camp CURE FOR THE ITCH ✧ sick

[TALLULAHWING]

Tallulahwing has not been home. Her housefolk—bless their hearts—have taken their greenleaf excursion away from the nest, and she’s used the opportunity to put her idle paws to work. Without an apprentice, she feels she has too much time; where once she’d had Figfeather bouncing about her limbs and asking her questions, she has only time to think, empty space. But still limbs feed no bellies, and her emptiness is better made into fuel, in her opinion. The long-furred torbie drags herself into camp for the second time today, and now the sun is lowering, a golden-amber disc in a burning sky.

It’s unseasonally cool—she can’t help the shivers that have wracked her body as she deposits her squirrel and her finch into the fresh-kill pile. Then, she pauses, thinking about how she has not felt the blister of the sun for the past half-moon. Her legs are shaking, but it’s from weariness. She does have a tendency to overwork herself. Tallulahwing does not believe in sitting still and wasting away, she is a daylight warrior with responsibilities… she just feels so tired.

Were her housefolk here, she knows, she’d have been able to visit the Cutter. But they are gone, and she is not sure when they will return. Perhaps she’d better eat and lie down—no cat can begrudge her that, not after all the patrolling and hunting she’s lent herself to lately. The lavender-wreathed warrior exhales, her throat swollen and closed. It had been hard to breathe today—and yesterday—and the day before—but her nose, it always gets stuffy in warmer weather. That’s nothing to worry about. She refuses to visit that fool of a medicine cat and his cotton-brained apprentice, she doesn’t need to.

But Tallulahwing’s beginning to stumble as she heads for the warrior’s den to find an empty nest. Her face crashes into the earth, and she emits an unearthly groan. Now, now she’s hot, burning up under her thick pelt, and her claws reach to shred the ribbon around her throat. If this was off—if this was off maybe she could breathe—maybe she wouldn’t be so hot—“H… help me g…get this off,” she hisses to the nearest cat, her eyes shining with fever, her voice thick with unreality.

@DAWNGLARE @Fireflypaw but no need to wait :)
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[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[Dandelionwish]

He's no fool to fever. Memories of a badger set filled with coughing and wheezing cats, shriveled frames and hollow eyes has haunted him since then and his new life can only ease so much of it. His days as a medicine cat are not looked back on as fondly as he would've liked, instead they are hazy, dark filaments of scenes he can only describe as horrific. Patching up Kestreltalon's missing eye, watching Emberfang fall from the ledge, Rosepaw dying in his den, cats sick and nose dripping, demanding of him the impossible; and among these visions he watches a cinnamon molly walk away from him so that they bury him beneath the weight alone to suffocate.
Dandelionwish is shredding moss by the den as the daylight warrior stumbles towards him and he is moving to approach her as she collides with the ground and begins to flail, half-mutter and sputter out her demands for the removal of something. It doesn't take him very long to realize she wants her bow off and he bows his head, grabs one of the slim strips of fabric to tug up and over her head with a final sharp yank.
"Tallulahwing, ye hold on tight now-you're gonna be fine!"
His nose nudges down, takes a moment to assess before springing upward to look about the camp, "Dawnglare! Someone get'em now!"
This didn't cross him as just a normal cold, she was almost delirious and the only thing he can think of is the horrifying lurch and fall, blood clogged nose of Wisteriapaw convulsing on his den floor back in WindClan; he hadn't been able to help then and he realized he'd not be able to help now either...
​

 

[Fireflyglow]

Cacophony of noises, all merging into one as panic sets in. Charcoal ears twitch in alarm as he lifts his head from a marigold, nose wet as he sniffs the air. Dandelionwish's voice is the first to call for the high priest, but it is Fireflypaw who arrives first in a hurry, sniffing at Tallulahwing's neck in confusion. "W-We can take it off, Tallulahwing. Hold on." Firefly murmured softly, nose sniffing at the femme momentarily as Dandelionwish unravels the ribbon from around her neck. But nonetheless, Fireflypaw's soon head lifts from the suffering femme to turn to the herb-smelling den once more. Dawnglare would be able to help more; he'd listen carefully, smell intensely.. So he could learn from this situation. To help Tallulahwing, his clanmates. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. "It'll be okay, it'll be okay.."​

SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE ✦ 12 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS​

 

[QUILLSTRIKE]

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

---

Quill was basically experiencing all of the 'C's' as they watched Tallulahwing faceplant on the way to the warriors den; confusion, curiosity, concern, caution. He rose to his paws without thinking about it, intending to make his way over when he noticed the look in her eyes- how glazed over they were and how her breaths came in shallow gasps for air that didn't seem as if they were doing enough.

Was she sick? Poisoned?

As the healers -current and otherwise- rushed to help, the chimera remained where he was off to the side, observing with blank mismatched eyes. There was nothing he could do for her if either were the case.

"Do you need help moving her?" he called over to the pair fussing over the delirious warrior, and he couldn't help but find himself hoping that the stars favored Tallulahwing enough to recover from whatever this was- the clan had lost enough as of late.

​

---

skyclan - male - 16 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.

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

Get Dawnglare, came a yell- Dandelionwish's voice cutting through the mundane camp-clamour, hardly as cheery as ever. Tallulawing lay grasping on the ground beside him, writhing in pain- and Twitchbolt was soon on his feet, eyes moon-wide with worry. She sounded- sounded odd, uncomfortable, distressed. And as the medicine cat apprentice made his way over to her too, the bicolour tom knew that Dawnglare couldn't be far behind- but the urgency of it, the suddenness, it pushed his voice out in a shrill, concerned call for the medicine cat. "Dawnglare!" Right into the mouth of the den he yelled, afraid, afraid, afraid, vision immediately fixing over to the torbie.

Quillstrike, too- there, reliable as ever, offering his aid. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he called to the rest of the camp- the warriors who were beginning to rear their heads in concern and curiosity. "Don't crowd her!" he called to the onlookers, a command as serious as it could sound amongst the wobble of his worry. It was more important than anything to give Dawnglare a clear path, to avoid distressing Tallulahwing further- he stood protecting the outskirts, watching on. Untalented in healing, he could do nothing more but hope, and convince himself it would be alright. Not another one.​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

He'd have to have lost his ears, to not be able to hear the clan's clamor. It is not precisely out of the ordinary, he thinks. Things ghastly to an average house - kept pet could be everyday nonsense within a clan; and– he believes SkyClan's nonsense to be a special breed. A velvet ear strains; he thinks he hears a cry for him– knows, when Twitchbolt is shrieking down his den as Dawnglare is already picking up to his feet. The Medicine Cat eyes him critically, but follows anywho, cobweb wrapped around a paw in anticipation of a wound; innumerable flesh - cuts Clan cats seemed eager to welcome.

But there is no blood. A kittypet– Tallulahsomething is crumpled on the floor. He has no time to recoil at the sight of WindClan. Tallulah's poor darling ribbon has been cut from her throat. His fool of an apprentice sits near by, and Dawnglare attempts not to urge them away. Sickness rolls off the kittypet in waves. And in greenleaf– well, it is not impossible by any stretch of the word. " Listen to this one, " he says, muzzle jerking toward the twitching thing. Though his concern was a matter of contagion. " Fireflypaw, bring me... " Dawnglare licks his lips, uncertainty holding back the word. " ...perhaps catmint, " He says with a frown. Though they have not had a formal lesson on it yet, he ought to remember it from WindClan's attack, not so long ago...

Whitecough is the most initial of his thoughts. It could affect breathing, fever... " How do you feel, Tallulah? " He has never quite seen it incapacitate someone so severely, though. A look into her eyes provides him with a foggy picture, and the fur along his neck rises, discomforted.

" Something is wrong, " It is something he's never seen, and his mind cannot work quickly enough to pull something from it. Pale pawsteps carry him a few paces backward, looking out for Fireflypaw's return. To move her may be better in the long run, but... " All of you, away from her. "

OOC 𓆩♡𓆪 7.18.2023 𝘚𝘠𝘕𝘖𝘋𝘐𝘊 𝘚𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘖𝘕 𝘛𝘖 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘖𝘜𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘏𝘐𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎

• OOC: —

• 

• ( 𝙒𝙃𝙔'𝘿 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝘼𝙆𝙀 𝙎𝙊 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂? ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
  —— He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
  —— Currently 54 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.
  

  Currently in an era of questioning; upset and uncomfortable by things he should not be.​

  Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads

​

 

[Fireflyglow]

Twitchbolt's orders is to not crowd her, and Fireflypaw nods his agreement with the tom. They didn't need cats crowding the she-cat and making things worse, or even worse.. Listen to this one, The high priest appears, and Fireflypaw's face jerks towards his direction as ears point upwards. Listen, listen. His ear presses to the molly's form, flicking momentarily. "Breathing is troubling.." He hums aloud, standing when the white-pawed tom orders him to go find some catmint. Almost all too obediently, Fireflypaw moves to enter the medicine den once more- the sound of loud ruffling in the back of it being the only noise found.

"Catmint, catmint...." He mumbles to himself, finally spotting the scent of minty goodness. He grasps two leaves between his jaws, making his way over to the high priest once more. Something is wrong, Dawnglare states, and Fireflypaw's eyes widen as thoughts sink in. These symptoms.. "You don't think...?" Fireflypaw meows softly to his mentor, setting the leaves down on the grass to look over at Tallulahwing. Was she sick with something? Was this worse than what he had, all those moons ago?

"She's warm, Dawnglare. Should we treat her for fever, too?" He asks carefully, tail-tip twitching. "I can move her. Let me move her." He turns towards the taller tom, determination on his face.​

SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE ✦ 12 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS​

 

[TALLULAHWING]

Tallulahwing is no longer aware of whose paws are helping her, whose voice is calling for help. She can see—but nothing makes sense. The cats in camp around her are strangers with familiar faces, voices she’s used to and once trusted or loved or disliked. The torbie gasps at the feeling of her ribbon being taken away, forgetting she’d asked for it to be removed. “My… housefolk,” she croaks. Why is her throat so stiff? Why does it hurt?

How long has she been this way? How many days has Tallulahwing brushed her health aside in the pursuit of appearing helpful, or serving her Clan just as a traditional warrior would? How long as Tallulahwing been carrying this awful illness inside of her, no symptoms treated, all of them building into this awful crescendo?

She’s dimly aware of the medicine cats. Catmint is pushed into her face. She recognizes it by its tantalizing scent, but not even that is enough to make her want to chew the leaves. They talk about moving her—and it will take power to do so, because she’s no longer sure she can get back on her feet by herself.
​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[Aspenpaw]

This was something new to Aspenkit, illness of this degree. He had seen cats get ill before of course, there was always someone getting sick with small sniffles after it rained or sometimes he saw an apprentice complain of their stomach hurting due to eating food to quickly, but this? A warrior being so sick they hiss and gather cats around them, Twitchbolt yelling for others to not crowd around her and Dawnglare and Fireflypaw scrambling to figure out what was going on - to treat Tallulahwing - it caused the usually talkative tom to be silent. If not stopped, Aspenkit would scoot close to Twitchbolt, glued to the older tom's leg unless he were to be pushed away or taken by another. He didn't want to not know what was going on, but at the same time he wished he had stayed in the nursery that morning.​

​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

To his irritation (and mild– moderate– growing concern) his question remains unanswered. Instead, she croaks nonsense words about her housefolk. Certainly, through their inane ways– magic of which he could never dream of wrapping his mind around– she would be more adeptly taken care of than anything achievable through herb. But oh, what a gamble that she would prevail for so long. Her state leaves the both of them uneasy, and truly, he loathes to put any inch of himself close to her. To a mouth that oozed germs... perhaps worse than any cough he has ever seen passed between souls. Dawnglare is paralyized for a moment, eyes wide as fear of sickness puts him in a vice grip.

Something– something– He had to do something. She would collapse further into her madness until there is nothing more to fall apart. He thinks such a thing sounds worth it, if it could keep others from falling victim the same way. It's simple; for the greater good he thinks. He certainly does.

" Fine! " he snaps at his apprentice, and really he does not mean too; but he is drowning in a sea of existential fear that his mew has sharply pulled him out of. The medicine cat lets his eyes rest. The patter of his paws sounds restlessly against the ground. " Fine, I mean. Fine, " he repeats, more subdued. There's a tired crease to his eyes. " I will need assistance in moving her. As quickly as you possibly can. " Feverfew... perhaps honey, was her throat sore? It would sure be wonderous if she could find it in herself to say anything of the note. Irritation is continuously squashed by the fear of sickness. Restless paws– blue moons momentarily flicker toward the kit huddled nearby, then up again at them all.

" If any of you start feeling unwell... come see me immediately, please. " His eyes trail uneasily, before he is shuffling back toward his den. Perhaps Mallowlark should sleep elsewhere, for the night...

OOC 𓆩♡𓆪 7.18.2023 𝘚𝘠𝘕𝘖𝘋𝘐𝘊 𝘚𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘖𝘕 𝘛𝘖 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘖𝘜𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘏𝘐𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎

• OOC: out!

• 

• ( 𝙒𝙃𝙔'𝘿 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝘼𝙆𝙀 𝙎𝙊 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂? ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
  —— He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
  —— Currently 54 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.
  

  Currently in an era of questioning; upset and uncomfortable by things he should not be.​

  Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads

​

 

[FIGFEATHER]

FIGFEATHER ♀​ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥​

Figfeather had only just returned to camp with a plump robin to deposit into the fresh-kill pile when Tallulahwing began to stumble. When cats began to crowd around her for help and panic spread across camp in the matter of heartbeats. The marmalade warrior looks on with confusion, uncertain on what was happening and unknowing the attention was even on her mentor. Yet cats are at her side, Dawnglare is present and Fireflypaw begins to race in to aid. Cautiously hobbling forward to investigate, she shockingly listens to Twitchbolt’s commands as her eyes widen in horror. Her mentor, one of the strongest and resilient cats she knows, seemed weak and distant. She heard talk of fever, of catmint, a shiver runs down her spine. ”What- what’s wrong with her?!” Figfeather demands, her voice high-pitched and distressed. She looks on helplessly as cats try to help the tortoiseshell to the medicine cats den.