[
honestly i took a step back from this bc i wrote from a very personal place and it took the wind outta my sails, going to roleplay it as if nectarflame is just numb and hasn't recognized what's been going on because i don't really want to dig myself back into it. if your character is supposed to be on the burial patrol and you're not mentioned here please vm me so i can amend it 
@
dino., @
poppy., @
WinterMara (
i know soft said no) ]
If anything had happened while she was counting the strands of fur on the silver pelt she loved, Nectarflame did not appear to notice. Instead, she hyperfixated on Cindersky for several long moments as the camp around her burst into noise and chaos. It was something she was entirely uninvolved and uninterested in.
Abruptly and with no heed to the argument that had unfolded, the golden cat moves forward and brushes her tail across the small, hunched form of Softpaw.
"Then remain in camp," she responds in a quiet murmur. These were cats who had all, in their own individual rights, come to dislike Nectarflame. And she would not blame them (although she could not find logic in their feelings) for it. To go and bury their mother, their mentor, with her... It had to give them conflicting emotions.
Green eyes move from the old apprentice to the new warrior, and for a heartbeat the she-cat considers delivering the message her mate had for him... Her...? That was not a state of confusion in a dying and delirious cat, not from Cindersky. But reason wins out and Nectarflame sensibly says nothing on that subject. Instead, she lifts her head to rest her chin gingerly atop her head.
"We need you," Nectarflame admits hoarsely. She did not push Softpaw, though she would still give the apprentice one final chance at attending the burial. Perhaps she would live to regret not doing so.
Finally, Cloudyflight... Who had done little since the Bengal initially relented to her presence. The senior warrior does not move towards her, and she certainly does not encourage her to come nearer.
"I am sure you can help... Dig.. Just as well," Nectarflame says.
"But if you... And perhaps even Softpaw, would wish..." Trailing off, the cat looks at her paws where the bloodied flowers lay. Her voice breaks.
"You could find some flowers?" The question came on the verge of tears, and though the older warrior held her composure almost flawlessly (in spite of the betrayal her voice laid to her) it was clear to anyone who saw, who heard, that if she were to continue for much longer it would be a different story.
Whatever the outcome, she could not stay there any longer. The golden cat, alone in the effort now, joins the side of her love and stoops low to give her an affectionate nuzzle. And then she lifts Cindersky up onto her shoulders, she was light now as if her soul had already departed. It hurt. Damn, that hurt.
Silently from hereon out, Nectarflame exits the clearing with Cindersky.