camp cough syrup & grenadine ;; sickness

[Fireflyglow]

WE'VE BEEN DOIN' ALL THIS LATE NIGHT TALKIN' ✧​

tdlr ;; he sicc with whitecough. on day two of the sickness. first signs were his sore throat/coughing in past threads. he's currently struggling his way over to dawnglare's den! feel free to reply before him. <3
@DAWNGLARE

He was used to headaches, formed from the bright lights that flashed into his sensitive eyes and made his vision dotted and blurry. Those were normal, and usually solved with taking a nice nap in the apprentice den after training was over; Huckleberry was always kind enough to let him rest, after all. But this time, when he wakes, he notices that the pounding is much harsher. Fireflypaw whines softly to himself, a wheeze exhaled from phelgm-filled throat. He tries to breathe in, breath interrupted by a sudden cough into his nest. His ears lay back against his head, cheek pressing against the mossy nest as another groan of complaint leaves him.

"I don' feel so good, guys.." Fireflypaw whined to his fellow apprentices, sniffling softly to rid himself of his runny nose. He tries to push himself to his paws, and after a few tumbles he finally stands and closes his eyes, stumbling over his paws. "M gonna go to Dawnglare.." He mumbles, coughing once again- hacking a wet drag. His walk to Dawnglare's den is slow and fumbly, his skin growing hot as he burns up despite the cold. All of this walking makes him want to sleep.. ​

 

[Daisyflight]

"SUREFIRE, YEAH, THE SETTING SUN WANTS COMPANY"​

It was a discomforting sound, the hack of a cat dwelling in sickness. Having seen sickness burn through the ranks of the loners in the twolegplace, Daisyflight was well acquainted with it. It was always coupled with a messy pelt and mucky snout, proof enough to her that only the unhygienic fell to illness. Her concern mounted as she took in Fireflypaw, an ordinarily tidy-enough tom, spitting out a cough.

"Ah, how unfortunate! Are you sure Dawnglare is... necessary? I've no doubt a good night in the rain will clear it right out of your pelt." Sage-fleck eyes met the overcast sky, round with appraisal. "You might be in luck. I'd sit with you?" As unpleasant as it might be, she couldn't let go of this opportunity to steady her immune system. Perhaps it was time to refresh the flowers in her nest too and weave them in tight- all far more straightforward than that medicine cat.
​

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[Howlfire]

It was funny how after Morningpaw died it seemed that Howlpaw had been comforting and fussing over her elder brother more, whereas once it had been the other way round. Howlpaw isn't too disturbed by the cough at first. Fireflypaw's not the only coughing and sneezing in the clan after all. It is only when Fireflypaw announces to the apprentices that he isn't feeling so well that Howlpaw seems to take note. She looks over from her own nest and her brow creases with worry. Her brother was usually so bright and full of life, and now he looks messy and worn down.

He's already managed to stumble out of the apprentice's den and begin his slow walk to Dawnglare's by the time Howlpaw rises from her own nest to catch up with him. Daisyflight has already intercepted him first, questioning whether seeing Dawnglare was necessary. Howlpaw on the other hand was rather sceptical of Daisyflight's scepticism. "It couldn't hurt," Howlpaw mused, coming up to stand next to her brother. She gestured for him to lean against her, with the intention that she would help him make it to the medicine den. "Come on, brother. Keep your head up and I'll help you get there!"​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

His approach that had once been unhurried– discouraged by the layers of fresh snow; pretty, but far from a pleasure to walk through– abruptly quickens, with the arrival of Daisyflight. Blaise allows her to speak her mistruths to any who would humor her, and for the most part, he did as well. But oh, its more than an inkling of something wrong when he sees noneother than Howl and Firefly intercepted by the ramblings of a madwoman. Oh, danger, at once, at once. And the dribble of snot from the little one's nose only had his eyes widening further.

This one, a member of Blaise's coveted council, when she openly suggested what may as well be an impractical murder to Blaise's own kin? A problem, and it's brought to him while there is time. For once, for once. No threat of death looms quite as close, and he would love to sing in his relief. But it's impossible, impossible. All things were in her maddened presence. Not an inkling of thought, hexes cast by the paw of a creature so vile. "I should rip your head clean off," he hisses. His throat burns. Hardly, does he have the patience for words. Words had not saved Morningpaw. Words would not save Firefly. Were all of her little ones taught to soak in freezing rain to ease their troubles? "I hope your little ones' graves have already been dug." More, there's more to say, but she is not worth his time.

In an instant, his eyes are on Firefly. Pathetic and snivelling and oh– had that disgusting hacking been a product of him? To their sister then, his gaze flits. Eyes wide, "Speak. What's wrong with him?"​

 

[Fireflyglow]

WE'VE BEEN DOIN' ALL THIS LATE NIGHT TALKIN' ✧​

Standing in the rain? Wasn't it cold already? Did she want him to freeze to death? "Is death the only mercy for illness?" Fireflypaw sniffles softly, clearing his throat before he speaks the words. How.. How did Daisyflight manage to live so long, herself, with that idea in her head? He's thankful she's willing to try alternative methods, but she isn't experienced in medicine enough for him to take her word with more than a grain of salt. His sister pushes into him, and Firefly leans his head against her to take some of the weight off of his paws. Not to fall over, or tumble- Fireflypaw manages to muster out a hum of agreement before continuing past Daisyflight with his sister. Was she taking care of him all the time now? Possibly.

That's okay, though. That just means she cares.

I should rip your head clean off, The High Priest hisses low in his throat, an intimidating sound if it weren't for the ever present glare in his eyes. Daisyflight doesn't seem to make Dawnglare too happy, and Firefly's ears tilt back against his head as he coughs up another slimy ball of phlegm. I hope your little ones' graves have already been dug. The rest all echoes into muddled warbles, Firefly feeling his head grow light and dizzy before his legs wobble and give out beneath him. Nothing other than a "Don' feel good.." Escaped his lips before he fainted, panting softly against the cold ground. So hot, so hot- he felt like his skin could burn off. And yet so cold, shivering.. Wheezes of breath.[/i][/i]​

 

[ThistleBack]

Dawnglare was an individual who twisted words on his tongue, a bizzarre visual on the world set in such an obscure way that not even Thistleback had the patience to decipher what the large quirky man was feeling or thinking. While he once saw tears in the eyes of the beasty, there had also been quiet rage. Best to just approach it with both open mind and metaphorically quirked brow.

The lead warrior’s arms swivel with his passing-by, side-eyeing the situation as it happens. A wet-nosed slow-moving Fireflypaw is being guided by his sister to Dawnglare’s den, A kind mother offers her controversial wisdoms. One that, Thistleback agreed with. A method and lifestyle that practices the quote, you turn out stronger if you survive it. The piebald lived his whole life that way, now here he was- a walking callus of a man.

The work-horse was making his way toward the nursery to check on his kits, but he pauses with the healer’s clipped words. dagger edged and delivered to Daisyflight in a way that made his pelt prickle. He licks his upper set of teeth and carries himself to the tortoiseshell’s side, ready to return a set of words just as unsavory in her defense but Firefly slumps to the ground in time to hold his tongue.

" you best get him in quickly, it sounds like he’s breathing underwater. " he comments, squatting down level with the fallen boy.

​

OOC INFO REF

• —
  
  
• 
  
  
  ✧ T H I S T L E B A C K
  thirty-three moons
  — Lead warrior of Skyclan
  — taken by
  Deersong 9.29.22
  — mentoring quillpaw
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
  — voice & accent
  — biography･ﾟ✧​
• 
  
  

​

 

[Howlfire]

They haven't quite made it to the medicine den when Dawnglare appears, quickly approaching. She perks up for a brief moment, hoping he would have something helpful to say on the matter. What does come out of his mouth leaves Howlpaw looking a bit stunned to say the least. I should rip your head clean off. She could swear she feels her eyes bulge out in shock a little, not expecting such a comment to have fallen from his mouth. True, she had been sceptical of Daisyflight's advice but she hadn't dared to say such words to the lead warrior's face.

She's looking between the two cats when she is suddenly aware of Danwglare's wide-eyed stare upon her. "Speak. What's wrong with him?" He asks.

For a moment she is lost for words. "He-" She manages to get out before Fireflypaw interrupts. Her brother says he doesn't feel good before collapsing. Thistleback suggests they get him inside quickly, and Howlpaw nods frantically. "Yes! Quickly!" She urges, moving to grab her brother's scruff. She's not strong enough to get him there by herself however and only manages to succeed in moving him a few inches before she turns to the older cats for help.​

 

[Daisyflight]

"SUREFIRE, YEAH, THE SETTING SUN WANTS COMPANY"​

The mild smile present as Howlpaw began to escort her brother away was scratched from her face as that dreaded medicine cat crawled his way over. Was it her imagination, or did his face slough into obscurity every day she saw it- always in a half-look because making eye contact was far too draining. Slit eyes and a flicker of her tail met Dawnglare, expression chiselled into complete neutrality as he threatened her.

Only at the mention of her kits did ember hit oil, anger withering any patience in an instant. Oh, how she wanted to hit him. To watch him cower as he had that day with the spiders... Armoured in cold fury, Daisyflight turned from the plush tom to the topic at paw.

Fireflypaw's talk of mercy muddled her brows, genuine affront caught in her gaze. He had spent too much time in the medicine den already, it seemed. Thistleback joined them, words on his tongue, but was interrupted by the apprentice dropping like a stone. Howlpaw tried valiantly to pull him along before falling prey to gravity herself. "Oh very well, if you think he'll help..."

A 'tsk' on her breath and the familiar, maternal worry tight in her chest, Daisyflight stepped forward to help him towards the medicine den. ​

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[DAWNGLARE]

Howlpaw– owlish with the way her face bulges– can barely utter a word before her sibling slumps beside her. Firefly lingers on a word, maybe two. Don't feel good, wheezed past burning lips. Certainly not, he could tell as much. He could sigh relief in the way his mind was still about him. Still had the sense to seek help, even if his head ached and his world was spinning. Whitecough, then, he supposes, he'd like, though the cough they have is nothing short of repulsive, repulsive. Dawnglare flinches as if burned by the sun.

And oh, Firefly's collapse inspires panic. The breath he sucks in his sharp. Eyes widened in terror, a paw scratches at the ground. "Ffh-!" his name catches on the roof of his mouth; his teeth, bitten down in horror. Even before, comfortable as he could ever be, leaf-bare had been unforgiving. It proved to the living and dead alike just how sharp Mother's bite could be. But oh, never would he imagine this– Another collapse, another casualty at his paws. Blaise's sunken eyes, watery with sorrow. Tug on his heart strings. He couldn't possibly...

There's a sharpening of his gaze with the words from one's black-bitten muse. Bordering offensive with their casualty, patronizing, with what he suggests. But maybe, it loosens him just a little to know that Firefly is still breathing. It's written there, is it not? With the shivers and the harsh wheezings. For a second, he'd just made himself think–

His own inhale is nearly ragged as their own. A fool might mistake him for a sick man, but he only grieves. "Y-yes," strained agreement. With Howlpaw, rather than the magpie (the most crucial of details to him, to Her.)

Daisyflight manages to make herself useful, for once.​