DROWNING EYES // scratch

[HARRIERSTRIPE]

//tw for minor eye injury

It feels like claws are slicing across his face as he pads through the moors as wind relentlessly blows. His eyes are narrowed and watery, what had been a blessing and a savior from the humidity was now a curse. Harrierpaw would much rather deal with dry air and the sun burning into his back than this. It made for rabbit-dung hunting, scents were blown around and mixed from everywhich direction. The tunnelers were probably having a heyday with all the rabbits sheltering in their burrows.

Merging away from his patrol, he decides to take shelter in the whipping tall grass and heather patch. After all, it’d be better than dealing with the wind head on, right? His pelt his quickly submerged, only glimpses of his dark fur seen through the switchgrass. For several long moments he thought he had it made, until a stem nearly the size of a cats tail is blown into his face at full force. The gale dies down and carries it out of his face, but not without a burning sensation running through his eye. Wincing, he turns and looks away with a hiss, his left eye rapidly blinking. When the pain subsides his vision his cloudy- but not terrible, and the eye feels more sore with an occasional stabbing pain. Fox-dung… so much for trying to get out of the wind. Maybe tunnelers did have it good?​

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Spoiler: TAGS 🪶 05-18

( primary character / "speech" / ic opinions )​

╰ ჻ 001 GENERAL INFORMATION ,
· HARRIERPAW, male — he / him
╰ ‣ 5 moons . pisces. ages on the 14th
╰ ‣ windclan apprentice . believes in starclan

╰ ჻ 002 VISUALS & AESTHETICS ,
· DOMESTIC FELINE, smells of the earth and dry grass , status — 100%
╰ ‣ blue and brown chimera . average sized WindClanner . yellow eyes

╰ ჻ 003 MENTALITY & MANNERISMS ,
· ESTJ-A ❝ EXECTUTIVE ❞ , Slytherin, Chaotic neutral
╰ ‣ self-reliant, loyal, disciplined, direct, impatient, unsympathetic, judge mental
╰ ‣ finds moderate difficulty in relating to others . can be cruel

╰ ჻ 004 INTERACTIONS & RELATIONSHIPS ,
· WEASELCLAW x SOOTSTAR, brother to Cloudedsky, Moorpaw, Adderpaw, Bluepaw & Cottonpaw
╰ ‣ nephew to Mintshade & Bluepool
╰ ‣ sexuality unknown
╰ ‣ apprentice to Firefang
╰ ‣ okay fighter . okay hunter .
╰ ‣ will start fights . unlikely to flee .
╰ ‣ attack in underline . penned by user @ava.​

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[MOORBLOSSOM]

No longer was there any uncertainty in Moorpaw's mind as to how WindClan had earned its name.

Emerald-touched eyes are confined to a sharp wince for the greater duration of the patrol, bullied into submission by the rabid gales sweeping across the moors. In such haywire conditions, it had become utterly impossible to keep her patrolmates under her scrutiny, let alone engage in hunting—and without so much as a mentor to marshal her along, the inkspill apprentice was doubly disoriented. Her younger brother's withdrawal from the group eluded her notice, and it's only when Mother Nature regains a little self-control that she discovers Harrierpaw's presence was conspicuously absent.

Her white-capped paws root themselves to the ground, and she opts to make use of this moment of respite to sniff out her sibling. To Moorpaw's knowledge, he isn't the sort to just vamoose when the going gets tough. So, where in Sootstar's whiskers could he possibly be?

Strands of soot and russet bridge the divides in a nearby swathe of prairie grass. Then, a hiss sounds from the grass patch, heralding a flick of her tail and a surge of concern. On fleety paces, the she-cat converges on her brother's location and, with paws outstretched, parts the reeds that stood in front of his sorry face. "There you are- Oh no!" she meows, though her gaze flickers to his fresh wound like a bat out of hell. "Your face! It's even uglier than before!" ​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 Wolfsong has found that his thick fur is of use in these great sky-breaths. It has protected him from the worst of projectiles thus far, which might have cut him had his pelt been thinner, and it has been sheer luck that the gales have yet to threaten his face. The same cannot be said for the son of Sootstar and Weaselclaw, whose sister draws his attention when alarm writes itself into her posture. The apprentice's eye has clearly taken a sharp blow, and his own scarred reminder aches faintly in response.

"Are you able to see, Harrierpaw?" He asks, Moorpaw's humorous comment momentarily set aside for concern.
​

 

[Voidwhisker]

It was the roasting of another that drew him out of the hole, poking his head out to look upon Sootstars kits a short distance away. Slinking out of the burrow, he kept himself low to the ground as he went to join them.

This wind was crazy. He had already been blown away once, he didn't want a repeat.

Moorpaws comment was silly, and he hoped Harrierpaw didn't take offense. Voidwhisker made similar jokes after all. But he wouldn't right now.

"Guess even grass can be a pain when the wind rips like this, huh..." He said.

"I'd say it should be fine... I poked my eye on a root once and I still have my eyesight...." He continues. Surely the root was worse than the grass, right? Being harder and more sturdy????​

 

[nightingalecry]

She halts when the others do, ears pinning to her head. Nightingalecry is as much bothered by the more-than-breeze as her fellow felines are, though she doesn't complain about it as much. Her wiry frame affords her to miss a good bit of it, though the winds that clash with her form do more than enough to threaten her footing. If anything, the newly made warrior wishes they could hurry along and get back to their hollow. Maybe it could afford a spot of shelter, if anything at all.

It seems, however, that one of Sootstar's children has been brutally whipped by mother nature herself. The tom hisses from not too far away, and with both Moorpaw and Wolfsong's musings, she can assume what has happened. Mismatched eyes flutter towards Voidwhisker as the tom suggests that all will be fine - something, admittedly, Nightingalecry would never promise. Pessimism remains thick in her bloodstream, unfortunately. "We can - find some water," she speaks, her voice hitching as it does. "Wash it clean. See about it then," she suggests, tall ears still stuck to her skull.​