private for once, just stay ➺ gentlestorm

[doepath ࿔]

She hadn't dared to do more than breathe. Terror lanced through her like nails, anchoring her to the scattered flakes of nesting material that had long since been ruin by torturous nightmare and equally horrifying reality. The dark of this den is splattered in ruby stains, burning brightly against the stark background, against ardent fur that slouches slowly into the floor. It lays with a companion, a natural opposition of swirling obsidian.

The silence that falls over the den is deafening.... nothing more than the tiny hitch of a familiar breath. "Gentlestorm," she whispers, a keening whine that begs for a response. Her ears sit forward, straining to hear an answer... It eludes her that it's the first time she's murmured his name since she'd woken up in his den; the fear of losing him far more imminent, consuming.

Honeyed eyes glance towards the still form of Darkthistle... and though she should feel relief, to know he is dead. To know that the one who so joyously sought her out as a victim would no longer be there to torment her. It tastes like ash... not like victory. A fragile fawn slowly turns to face the slumbering body of her protector, of her healer, another soft bellow, "Gentlestorm please..." He is far too quiet...

It is no shortage of bravery that she summons from the deepest pits of herself, to stagger to her feet, wincing and wheezing against the throbbing that reverberates through tender wounds and weakened muscle. The dragging of stumbling foot-steps that draw her closer, sucking in a heavy breath before crumbling gracelessly beside him. Doe reaches to press her nose against his cheek, the stench of blood overwhelming... drowning out the smell of sap and dew-drops that normally decorate him. "You have to-" her voice stutters, interrupted by a hiccupped sob, "Wake up."

Gingerly she leans her ear against the hollow of his ribs, squeezing her eyes shut to listen for his heart beat, for the tell-tale whisper of his lungs still rising and falling. It's still there.... frighteningly soft. "I'm sorry," the pale she-cat whimpers, trying to tuck her muzzle under his chin, nosing at it to lift it, to try to inspire some wakefulness, "I'm so sorry... Please don't leave me here..."

@GENTLESTORM​

 

[GENTLESTORM]

༄.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — Everything's gone dark after his eyes had fluttered shut from the loss of blood and having used all of his strength to remove the vermin from his den, he feels as if he swims through tar as he tries to figure out if he's still alive or has died. Gentlestorm tries to find the stars that would come down to greet him and guide him to Silverpelt so that he may be reunited with all of his friends and loved ones, how they would embrace him and they'd take away the pain that crashes onto his body like relentless waves. The silvery tom would've been kissed by the starlight and fall into the arms of his best friend to apologize for not keeping his promise, his body would violently shake from his sobs... But there's no starlight as he swims in the darkness of his mind as he remains unconscious, he feels as if there isn't an end to it and fears that he may sink further until he completely drowns. Don't let me drown... help me... help...

There's a sudden light that appears accompanied by a quiet voice as and sorrow laces around the words, it makes his throat tighten as he tries to shoulder his way towards the comforting light. "Gentlestorm please..." The beam flickering with every word that slips from it and he extends a paw out hoping that it's enough to get out of nearly drowning, a ragged breath leaving his jaws, and he reaches once more in a desperate attempt to not die. It reminds him of the same voice that told him to get up while Darkthistle's jaws were fastened onto his throat but its different... The voice sounds a lot closer to the other one. The dark swallows him once more and for a heartbeat, he sees the starlight along with several silver pelted cats as they all stare at him for what feels like an eternity.

"I'm so sorry... Please don't leave me here..."

He surfaces once more and his eyes snap open at the feeling of someone tucking their muzzle under his chin, a shaky breath leaving his jaws as his eyes try adjusting to the dark of the medicine den and his nose already feeling overwhelmed by the smell of copper. Gentlestorm's disoriented as his breathing quickens and he panics, the large tom gulping at the air greedily as he tries to lift his head but his tense muscles scream in agony at any movement. The stilled form of Darkthistle causes his stomach to twist with disgust as bile threatens to slip from his jaws but he tries to focus on the figure next to him.

The bloodied medicine cat catches a glimpse or two of fawn-like fur and his muscles lose all their tension, Gentlestorm letting out another ragged breath as he finally feels himself calming down. The pain that he feels doesn't subside and he grimaces at the feeling of his pelt being crusted with dry blood but he doesn't think about that in the moment, he pulls his head away before pressing his nose to Doepath's cheek the best that he could before letting his head rest on the ground once more. He feels pathetic in that moment and he hates that she had to see him in this condition, a part of him wishes to speak but he puts a paw over his jaws.

"I'm... sorry... sweetpea..." His words slow as they slip from his dry throat and his eyes threaten to close once more, "'m... tired..." Gentlestorm doesn't mention the horrible amount of pain that he currently feels, it's unimportant at the given moment and he simply wishes to reassure Doepath that he's okay... That he's alive.

MORNING & EVENING, I FELT LIKE I WAS GRIEVING ᨒᨒᨒ UNTIL I SAID FUCK YOU

• ooc —

• 

  MEDICINE CAT KNOWLEDGE;
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ FLESH WOUNDS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ INFECTIONS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧ ACHES & PAINS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ ILLNESS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧ BREATHING ISSUES
  — ✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ TRAVELING HERBS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ BROKEN BONES
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ KITTING
  — ✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ POISONS
• 
  ✦ a longhaired blue sepia tom w/low white and copper eyes, several scars cover his body from previous fights that he somehow survived
  ✦ gentlestorm is rarely ever a warm individual and friendly to those who he meets, he proceeds with more caution and he's less likely to trust any strangers that come from outside of thunderclan. he tends to be jumpy if suddenly approached or flinches away from swift movement with his claws unsheathed when it occurs, he apologizes for it. his kindness reserved only for those closest to him otherwise anyone else can expect the cold shoulder from the old tom
  ✦ 58 moons old; ages the 27th every month
  ✦ widowed mate of little wolf ; currently interested in no one
  ✦ semi-difficult to befriend/interact with ; quick to strike/attack first if he feels threatened ; peaceful powerplay allowed but proceed with caution
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, attacking

​

 

[doepath ࿔]

Stagnancy, something she once thought a comfort in its lack of change, feels like a tar-pit of dismay. Holding her fixed in one place, drawing in the same grisly scent, muddling through the same tattered scene, waiting with the same baited breath for something to move. Something to change. Stillness that stands as consistency finds the worst times to find a home with her. Why now... Why always this den? There are fleeting glimpses, tiny images of moments shared with hushed giggles and gentle purrs but they are few and far between the drawn out chapters of copper, the taste of blood, the smell of fear.

A wail clings to her maw, waiting just a heartbeat longer, two, for something to shift. No unnecessary tears- it'd only justify the horrible insult of a name she'd been given... by the very same cats that are the cause for those cries. They'd laugh and belittle her... for being stricken by their claws and daring to be hurt by it.

A muffled cry trails through the dried, bloodied tufts of fur, only paused by sudden, feeble stirring that rests against her cheek for a mere moment. "Gentle-" His lips hardly move in their exhausted murmur- she quiets quickly to avoid speaking over such small speech, leaning closer to hear him better. An apology...

Why was he always apologizing...? What had he done but spend all his time and energy trying to help others? With his whole being... his body a battered shield, worn down to splinters over so many beatings. "Shhhh... shshsh..." There's no need for 'I'm sorry'... not when he can hardly catch his breath.

Blearily, she searches the stark silhouettes of his den for a color she might actually recognize. A berry or maybe a leaf of some kind? Something that'd smell familiar, something that clung to her own pelt. Cobwebs for bleeding, right? Where'd he keep them? Would she even be able to find them, half-blind and obscured in darkness? "Tired...."

Panic rises, sharply turning her gaze towards him, "I... I know," she answers softly... her own exhaustion never more than a whisker away. Her head spins, dizzied by the rush of blood, of the overwhelming smell of pain that permeates the walls, sinks into the floors. "I know you are.... Just hold on. Let me... let me help- how do I fix this? How can I fix it?"

Can he even make heads or tails of himself? Did he feel that weird, floating sensation of being far away? "Let me help..." It is more like begging than demanding, uncertain as she is that she can be of use. Who is even meant to hear her... the medicine cat that teeters at the edge of the constellations... or the stars themselves, a keening whine that asks them not to take him yet?​

 

[GENTLESTORM]

༄.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — She tries to quiet him gently so he needn't waste his breath on an apology but he feels that its only right to do so given that she witnessed everything unfold and she had gotten hurt... If he hadn't been a prisoner in his own den for being foolish and speaking out against Skyclaw then maybe he could've saved her, she would be safe just as he promised that things would be better. Another ragged breath leaves his jaws wondering if the fight continues or if they had won but the panic arises once more, Gentlestorm manages another hoarse murmur "S... stay w... with me..." A pathetic plea, he doesn't wish for her to stray towards the mouth of the medicine den where she risks getting hurt once more and he knows that he could not protect her as he wobbles on the line of living or dying. A weak chuckle turns into a cough as his breath rattles once more not moving where he lays helplessly, his gaze half-lidded as he stares up at her "D... don't go... pl... please..." If he were to ascend to the stars, he wishes to spend his final moments near Doepath if she'd allow it as her presence alone brings him comfort and soothes him like the quiet downpour of rain outside of his den on calmer days.

And yet, the former warrior's a stubborn creature who clings onto life refusing to outright die then and there, he didn't want to leave her either. There's still so much he wishes to see, he wants Doepath to reunite with Sunshinespot and for them to be happy, and that would ease his old heart knowing that the child of Rabbitnose and Sunfreckle would keep an eye on her. After the harsh start of her life and introduction into Thunderclan, he wishes to see her succeed and achieve a happier life than his own. His wish. Gentlestorm's claws digging into the earth that he had collasped onto, he fears if he loosens his grip then he'll see starlight and familiar faces lost to him ages ago... That the pitch darkness would swallow him whole once more....

Doepath asks how she could fix it or rather him, Gentlestorm heaves another breath as he swallows trying to push out words from his dry throat "Cob.... cobwebs... a... and... m... marigold... o... orange fl... ower..." The old tom rasps as his earthy toned eyes shift over in the direction to the rock shelf where he kept his herbs and he can only assume that it's not organized anymore due to Darkthistle ripping some of them apart under his claws, it makes whatever blood there is inside of him boil. His attention shifts to the fawn-like molly in front of him and he knows that if she didn't find the right herbs that he would not blame her, the old fool should've taken an apprentice but how was he supposed to know... That Skyclaw enjoyed the taste of blood after killing Blazestar? Perhaps if Howlingstar had come to him sooner with the dream, he could've done something and it would be the stilled body of the chimera in his den instead of Darkthistle.

It's a morbid thought to have towards the kit of Little Wolf yet... her selfishness had brought forth a hateful kitten. Skyclaw's resentment towards his own blood and kittypets... Gentlestorm's mind swims as he tries to think of what else he may need and parts his jaws once more "D... dandelion..." He wouldn't risk poppy seeds for he knows that they induce drowsiness and he'd rather not intake something that could kill him, dandelion would take away the excuriating pain that he felt right now. The corner of his eyes begin to sting as tears form, Gentlestorm let's out another shaky breath wishing he could say so much more to Doepath in that very moment and how dear she is to him. "'m... s... sorry..." He must sound like a broken record to her as he repeats himself but he takes a deep breath, "I... w... wish... that I c... could make it all d... disappear..." But he holds no power here knowing that their fate rests in the paws of Flamewhisker and the rest of Thunderclan.

"This... th... this is the cr... cruel... t... truth of... c... clan life..." It's one that he hates and for a heartbeat, he remembers the peace there was when they were on the mountains despite the growing tensions within the first week or so, Gentlestorm blinks the tears from his eyes as his jaws shut for a moment and another dry chuckle leaves his throat "I... I wish... it would've b... been differ... ent... for you... k... kinder to... y... you..." He stutters on his words as his throat tightens from how dry it feels as a cough makes his entire body shake, he could remember when she had been so much smaller and he recalls telling her about clan life trying to make it seem a lot better or more exciting than the life of a rogue.

"Y... you... de... serve... happiness..." The world. He breathes shakily.

MORNING & EVENING, I FELT LIKE I WAS GRIEVING ᨒᨒᨒ UNTIL I SAID FUCK YOU

• ooc —

• 

  MEDICINE CAT KNOWLEDGE;
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ FLESH WOUNDS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ INFECTIONS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧ ACHES & PAINS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ ILLNESS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧ BREATHING ISSUES
  — ✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ TRAVELING HERBS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ BROKEN BONES
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ KITTING
  — ✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ POISONS
• 
  ✦ a longhaired blue sepia tom w/low white and copper eyes, several scars cover his body from previous fights that he somehow survived
  ✦ gentlestorm is rarely ever a warm individual and friendly to those who he meets, he proceeds with more caution and he's less likely to trust any strangers that come from outside of thunderclan. he tends to be jumpy if suddenly approached or flinches away from swift movement with his claws unsheathed when it occurs, he apologizes for it. his kindness reserved only for those closest to him otherwise anyone else can expect the cold shoulder from the old tom
  ✦ 58 moons old; ages the 27th every month
  ✦ widowed mate of little wolf ; currently interested in no one
  ✦ semi-difficult to befriend/interact with ; quick to strike/attack first if he feels threatened ; peaceful powerplay allowed but proceed with caution
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, attacking

​

 

[doepath ࿔]

Urgency inspires movement, shifting with a pain-drawn grimace to try to get back to her feet- she'd tear this entire den apart to find what she needed. She could just... bring him everything! If he couldn't remember, couldn't answer... she'd just do it all, even if it hurt. It was only fair... to swap pain for pain. Dark paws freeze in place as a rumbling plea glances through her ears, a request for her company... Why was he scared? Her ears swivel towards him again, uncertainty pinching her brows- "It's okay.... It's okay, I'm not leaving," she promises, hunkering down to press her nose gingerly to a blood-stained forehead, "I'm just... gonna look for-"

Cobwebs. A nervous smile pulls at the corners of her lips, nodding to confirm her agreement. She knew that one... at least. Marigold. Were those the flowers she'd picked for him on accident? The same ones plucked as an offering for a nest that now laid in the warrior's den empty and growing stale of the intertwined scents that had made it? Where are you? The she-cat sniffles, eyes stinging with visions of downy fur and a blinding smile. I miss you...

"Okay... okay, okay," Doecry stammers over herself, trying to keep the names straight in her head. The world spins wildly out of balance the moment she stands, nausea forcing a startled inhale of breath. "Eugh...." Wooziness makes her stance unsteady, wobbly for a few moments while squinting at the mess of herbs scattered about the ground. Dandelions.... and webs.. and marigolds. Focus.... Focus....

Her head shakes, dog-like and frustrated, limping with sharp, shallow breaths to sift through the colors that mix wildly through tear-stained vision. Maybe it's dumb luck or moons spent listening to him shuffle around in here or maybe it's StarClan reaching through her paws to keep their servant alive... but her paw ruffles over a fluffy bloom, trail over something equally soft with protruding petals... and it is fortune that identifies them as what she needs. Cobwebs are far easier to recognize, for their stickiness and weird sensation under-paw... with the three of them tucked carefully between her teeth, Doe hobbles back to Gentlestorm as he starts rambling another apology.

Stars dance at the corners of her vision, inspired by his pain or maybe just the growing throbbing of her own paw she can't tell and she sits roughly, lacking coordination of clarity. I have... to hurry... Everything gets heavier with every effort expended on helping him and then... then what? Would that sweet blossom stumble upon them both, the corpse that keeps them company, and panic? Would he even know what do beyond sobbing and sifting through what she could gather- figure out how to finish what she started. It's gonna be okay, Orangepaw... Don't be scared.

"You have... to stop," she insists weakly, trying to steady her breath and keep herself present. "This is just... the truth of life." There would be no relief derived from pinning the blame on ThunderClan's very existence, not when it had been the very vessel that had saved her a childhood of fear- fear would be found in all corners of this forest but at least she knew in equal measure what love felt like too. "I've got everything I need... all the kindness I could ask for," she mumbles, trying to peel the cobwebs thinner to cover more of his wounds. Her ears flatten, listening to the finale of his breathless ranting. It shakes her to hear it... and for a moment she can't place why.

No... I'm not sure I do. Droplets make a careful path down towards her chin, plummeting onto pale fur that isn't hers and despite her name, it shocks her. Despite the circumstances that understandably encourage such grief, it alarms her. Not everyone does... I can be okay with not being one of them. It was in her blood maybe.. to be miserable... to bring torment and chaos to anyone that neared. A parting gift from Baying Hound, a skill passed from mother to daughter. A power to harm and hurt and bleed.... "I was already happy..." she whispers, choking back a mournful whimper. She'd had her sisters... Gentlestorm... Howlingstar... even Cobwebtail. She'd had Him- I need you... where are you?

Funny how everything could be ruined in an instant.

"I have them.... what do I do now," she asks softly.​

 

[GENTLESTORM]

༄.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — Gentlestorm wishes that he could push himself to his own paws so that she didn't need to strain herself and it makes frustration grow within him, he should be the one making sure that her wounds are dressed once more or aren't at risk of infection. His claws dig further into the velvet kissed grass as another ragged breath leaves him as she reassures him that she isn't leaving that she'll search for the herbs that he managed to will from his throat despite how tired he feels.

The silvery tom tries to turn his head to watch her wander over to the shelf and frowns noting her wobbly stance, the bloodied healer's claws digs deeper into the flesh of mother earth as if trying to push himself to his paws so she may rest but his body refuses as it lays there limp with exhaustion. Is this how Little Wolf had felt when they eagle tore into her or perhaps Duskbird when the wolf latched its jaws onto them only to shake until bones broke and ceased to work? The damage Darkthistle had inflicted upon him made Skyclaw's own attack on him laughable...

His eyes flutter once then twice and the old tom can swear that he saw small speckles of stardust in the air near his head, a shaky breath slips from his velvet stained jaws as he tries not to close his eyes again in fear that it may be his last. His thoughts feeling thick as he continues to wade through them and his mind wanders to Orangepaw as well as Hopepaw and Coalpaw, he hopes that they don't come inside of the medicine den to see him in ruin once more. He couldn't bare for them to see him in such a state again and the thought alone causes his heart to constrict with a profound sadness.

Doepath returns with the herbs and he offers a wry smile before extending a paw to bring the dandelion closer to him, his body tenses at the sudden feeling of paws being near his wounds but she's careful and he appreciates it. She reassures him that she has everything that she needs and all the kindness that she could've asked for, Gentlestorm wants to believe her and a part of him does but the dark slumped form that "sleeps" in the den near them says otherwise. Skyclaw and his followers are cruel, he can only hope that they all meet their demise and his jaw clenches at the thought of tearing into one of them once more.

These thoughts subside when he feels wet droplets landing onto his fur and dampening it where it lands, Gentlestorm glances up towards her with a small frown pulling at the sides of his mouth and how he wishes that he could pull her into a hug but he cannot for his body refuses to move for anyone let alone himself. "It may seem.... b... leak... but... it... will... get... better... p... pr... promise..." His eyelids begin to feel heavy once more as he stares at the grass around him and then to the dandelion that he had drawn closer. In his mind, he's already made it up that if Skyclaw and the rest of his followers cease to exist and everything returns to somewhat normalcy... He would allow Sunshinespot to visit or even stay within the medicine den to keep Doepath company.

"Ch... chew on the... marigold... then... p... pu—" His eyes suddenly shut themselves only to reopen and he finds himself surrounded by starlit pelts as they murmur his name, his throat tightens once more wanting to scream at them to go away, and he forcefully closes his eyes until they part once more to see Doepath standing in front of him, "... put the poultice... on the... w... wounds..." His flank rises and falls despite the way he winces at the pain, his lungs beg for oxygen with each ragged breath he takes, and his brows knit together as he speaks once more "I... ch... chew... on... the... d... dandelion..."

His copper eyes focus on the flourescent bloom for a heartbeat only to glance upwards to Doepath who cries "Y... you..." He swallows despite how dry his throat feels, he would likely try getting up for water on his own once the young warrior finished treating his wounds, and his head tilts only slightly, "Y... you... a... are... the... b... best... to... e... ever... ha... happen t... to... me..." His words are sincere despite the way the world spins and he continues to swim in the thick of his mind, for a moment, his eyes stare up at the stone ceiling as another shaky breath slips from his jaws. "Y... you... sa... saved me... t... today... sweetpea..."

Finally, he allows his hoarse voice a rest as he takes the dandelion into his jaws and begins to chew gingerly so that the pain ebs away from his body so that it passes onto the vibrant bloom itself. Gentlestorm visibly relaxes more due to the pain killer but also the fact that he's near the little fawn that had been taken into Thunderclan and has saved him today. He bids the stars farewell for he would not be joining them today...

MORNING & EVENING, I FELT LIKE I WAS GRIEVING ᨒᨒᨒ UNTIL I SAID FUCK YOU

• ooc —

• 

  MEDICINE CAT KNOWLEDGE;
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ FLESH WOUNDS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ INFECTIONS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧ ACHES & PAINS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ ILLNESS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧ BREATHING ISSUES
  — ✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ TRAVELING HERBS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ BROKEN BONES
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ KITTING
  — ✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ POISONS
• 
  ✦ a longhaired blue sepia tom w/low white and copper eyes, several scars cover his body from previous fights that he somehow survived
  ✦ gentlestorm is rarely ever a warm individual and friendly to those who he meets, he proceeds with more caution and he's less likely to trust any strangers that come from outside of thunderclan. he tends to be jumpy if suddenly approached or flinches away from swift movement with his claws unsheathed when it occurs, he apologizes for it. his kindness reserved only for those closest to him otherwise anyone else can expect the cold shoulder from the old tom
  ✦ 58 moons old; ages the 27th every month
  ✦ widowed mate of little wolf ; currently interested in no one
  ✦ semi-difficult to befriend/interact with ; quick to strike/attack first if he feels threatened ; peaceful powerplay allowed but proceed with caution
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, attacking

​

 

[doepath ࿔]

A measure of 'better' seemed far too vague to be worth clinging to. She hadn't considered herself a pessimist if she'd been asked any other time but the weight of circumstance made it hard to justify joy... or hope... or anything at all that tasted of honeyed goodness. "Promise." Delicately, she reaches to place a bandaged paw on one of his, "I'm not worried," it's a kind lie. One that begs for him to focus on himself.

At least he doesn't circle the drain so closely as to lose all of his focus, all of his ability to provide direction. Without his raspy articulation of instruction, they'd both be doomed... him because he would be blanketed in the loving grip of lost friends and family and her for losing one of the few pillars of comfort and normalcy she had left.

Chew. A command simple enough to be mind-numbing, it doesn't require the energy of thought as she diligently begins her task. It is bitter tasting... and turns into a mushy, earthy paste between her teeth. It is the least of her miseries; it's almost amusing how little the chalky taste matters in comparison to everything else that swirls around them. Caution guides her movements, spreading the poultice over what open wounds she can distinguish against the berry-crimson stains on his pelt. Feather-soft touch layers cobwebs over top, trying not to apply too much pressure, to dig her toes or claws into tender spaces.

Anything to relieve the pain. Anything to keep it from getting worse.

He tenses under her touch at first... and then finally rests. His muscles do not hiss at her like she is the enemy. He does not bristle along his spine like he still fights. Relief settles over her like a weighty blanket... warm and encouraging rest. The fawn molly lets out a long sigh.... feels the heaviness of her own body compound....

In the silence he whispers a confession... Doecry smiles sympathetically down at him, certain it is the flattery of someone who has only narrowly escaped death. That he says it because of the delirium of his wounds rather than sincerity. She's just a feeble fawn... not good for much else than polite company.... and that's okay. If her purpose is just to ease to pain that her presence brings in surplus, to ease the curse of knowing her... that'd have to be enough.

"Y... you... sa... saved me... t... today... sweetpea..."

"It's about time someone did," she murmurs, a dry, pained laugh escaping her, "Stars know you never think... to save yourself...." Tucking herself next to him, she squirms to make herself comfortable, wishing she were small enough to just crawl between his outstretched paws and be buried in the comfort of his grip. "We're okay...."

It isn't something she's certain of; just a dream clung to with desperation as the blood-boiling adrenaline drains, sapping what strength it had offered and leaving her unfathomably tired. No rest yet... not while the screams of battle rage just outside... she'd need to stay awake just a bit longer.... Even though her eyes burn at their edges, she'd just need to stay alert. Gentlestorm needed the rest more...

"Sweet dreams," Hopefully they would find him easily... coaxed to a sleep of recovery. And with any luck.... a happier ThunderClan would be on the other side of it.​