Doctor Worm | triage and wounded check-in

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

Snakeblink feels bruised all over, like he's been physically battered by the river. He's soaked to the bone, still shaking a little from exertion and adrenalin, too keyed-up to feel the cold or the watered-down blood slowly trickling from his face. He wants to lie down and sleep for a thousand years; perhaps at the bottom of the river, since it wants to swallow him whole so badly.

But there's no time. There's still too much to do — too many left to be found and brought back to safety, alive or dead.

They all make for a sorry sight, although Beefang's assigned missions have turned their sad procession to the beech copse into a kicked-hive of activity as cats hurry back and forth with bundles of moss or fresh-caught prey. Many of them sustained injuries in their attempts at helping others through the flood; others were not so fortunate as to get off so lightly. Moonbeam has her work cut out for her. And with their herb stores so depleted, most if not all of them washed away…

There is no fixing this. But maybe they can wrestle some sense of order from the chaos.

(His mind screams with fear with nowhere to go, anger with no target, but he cannot, will not, listen. Not as long as there's still work to do.)

Clearing his throat, Snakeblink straightens himself and raises his voice above its habitual hiss: "All those who have been wounded in the evacuation, gather here and state your injuries," he calls, gesturing to a patch of tall grass in the copse that seems comfortable enough to sit on while moss for nests is gathered. He has the crawling, uneasy feeling that he's overstepping, and his eyes seek Moonbeam even as he goes on, "Make yourself known if you cannot move; do not strain yourselves."

A grimmer thought crosses his mind and he inclines his head, continuing in a more somber tone, "We are still missing quite a few of our clanmates. Please come to me if you know of any who— who will not return. We will organize vigils for them." And cross them off the list, lest Ferngill's search parties exhaust themselves looking for cats who now swim with their ancestors.

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely
  • @Moonbeam
    If you have been injured in the flood thread, please make note of your injuries here to make tikki's job easier <3
  • 2h3Dnip.png


    Snakeblink • he / him. 57 ☾, riverclan warrior
    — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
    — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
 
Sparrowkit has not seen her own blood before. She has been alive for three moons and gone successfully uninjured in that short tenure; only today has that changed. But when the river wills her to be hurt, who is she to argue? It is so much bigger than her — multiple infinities stronger than her, than her clanmates. When the river bids her to bleed, Sparrowkit obeys. Oily red tributaries ooze over her forehead and down the side of her neck, staining lilac fur black and black fur blacker.

It's a superficial wound, but Sparrowkit doesn't know that. She hardly knows what superficial means, and how could something be just a scrape when she can't keep her balance? And where is her mother? Her siblings? Her father? Who had saved her? The girl wobbles in her seat, nausea creeping up the back of her throat. She can't sit up straight, which distresses her — she'd like to maintain some amount of composure, just to prove to herself that she'd made it unafraid, but... it's not true. Can't be true. She had been afraid, and she still is.

Snakeblink speaks and Sparrowkit tries her hardest to listen. Her efforts are in vain. She cannot focus enough on his speech to understand his instruction; it is all she can do to lay on the sandy floor of the beech copse, blood trickling into a small pool, fighting the nausea that threatens her. "Claythorn...." It comes feebly. Sparrowkit closes her honeyed eyes, hoping her mother would come to comfort her soon.
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  • ooc. superficial but bloody injury to the head & a mild concussion, plus she has aspirated a small but not insignificant amount of water!
  • SPARROWKIT —— kit of riverclan . claythorn x otterbite . littermate to onyxkit and dark-kit, adopted sibling to eelkit and dropletkit ✦ penned by meghan

    a tiny black and lilac tabby chimera with low white and fierce amber eyes. studious, dismissive, and solitary. has a fierce passion for riverclan. if befriended, a friend for life.
    amab trans girl / she her pronouns / 03 moons & ages every 26th
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
    —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. a kitten, she can hardly defend herself, but that will not stop her from picking fights with other kits. will fight until she has no fight left to give, even just for play.

    "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
    full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
 
When Snakeblink looks for Moonbeam's gaze all he sees is appreciation and approval, the events of the day leaving her wordless as it feels as though her mouth is filling with sand. Too preoccupied with what herbs are lost to her now and trying to figure out how she would be able to gather them back if they truly were swept down the river she hadn't thought to gather those injured until the voice of the lead warrior reached her ears and silently she would nod to the other. She allowed her mind to clear the best she could, moving the six bundles of herbs under paw as she watched for cats to come forward, knowing that she would need to be careful with what she used and on who, before the feebled name comes from Sparrowkit and on instinct the medicine cat surges forward, grabbing one of the bundles just in case before looking over the kit.

It is met with relief when Moonbeam realizes that the wound upon the others head is in the end nothing bad, and carefully she'd clean around it until it stopped bleeding, tail wrapping carefully around the other to keep someone near her until Claythorn were to arrive. She'd keep her eye on the other until another cat stepped forward, healing what she could as Sparrowkit showed or spoke of more symptoms.

  • --
  • flesh wounds
    infections
    aches & pains
    ꕥꕥ illness
    ꕥꕥ breathing
    ꕥꕥꕥ traveling
    ꕥꕥꕥ broken bones
    kitting
    ꕥꕥꕥꕥ poisons
  • 85735138_Ng21HDz61WrGyCp.png
    SH white masking cinnamon torbie w/orange eyes & small ears
    15 moons old; ages the 17th every month
    homosexual polyromantic ; mated to beefang, crushing on redacted
    currently mentoring none
    "speech", thoughts, attacking
    easy in combat unless in water, focuses on defensive tactics
 
Salmon arrives late to the triage, the gathering amount of injured and half-drowned cats. She arrives late but her entrance is known, heard with the squelching of mud under drenched paws, ragged breathing and the sound of something being dragged. That something is Lichenstar; dragged alongside by her scruff, it does not look pretty, but she has no other option. She is not strong enough at this point in time to carry her on her back, strength weakened by her fight in the river. "We're… here…! Hold on, a little… longer," she whispers to the corpse, a promise… She said she'd bring her home, no matter what, and she intends to keep it. But oh, Stars, how much longer can she walk? She swears her legs are about to give out but she heaves a particularly heavy tug despite her body screaming in protest, up towards Snakeblink, towards Moonbeam- her savior, a shining beacon of light. She just needs to get her leader over there, and once she finally does, she crouches in a somewhat protective manner over her, hunched and distraught.

What if it was all for nothing? What if she had not been fast enough in bringing her home? She swallows hard, trying to push down the bile rising in her throat.

"Lichenstar," she heaves a breath so heavy, shuddering within her chest that it sounds downright painful to onlookers. "Someone help… Lichenstar…" nevermind the exhaustion that plagues her, or the tightness of her own chest, nor the pounding headache from the temporary lack of air… With gritted teeth, she adds on something; begging, for the first time in her life, groveling at the paws of her former apprentice, "Please." eyes shine with tears, something they've been doing more and more lately; shes losing her grip, thats what it must be…


  • dragging lichenstars body to be helped o7 sal is not personally injured aside from being tired
  • 86667490_5KNc6ZeP7LlNaee.png
    salmonshade ʚ♡ɞ salmon
    cis female ʚ♡ɞ she/her ʚ♡ɞ 44 months
    riverclan warrior ʚ♡ɞ mentoring horizonpaw
    chocolate tortie smoke with blue eyes ʚ♡ɞ tall & regal
    "speech, fd9367" ʚ♡ɞ thoughts
    single ʚ♡ɞ lesbian
    smells like freshly cut grass & rain ʚ♡ɞ echoes of greenleaf
    penned by chuff
 

lichenstar-6-24-hs-png.1872

✦˚.✦˚✦˚✦˚ ✧ ˚✧˚✦˚✦.˚✧
  • She had certainly taken her time... At the expense of a sun-dappled heroine, dripping with the fruits of her labor. A thankless husk, stark fur stained by streaks of mud. Conversation binds and tethers, begging for time... that's all anyone ever begs for, isn't it? More time. Even with eight more lives to float through, it wasn't enough...

    A hoarse voice entreats her to remember herself, to make her way back from the star-studded path... and for many moments, she lingers despite that call. Just a moment longer... just one more apologetic smile to an apprentice she missed so dearly. But even she grows impatient... and there can be no more stalling. Stepping back into place, where she was meant to be, the first sense that comes back is the overwhelming sense of touch. Her pelt clings to her skin in knotted tufts, the drip of stray droplets where they cascade down her savior's fur, the feeling of hitching breaths against the thin furs of her ear.

    Sound comes next, in warbling cries, in the shuffling of paws, the request from a tiny kit for her mother- Claythorn. Fear spikes through water-chilled bones, setting muscles to abrupt action as she lifts her head, dizzied by the sudden movement. What words she thinks to piece together whirl around just as dazed, blinking harshly against the swirling colors and vague shapes that filter into view.

    The last.... sight... Salmonshade looms over her like a bear protecting its cub and somewhere a bleary thought says that she's terrifyingly beautiful. Snakeblink lingers in shades of brown, mixing against the backdrop of white that identifies her medicine cat. Did everyone make it then? If she could promise to be the only life lost, she'd take it, greedily and hungrily. Her attention shifts back to sunburst lifeguard, "Salmonshade...." Why was she crying? Lichenstar had lives to spare....

    --
    injuries that remain to be treated: moderate concussion, bruised nose, aspiration ?
  • about

    speech hex code ✧ #6368A5

    ooc notes ✦
    tagging ✶
    penned by tieirlys
  • ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .

    . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦ . . ˚ . ✦ . . ˚ ੈ✧˳·˖✶ ✦ ˚ ✦ . . ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔

    . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦ . . ˚ . ✦
 
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Dropletkit is still in her jaws by the time the flame-wreathed cat arrives, her eyes narrowed and on a limp that she cannot ignore, gait awkward and breathing ragged. It isn't until she is passing Lichenstar and Salmonshade, eyes adverted with heavy guilt that was near sickening, and closest to Sparrowkit that she let her smallest onto the ground. Shoulders curl inward for a moment, then she is ram-rod straight.

Vision lifts first to Moonbeam. She studies the other's gaze, ears twitching for a long moment. ".. Thank you." She murmurs quietly. Thank you. It carries more then just thanks for looking after her daughter- it was a thank you for surviving, for persevering, for staying strong. "My little raindrop, my hatchling- please stay here. I'll be right back." After bidding her young with a task, she is turning then, favoring a paw that was more then likely swelling and heavily bruised.

Claythorn stops before that of her savior- a woman who gave her time, what could have been her life, her lungs to saving Claythorn and the bundle of life in her jaws. Her own mismatched goldens are shrouded with a sadness she cannot begin to describe. Eyes flicker to Salmonshade briefly, because her eyes water, and there is the beginning of understanding there- a close friend, at the least. Claythorn's eyes drop back towards Lichenstar, nose leaning down to press gently to the soaked ear of her leader, a ghost of a touch before she is pulling away.

This is a 'thank you' of another manner. A thank you that bid she'd give her life for that of the many remaining in Lichenstar's body, soul, heart. This is not devotion akin to that of what Hazecloud has given Lichenstar- this is that of a leader, and a follower, a maternal and a filial. It transcends words, only seen in touch and her heavy gaze before she is moving away. Her shoulder brushes Moonbeam's briefly, waiting until the other stepped away so she could take her place wrapped around Sparrowkit and Dropletkit.

"... My paw was crushed, but it's manageable. See to others first." She speaks to the medicine cat- those who have drowned and were fished free deserved herbs, not her. Claythorn's head turned, beginning to catalogue every bump and bruise on her two daughters. Her voice lowers and softens, words just for her young now. "You both did very well. I'm proud you're both here. You're safe."
  • "speech"
  • CLAYTHORN she/her, queen of riverclan, sixteen moons.
    LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
    mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
    mated to otterbite / / mother to dark-kit, onyxkit, sparrowkit, eelkit, dropletkit
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 
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