- Oct 4, 2022
- 80
- 12
- 8
When what has rapidly become It in his head happens once again, it goes unnoticed.
Loampaw rises, bleary eyed and mouth already hung open to field the coming questions and concerns — but none come. He blinks his vision clear, fails in his attempt to not vomit, and then as his mind returns to him he discovers that he is wholly and entirely alone. The dirtplace surrounds him, or Loampaw is stood in the middle of it looking every bit as lost as he feels. This is supposed to be the part where Loampaw is swarmed. Instead, he is allowed a moment to collect himself, shake the confusion from his head, and he finds that this is what he prefers.
It is on his own time that Loampaw makes his way back into camp, stiff and heavy as if he is walking with a weight on his back, but determined to appear as normal as he possibly can. The thought of telling his peers what had occurred doesn't cross Loampaw's mind: there is no other option than to hide it. He catches himself thinking about what he does, what he would say, does he say anything? as he steps into camp proper.
"Back," Loampaw says — an unceremonious return for what was meant to be an unceremonious trip, and hopes his strangeness isn't as visible as he feels it to be.
Loampaw rises, bleary eyed and mouth already hung open to field the coming questions and concerns — but none come. He blinks his vision clear, fails in his attempt to not vomit, and then as his mind returns to him he discovers that he is wholly and entirely alone. The dirtplace surrounds him, or Loampaw is stood in the middle of it looking every bit as lost as he feels. This is supposed to be the part where Loampaw is swarmed. Instead, he is allowed a moment to collect himself, shake the confusion from his head, and he finds that this is what he prefers.
It is on his own time that Loampaw makes his way back into camp, stiff and heavy as if he is walking with a weight on his back, but determined to appear as normal as he possibly can. The thought of telling his peers what had occurred doesn't cross Loampaw's mind: there is no other option than to hide it. He catches himself thinking about what he does, what he would say, does he say anything? as he steps into camp proper.
"Back," Loampaw says — an unceremonious return for what was meant to be an unceremonious trip, and hopes his strangeness isn't as visible as he feels it to be.
tags ∘ shadowclan apprentice ∘ solid black with hazel eyes ∘ curled front foot ∘ 12 moons