sensitive topics i'm afraid i'm all out of light || seizure

[loampelt]

It happened again.

Loampelt pushes himself upright. Tries to — his paws don’t cooperate as they should. He’s filled with sand, or his mouth is full of sand, or his thoughts are ants and they’ve all forgotten where the hill is. It happened again: Loampelt knows this, just as he knows it has happened more and more often. If circumstances allow it, Loampelt lets it go unmentioned. He doesn’t like the feeling of after, trying to sort through his many thoughts while the world looks on with confusion and worry.

Poor Loampelt, they must all be thinking, had another fit.

His three paws find their ways beneath him, and normally Loampelt is coming into himself by now. Normally his thoughts are clearing, clearer, the rapid fade of mist under the sun until suddenly the horizonline is visible. His head cranes back; the shadow of the Burnt Sycamore falls over him, and its bare branches pierce into the darkening sky. It happened again, Loampelt thinks, and he doesn't know what his thoughts mean by it until he thinks, again.

Twice, he corrects his thoughts. It happened twice. The space inbetween is half-remembered. He had tried to stand, had tried to field the questions he knew were coming, and then—?

"Eeh-eh-eeee..." Loampelt starts, but his words have never come easy to him and right now his tongue has forgotten all of the ways it is supposed to move. He isn't alone — it would be too simple had he been alone. He could have pretended this never happened, and avoided an unnecessary trip to the medicine den and gone about his night as normal. "Duh-d-duh-d..."

Don't worry! He thinks, exasperated by his own inability, I just need to walk it off. ​

tags ∘ shadowclan warrior ∘ solid black with hazel eyes ∘ curled front foot ∘ 15 moons​

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[BoneFang]

Bonefang was nearby Loampelt, really, he was keeping an eye on the tom. To be considered a friend was very far and in between, but Loampelt was definitely an acquaintance at the very least. But he did not understand social interactions and never really did. He never really would. He lacked that part of his brain of emotions and feelings as one should.

The scarred tom would not rush, but with a hurried and intent movement would come to the dark tom, carefully placing a paw on the form, as he hoped to comfort. "It's okay, Loampelt. Im here," he uttered, his voice empty. "You're alright?" His voice was trying to be confident, but was also unsure.

He did not know what to do in this situation. The medic was busy with sick cats, and he was not sure how to handle what others called his fits, but he could be here for moral support.

His eyes glanced to his apprentice he had been currently training, eyes narrowed and challenging him to make a smart remark. He did not yet know his apprentice, but he hoped that he would not be like that.

//apprentice tag. @batpaw.

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

† Why does this happen? Sharppaw has never understood it. She doesn’t think Starlingheart gets it either, and Magpiepaw certainly wouldn’t have a clue.

For a moment, Sharppaw wonders if he’s sick. Yellowcoughs symptoms are strange; it makes you not think clearly, so he’s heard. Maybe they were wrong to point at SkyClan, when sickness has been lying dormant in Loampelt all this time, showing itself only in surges, sticking around enough to scare them all, and then going beneath, once again.

He never feels feverish though, his thoughts come back fine afterward. Maybe it’s just Loampelt. Loampelt has never been quite right. Maybe it was one of those things that just happens, even though it shouldn't, and none of them would like for it to. There was plenty of that, in ShadowClan.

Sharppaw watches, but she keeps away. What else was she supposed to do, but wait to see if he answers Bonefang's question?

OOC † IN THE MIRROR 08.30.2023

•  
•  

• SHARPPAW: brother to Rookpaw. Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 14 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw is a creature living in constant fear. Most thoughts are irrational, but consistent in that they are borne from pessimism and generalized anxieties.
  — In an era of assessing what has set him back and figuring out what he wants.

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[loampelt]

Loampelt is still working on sorting his limbs into any kind of order as Bonefang speaks, reassures him, as if comfort has ever been something Loampelt has sought, and Loampelt heaves an exaggerated sigh to show how alright he is. Loampelt is fine, he's always fine, he just needs to get his paws to cooperate, and he needs his head to clear. He needs his heart to stop beating twice as fast as it's usual speed, and then he needs it to stop dropping to a sleeping pace.

"I-eeee-uh-uh-uh-uh," I'm fine! When that fails Loampelt nods his head instead in answer to Bonefang's question.

So it's never been quite like this before. Loampelt shoots Sharppaw a curious look and remembers, strangely, that he is at the Burnt Sycamore. He wants to be home, he realizes, and remembers, strangely, that he is not. Even though Sharppaw is here, and even though Bonefang is here — his thoughts lead over one another in a jumble, or they don't track from one to the other. Loampelt has always been a good tracker.

He remembers Bonefang's question: hadn't Bonefang asked him? — and

‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎, a question?‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Loampelt?​

‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ shakes his head hesitantly,
and for however brief a moment his world sloshes like water at the edge of a disturbed pool. It settles, proof that Loampelt's world always settles, even if this time it is taking longer than usual. Loampelt just needs to go back to camp, he just needs to sleep this off, and then he'll wake tomorrow or the day after and he'll be as fine as he'll ever be. ​

tags ∘ shadowclan warrior ∘ solid black with hazel eyes ∘ curled front foot ∘ 15 moons​

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[GRANITEPELT]

tw: severe ableism

What his sister sees in this pathetic creature is beyond him. Loampelt had fallen, seemingly dead to the world; Granitepelt had almost allowed himself to hope when his eyelids had peeled away from sickly yellow eyes, staring into seemingly nothing. He watches from a few foxlengths away, the ghost of a smile smeared across his white muzzle. Bonefang and Sharppaw go to assist him, but what can they do that his beautiful mate cannot?

Nothing, and it’s for the best. Survival of the fittest, he thinks airily. Like Flintkit surviving where others had not.

Granitepelt does not ask Loampelt if he is alright. Of course, he knows the answer—it’s no. He’ll never be alright. He wonders if the black warrior will finally die and leave Siltcloud alone, once and for all.

✧ INFO.

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  — granitekit . granitepaw . granitepelt
  — he/him ; warrior of shadowclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Starlingheart
  — short-haired gray tom with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Meg

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