sensitive topics if these scars could speak — dislocated shoulder

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He breathed shakily through his nose, limbs quivering beneath his weight from the strenuous climb, helping not one, but three before his shoulder gave way, tearing the muscle until his vision nearly whitened with agony. His stomach churned, helm pivoting to stare dizzily at the cliff edge, breath shuddering—rapid. Shit. He could feel himself on the edges of unconsciousness, threatening to pull him under once again.

Duskpool willed himself to remain standing despite his shoulder pulsating in white fiery agony. He couldn’t move the limb without aggravating it, even breathing hurt like a bitch. He couldn’t help the pain-tinged snort that escaped, turning awkwardly to stare at his shoulder, bone protruding from the skin, obvious against the wooly fur, and sure as hell didn’t look natural.

The older warrior shifted, staring blankly at the others recovering, half-heartedly wondering if he should speak out, but pulled back at the last second. His flank rose and fell heavily, molten copper crinkling in pain, teeth-gritting to muffle the harsh wheezing, willing the pain to screw off. Damnit.

He was familiar with pain. Hell. Duskpool dealt with a lot of broken bones when he was a youngster, braving on until some upwalker took pity on his ragged form and took him to the vet. No doubt was the reason he was still kickin’ but this made him sick, but he was a stubborn foxheart, feeling the numbness scatter up his neck like ants, white-hot agony shooting down his spine making his tail twitch and curl to rest awkwardly against the terrain.

It wasn’t until his shoulder spasmed did he gasp, molten copper blown wide, unable to hide the pain any longer. His frame curled forward with a shuddered breath, teeth biting into his tongue until it bled, coating his tastebuds in ichor, willing his fur to flatten. He weakly cursed, dark lips curled into a weak, agonizing grin.

/ set after the cliffside thread ​

​

thought speech​

 

[smogstar]

Aching numbness lays hold on all his muscles, having stretched and contorted them in a wholly unfamiliar manner. Alongside it, however, thrums a newfound appreciation for the SkyClan cats in their midst—with respect to how they climbed, not only out of necessity, but habit as well. He has heard tell of them scaling their trees and bounding through the canopy with equal ease. Never in his days has he set paw in the pine groves. As such, the validity of this narrative couldn't be confirmed firsthand. But, he could muster a pretty clear guess, seeing how they made shinning up a cliff face seem like an easy feat.

With a raked posture, Smogmaw overlooks the riffraff scattered about the summit. It goes without saying that the most of them were worn to the core, and the journey itself has come to a meagre standstill as a result. Fatigue served as the main assailant, yet others carried injuries of a more pressing calibre. Just off yonder, one of those who'd helped herald the less experienced writhes in anguish. It isn't readily apparent as to why. As the tom draws near, pacing deliberate and wary, he fails to glimpse any manner of nicks or lacerations in his dark strands. Only when his scrutiny lends attention to the other's limbs does he catch root of the pain.

"Haha, wow," he utters, tone soaked with grim fascination. Duskpool's shoulder spurned the security of its socket. The mere sight defies his grasp on anatomy, and, without a shrivel of shame within him, he cannot tear his gaze away. "That's not supposed'a work like that," Smogmaw appraises, "is it... detached? D'you think it's goin'a fall off?" ​

 

[FERNGILL]

Fernpaw was in pain, but- it wasn't the flaring sort of sting from an injury. It was a dull buzz, like cricket chirps in the morning- a backdrop to every thought. Familiar with that ache, for over-training for the last few moons had inflicted it upon him often enough, Fernpaw knew that it would eventually fade. What he wasn't familiar with was... that. Duskpool was his name, right? Duskpool's shoulder, strangely offset, and tenderly tread upon.

Smogmaw's words went through him like splintering stone, and he recoiled. "It won't," he cried, horrified by the concept. His eye was shot wide as he studied Duskpool's... injury, yes. It was an injury, just... not like the cut on Iciclefang's shoulder, or his carved-through eye. "Will... will it?" Through gritted teeth, he let known his doubts and his concern. He wasn't a medicine cat... what did he know? ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[iciclefang]

◇────────────【☆】★【☆】────────────◇​

XXXXXIciclefang pads up beside the fallen SkyClanner. Snow begins to collect on his back, and his mouth streams blood from where it seems he’s bitten his tongue. She lets out a faint hiss of both annoyance, mingled with concern. “Well, are you two just going to stand around, or are you going to help him up?” Smogmaw’s comment would’ve earned an amused huff from her at any other time, but the SkyClanner looks genuinely hurt. She goes to one side to offer her flank for support, but once she sees what the deputy had been commenting on, she grimaces and backs away. “Nevermind. You shouldn’t try to stand on that.”

XXXXXThe tortoiseshell turns, shivering against a gust of wind so cold it feels edged with teeth. “I’ll go find Magpiepaw. Hopefully he knows what to do for something like this.”

─────────​

mca tag, @Magpiepaw
​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He leveled the ShadowClan deputy a deadpan stare, biting back a snort of sarcasm at the thought. “Funny.” He shifted, willing himself to straighten out, cringing at the white-hot agony running through his bulky frame, shivering. “It won’t fall off, kid.” He grunted, spitting out a wad of ichor, saturating the greyish stone.

Duskpool felt his gut churn, threatening to spill whatever he’d eaten, only able to counteract it with deep, unstable breaths through an open mouth. He watched, perplexed as the bone shifted beneath his fur. “Nothin’ like a broken bone.” He muttered, nostrils flaring.

He watched with a half-hooded optic at Iciclefang’s comment, grunting in acknowledgment. He’d be fine waitin’. The obsidian warrior dealt with enough pain to wait until the apprentice got their bearings, but damn it sure made his skin crawl. ​

​

thought speech​

 

[Magpiepaw]

"I'm here, Iciclefang." He'd heard his name well before he spotted Duskpool and was wandering over, only to pause at the site of the tom's shoulder bulging at the top and forepaw oddly 'loose'. He had no idea how to describe it exactly but it didn't look like anything he'd dealt with before. "Did....did it come out?" Bones could break and be sprained but he had no idea they could just pop apart like that, though given his time examining various prey pieces this shouldn't be surprising. A cat was made of a bunch of bones just stuck together, how they stayed in one piece he had no idea - nor did he know what kept them bound and moving with the cat. But he did know they weren't supposed to look like this.
"Please stay down...let me look." He inches closer, sitting on his hindlegs and waving his paws in a gesture for the SkyClanner to do as he asked and if permitted he'd set about poking and prodding.
​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He leveled the apprentice a deadpan stare, grunting in acknowledgment. He settled, sucking in a rugged breath, but otherwise kept himself from crumpling like a newborn fawn. At the command, Duskpool willed himself to rest against the cool rock digging into blemished skin hidden beneath wooly fur that should have kept him from freezing his whiskers off, but then again, the warrior never had much luck.

Duskpool kept still, watching the other prod at the unnatural angle of his shoulder jutting out from the skin. He wondered if it’d tear, sticking out like half-rotten corpses. He sucked in a pained breath, biting deeper into his tongue, muzzle crinkling. Damnit. He willed himself to keep still, ignoring the white-hot agony running down his frame, clouding his vision until he saw white.

He nearly passed out right there and then, mind slipping until he reeled it in, sucking in deep, painful breaths to soothe his churning stomach. “‘M gonna pass out.” He muttered, half-heartedly, nothing more than a whisper against his dry tongue. Duskpool slipped into unconsciousness, body falling lax against the rough stone. ​

​

thought speech​