sensitive topics i'll feel better when my headaches go away ♱ nightmares

[CARDINALPAW]

༺♱༻

content warnings for death & grief

He had seen nothing at all, except for his father's limp body, soaked in river water and herbs woven delicately into his dark fur by deft paws. He had looked relatively peaceful, then, eyes closed as if he had merely been sleeping, as though he and his siblings and his mother could curl up beside him and feel his warmth as the cold season began to fade away, enjoying his company. Cardinalpaw had known the truth, of course; that if touched, he would have been cold, cold as the night where he now appeared above their heads as a member of Starclan, shining among the inumberable warriors that had come before them.

But it did not matter, because the mind was creative. His attitude had changed, and there was less to distract him because of it; he had become colder, more distant, no longer watching other cats for the sake of correcting them or enjoying the company of others (although he'd be hard-pressed to admit such a thing in the first place), his snark becoming more of a genuine bitterness, a bite to his words that had not existed before the same way that it did now. Even though he was hardly an apprentice, he had already begun to launch himself into any sort of tasks that he could be completing as a way to keep his mind distracted. Unfortunately, when the sun went down and the activity in the camp decreased, and he had to return to his nest, there was nothing to keep his mind focused elsewhere. Even if he attempted to occupy himself with thinking of stories, or games, or any other number of things, once sleep came to him, there was no hope. Flashes of red. Looks of horror. Screams of pain. Tearing, shredding, and furious biting. Barking and the hum of heavy paws in his ears. His own small paws reaching out, and out, and out, but never close enough.

It was not the first night that he was plagued by nightmares, and it would not be the last. With the way he cries out in his sleep, grasping his paws out, writhing in his nest, it would be hard not to disturb the other apprentices. As soon as he wakes up, black fur standing on end, grief and terror clouding his eyes, he immediately gets up from his nest, rushing out of the apprentices' den to try to catch his breath, heart still pounding in his chest from the adrenaline that had arisen from a situation that had never really happened. The cold night air almost burns as it enters his lungs, but it could not possibly hurt worse than the things that he had been forced to see over and over again. Carefully, he moves away from the den, trying to find a quiet place to sit, hoping to blend in with the shadows.
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"speech"​

 

[antlerbreeze]

Antlerpaw was loathe to admit she had her own nightmares- there was plenty of apprentices that did these days, plagued by rogues, or yellowcough, or the wolves, or the deer, or- or, or, or. Her own personal flavor of hell was the flash of her mother's claws seeking her eyes, like Doepaw. Antlerpaw had spoken out of turn. Afraid to speak now, she kept her tongue tied and head down, turned away from any mess that she could see growing. Maybe she'd grow out of it. Maybe she wouldn't.

She didn't know, and didn't want to find out. Sinking into this pure silence was bliss sometimes- the hustle and bustle of camp grew too much. It was no lie that Batwing's young had been affected harshly. Bravepaw had grown quiet, searching after her sister for comfort. Cardinalpaw, on the other hand... he was having nightmares now, too. Golden eyes blinked open, blearily, as the apprentice pushed to his feet and exited the den. He looked almost akin to a wraith, the way his fur stuck up and his eyes were wide, with what little moonlight she could see reflecting off of them.

Antlerpaw found herself pushing to her paws, silently slipping out of the den after him, leaving Doepaw's and Fallowpaw's side in sleep. She almost loses him, briefly looking around. She felt foolish, all of a sudden, trying to come out here and help Cardinalpaw. What would she even say? Sorry your dad died. I have nightmares sometimes. Golden eyes blinked with recognition as she caught the whites of the eyes of the other apprentice. She lowered her head, hopefully showing she meant no harm as she approached.

Murmured words were terrifyingly soft. "I.. couldn't sleep either. Saw you leaving the den- um... if you want.. company, I can stay. It's okay if not. I'll find another corner of camp." Antlerpaw asked, slowly perking her ears as she listened for the answer.

✧ ° . ♦ . ° ✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
  "yuh"
• 

  ANTLERPAW — SHE/HER ･ 7 MOONS ･ APP. & THUNDERCLAN ･ PENNED BY DALLAS

  a small, lh cinnamon lynx sepia still small, with a brown patterned pelt and bright orange-gold eyes. looks naive.

 

[CARDINALPAW]

༺♱༻

It should've been expected that at least one apprentice would've followed him, given his thrashing, but he still just about jumps out of his skin when he sees the shape of Antlerpaw approaching, moonlight catching cinnamon fur. Although he should've noticed her, should've seen her, it was no doubt the terror from the nightmare he'd been pulled out of was still present at the front of his mind, fur still standing on end as it had when he'd left the den initially, round orange eyes one of the only clues that he was a cat and not a shadow at all.

It is his first instinct to be embarrassed. Ashamed. Of course everyone had known what had happened - everyone had heard that Batwing had died, and everyone had heard his shrieking, and there wasn't much doubt in his mind that many of the other apprentices, and likely warriors as well, were aware of the rough time that he had been having ever since, but at least he was usually able not to at least not show it in front of them, to not make himself a spectacle, expose his weak spots. It was not that he was not grieving, not that his heart didn't ache with a persistent, terrible pain that even time could not heal or that his eyes did not ache from the tears that he had shed - his father should know that he missed him, that he loved him, and he was sure that he did know, wherever he was now. The others, though, did not need to know that. What they did need to know was that he was fine.

Despite the slight remaining tremor in his small body, his muzzle begins to curl into a snarl, eyes narrowing into slits despite how they were clouded with anguish.

A fearful creature backed into a corner will bite.

But Antlerpaw is quiet and gentle, and for now they are alone. Any adrenaline that he had kept from the nightmare slips away suddenly, and he doesn't have the energy to snap, the flicker of anger dying in his throat. Although he's no longer bearing his teeth, his expression is still best described as miserable, whiskers drooping. "Fine," Cardinalpaw murmurs, as if relenting, despite the way she had asked, quiet enough that he could hardly be sure he'd heard her properly. It was the best answer she was going to get out of him for now.

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"speech"​

 

[antlerbreeze]

Fangs- ivory whites glimmered in moonlight. Golden eyes widened further, ears tucking against her head gently. She could recognize that look- Antlerpaw had worn it herself, when she wasn't a paw, before scar tissue had been awarded to her for sharp and disobedient words. Tears had streaked her cheeks then, full of anger and terror and grief. She had watched her sister return, then be chased, nearly killed by their own mother. Cardinalpaw's words are quick to pull her out of a sharp memory, and Antlerpaw's head dipped gently.

Paws ghosted over the ground, settling a comfortable amount of distance away from Cardinalpaw, but close enough that her soft words don't go unheard. She starts with an apology- "I know that... this is supposed a quiet time for you, and I'm sorry." She starts. Even as nervous as she was, her tone is smooth, easy to listen to. Antlerpaw knows that any sudden movements would spook- just like the deer. Golden eyes blinked introspectively at the dirt of the camp ravine, once stained so dark less more a moon ago now.

"... I don't need you to respond." She begins after a few heartbeats of silence. "You're welcome to... ask me to return to the den, as well." Finally, Antlerpaw's eyes shifted towards Cardinalpaw- she wouldn't shrink back from bared fangs or a harsh expression, not yet. "I just didn't want you to be lonely with what you're experiencing." Antlerpaw offered as a kind of explanation. She didn't know Cardinalpaw in any kind of deep way yet- not at all, anyways. At this rate, anyone in camp could walk up and this moment would end, but Antlerpaw needed Cardinalpaw to know that she would be there for him, if he needed her.

"You are... always welcome to wake me, if you want company." Options. She'd always give options, never force them to do anything. She fell quiet then, golden eyes shifting towards the rest of camp again. She inhaled softly- willing her own memories to stay behind a locked door, shut tight with the key hanging on the branches above her nest in the apprentice's den. This wasn't about her right now.

✧ ° . ♦ . ° ✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
  "yuh"
• 

  ANTLERPAW — SHE/HER ･ 7 MOONS ･ APP. & THUNDERCLAN ･ PENNED BY DALLAS

  a small, lh cinnamon lynx sepia still small, with a brown patterned pelt and bright orange-gold eyes. looks naive.

 

[CARDINALPAW]

༺♱༻

For a few long moments, Cardinalpaw has no idea what to say. Although she had followed him out into the camp, quiet except for the sound of frogs and crickets in the night and asked to sit with him, he hadn't expected her to offer him such.. kindness. Even so young, so inexperienced and unversed in the ways that cats could be, doubts swim in his mind - wondering what her intentions were, wondering what on earth it was that he could offer in exchange that she could possibly want. The thought momentarily reignites the fire in him, a spark of anger - after he's lost so much, who is anyone to ask him for more, to hope that there's something that he can give when so many important things have been taken away?

But it's Antlerpaw. He doesn't know her, nor her him, but if she has a motive for this, she hides it extraordinarily well for such a young cat. He needs to pay attention to hear her speak at all, and he can tell how nervous she is, and as far as he knew, it'd be hard to feign - so it must be genuine concern, which brings him back to shame, having not masked his grief well enough, even if the terrors that came in the night were entirely out of his control. Still, his gaze hardens again, jaw set - like the face of an older, more cynical cat, even with the fur on his shoulders still standing on end, small body curled into a crouch. "Why?" He demands, but the way his voice wavers does not help him, "Why are you doing this? You don't have any reason to care, or any reason to want to help me. I don't need to be pitied, if that's what this is about," He spits the word out with disgust, like a bitter leaf he'd been forced to chew. He keeps his eyes fixed on her, a challenge, despite the way that the real venom in his words has long since died due to tiredness and sorrow.

​

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"speech"​