private He lost a long time ago ✘ Eggpaw

[PRICKLES]

*+:｡.｡ Once, a long time ago, he'd wandered into a twoleg's nest. There were some peculiar plants there. They smelled like plants. They were shaped like plants. They were even green like plants. But when he bit down on one, hungry for anything that wasn't metal or paper, he'd come to find that the texture against his rough, dry tongue had been soft. Soft like the fur he'd slammed his paws down on, untold flesh waiting beneath to rip into had he been quicker with his claws. Like the pelt he'd bitten down on during a tornado of screams and pressure pounding so hard against his heart and ears, he hadn't noticed when a predator had crept up behind him. He'd usually been so good with avoiding foxes and eagles. He'd usually had sharper eyes.

He wished he'd held onto that lamb's ear with all his might instead of letting go. Or maybe, he wished he'd let go sooner. Before he'd tasted that soft fur. Before he tasted a mouthful of his own blood -

Prickles woke up from his strange dream with a choked cry. Jerking his head up, however, resulted in him knocking his skull against the roof of a - pipe, twoleg nest crawlspace, a ledge inside the fishing shack a - a den made of dirt and roots. He blinked, startled when soil rained down on him, not remembering when he'd found a spot in the forest of all places to seek shelter. Fuck - the forest! He whimpered when he tried to get a proper look around, finding the act of swinging his head made one side of it burn. How did he get here? Where was he? Where was the safest way out?

But despite his heavy breaths, arched back, and shaking unsheathed claws, he couldn't bring himself to do more than press tighter against the back of the den - a old fox hole? A concave beneath the roots of an old tree? - as the more bearings he tried to grasp the more his head ached with the effort. But more than that, there was something there - something amid all the chaos - that made some part of him...almost relax. A familiar smell...a...nice smell.

@Eggbounce. // feel free to respond absolutely whenever! No rush since I was late <3 just wanted this out before I forgot to make it again aghhhh

*+:｡.｡ Updated 1/9/23

• 
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  GENERAL:
  ✘ Prickles
  ✘ DMAB— He/They — Bisexual
  ✘ 12 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
  ✘ Member of the red water rogues
  
  COMBAT:
  ✘Physically medium | mentally medium
  ✘ Attack in bold #f35336
  injuries: None currently
  

​

 

[Eggbounce.]

I'M GONNA BE THE SNACK THAT SMILES BACK
I'M GONNA BE THE KIT TO YOUR KAT ​

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eggpaw & 12 moons & male & he/him & skyclan apprentice ​

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Eggpaw is panicking - he is panicking, and he knows he is, but the world is spinning and he can't remember how, exactly, to stop. To breathe. It's the scent of blood that catches his attention, that sickening sinking feeling in his gut as he follows it - expecting to see one of his clanmates hurt. What he finds instead is the bloodied form of a not-so-stranger, a cat he's seen before. Talked to. Got along with quite well, all things considered.

'It looks bad' he thinks - but really, any wound does to him. He is out of his depth, floundering before he's even started. 'Is... he gonna' die?' He's seen death before. Seen yellowcough ravage his clan, eating away at his clanmates as they dropped like flies. Seen it when blazestars body had been hauled back to camp, blood splattered as bobbie carried him home. Had watched his father collapse before his very eyes, so full of life one moment and so still the very next.

He does not want to see it again - not here, not now. Not ever really.

But... how is he supposed to help? Hysteria bubbles up in his throat as he finally moves - Prickles is awake now, and Eggpaw isn't even sure how much time has passed. It could've been a few seconds, or days with how out of it he is, really. " I- I don't - what happened - are you-, " he almost asks is he's okay, but he stops before he can even start. Of course he's not okay - how could he be. " Um - it's me? Eggpaw? Uh - if you... I don't know if you remember... uh... we need to - need to... uh, stop the bleeding. I think. " has it always been so hard to speak? To think?

Eyes are wide as he shuffles around, scrambling for something - anything - to help. Stars, he has no idea what he's doing.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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( I ' M ━ G O N N A ━ B E ━ T HE ━ O N E ━ Y O U ━ U N W R A P )

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[PRICKLES]

*+:｡.｡ Prickles isn't a vain cat, but he's not a fan of noticing himself in his reflection. There's some evil curse behind noticing your protruding ribs and sunken eyes, somehow the sight of it makes your stomach growl just a little louder. He can't remember the last time he hasn't avoided eye contact with his reflection when lapping at a rare clear puddle. And yet, here he is, breaking his streak by staring straight into his own eyes.
Eyes blown so wide with terror it seems the sclera has bled into the iris, turning expectantly green hues into an almost pale blue. He may have thought to question it a bit more, but it was impossible to question - for what other single pair of eyes would match the fluttering of panic in his chest when never in his life had he met a cat as invested in his life as he is. No - only one cat can look so frightened at the prospect of Prickle's death, and that cat can only be Prickles.
So Eggpaw must be his reflection, there's no other possibility!

Although Prickles feels another rush of fear at the realization that he must've lost time again - after all, how else could he have gone from looking around at dirt walls to suddenly staring at a "puddle" that he swears hadn't been there a before - it passes surprisingly quickly. Although his wounds still hurt so bad he almost can't feel his own fur, he feels the panic in his chest...suddenly slacken. Staring at his own frightened eyes is...nice, actually. Because if his eyes are still capable of being so full of fear, then that means they're still so full of life, and that means he isn't dead.
What better news can there be?

Prickles' hackles begin to fall as his shoulders relax, his thoughts dreamily rolling over the concept that he's, in fact, alive even if his proof is not quite correct. It's because of this dizzy state that he doesn't bother to notice his "reflection" doesn't share his pelt color, or size, or even his movements. It's a pretty poor excuse for a reflection as it babbles to his roaring ears his name and helplessness. It's only when Prickles breaches through the fog long enough to realize his "reflection" isn't reflecting his calmed state that the man begins to speak.
"Stop, stop, stop" he mews softly, voice rough with pain and dehydration but still breezy despite everything, "we' alive, aren't we?" He's survived worse, right? Like when he lost his tail, or the many moons he's struggled to fill his tummy or keep his pelt from falling off. It's odd though. Despite the many close calls he's had in his life, never had he spent one...comforting himself Sad, but he swears he's never had a chance like this one. I mean never as a reflection of his inner fears ever felt so real. Maybe he's still asleep? Who cares - all he knows is that when he reaches out a paw an aims to hook it around his "reflection's" shoulder, he finds that "his" fur is the softest he's ever thought possible. Soft and right there. He feels it more in his paw pad than his actual shoulder though, which is weird but...none of the past few hours have been normal now, have they?
Too tired and pained to question anything past this new mission of his to comfort his "panicking self", he begins to drag eggpaw down with him as he plops heavily onto his side. "we're gon' be fine...'is jus' a cut" he mumbles dazedly, his cheeks growing hot with the unmistakable beginnings of a fever. He doesn't care though. Just like when he lost his tail tip, he'll sleep whatever injuries he has off and be fine in a few days to hunt again. Maybe even find Sasha, who knows. In the meantime though all he can focus on is "his" soft fur. Kneading the fluff he swears has always been white instead of red, Prickles begins to fill the cramped space with his purrs. They're ragged, and far too quiet, but the intention to comfort the worried figure before him overtakes any will to stop.
"of...of all the times we gotten hurt this is - this is by far - super nicest" he murmurs, moving a bit back to observe his "reflection's" eyes, curious to see just how bad his eye injury is. Instead, all he sees is baby bird eggs.
"Wuh'...? Now I don' wanna eat you" he observes wondrously. Reaching out a paw, he presses it below "his" eye, and admires the soft fur all around those lovely blue orbs and...Finally, Prickles squints. Pushing through the delirious fog a little harder, he observes the "reflection" before him a little closer. "y'not me?" he seems to have to ask.
Even more important, he asks, "When'd yah stop bein' a puddle?"

*+:｡.｡ Updated 1/9/23

• 
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  GENERAL:
  ✘ Prickles
  ✘ DMAB— He/They — Bisexual
  ✘ 15 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
  ✘ Member of the red water rogues
  
  COMBAT:
  ✘Physically medium | mentally medium
  ✘ Attack in bold #f35336
  injuries: None currently
  

​

 

[Eggbounce.]

I'M GONNA BE THE SNACK THAT SMILES BACK
I'M GONNA BE THE KIT TO YOUR KAT ​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

eggbounce & 12 moons & male & he/him & skyclan warrior ​

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He's honestly terrified - and really, the fact prickles is babbling nonsense really doesn't help, even if it makes him want to laugh (it might be panic he thinks, or maybe hysteria, given how un-funny the whole thing is). Body follows absently as he's tugged, listening mindlessly as the other tom speaks. Paw touches his face, and he doesn't move, carefully stilling as some sort of coherence finally reaches the ginger. " 'm not a puddle - I'm eggpaw, remember? " voice breaks, high pitched and squeaky at the end, and he furiously tries to push down his bubbling emotions.

It hardly works of course, he's never been good at things like that. Paws press moss and grass and whatever else he's bundle up into his makeshift... whatever it is medicine cats use, dabbing at the blood he can see and hoping to the stars this works. For a moment, he considers getting someone - anyone - but... would they really understand? He doesn't think so - remembers how hostile some of his clanmates could eb even to each other, let alone to outsiders. Even if they were willing to give him herbs, help him, what would they ask in return? For him to join?

... shouldn't that be his choice? It's not his fault starclan only gave medicine knowledge to the clans - they should've shared it with everyone, he thinks absently. " You're hurt. Bleeding, " he doesn't think he's ever been so scrambled before, but somehow the words seem to be failing him today. He sniffles quietly, frown crossing his features. It's stupid, how panicked he is over a near stranger, and he can only imagine what a mess he'd be if something ever happened to his family. He tries not to think about it - think about his siblings or his mom laying in a pool of blood. Tries not to remember his fathers body, so warm and yet so still.

Purring permeates the air, but he can't tell who's it is - if its from comfort or stress. It just... is. " I don't... I'm not good at this. I dunno' what to do - we have a cat who does this for us. Two of them - Dawnglare 'n fireflypaw " he says, rambling just a bit, as though saying those names will make any sense to the loner. They probably wont, but it feels nice, saying something - anything - to break this starclan awful silence rattling his mind.

" Your eye is - I don't - does... does it hurt? " he hopes it just looks worse than it is. Head wounds bleed a lot, he thinks - something about nicked ears and such making a mess even when theres barely anything wrong. But that was ears, not eyes - here's probably a difference. Maybe.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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( I ' M ━ G O N N A ━ B E ━ T HE ━ O N E ━ Y O U ━ U N W R A P )

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