be like the cool kids - death

[fulzanin]

WE'LL MAKE A WAY WHERE YOU CAN FIND YOUR PLACE
- - - - - - - - - - - - -

tw;; suicide

Feza felt tired. She'd felt tired a lot in all honesty over the past half a year. Exhaustion had plagued her, creeping into her vibrant eyes and her vibrant personality. If she wasn't careful and someone managed to get the jump on her - that is, to use such a metaphor in its loosest form - she could barely scrabble together a delighted expression and a grin. She'd always had that problem ever since she'd been forced from her parents home for her vibrant pelt. Keeping up appearances had gotten hard. When people came around her home to take what they wanted from her festive home, she hadn't had much to say against it. They probably could do a better job than she had been over the past few months. They didn't need her. They needed her stuff. They needed her concept, and not herself. She wasn't certain which one of those two phrases snapped her more. Feza wanted nothing more than to have a long and lengthy nap for forever and a day - a thought that had lingered in her mind over those past few months of lazing and doing nothing. Forever and a day sounded nice. Maybe after a forever and a day nap she'd be ready to go and promote more festivities.

When it came to sleeping for forever and a day, there were many options. Some she'd heard of on a whisper of the wind from the ways that others had obtained such a thing. Others came to her in nightmares, the ever smug and jagged words of green colored lions chiding her and breaking what little composition she had. Those nightmares had never gone away. The female hadn't ever sought help for such a thing. Feza had blown up once while messing with jellybeans. Feza thought that it had been the best way to seek help at the time, but really it had just strained the one almost relationship she had and tore it to pieces. An attempt to repair it had been made, but Feza felt like she'd presented hollow words just to spare her own life. If she slept for forever and a day, she couldn't blow up at anyone and it would all be nice and well. Maybe even more festive, since people could do better with her own materials than she could herself.

The materials for sleeping for forever and a day weren't hard to come by in her festive home. Feza had been injured a few times before, once to the point of briefly forgetting who she even was. Slowly her vibrant paws brought her around her home, finding herself coming across one of her precious kazoos. Was this the first one she'd ever found, or was it her favorite one? Teary eyes couldn't quite distinguish between them, and she carefully plucked it up from the floor. Feza turned it over a few times in her paws, her fluffy and mangled tail flicking behind her. A lazy toot was played, and briefly Feza desperately hoped that a few notes would help shake her from this daze. Icy eyes turned to the nearest cardboard box. Ashamed were her gods, for she couldn't even perform her one purpose. Putting her own needs first before others again, how utterly selfish she was for wanting just a little more sleep. She was even doing it out of sight where she hoped that nobody would come around to find her sleeping and not being peppy.

Selfish and awful, far too peppy, far too noisy, way too high pitched, annoying, and so many, many other terms that were just a bit too much for one festive female's heart to take when that flash of desperation fell away.

Feza hadn't come out of her home in a while, for good reason. The one way that she remembered best for this level of sleep and rest was with rope and a nice, sturdy ceiling. She'd effectively hanged herself, having knocked over a cabinet so that her spine could be snapped from the force. Wings had been sent into a frenzy when instinct had screamed against her internal desires, scattering her pink and gold and blue feathers from rapid flapping. Feza's vibrant pelt was slack and lifeless, hung from a rope around her neck and tethered to the ceiling. Her beloved kazoo was on the tiled floor beneath her, having fell from her grip when her body had given out. The expression on her face was no longer a giddy and pleasant smile, but instead a dulled and lifeless gaze that stared straight ahead. Feza was allowed to sleep for forever and a day, finally. Sleeping in a weird sense, a weird sense that was just as weird as she always had been.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -
THE EMPTY CHAIRS WILL BE RESERVED FOR OUR PITY

[wormwood.]

☆ HUNG PICTURES OF PATRON SAINTS UP ON MY WALL TO REMIND ME THAT I AM A FOOL. TELL ME WHERE I CAME FROM, WHAT I WILL ALWAYS BE: JUST A SPOILED LITTLE KID WHO WENT TO CATHOLIC SCHOOL —

Feza had joined Tanglewood only perhaps a day after Aurum had. Their timing had been so similar that the lion had known the party throwing feline for pretty much the entirely of his stay within Tanglewood. He couldn't even remember a time where he had existed within the swamp without her presence also lingering. Initially, this had been upsetting to him. He was raised to be silent and operate on logic, and Feza went against all of that, with her loud, high pitched voice, and illogical plans. They had clashed so much that for a period, it hadn't exactly been unusual to see him snapping at her over whatever ill conceived plan she had pulled out that week. He was ashamed of that period of his life, honestly. He had changed a great deal since then, and no longer did he think of Feza as a nuisance. Instead he thought of her as a friend, and a valued member of Tanglewood. Clearly he wasn't the only one who thought so, considering her status as a guardsman. He was glad that they didn't have to worry about incidents like the jellybean incident again, since he could remember how her words had felt like blades burrowing deep within his heart. That had been the turning point, truly. When she had thought that he would go as far as to hurt her.

Recently, Aurum had noticed he wasn't seeing as much of the brightly colored snow leopard, a fact that left him with both a sense of worry and guilt. In the past, he had always made sure to check in on her when he checked in with everyone else. Yet recently he had been so busy with his own life that he hadn't been making such rounds. He could only hope that she wasn't locking herself away because of him — he didn't really know how many people these days Feza was actually making an effort to get close to. It wasn't as if she had any family, and he was fairly sure he would've noticed if she had a boyfriend or girlfriend to check on her. The more he pondered what state she must've been in, the more guilty he felt, his head practically spinning at the feeling. He had been intending to stay inside and get some rest for the evening, but now? He needed to see Feza, and he needed to talk to her, even if she wasn't in the mood. Truthfully, he could only pray that someone else bad already had a similar idea, and she would already be entertaining company.

The walk over to her place was quick, and quiet, and soon enough he was knocking on her door, clearing his throat before he called inside, "Feza! It's Aurum, could we talk?" He expected her to come bounding to the door, or to at least hear some kind of noise or call from inside. Instead, he was faced with pure silence. It unsettled him further, prompting him to shove open the door. He wasn't sure if Feza ever locked it, but that was something he could talk to her about. Stepping inside her home, he called out again, his tone slightly more pleading, "Feza! C'mon, I haven't seen you in weeks..." Once again, there was no response, and his sense of unease only grew. He moved further inside, taking soft steps as he moved towards the main room. And then he saw her.

To say that his heart sank would be the understatement of the century. No, instead it was as if a sea of sorrow and guilt formed in his stomach, with greedy waves reaching up to wrench his heart down, down, down. Until it was no longer in his body, and instead lingered somewhere far beneath the surface of the sea, wailing in agony. Everything felt... numb. His ears were full of a dull static as he stared up at Feza's body, blinking over and over again, as if he would somehow wake up from this terrible nightmare. However, even after digging his claws into his other leg, he didn't wake up. This was real. Terribly real. His actions after that realization were almost robotic, his wings spreading and lifting him up, where he could gather Feza's cold form in his arms and bring her downward. As he placed her limp body upon the ground below, the dam finally broke. The numbness was replaced with sheer agony, a roar of sorrow leaving him for his fallen friend.

He turned his head and shouted at the top of his lungs, desperate, "Selby! Moth! Someone... someone, please!" He knew that there was nothing the medics could do for her now. It was just a nonsensical plea, searching for some kind of way to right this wrong. But truly, there was nothing anyone could do. Feza was gone, and unless a miracle happened, she wasn't coming back. The realization hit the proxy hard, his large form slumping to the ground as he pressed his nose against her cold skin. His form shook with barely restrained sobs, his words hoarse and forced out, "Feza... Feza no... please... please come back to us. Please?" There was no movement, no response, nothing. His heart sank further down in the sea, swallowed by waves of turmoil and mourning. With his eyes falling shut, the angel could only choke out softly, "Please... if you can hear me, please be kind to her... she doesn't deserve this..." Aurum was hardly the praying type, especially after his escape from heaven, but it seemed like the only right thing to do at this moment.

[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px #1B1B2F; font-size: 24px;"][color=#44437F]— AURUM

#psychosocial.

[selby roux !]

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Calling somebody’s name was typically a good way to get them to appear. Selby, out on his morning ‘patrol’ of the territory, was alerted by Aurum’s panicked voice ringing through the air. He hauled his bag up into a more comfortable position, already slipping into his sharp sort of professionalism. The transition was second nature at this point. He could not be himself when handling serious cases. It would kill him. And so, all of the feelings were pushed aside in favor of action. A carefully learned behavior.

At times like these, it proved itself necessary.

He would not consider himself close to Feza. More often than not, he found himself vaguely annoyed with her oppressively happy nature on the rare occasion they interacted. Still, the sawbones had never wished her harm. On the contrary, he wanted nothing more than to see her grow and change into someone that could be happy and respect others’ happiness.

Seeing her cold, dead body on the floor struck an odd nauseous feeling within him. He ignored it.

Clearly, there was nothing to be done for her. But Aurum needed help. “There’s nothing I can do for her, Aurum,” he said, as soothingly as he could manage. “Is there something you know she would have wanted? A certain place, a certain... ritual?”

[alaric g.]

    Alaric could not say that he was close with Feza in any sense of the word. He was honestly unsure if he had ever interacted with her, no less. He'd always gotten the sense that perhaps she would be a little too happy-go-lucky for his liking, a smidge too... festive. He had not been around the vibrantly-colored leopard enough to know anything besides that.

    Alaric, never being someone to sleep the day away, had risen early as usual. Upon leaving his home, he immediately caught wind of Aurum's desperate yowls beckoning over Selby and Moth. Intrigued, Alaric made his way over in a timely manner, hoping the whole way that whatever medical emergency that was at hand would not require knowledge without training, which the tabby seemed to possess an abundance of.

    Within moments, Alaric was standing in the doorway of Feza's home, staring in a sort of dull shock at the scene before him. Selby was here, of course, but the focus of the scene was Feza's lifeless body lying on the floor and Aurum, with racking sobs, weeping for her. This was not the first time he had seen someone dead, and it would likely not be the last, explaining the dull shock that caused his eyes to widen and him to whisper out, "Shit."

// D: We're gonna miss you and Feza!!

♔ don't do love, don't do friends

[Ivan]

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pixel by tricky

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[div style="width: 300px; max-height: 100px; height: overflow; overflow: scroll; padding-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -5px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; color: #152232; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: justify;"]He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.

— Бра́тья Карама́зовы

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He knows he shouldn't investigate when he hears Aurum wail for Selby. The feeling in the lion's voice was enough to make Ivan press his skinny form to the ground in submission. Even the golden eagle pricked up both her heads, but seemed to recognize the utter distress and pain of the situation. She made a swift turn around and burrowed herself under the porch of the home, one of her four golden eyes glowing in the shadows. Ivan had never seen her so upset.

He hates his nature, to be able to think, to be able to know the difference between good and evil, it makes picking the wrong path all the more painful.

Ivan's form is only seen in the doorway of Feza's home for split second. He can smell death, he can see the rope, and he knows it's Feza. He hadn't been particularly close to her, but he wasn't close with anyone for that matter. He didn't know her by her vibrant colors, as his world was only seen in limited hues, but by her sweet candied scent. She had a festive attitude that Ivan could not comprehend, but was somewhat envious of because he knew that he could never achieve something like that.

She was the last person in Ivan's mind that would ever do this.

Guessing that his father would not like him to be here, Ivan left as quickly as he came. He would have said a prayer, but he didn't believe in such things. Nothing exists after death, right? He often felt very lonely, but this scarred his soul like a hot iron. Heart weighing in his chest as heavy as a stone, Ivan set his paws into a gallop, and with every heave and burn of his lungs, he tried to feel alive. For Feza.

[wormwood.]

☆ HUNG PICTURES OF PATRON SAINTS UP ON MY WALL TO REMIND ME THAT I AM A FOOL. TELL ME WHERE I CAME FROM, WHAT I WILL ALWAYS BE: JUST A SPOILED LITTLE KID WHO WENT TO CATHOLIC SCHOOL —

Pain. Everything in his body was filled with pain as he remained beside Feza's body, mute and trembling as he tried in vain to think of how he could fix this. The sound of Selby's footsteps provided little comfort, and his words only felt like a knife to the heart, as expected as they had been. There was nothing that they could do for her. She was gone, honestly and truly gone. He could smell Alaric and even the faint retreating scent of Ivan on the air, but all he cared about was the brightly colored fur in front of his face, seeming more and more dull with every moment that passed. He just stared at her corpse, as if he expected her to leap up and say that this was all just a prank. He knew that wouldn't be the case – Feza would never do such a thing, as it was far from the "festive' nature that she had wanted everything to have. Then again, he also never would've thought that Feza would actually do this. Had he just been too blind? Had he been ignoring her pain? He would never know the truth, unless her spirit decided to get up and have a lengthy conversation with him one day.

With his chest feeling thoroughly caved in, Aurum slowly pushed himself into a sitting up position, trying to keep from trembling with his every action. Selby's question weighed heavily on his mind, but he was fairly certain he knew the answer to it, even if he had never truly been told. He dug his claws against the floor for a moment before he said, his voice hoarse from tears, "She didn't... she didn't tell me exactly. But I think... I don't think she would've wanted us to mourn. She wouldn't want some big funeral where everyone was sobbing over their memories of her. She'd probably just... just want a party. A big party, that brings everyone together to have fun while remembering her. I think that would be best..." It was all he could think of as he stared down at her rapidly cooling body, absent of the bright grin that usually graced her muzzle. One last party, for the official party thrower of Tanglewood. That would be nice, wouldn't it?

[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px #1B1B2F; font-size: 24px;"][color=#44437F]— AURUM

#psychosocial.

[selby roux !]

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]As Aurum’s pained words twisted and curled in his mind, it took all Selby had not to join him in his agony. He hadn’t known Feza well. To act as though her death was the worst thing that had ever happened to him would be offensive- and worst of all, untrue. Pastel’s rotting corpse haunted his dreams too heavily for him to even consider it, Arrow’s limp body close behind her.

He could not help the dead. He couldn’t afford to grieve everyone. But he could console the living.

Resting a paw on top of Aurum’s much larger one, he nodded along to what he was saying. “I think you were one of the closest to her,” he said softly, looking up at the lion. “It’s only right that you plan it. That is, if you’d like to. I’m sure someone else would be up to it if you can’t.”

[beck.]

[align=center]

cw: more depictions of suicide + self harm

    Numb.

    He couldn't remember the last time he had truly felt nothing. Had it been when he first died? With warm blood no longer stirring his body, his original body, he could only feel cold. And cold he felt, his limbs tingling like electrified jello as he blankly stared. What brought him here? Perhaps the call for Selby. Perhaps pure coincidence. He couldn't remember now. Not as limp paws dangled from the rafters to and fro, as detached feathers lazily drifted about a splintered cabinet, disturbed by the open door and the wind of onlookers. Mesmerized by the pendulum his friend turned herself into, Beck rocked back onto his rear, expression numb.

      Of all the people in the room, only he could understand the reason why. He probably understood Feza more than anybody. Maybe that was because he saw fragments of himself within her, hidden beneath a vibrant pelt and false grin. He saw the little boy curled among his own bones, weeping for eternity over the pain endured. So, so tired. Tired of the pain, tired of the loss, tired of the world. He didn't want forever and a day to sleep. He wanted to be gone.

      Like Feza, the memory of personal gallows struck him first. Tying a noose was as easy as tying a snare. Only with more steps. Yet even with the rope tethered to an outstretched branch and the borrowed barstool kicked from beneath his weight, no snap of vertebrae followed. Too small, too scrawny, too underfed -- Beck waited to suffocate, instinctively scrabbling at the tightened rope until fingertips caught on rough fibers and bled. Until an hour passed and he was still kicking at the air, a rabbit hanging by its scruff in a dog's teeth. Another hour; his hands hurt too much and his throat ached too much. He had fallen limp except for the hands balled into bloodied fists at his sides. Two more hours. He accepted defeat, allowing himself to slip down from the failed noose, crashing into the toppled stool below.

    His second attempt at hanging, now considerate of his laughably puny size, didn't result in anything better. Only a crick in the neck for a month and a sore, friction-burnt collar to mark his failure.

    A rope could be useful in different cases, however. Like looping a knot to a hefty stone large enough that it took two scabbed hands to carry, then another tight knot around his good ankle. After dragging his makeshift ball and chain to a relatively untouched lake, he waded past the shallows and took the plummet, sinking to the lakebed with water flooding his lungs and pressure popping his ears. He thought he would find peace. But instead, he found himself watching bluegill and pike and walleye mosey by, curious of the scowling alien invading their underwater world.

    Who needed rope anyway? A high enough rooftop could work just fine. As the concept of civilization developed to taller heights, the poltergeist brought himself to the ledge of at least a dozen buildings while residents slept, stepping off and crashing against pavement below. No matter how many times blood splattered or bones shattered or limbs scattered, he just couldn't seem to get rid of himself.

    His urges demanded more creativity as the years went on. Gunpowder drifted from the East and mankind invented firearms for warfare -- muskets and shotguns to revolvers and pistols all aimed at his temple at some point, the boy grimacing as his finger squeezed the trigger. With a single blast, he could wake up the next month to scrub the resulting spray of faded oily blood from the attic walls.

    He tried electronics in filled bathtubs, shots of alkaline cleaner cocktails, leaps into highway traffic, razors slicing inner forearms and even his carotid once. It never worked.

    One fact became glaringly apparent.

    A ghost could never rest. Not for forever or a day.

    With every momentary death, every break from reality, he had felt this numb. Beck couldn't help but wonder if Feza had felt numb, too.

    Lost in a haze of spiraling thoughts, the poltergeist turned his head, sickened at not only the sight but yet another failure. He had seen himself in Feza, somebody hopeless and desperate. Yet he had hoped to outstretch a hand to her, to help her from the remains of suffering past, to pull her into a hug and let her know that she was loved. He wanted to watch her caterpillar neighbors grow with her, to weave crafts and scribble nonsense with her, to make her laugh and smile with her, discarding the phony mask once and for all. He wanted to be her friend. And if not that, then at least there for her.

    With his stump of a tail lowered and head hung, his ragged breath hitched in his undersized chest, shoulders trembling as Beck snorted back an oncoming sob. Not keen on wailing and blubbering in public again, the poltergeist disappeared without a word, a chilled breeze passing the crowd on his way out.