camp feverish delirium ღ sick

[whitedawn]

The past moon of greenleaf had a temperature higher than ever, at least to one as young as Whitepaw. It was uncomfortably hot and there were very few ways to cool off. Perhaps the heat is why she didn't notice it at first. Whitepaw was never a strong-bodied cat, that much was obvious. But in the last few days, she's felt weaker. Her limbs felt heavier and it took much of her energy to climb out of her nest and start training for the day. Today's early dawn, however, she made little movement to move and seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness. She felt hot, though her thoughts were so muddled it was impossible to tell if that was simply the daily heat. Her ear gave a twitch and she blinked as she realized she was being spoken to. "Wha...?" She murmured in response, barely lifting her head to shake it. She felt more exhausted than normal. "What did you say...?" She murmured a few moments after, seeming quite out of it as her head dropped back on her paws. Why did it feel like every bit of her was on fire?

// bb girl joining the sick crew, most notably has a fever and some delirium traits such as lethargy that has increased over the last few days. She's currently in her nest and has likely not gotten up for the day if you want to be the cat talking to her :foryou: ​

[I'M BREATHING]​

 

[Badgermoon]

The concerned frown on Badgermoon's face deepened at Whitepaw's mumbled response. She seemed completely disoriented, as if the world around her wasn't quite making sense anymore. "I said, are you feeling any better today?" he repeated as clearly - and gently - as he could, swishing his inky tail. This sickness.."yellow cough", as RiverClan has named it...I don't care for it. There was something especially insidious about it, though perhaps he felt that way just because WindClan had already endured a wave of illness in recent times. It felt unfair for sickness to be striking again, especially as leaf-fall was beginning to creep over the land.

Badgermoon nudged the two things he had brought closer to Whitepaw with one paw, a clump of moss soaked in water and the leg of a rabbit. "Here, you should eat, and have some water..." he mrowed gently. It pained him to see his Clanmates falling ill, even if he wasn't especially close to Whitepaw - the feverish glaze in her pink eyes, untidy state of her snowy fur, and foul odor of sickness made his stomach churn with worry. "Have you spoken to Wolfsong about treatment yet, Whitepaw?"​

 

[milkthorn.]

fast, four hundred on the dash
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

With Dewmist sick, he hadn't been doing a lot of training, unfortunately. It was setting him back. But Venomthroats death, his sisters rejection, he didn't feel like he had to energy to do anything. But his paws itched to do something, just not this early. Blue optics would flicker open as talking began in the den, Badgermoons form over Whitepaw, concern in his voice. Even Milkpaw felt uneasy, worried about the she-cat that he typically avoided due to adderpaws actions which made him feel quite, embarrased.

"She's not been feeling well?" He asked, his brows furrowing. Not an agressive tone, but a genuinely concerned one. It wasn't a good idea for him to get sick, but he was pretty much held up since his mentor was unfortunately.

​

​

thought speech​

 

[Marmotbite.]

♢​♢ THE BEST MISTAKE YOU EVER MADE ♢♢​

---

marmotpaw & 09 moons & female & she/her & windclan tunneler apprentice​

---

Sickness - a death that before she'd joined windclan, she'd once been told by mother and father was an inescapable death. A fox, a badger, a hawk, her fellow cat - those were enemies one could fight off with tooth and claw, that strength of body and mind could save you from. But yellowcough, and all the others, it is only strange plants and sheer luck that lets any escape it's gasp.

Marmotpaw shivers as she overhears badgermoon's words, shuffling herself backwards on anxious paws as though putting distance between them might spare her the same fate. Perhaps it will - perhaps it won't. Sootstar, that mottled queen, her blue one, this white apprentice - one after another, cats she knows and sees each and every day within the camp are succumbing to it before her very eyes, and she can only wait with bated breath to see if they win this battle.

Head shakes for a moment, as though the force of the motion might clear her troubled thoughts - but it doesn't, and instead mismatched gaze only stares on in paranoia as pelt twitches and bristles. She will not let this sickness catch her in it's claws, she wont.

— it sounds so fuckin' beautiful when you say my name ♡

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: —
  tw/cw: —
  
• 
  — a shockingly tiny she-cat with pale blue and cream ticked tabby fur, save for a single patch covering her right eye that is brown instead, and mismatched green-orange eyes. she has heavy scarring along the entirety of her left side, from her face all the way down her chest, belly, and flank; which has been there since kithood. she is a twitchy little thing, known for her bad attitude and an unfortunate habit of biting when startled.
  
  — physically medium && mentally medium
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay not-allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=#9ab973]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

Whitepaw has come down with the illness. Yellow mucus crusts at her button-pink nose, her ribbon-rimmed eyes; her words crust with delirium as though she were padding through a dream even in her waking hours. And she is not the only one to come down with this illness, she knows. Yellowcough, Cicadastar had called it, back in the clearing in fourtrees. Why couldn't the illness have stayed there? Why did it have to follow them all home? And... who would be infected next? She feels almost in a fever herself with her worry, meticulously avoiding the ill cats and ensuring her littermates did the same. What would she do if Luckypaw fell ill? If Badgermoon or Scorchstreak met the same fate? And what about Scorchpaw herself?

Her mind feels like a beehive. Worry drills holes through her skull at the sight of Whitepaw, body limp and hot with ache. That will be you if you hang around this corpse long enough, she thinks, and then feels disgusted by the thought; that will be Badgermoon, and it will be Luckypaw, and it will be Rumblepaw and Frostpaw and Scorchstreak too. Ice nips at Scorchpaw's muzzle. Marmotpaw bristles and steps away; Milkpaw questions the obvious. "Look at her," the girl nearly hisses, "of course she's not feeling well." Pressure builds behind her jaw as if the force of her anxiety would make her throat cave in unless she expelled it into words. Scorchpaw's tail lashes; her bi-colored eyes narrow quietly. "She could die!" she spits, as flames spit embers. "Haven't you heard about yellowcough? She must have it, and it will send her to StarClan if we don't do anything."​

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── "And we will, Scorchpaw," Wolfsong says, drawn by concerned voices and arriving in time to witness Scorchpaw's passionate outburst. He does not chastise her for it, in part because her father is present, but primarily in the interest of...speeding things along. Whitepaw is certainly in terrible condition, and he will not waste any of her time attempting to provide a balm for Scorchpaw and Milkpaw. "Cottonpaw, please prepare Whitepaw a nest," he directs his apprentice, who is generally not far from him, especially as he grows closer to the arrival of his kits. Even now, he feels little more than a massive belly.

"Badgermoon, if you could please escort Whitepaw there. I'm a little too heavy for such things these days." He does not wish to endanger their deputy, but he does not think any can reliably hide from this illness.

@cottonpaw​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 38 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.

medicinal expertise

• 
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..." [tab=med. part ii]— ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."

​

 

[cottonsprig]

Cottonpaw had been trying to ignore Whitepaw's ongoing sniffles. Surely, with someone as star-blessed as the grey feline, no one in her immediate circle would fall ill. She ignores that Sootstar shivers in her nest often mere mouse-lengths from herself. She's unsure if her mother's raging illness has simply unlocked a new fear of hers, or if losing someone close to her has always been a troublesome concept.

Regardless, she follows close to Wolfsong, anticipating the tom needing her for one thing or another. He says it himself after he directs her away - he cannot do too much with that rounded belly of his. The young trainee takes in a breath, trotting back to the medicine den to fix up a soft nest for the albino. She cannot help but look over her shoulder at her friend as the cats ease her to her paws, sadness filling her gaze.​

 

[milkthorn.]

Scorchpaw immediately started scolding him, and he closes his eyes, trying to take a breath to think before he speaks crossly back. "Bagermoon had made it seem like she had been not feeling well for a while." He sighs. "Pardon me for not fully understanding. Of course I've heard of Yellowcough. I'm not stupid." But that statement was not fully without agitation. It laced in his voice. With that he turned and left the den, flicking his tail in irritation.

//out

 

[SNAKEHISS]

It doesn't take much for the young warrior to notice the crowd gathering near the apprentice's den. Nosy as he is, determined to gain as much intel on his clanmates as possible, Snakehiss pricks his ears and hones in his attention without straying too close to the scene. Whitepaw, it appears, has become a victim of the newest sickness overtaking the clans.

He cannot deny the strangeness of someone of his own blood contracting this deathly illness; he has been spared thus far, as have his parents, but Whitepaw? Her earthly form was cursed as it was, with her suffering consequences from roaming in the sunlight for too long and all. It wasn't very surprising that the plague had attached to her like a leech, determined to drain the essence from her until there was nothing left.

"She could die!" Snakehiss overhears the voice of Scorchpaw, obsidian pupils narrowing into slits.

Perhaps StarClan was punishing Whitepaw for her mother's mistake, mating with a detestable and murderous rogue.

With eyes that are seemingly glazed with nothingness, void of emotion, he lets his gaze linger on the feverish she-cat before padding off without a word.

✰ INFO

• 
  
• 

  ✰ SNAKEHISS
  —— he/him; warrior ( moor runner ) of windclan
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— long-limbed black tom with green eyes, a small white chest patch, and a notable bite mark on his right foreleg
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[MOORBLOSSOM]

Clanmates congregated around the pallid apprentice's nest like pellet-starved SkyClan cats, and soon does Moorpaw find herself joining the fray. Whatever was unfolding had attracted a marked amount of attention, and it'd be nothing less than a grave injustice for her to remain oblivious to the source of the excitement. The somber attitude suspended over everybody's heads does not register in her min. Eager paws cause her to clumsily graze Scorchpaw's flank, though no apologetic glance is spared in her direction, for the entirety of her focus lay affixed to the sight before her.

Are her own eyes deceiving her? Had Whitepaw turned any greener, she'd be easily mistaken for a frog!

"She's going to die?!" expels Moorpaw, as Scorchpaw's assertion rebounds recklessly in her mind. Remedial know-how is not a matter she has a firm grasp on; rather, that would be her sister, the alleged virtuoso who stood under Wolfsong's wing. She grudgingly accepts the reality of Cottonpaw's aptitude outshining her own, but it has sullied her impression of her a fair bit. "Is it the SkyClan Cough?" Moorpaw then pries, eyes flitting to her littermate's own. Hope for an answer in the negative begins to simmer deep within. Whitepaw cannot die! It wouldn't be fair to her, or to anyone responsible for hauling her carcass outside of camp!

// retro to symptoms :3​

 

[breezerunner]

Pity fills Breezerunner's mind as he watches Whitepaw's feverish confusion, but he stays back- far away from the stark-white apprentice. He fears what might happen if he contracts the illness. It is not fear for his own safety, but for the safety of his own kin. Mossdust has been stricken by wheezing for many moons, and what he'd attributed long ago to the dirt and dust his brother breathes in the tunnels, he now worries might kill him if he too falls ill. But at the end of the day he supposes that he can be counted among those who are selfish enough to stay far away from his afflicted clanmates.

He draws closer to the crowd by the apprentices' den as hysteria splits the air. "Your thousands of questions are not helping anything," Breezerunner cuts in to reply to Moorpaw, but his voice bears no heat. If Milkpaw can be scolded and run off for questions, so too can the warrior try to shut the apprentice up. Where Wolfsong has quashed Scorchpaw's statements about Whitepaw dying from yellowcough, it seems Moorpaw insists on bringing them back to the surface. "Wolfsong is capable enough," he concludes flatly, and leaves it at that. Quietly, the warrior hopes that Badgermoon and Wolfsong will not recruit him to help with Whitepaw's sick body.
​