sensitive topics and i can't deal with that || seizure

loampelt

die young or get old trying
Oct 4, 2022
80
12
8
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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. ​
tags ∘ shadowclan apprentice ∘ solid black with hazel eyes ∘ curled front foot ∘ 12 moons
 

Magpiepaw hovered in shaded folds, tucked paws under shadows to sit and obvserve where the only indication he was even there was often the burst of violet eyes alit in the darkness at a distance, twin pools reflective and wide; mirroring the world displayed before them, his mouth not visible in the tight line it is drawn across his dark maw. He prefers the quiet, the sitting and watching the world move around him as though he is a stone in a river whose current lacks the force to displace him. It is a rare moment of peace and power alike, he had the capacity to remain a statue at times and at others his body convulsed of its own, twisted and jittered and his head lurching in agreement to questions unspoken. The first time he had seen Loampaw's sporadic twitching his first thought was a panicked worry he may one day have similar, but so far he was not pressed quivering onto the ground in a mass of limbs and choking gasps. So far. He wondered what was worse, his own inability to walk unburdened or the brief snatches where StarClan tried to wretch one from the earth in violent shaking before relenting to the force of gravity itself.
"Where did you go?" He asked plainly, unaccusatory. He'd only seen him leave, didn't know where, didn't think much of it. The question could have a double meaning if he knew, or rather a different one entirely. Where DO you go when the world blackens briefly in moments of weakness, did you remain here or did you exist elsewhere at the time. Hard to say.
 

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STUMPYSPOTS

Stumpyspots' nose wrinkles but it's not until several moments pass that she pins the scent of dirt on Loampaw. The stench of the dirt place had lightly fermented on him, but her pink quivering nose had miraculously managed to pick it up. She guesses the black apprentice had to of been there for quite some time... but she doesn't see a polite way to advise a trip to Starlingheart.

"Dirtplace?" She ambles over with heavy pawsteps now. She's well aware of Loampaw's recent freights, the only thing Stumpyspots' could think to call them were 'episodes', episodes of what she wasn't sure... but something serious. Yet she doesn't suspect he may have been going through another attack in the slightest, instead placing her bet on problems pertaining to the gut.