. No true goodbye. That small mercy was all she had to cling to, even as her ears flicked back and she listened to Wheatwhistle speak, offering farewell to a leader who would never walk among them again. Or perhaps... Hopefully... One day she would...

Dustystar was gone. She would miss her.

A quiet sniff escaped her before her gaze found Peonypaw in the crowd. Her ear twitched once, hesitation tugging at her chest, before she finally moved closer and brushed lightly against his side. Just a touch. Just enough to say something without words. Comfort, of a sort. They had been at odds, she knew that well. The hurt between them had not vanished. But right now... Peonypaw was grieving. They all were. The clearing felt smaller for it, heavier with loss, and Cricketpaw stayed where she was, sharing the silence, because sometimes that was all anyone had left.

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

11 MOONS

𖧧

WINDCLANNER

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SONG

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bio

 

[Pebblestep]

Well you do enough talk
My little hawk, why do you cry?
Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?
Or the Fourth of July?
We're all gonna die

.

Pebblestep stood rigidly among the living, eyes wide and body tense, as if he were not truly one of them at all. A husk moving between warm bodies. Words were spoken and carved into the air like fragile ice. There was no body. No cooling fur to touch. No still flank to press his nose against. Just the fact of it. Just the shape of absence. Just the sentence that had already ruined so many parts of him, hollowing them out and carving bloodied paths that screeched for salvation.

She is gone.

The place where Dustystar had stood before felt louder than any word being spoken. It yawned open like a chasm before him, swallowing everything whole. He stared, and he stared, and he stared at the spot where a body should have been, living or dead. A promise to at least say goodbye. But they weren't given that either. None of them were. He stared as if staring alone could will Dustystar to step out from beyond the nothing and laugh and say they had all been mistaken and she was fine. His breath hitched, breaking apart in his throat. Nothing answered him, not even the stars. They glittered above, useless and distant, cold pinpricks that had watched every death before this one and done absolutely nothing.

His legs moved before he realized it, carrying him a step closer. His paw bumped against the earth and he stumbled to a halt, gaze dropping in shock. The sounds around him faded, his heart beat too loudly, his ears rang. Dust in the wind... The words returned to him uninvited. Everything went that way. Into the air, into the soil, into nothing. A laugh almost forced itself free, a broken airless thing, because of the cruel joke hiding in her very name. Dustystar. Dust to stars, and then to dust again.

His vision swam. He remembered her voice as she stood before him, giving him a name he had never felt he deserved. Pebblestep. As if she had seen something worth believing in, even when he saw only shards and mistakes. She had named him Pebblestep as if his paws were meant to keep moving, as if he had a future that did not end in ruins. How could she have believed in him? How dare she have? She was dead now, and he had not been there. He had been gone when it mattered. Again. Always again. Useless, as predictable as winter cold. The world tilted as a sob tore free from his chest. The weight of loss pressed down on him; his ears pinned tight to his skull.

" Stop... " he rasped, though no one had spoken. He did not know whether he meant his own thoughts or the world itself. Faces flashed through his mind: Alder, his parents, Icepaw. Names carved into memory and gardens and air. Gone. All of them gone. And now Dustystar joined them. Another star he could not touch. Another voice he would never hear answer him again.

Everybody always died...

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

16 MOONS

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WINDCLANNER

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SONG

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bio

 

[Yewkit]

YEWKIT

.

.

Dustystar being gone didn't bother her as much as it did others - she knew she was supposed to feel sad, but... she barely knew the cat. Death happened, cats left, and she was slowly getting used to it. Others she was supposed to rely on being gone was a feeling that wasn't new, no, there was something comfortingly familiar in the feeling.

Yet everyone else seemed to struggle with the loss, more than just the logistics of losing a leader. Like losing a friend. Had she looked the same when she had lost those she wanted closeness with? When she lost Silver? Talonpaw? Yewkit realised she did, the way her body trembled and tears poured out of her eyes uncontrollably. Just like so many cats around her.

She was no longer that cat. She no longer let anyone but Ivorystorm and her siblings close, safe for Meadowbloom. If she didn't let anyone else close to her, she would not hurt anymore, she would not grieve like these cats. She would not cry like... Pebblestep?

The contrast of his pain to the usually stoic and gloomy tom he was was startling. He had told her there was no use holding out hope, yet there he was, with his heart exposed and it was hurting. He was hurting. Yewkit had told herself she would not get close to the tom, would not get close to anyone - but she had already kept him company before. It didn't need to be anything else, this comfort her warmth could provide, right? She could just be there with him, with no commitment attached to the action. Simply Yewkit, small and unnoticed by anyone but him.

She stood up on her paws, letting them carry her to him, when suddenly... Stop. Yewkit stopped in her tracks, ears lowered to her head, but Pebblestep did not turn his head towards her, did not indicate his words were directed at her. Were they?

She decided not to dwell on it more and instead moved once more, placing herself next to the tom tightly. She spoke none, just pressed her body to his in silence, reminding him that he was still here. Among the living.

Was that what he needed? Or was that what she had needed back when she still cared? Was she doing this for him, or just herself, yet again? Acting selfish as always, but she did not care. She would not care.

 

[Branchpaw Branchpaw]

BRANCHPAW
HE/HIM
6 MOONS
WINDCLAN APPRENTICE
SPEECH | THOUGHTS | APHOTIC | PHYSICAL

PENNED BY PLOT_TWISTS

Branchpaw has never experienced the death of someone close to him. Molewhisker was a good Clanmate, but he'd never really known them.

Not like he knew Dustystar. Dustystar, who had been as much a mother to him as Honeyflower, despite the distance her position held. All Branchpaw knew about his biological parents was that they'd abandoned him.

Dustystar had chosen him.She'd made sure he had a home and family who loved him. And now, she too had abandoned him.

As angry as he wanted to be right now about her loss, everyone else was calm and somber. He'd never been to a funeral, but it seemed like rage would be unwelcome.

He wished that someone, anyone, had gone after her body. They couldn't even bury her. They had to settle for her nest, a replacement whose scent faded every moment. It wasn't fair. It would never be fair.

He padded up to the nest, standing beside Wheatwhistle, but he couldn't look at the elder in his grief. Branchpaw knelt by the nest, pressing his nose into it to catch even the faintest hint of Ma's scent.

"You were supposed to watch me grow up, Ma," he mewed, his voice cracking with grief. "I was gonna... I wanted you to name me again. Like you did when you brought me here." He looked from the nest to the stars.

"I hope you keep watching me, Ma."

​

OOC: