Festival of the Lost | tPO

The Festival of the Lost was approaching with incredible speed, and EagleClan was working full-time to get each and every mask prepped and fixed for the big event. Especially the masks were given a lot of attention, they needed to be in perfect shape for the annual event. Scarheart in particular was very eager to prep the masks, mostly because three out of her four family members’ masks were hanging on the walls by the falls; Two of her brothers and her father. She expected her mother to be joining them soon as well, the she-cat’s sanity hadn’t been getting better the past few moons and Scarheart almost prayed that she’d be set free of her pain. Perhaps, if StarClan really existed, she’d find back her sanity and finally find peace with her family.

Scarheart dipped her paw into the small puddle of paint in the bottom of a carved piece of bark, coating her paw in purplish paint as she looked at the mask in front of her.

This mask in particular was rather important to her, it was one of the few memories she had left of her father. He had died early in her apprenticeship, and the only other memories she had of him was that of a tom who was obsessed with disciplining his children. Hardly the best memory. However, the mask brought happy memories, she remembered how her father had shown the mask to his tykes after a Gathering and the joy they’d shared upon seeing the mask. ”One day you’ll have a mask similar to mine, kids,” he’d said proudly. Scarheart smiled lightly as she recalled her father’s booming voice, one which they more often than not had feared.

The mask’s blue base had already been recovered by another cat earlier, and the last markings were the only ones missing. Father, I hope I do your mask justice, she thought as she painted on the swirl underneath the eye of the mask, followed by two streaks at the left side. The rest of the mask was basically a few more smears along the sides, stripes which had matched their father’s stripes. She’d taken great inspiration from his mask to make her own, except hers had markings similar to the streaks down her forehead. Her tears watered as she gave a few final touches to the mask, fully recovering it to its previous state.

It only took a moment for tears to start trickling down the sides of her cheek, and due to the paint on her right forepaw she had no real way of drying them up. A glance to the right was enough to trigger the stream of tears, the salty substance falling onto the ground. Right next to her father’s mask, next in line for a repaint, was her brothers’ masks. Similar to their father’s, but with less colours. Classic tyro masks. A sad smile trailed Scarheart’s face as she silently wondered what great wonders her brothers would’ve achieved, had they been alive. StarClan, if you’re out there… I hope you take good care of my brothers. And, she paused her line of thinking and shrugged, shutting her eyes tightly. ”If I can ask for a miracle… Please, let me see them again!”  These words were unconsciously spoken out loud as she wiped the paint from her paw, dried up her tears and gave one more sad look at her lost parent’s mask before picking up her paint-tray. ”Please repaint these two for me,” she meowed at her co-worker, deciding that painting the masks of her brother would not help get her ready for the Festival.

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Wrote a quick little story regarding the picture since it's not really a whole lot to look at and I'm a bit worried it might not be acceptable as art for the event. d: The story is there to explain why she's emotional, as well as why the Festival is so important for her.

The story is a total of 604 words.

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10 RP earned (25% character showing+simple background and half a story)