private look me in my eyes | moonbeam

[brookstorm]

It's been a few days. Some moments are easier than others, which would be a hopeful statement if 'the others' didn't stretch into hours of coughing fits, fatigue, and soreness. Brookstorm prior to her own incident would've seen it fit to commit; at least then, someone in her condition wouldn't exist. They wouldn't be wasting meals or taking space from others. It's another strenuous, wayward thought that'd have her tail nipped if she ever spoke it, she knows. But she feels she knows far more than she wants to.

She finishes with her coughing for the minute, scuffing some dirt over whatever she hacked up this time. Moonbeam is nearby - it's hard to ignore such a luminescent feline in such a dim den - however beyond possible treatments they have hardly spoken. Brookstorm again ruefully thinks of the companions she's never had, all due to her own asocial behavior. Maybe in another world, she and Moonbeam are friends. Maybe in that world, she's just as disastrously stupid, but she has more souls praying for her recovery.

"Moonbeam...?" she speaks, and her voice is soft. Hardly ever as Brookstorm spoken in a whisper, as if her natural tune could tremor mountains. Green eyes fit on the winged scars on the medicine cat's back, and though she is quiet, she is blunt: "Do you think I'll survive this?"

@Moonbeam ​

 

[Moonbeam]

Every day Moonbeam realized more and more that the responsibilities of a medicine cat were ones that she had not been fully prepared for. She wanted what was best for her clanmates, had found recognizing herbs easy even if she did not yet know what all of them did, and though it was slow-going she was learning of the illnesses and ailments that could tear through camp and learning how to heal them. She knew not all things could be healed but it was something she didn't like to think about, didn't like to admit, and hadn't realized would be so hard when she'd accepted the position before.

It was hard not to think about it now, the usually harsher voice of Brookstorm reaching the ivory coated moggie in soft whispers to call out her name. Ears swiveled and head turned and the question that she dread was asked; Do you think I'll survive this?

Maw opened for a moment as words filtered through head before it snapped shut. "I pray that you do." Her answer would come, an honest one yet likely not what the warrior wanted to hear. She'd never seen illness like this before, the only thing similar that flicked through her mind being when Nettlepaw had been younger returning from a day out training in the cold rain before getting chills and that had been an easy fix for the most part, simply licking fur backwards to warm him up for a long period of time and a day of rest. She'd tried this with Brookstorm when she'd first arrived back home, soaking wet from rain and river, and though she woke it seemed like the chills never left. "I don't know what ails your body though, I can help to treat the symptoms the best I can but..." A moment of silence between the two as paws moved in front of her, words clicking into place in her brain once more. "I don't know the cause of the symptoms, so I don't know if there's an herb or something else I could do to treat you overall instead of just the pieces of what's happening."

Honesty. It was what she had always practiced and will continue to do so. If a cat were old enough to be sick they were old enough to know the whole story, there was no point in coating the truth with honey in an attempt to get it down better as it could only cause issues later on. She wasn't going to promise life when there was a chance that it couldn't happen. The medicine cat could only hope that the other got better, even if it meant permanent health issues... but being unable to run as long or needing more sleep than before was better than death.

A STRAWBERRY AVALANCHE ꕥ CRASHED OVER ME

• --
• 
  MEDICINE CAT;
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ FLESH WOUNDS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ INFECTIONS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ ACHES & PAINS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ ILLNESS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ BREATHING ISSUES
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ TRAVELING HERBS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ BROKEN BONES
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ KITTING
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ POISONS
• 
  ꕥ SH white masking cinnamon torbie w/orange eyes & small ears
  ꕥ speaks softly & often found humming
  ꕥ 12 moons old; ages the 17th every month
  ꕥ homosexual homoromantic ; interested in beepaw & redacted
  ꕥ currently mentoring none
  ꕥ easy to befriend/interact with ; hard to anger/upset
  ꕥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ꕥ easy in combat unless in water, focuses on defensive tactics
  ꕥ peaceful powerplay allowed

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