THIS IS GONNA HURT | starrynight's memorial

[BASTILLEPAW]

Bastille's head was killing him, but he supposed that was to be expected. He'd woken up with a sour taste in his mouth and a spinning sensation, a clear indication that at least for the first few hours of the morning, he'd still be somewhat drunk. It'd only taken a few minutes for him to remember -- damn, he was impressed that wasn't a black out -- and the resignation to hit him. With Zaniel's influence on him fading, his souls sinking below the surface in a brief reprieve, he had nothing but regret and bitter resentment to reflect on. He had spent his entire 11 fucking moons avoiding the damned shit, because he refused to admit that he liked the taste or allow himself the chance to get hooked, and it'd taken one fucking slip up. God damn it.

Unfortunately, he didn't have the luxury of holing up in his room to mope as he had been for days. When he wasn't walking around destructively or glaring moodily around, he was hiding, trying to live in denial for as long as possible or else simply trying to avoid others so that he wouldn't accidentally set something on fire. Not today, though. Today, he had to honor Starry.

He was hungover as all hell, but he only seemed to be his usual state of sullen as he stood briefly in the center of the Circle. A few of his Clanmates were mumbling things about him -- he could feel their stares -- and he scowled before saying, shortly, "Starpool, 10 minutes." At that he was gone, trusting the little cluster of gossips to at least spread the news if they were going to titter to one another about how he looked like shit. It was easy to see his path to the Starpool from there, seeing how he left a trail of charred grass in his wake.

As he waited for the others to join him, he was silent, pale blue eyes blank as that emotionless -- lifeless, really -- look returned without vodka to drown his demons. He stood completely still, with Starry's pendant resting at his paws, bitterly acknowledging that he was going to be forced to part with it. Damn Starry and his goddamn traditions -- damn him for making him do this, for making himself the first pendant to hang from the tree. He wasn't ready to part with it, but then again, he wasn't ready for any of this.

[align=center]

the ascendants — astral seraph — tags

[div style="width:400px; margin: auto; text-align: right; font-size: 8px"]© MADI

[Character Graveyard.]

LUNAFREYA N.F.

✯ — take these broken wings and learn to fly

space

The kits had already started kicking against Luna's stomach. Strong little fellows they were going to be and Luna knew that they would grow up well. But she was worried about being a good mother. Would she even be a good mother? Would she be capable of raising them? Many questions and doubts ran through her head, it was just a mess.

Luna had approached Bastille, silently noting that he looked very pale. She would gently rest the tip of her tail on his shoulder, a concerned look in her eyes before she looked towards at the Starpool. Starry had left the group traditions. He gave everyone a family before he had passed away.

space

✯ — Luna. The Ascedants. Easy. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[Suiteheart]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]Well, today was the day. Though Starry had been buried a few days ago, today marked the official end of all things. Today made everything... real. Before today, if Suiteheart tried hard enough, she could pretend Starrynight was alive. She could pretend their group's first leader was thriving, away on business to make sure the Clan would grow into something extraordinary. But now? Now, as the white feline stepped forward to take a seat beside Bastillepaw and Lunafreya, she could hide behind her thoughts no longer. The sadness of this occasion hung in the air, and it wreathed around her. Starry's face floating to the forefront of her mind - his smile, the antlers, the glitter. It was all there, but in the midst of it, she found his broken form, his bleeding body. She prayed that she would not remember him this way forever.

The Cosmic General's baby blues rested on the pendant. This was the first pendant of many. And this would be the first memorial of many. Her chest ached. She let a sigh escape her. Today was a dark day, one she would soon not forget. She did, however, offer Bastille a look of encouragement. He could do this, she knew. It would be difficult, but he was capable. And then, she waited for whatever would come next.

[GORDON CIPHER.]

Gordon had heard news of a person recently passing before she joined. Was it rude of her to want to join in and offer her respects, even if she didn't know Starrynight? She hoped not. Gordon followed after Suiteheart, walking slowly with her head bowed as if she were waiting to be told to leave. Which was understandable, she didn't even know the previous leader.

Gordon was silent as she sat beside Suiteheart, looking over at the pendant that laid next to Bastille's paws. She didn't know The Ascendant's traditions by any means, but it was sweet that they kept something like that. Didn't the pendants mean something here? Something like that; point was, Gordon assumed that they were going to honor Starrynight's life somehow with the pendant.

★ i'll need you to reassure me i didn't waste a verse ━

[★ HAZEL]

[align=center]

[table][tr][td]

[/td][td]

[/td][td]

[/td][td]

[/td][/tr][/table]

★  WHEN MY HEART IS MADE FROM GOLD AND FORGIVENESS SEEMS TOO BOLD

Hazel didn't want to be angry for Starry's memorial; he didn't deserve it. And she wasn't - until she caught sight of Bast, and remembered the previous day. His drunken flirting, the complete disregard, the tropic, warm, fever blue of his eyes; the electric shock of him lacing their fingers together, the utter fear of him turning into Mother and the anger she had taken out on him because of it. Everything she had said to him was way out of line, but...Bastille was so convinced he was going to fail, and Hazel wanted to do everything to be able to prove him wrong, but he was digging himself in a hole. She didn't know what to do with him.

But today was for Starrynight: the bright, joyous, caring Astral Seraph that had founded the Ascendants. Right now was the time for Hazel to remember what she did know about him and appreciate it to the fullest extent. So she settled in a spot to herself near the shore of the Starpool, waiting for the others to arrive.

★ — hazel — "speech" — seven months — the ascendants — tags — ★

[sup]c) miithers[/sup]

[Margaery]

[color=#b14767] ❁  ❁  ❁

Margaery arrived shortly after Hazel, a range of emotions sparkling within her rapidly darkening gray eyes. Bastillepaw had been avoiding her like the plague as of late and the Starstruck Guardian was admittedly rather hurt by that. She knew that what he was going through was hard but such didn't justify that glare he had sent her over something as innocent as speaking Latin or his subsequent refusal to even speak to her. He had looked at her the way she looked upon one of her victims and though she knew she couldn't be scared of the other male, she found herself a bit unsettled... and wistful... she wished things could just be normal again. She wished that he would talk to her again.

Releasing a brief sigh, Margaery would permit her attention to fall upon Starry's pendent. She remembered being the first to find him, remembered realizing when he first was going to die, remembered how they all tried and failed to save her. A lump settled in the back of her throat. We'll miss you, She thought to herself as she reared upon her haunches, not finding it within herself to contribute anything. Silence was fitting for this occasion- she wouldn't dare disturb that.

[Warringkingdoms]

  [font=trebuchet ms]It wasn’t right, for Bastille to have to host Starrynight’s memorial.

  Rin supposed that eventually, every leader would have to set aside a time to commemorate their predecessor. That was the way that succession worked, it seemed; one leader died or disappeared, and another one had to take their place. Yet, and she still could not get over this, Bastille was so young to be doing so. He hadn’t even finished his warrior training, as far as she knew, and already he was going to have to lead the clan into battle, navigate the political web of lies and schemes, keep his members from leaving, and still other responsibilities that she was probably forgetting.

  Part of her wondered if this situation was one she had been in before.

  Rin said nothing when Bastille made his announcement, not even upon noticing clear signs of a hangover on his features. She had no doubt that he was already suffering enough, both from the alcohol and the gravity of the situation. With a sigh, she made her way over to the Starpool, ears swiveling back.

  Taking a seat beside Hazel, Rin offered Starrynight’s pendant only a brief, yet emotionally-charged glance, then turned her eyes to the water’s surface. It would do her no good to break down now, not when she had to be strong for everyone else. If she hadn’t been able to save Starrynight, the least she could do was help everyone else through the aftermath.

[Morgan]

Morgan stepped forward, surprised to recognize several of the faces in its vicinity. Representing Tanglewood, the samoyed was rather tense, though it meant well. The bottom half of its mask had melted away, allowing it to carry in its mouth two flowers: a pair of bluebells, one long-dead and one recently picked. The dog had spent quite some time on its journey finding a flower to match the dead one, as a sign of humility and respect. The old, brownish flower was the only thing it still had from its few interactions with the deceased leader.

Unfamiliar with the group's traditions, the canine approached Lunafreya - one of the members it could recognize. It set the flowers down in front of her, raising its head to look at her. "Glad you are safe," it whispered, letting part of its mask melt to expose its eyes. Morgan had not seen Luna since it saved her from its own leader's torture a long time before. "For Starrynight," it added, hoping it struck no nerves as it gestured toward the flowers. The canine then reformed its mask, the glittery ice hiding its face once more.

Also among the crowd were the two who had told the samoyed about the event in the first place. It gave a meek nod to each of them, taking a step back from Luna. Though it did recognize Bastille's face as well, it said nothing to him - he was clearly in a lot of pain.

[BASTILLEPAW]

AND I'M JUST A DEAD MAN WALKING TONIGHT

Bastille stared straight ahead, his expression blank and eyes dark as he waited for the others to arrive. The only way he could think to survive this was to simply shut down, retreat behind the wall of apathy he had grown up knowing, to lose himself to the white noise. His emotions were raging and vicious as he waited there alone, Starry's pendant cold under his paw smoking paw, but as others started to emerge and his throat felt tight -- he couldn't do it. He couldn't look at Margy without feeling Pollutedsoul surge, couldn't see Hazel's aura out of the corner of his eye without her words searing through his thoughts, couldn't feel them all staring at him with expectation and pity without feeling the ground tremor ominously. He couldn't, he didn't have it in him, and instead he just... let go of himself.

He set his shoulders back as he straightened, apathetic stare chilled and devoid of sensation as he let it flicker briefly over his Clanmates and their guests. He reached desperately for Echo, for Grimm, for that removed state of existence and he found that it deceptively easy to step back into it as he spoke evenly, "Today we honor Starrynight, our founder and our leader." No waver in his voice as he said it, and the searing heat from his body seemed to have dimmed, his elementals retreating as he locked himself in, though he did pause briefly before continuing.

"I don't think any of us have ever met someone with more joy or genuine peacefulness than Starry... He was a literal ball of fucking energy, and he put this rag tag family together from scratch. We would be nothing without him." Bast pressed down on the pendant slightly, letting the sharp edge dig into the pad of his paw as he reminded himself to stay steady, to keep his emotions off line, to feel nothing, be nothing. "He left me a lot of ideas to sort through, because that was what he did -- plan and come up with crazy ideas and ways to make the Clan happy. He put his heart into everything."

Bastille lifted his paw, and this time lifted the pendant with it, his stare dropping to it briefly. There was a flicker in his cold, blank eyes as he felt a nasty surge of resistance -- he didn't want to give the pendant up, felt barren without it already -- but he forced it down. Feel nothing. He cleared his throat, and dismissed the hesitation as he said lowly, "Starry wanted to start a tradition for honoring our dead, in which we hang their pendants from the Starpool's tree. Today we lay Starry to rest and give life to one of the many ideas he had prepared for us." He felt something in him, something that was still holding on to that feeling of helplessness, wither as he let the pendant go. It flickered and disappeared from his paw, and moments later appeared hanging from the upper branches of the Oak tree.

"May the Stars accept him with grace," he said, softer.

[align=center]BASTILLEPRISONER — ASTRAL SERAPH — TAGS

[Suiteheart]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]Suiteheart was pleased to see Morgan in attendance. She quite liked the Tanglewood canine, for she was different than the rest. She had been kind and polite at the border, much unlike Beck and that dragon and that mutt. A fire flickered to life inside of her as she recalled their words, and the dark, black emotions it produced left her feeling hollowed and bitter. She closed her eyes, briefly, trying not to be swallowed up by these terrible feelings. And when it became too much, she looked for Margaery, her anchor. Her wife's stormy eyes calmed her at once, and she focused again on Bastille.

The words he spoke were true. Starrynight had been their symbolic North Star. He lead them through thick and thin, and he formed this place into what it needed to be. He had opened his arms - and heart - to anyone and everyone, and though it worried Suiteheart at times, it always worked out at the end of the day. She found herself smiling sadly as Bast spoke of all the ideas Starry had concocted that he himself would never see finished, but she took solace in knowing their new Astral Seraph would do everything in his power to see them completed.

She watched as Starrynight's pendant, the first pendant, appeared on the branch of the great oak tree. It somehow sparkled in the light as if Starry had left behind a part of himself. She grinned softly at the thought. It made her glad to know that, perhaps, a piece of him would always remain with them.

"May the stars accept him with grace," Suite found herself echoing Bastille's words. She hoped their former leader would find his place among the vast array of stars in space. He deserved to rest with what he loved most.