DAMN NEAR CAUGHT A FELONY ☼ COTTONSPRIG

[dimmingsun]

Truly, it is rare that he does anything without at least a little bit of foresight and thought — much to some's surprise, he's sure —, but never say never, right?

Dimmingsun has no concrete plan as he enters the shade of the medicine cats' den. The tunnel closes around him, before finally opening up to reveal the blessedly empty den. Wolfsong should be here... but alas — and Celandinepaw and Cottonsprig are presumably off doing something important, while Dimmingsun is merely sniffing around. His heart hammers within his chest, as if he is planning on doing something particularly naughty; in truth, he is just at a loss of what to do.

Slateheart has... not been himself. That much has been obvious for moons now, and when the light finally returned into his eyes, it had been taken the moment Gladefrost breathed out her last breath. Not even fatherhood could restore it. Dimmingsun would not know what it's like, but he can't imagine single parenthood in your future is exciting. Depressing, more like.

Do medicine cats have a cure for heartbreak? Probably not; grief and sadness would scarcely be present in the Clan if magical herbs helped prevent them. Still... Dimmingsun has never been good at being useless. He pokes his nose where it does not belong, literally and figuratively, and wonders if there is some way to go about this- all the while failing to notice the new arrival behind him.

@cottonsprig

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[cottonsprig]

"Careful, there..."

Indeed, she had been elsewhere. Plucking the last blooms of leaf-fall before only the most stubborn of herbs thrived with the frost. If she had lingered any longer, played with the borders and the patrols alongside them, then maybe she'd miss this encounter with Dimmingsun. Perhaps the tricolor tom would've thieved a leaf or two of something pungent and sharp, in hopes of curing whatever he dare not share with the medicine cats. She thinks that the stars must still guide her in some way, for she smiles to him, her eyebrows pinching together with sympathy.

"What you're nosing about will make you vomit if you eat too much of it," Cottonsprig warns him, snow-capped paws carrying herself forward and closer to the tom. She nudges her shoulder against him almost playfully, however she does aim to urge him away from her stores. A piece of her feels protective over them (and now she fully understands Wolfsong's insistence on keeping visitors to a minimum.) She tucks away the last few sprigs of her hunts before turning to him fully, her head cocked to the side.

"What were you lookin' for, anyways?" Her smile is easy, her curiosity casting a broad net over him, scraping information from every minor change in his demeanor.

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

• ooc //

• ❥ MEDICINAL KNOWLEDGE
  ♥♥♡ WOUNDS ; can confidently stop bleeding and mend lacerations. will often request that you keep your injury clean and wait it out first.
  ♥♥♡ INFECTION ; as a side effect of likely her own doing, very dutiful with technique and treatment shortly thereafter.
  ♥♡♡ ACHES & PAINS ; will defer to a dark tunnel and rest. if pain persists, maybe she will offer something.
  ♥♡♡ BROKEN BONES ; has never dealt with a broken bone. likely will ask that you never move. ever again.
  ♥♥♥ TRAVELING HERBS ; learned well from her previous mentor. will pile even too many remedies to tough the wilderness with.
  ♥♥♥ KITTING ; having kittens of her own and helped several others with their litters, she is very well versed with calming techniques and quelling pain.
  ♥♡♡ POISONS ; she knows what they are... but that isn't enough, isn't it?
  ♥♥♡ ILLNESS ; having worked through two yellowcough bouts, she is confident in her remedies. much else... she's operating on trial and error.
  ⸻ cottonsprig is a dutiful and excitable medicine cat. she enjoys company and loves conversation. she'd rather not have too many curious noses snooping around her den... but who is she to quell curiosity?

• 

  ⸻❥ cottonsprig is the primary medicine cat of windclan. a former princess to the moors, she harbors many guilts for her actions throughout her short life. she has no consistent partner, unwilling to commit and settle, and she is training celandinepaw in medicine.

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[dimmingsun]

The voice behind Dimmingsun startles him; the prideful, brave, ruthless warrior of WindClan all but flinches at Cottonsprig's tone, despite the usual warmth in it. It disrupts some of the carefully-organized stacks of herbs, and he tries — in vain — to keep it all in place with two front paws. Despite the size of them, the fragile little things slip and fall between his pawpads... and Dimmingsun feels like a kit who is still wet behind the ears.

"Cottonsprig..." he tries, sheepish. A tongue darts to lick his own lip as his eye darts from Cottonsprig, to the ground, and then the entrance: his only chance of evading this embarrassment, except she stands in the way of his freedom.

It is a trap of his own making.

She does not need to tell him twice to step back. Her presence wills him into order, and the possibility of making himself sick for sniffing at the wrong set of leaves is as good of a lesson as any. He senses the sharp tang of it all still, even as he puts distance between himself and the stores, and watches as Cottonsprig fixes the mess he's made.

And of course, she asks. "I'm... not sure." The admission makes him burn with shame, and his head lowers; it puts him at eye level with her, except he still cannot keep contact with the blues of her pair for longer than a few seconds. "I didn't want to bother you. It sounds silly, I'm sure... you don't have any herbs for improving somebody's mood, do ya?"
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