BORN TO RUN [ sickness]

Jun 11, 2023
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CALLIN' IT QUITS NOW ✧°.☀ ————————————
He woke with a groan.

The cats had left last night for the journey. He had gone, despite the ache in his chest, the sniffle in his nose. His head was pounding, the light too bright and his thoughts in a fog. One of his initial thoughts was that Greeneyes hadn't woken him- but he realized with a pang in his chest that he was gone. The stale scent of Cherrypaw compounded it. While she had put herself in a bad spot in his heart, he never wished ill on her. Stars, he kind of wanted them to be able to make up, but he knew where he came from would always kill that urge for her. Falconpaw managed to drag himself to his paws. Vision squinted against the light as he pushed out of the den.

He ignored the urge to cry out as his body shook. Everything felt awfully cold, like a shock to his body. A tremor ran through him. He had been sick before, of course. A little sniffle here, or the rumbling in his tummy that wasn't from food. It was likely something that he had eaten as a kit. But this? This felt like newleaf, the sudden cold sweeping through the camp, right? Falconpaw's eyes turned towards the leaves on the trees. Green and yellow leaves still stuck to them, the pine still green. His shoulders twitched, and he took a step forward.

Another low groan left him, a serious of coughs following as he sat instead. No, moving was too much. What did he even do with Greeneyes gone? So, Falconpaw sat miserably, on this warm and temperature day, almost still if not for his wheezing breath.

// he's yellowcough'd up


"SPEECH"
[penned by dallas - ]
———————————— ☀.°✧ BABY, I'M A WRECK
 
The journey complicated an already-complicated life. This new sickness - this yellow cough, as it had been dubbed - raged through the Clans, snuffing out lives as easily as a stiff breeze bowed a blade of grass. That so many warriors would be departing their Clans, leaving them vulnerable to attack, not knowing what they would find or what they'd return home to...he would've said it felt as if the very ground underpaw had fallen away, except his whole world had been inverted already. There was no ground for him to stand on in the first place. Other than Curlewnose, he had no Clanmates, no friends, no allies. He knew that most of the people around him now wished he'd simply drop dead, and he could hardly blame them. Surely he'd have thought the same things, were the roles reversed. But they never would be. Sootstar would never take anyone in, no matter how desperate.

At least, not anymore. He thought back to Silverpaw, and how the boy had fought to earn himself a place among WindClan's ranks. Nowadays, he suspected her madness had become so absolute she would not even welcome in a mewling kit. Badgermoon suppressed a groan of distaste and tried to shove his thoughts away from Sootstar, from WindClan, from his memories. Thinking of what he had been forced to leave behind only stung, so why bother with it? Better to stay here, and try to build a life for himself and for Curlew...even if, right now, their life was only stillness and hostile looks and the ceaseless presence of Dandelionwish and Quillstrike. Perhaps someday he'd see his children again. Perhaps someday the moors would be cleansed of the filth of Sootstar...perhaps he could help with that.

The broad-shouldered black and white tom had been carefully grooming the slash Orangeblossom had left beneath his eye when he spotted a young tomcat stagger out of the apprentices' den. It wasn't a SkyClanner he recognized, not yet; though he was trying to learn all their names, he found it was difficult to commit an entirely new Clan to memory. Especially since most, fairly enough, didn't care to speak to him. The apprentice seemed...unwell, and Badgermoon's suspicions were confirmed as Falconpaw let out a barrage of painful-sounding coughs and dropped into a sitting position. He winced, finding that sympathy swelled in his chest. Though he had not seen many yellowcough patients up close, nor experienced it himself, he felt fairly confident that he knew what troubled the young cat. What else could it be, really? Surely it had to be the ailment du jour. Or else why had all of their warriors left?

Badgermoon turned his head to glance up at his guards, white-tipped ears twitching. "I think that apprentice may have the yellowcough." he said quietly, his wheat-gold eyes indicating a guarded sort of concern. He lifted one large paw and motioned towards Falconpaw. "That one, just...sitting outside the den."

@QUILLSTRIKE @Dandelionwish
 
I've been trying not to
The sound of a cough rouses Plaguepaw from the realm of deep slumber. Tired eyes flutter open to spot Falconpaw standing just out of his reach, shivering and emitting obvious sounds of discomfort. "Falconpaw?" He calls out, gathering long gangly limbs underneath himself to eventually stand. Another series of coughs has the patchy tom flattening his ears. He wasn't sick was he? He couldn't be. "H-hey, are you okay amigo?" Dark paws bring him forward, head turning to evaluate his friend. Despite the optimism he so desperately wished to cling to, the wheezing rattling around in the tom's chest proved he was unwell. "Do you...do you want me to get you some food? That always helps me to feel better." He offers, taking a seat with a worried expression.
Go off the deep end
 
08_04_quill-1.png

DARK BLUE, DARK BLUE, HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ALONE IN A CROWDED ROOM?


There was a time in Quills life when he had thought about nothing but himself. His priorities, his concerns- all of it revolved around him. The rest of the world was just noise he'd wanted to get the hell away from, and it wasn't until he found his way to Skyclan that any of that had changed for him.

Now he had things he wanted to keep and cats he wanted to protect.

That, coupled with the apprenticeship he'd spent beneath Thistleback, had forged him into a sword that would cut down anything that threatened to take the peace of mind he'd found. Including a couple of injured windclan exiles, if only he and Dandelionwish could get them alone.

So the chimera never left his post, waiting and watching for an opportunity.

He barely even noticed the coughing until Badgermoon said something about it.

Mismatched eyes narrowed on the ex-deputy in clear suspicion- were they trying to distract him? But another bout of fitful coughing was enough proof for Quillstrike to glance toward the apprentices den where Falconpaw was clearly having a hard time.

Dammit. They'd just gotten rid of the sickness! Dawnglare had used the last of their Lungwart to cure it. He opened his jaws to order the apprentice to Dawnglares, when of course Plaguepaws gangly form slipped out of the den to sit beside them.

Quillstrike went rigid at the sight of his own apprentice so close to an ill cat, panic lashing out within him. "Plaguepaw! Get away from him!" the chimera commanded, voice booming in a tone he was sure the majority of his clanmates had never heard before. Paws instinctively stepped toward them with intent of scruffing the patched tom and physically dragging them away from Falcon, but they quickly stuttered to a stop as he realized he was meant to be guarding the Windclanners. He couldn't just leave Dandelionwish alone with them...

"Go get Dawnglare if you want to help, but do not touch Falconpaw."

Mismatched eyes shifted to land on the other apprentice then, recognizing the symptoms at once because he had been suffering from them only a short while ago. Poor kid. Did he even have anyone here for him with Greeneyes gone? Again he felt the compulsion to go help, but he was no healer and he was certainly no figure of comfort, and so he knew that logically the most useful he could be was right where he was; guarding their prisoners.

"I thought we got rid of it- Dawnglare cured everyone so how's it back?" he sked, attention shifting toward Dandelionwish. They'd been a healer once. How could a sickness come back if there was nobody sick to bring it in?

OOC- talking to @Dandelionwish and @Plaguepaw


skyclan - male - 19 months (Feb 17th) - bisexual - homoromantic - a very tall, dark chimera tomcat with mismatched eyes and several scars. has bluejay feathers woven like spikes along his spine and neck.

QUILLSTRIKE-1.png
 
I've been trying not to
Grizzled black fur bristles in shock along the lines of his shoulders and spine at the sound of Quillstrike's authoritative shout. Puffed out twice his size his head whips around, collar jingling at the breakneck action as turquoise eyes catch his mentor storming towards him. But ultimately he stops, choosing to stick close to the clan's captives instead. This offers him a bit of relief, thankful that the chimera is shackled to his prisoners. Based on the blaze alighting Quillstrike's eyes they might have saved him from a good cuffing. The corners of his mouth pull into a tight frown, licorice black lips taunt with silent defiance. How could he leave Falconpaw alone when he clearly needed a shoulder to lean on? Sick or not the tom shouldn't have to be treated as if he is carrying death with him.

Plaguepaw was fully prepared to hunker down next to his friend and offer further support when Quillstrike comes up with an ultimatum. His forked tail lashes back and forth as the older tom proposes fetching Dawnglare. "Okay. Okay, alright I'll go get Dawnglare...just stop yelling at me." The patchy tom shouts back, ears pressing further against his head. "I'll be back amigo..." He whispers to Falconpaw before slinking off to go find skyclan's healer. Dawnglare would be better equipped to handle this situation than he ever could.

Poking his head into the disheaveled medic's workspace, Plaguepaw's eyes eventually land upon the tom. "Dawnglare! Hurry, Falconpaw doesn't look so good." He calls from where he stands, paws already backpedaling to head back to his fellow apprentice.
Go off the deep end
 
Commission_-_Fireflypaw_IcarusFell3.png
Fireflypaw hears the calls to Dawnglare from the back of the medicine den, the apprentice keeping himself busy with work as to not irritate his mentor further than he already has. It's only when Plaguepaw himself sticks his head in does Fireflypaw pat at him with a paw to shoo him out of the den. He couldn't get too close, after all. "Who's sick?" He asks softly, turning his blinded gaze towards Dawnglare after asking. He wanted to make sure it was alright to do anything- he couldn't just make decisions on his own. But, he knew they had a good stock of Feverfew. Honey would do some good with sore throat, if whoever was sick had one.. Hm.

Falconpaw doesn't look so good. Plaguepaw says, and Fireflypaw swallows back his own nervousness. An apprentice is sick. Oh no.

@DAWNGLARE
SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE ✦ 14 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS
 
The face is one that he would never love to see. It being the first one he glimpses besides those encumbered with sickness only makes it that much more unpleasant. He draws in on himself, disgust only second to the worry careening toward him with a quickness. Lupinepaw should’ve been the last. But what obligation did Yellowcough have, to stop because their cure has run dry? Of course, it is mindless, and there is no such thing. Unfortunate. That is what this was.

He is thankful that his apprentice is quick to shoo the unwelcome visitor from his den. His fur may lie flat, though he does not breathe any easier. " This is... " Half a sentence, before he trails off. Is he imagining the roughness of his own throat? A woeful look, is what he offers his apprentice. Dawnglare has not quite mentioned the last of their Lungwort going yet… He wonders if Fireflypaw has noticed, himself. Softly, he sighs. " Come. " Grabbing a bushel of feverfew, he slips from his den.

His stride to Falconpaw is briefly interrupted by WindClan’s presence – Dandelionwish and… that other one, too, too close for his liking. What does it matter. What does it? His ears flatten further atop his head, a glare momentarily shot the black and white tom, before he is on his feet again.

Dawnglare sniffs at the apprentice, the tang of Feverfew doing its best to mask sickness’s scent. At least it did not seem… fatal. Not yet, anyways. Falconpaw did not particularly burn, but the far - away quality of the eyes, and faint wheeze, certainly gave it away. " Stars, " the Medicine Cat huffs beneath his breath, eyes a picture of exasperation. " Falconpaw, you’ll have to stay in my den for a while. " Possibly for the rest of your life. The thought makes his stomach curl with discomfort. " Fireflypaw, help him, please. " Dawnglare would have to get another nest ready.

To Quillstrike, Dawnglare spares a brief glance. The tail - end of the question is something he is able to catch. " The cure takes time to work, and I suppose the sickness takes time to show... " Dawnglare explains with a flick of his tail. " I suppose in between those two things, there is still time for... transmission, " he finishes with a wrinkle of his nose.

  •  
  • ( 𝙒𝙃𝙔'𝘿 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝘼𝙆𝙀 𝙎𝙊 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂? ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
    —— He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
    —— Currently 56 moons old. Mated to Mallowlark

    Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest.
    You may find him kinder to others than is typical, exhausted from the yellowcough blight and heart heavy in a way he has never felt.​
    Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads
 
CALLIN' IT QUITS NOW ✧°.☀ ————————————
He hardly heard the Prisoner's words as another cough racked his body. His breath felt winded, and his head was really starting to ache as Plaguepaw was speaking to him. His eyes shifted towards the other, and the sheen to his optics was telling enough. Well, if all the other signs wasn't plain and obvious as to what was wrong with him. The prisoner- he hadn't a clue what that guy's name was- had it right. Falconpaw opened his mouth to speak, and when his words came out all kinds of scratchy, it was obvious how bad it was to him then. "Not... not hungry." He mumbled, drawing his paws in closer to himself, trying to conserve body head.

Then Quillstrike was shouting, and his ears were flattening, shying away from the noise as if he could protect from how loud it was. His tail twitched, eyes closing softly as Plaguepaw was murmuring to him again. He nodded quietly, accepting that Plaguepaw would be back. His chest ached gently at the thought of his sisters, and his eyes were sliding back open, head turning towards Quillstrike. Falconpaw was working out how to try and alert them that his sisters needed to be looked after. Mouth opened, closed, opened, closed again- useless, like a fish gasping for water.

Dawnglare was blocking his vision suddenly, as if someone was taking frames out from a video- somehow, he had missed the Medicine Cat approaching. Hsi vision shifted towards Dawnglare, and he nodded quietly. "Okay." Falconpaw mumbled towards Dawnglare, vision seeking Plaguepaw, if he did return with Dawnglare and Fireflypaw. "Find... my sisters?" He asked the dark furred apprentice, trusting that the other would let them know, at least, right?


"SPEECH"
[penned by dallas - ]
———————————— ☀.°✧ BABY, I'M A WRECK
 
Doompaw doesn’t like Falconpaw—the other tom is too-serious. In fact, Doompaw would lay the serious crime of being boring at his paws. Still, seeing his denmate sniffly and sick causes the tortoiseshell’s pelt to prickle uncomfortably. He doesn’t want anybody to be sick, especially when those cats died. He thinks of Tallulahwing, Sheepcurl, Mountainheart, all lying in the middle of camp with illness radiating from their pelts, stiff and cold like his mother had been so many moons ago.

He brushes his pelt against the short, bristly hairs of Plaguepaw’s. “Don’t get sick, squirrel-brain,” he hisses to his friend. To Falconpaw, he nods, solemn for once. “I’ll tell yer sisters… get better.” It’s outside Falconpaw’s control, but Doompaw doesn’t know what else to say.


  •  
  •  
  • doomguy . doomkit . doompaw
    — afab, he/him, apprentice of skyclan
    — unknown sexuality ; single
    — short-haired blue tortoiseshell with white and green eyes
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — penned by Marquette
    — chibi by Oliver
 
Commission_-_Fireflypaw_IcarusFell3.png
Fireflypaw listens carefully to the instructions given, eyes blinking owlishly towards his mentor for a moment before he follows after him into the clearing. He's ordered to help Falconpaw, and this time, Firefly doesn't try to lift him up. Instead, he offers a shoulder to the tom to prop himself up on. "Just gotta get to the medicine den, friend." He coos softly, voice thick with emotion. If successful in either getting Falconpaw to lean against him or put all his weight on him, Fireflypaw would slowly begin to walk back to the den with him by his side. How has he himself not gotten sick, whatwith all the exposure he's had? The fates must truly love him. He sniffs as he makes his way through the heather branches, the smell of illness hitting him like abrick wall. But he's grown used to it, he thinks.

He only hoped the journeying cats would come home swiftly with the cure.​
SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE ✦ 14 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS