camp my ugly organs, how lucky we are ― face reveal

[nettlepaw.]

Days upon days slurred together, as muddled and dim as the same four walls of the burrow he hid in. Out of sight, out of mind ― his bed of moss was wedged into a corner to keep from being underfoot, flattened beneath his hunched weight as he kept his cobweb-wrapped muzzle beneath his paws. Barely moving an inch for hours at a time and often refusing whatever prey he was presented with, he was certain the moss and soil beneath would be permanently imprinted with his small curled-up form, fossilized for eternity. Cats of the future would gawk at the discovery when they unearthed his petrified impression, debating amidst themselves over the how and why of it all. Something he was still struggling to understand.

He found it difficult to believe that so much occurred within a single night ― and only a fraction of said night contained the bulk of its wounding events. Waking up in the suffocating medicine den that morning seemed a lifetime away. Despite the exhaustion that fogged his senses and persisting ache that went down to the bone, Nettlepaw failed to rest as ordered. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins every night, forcing him to stay alert to every sound in the darkness. Another insomniac night left him awake for dawn, a fierce cold leaking into the confines of the den. The cobwebs plastered on his face irritated him to no end; he placed his paw over where he once hoped his eye to have been salvaged. There were no nearby puddles to check. He hadn't gazed upon his own reflection in weeks.

Nettlepaw slumped against the ground even more, his paw dropping to tuck beneath his chest. A glinting light from outside captured his attention, undoubtedly from something reflective. The apprentice gingerly shifted to sit upright, limbs protesting his movement with waves of fuzzy static shooting up his nerves. After shaking out his legs, he slowly staggered to stand, limping toward the entrance of the den. Although careful to avoid bumping into walls like he did the first few days of his recovery, the light from outside, no matter how dimmed by clouds, still brought him to squeeze his remaining eye shut until he could adjust. He stepped out into the icy open, the freezing chill permeating even his dense fluff of a pelt. He identified the glinting surface that lured him outside as a frozen-over puddle by his paws. The icy surface wasn't perfectly reflective, even as he used the fur of his paw to polish its silvery front. He peeled away most of the old cobwebs on his cheeks and snout. Shivering paws braced themselves at the edges of the ice-puddle as he stared down at his smudged face, beginning to tremble more the longer he looked. He didn't even recognize the boy in the reflection ― his fur matted and shaggy, cheeks gaunt and hollow like a skeleton, face slashed and shredded by the rogue's claws. His visible eye was sunken, lifeless. Nettlepaw's breath caught in his throat, though he tried to bite back the strangled little noise that emerged as he viewed his reflection.

Fumbling, he yanked away the bandages concealing where his right eye was, where it should have been, despite being told before to leave the crude bandaging alone. He needed to know. But regret hastily tightened his chest as he studied the gruesome empty socket where his right eye once had been. Nettlepaw recoiled from the frozen puddle almost instantly, pressing his paw to the dried and healed-over socket. His breathing quickened to a frightening degree, appearing in puffs thanks to the frozen air. No, he couldn't panic, not in front of everyone. Was anyone even watching? Of course they were, he could envision the dozens of eyes staring at him in confusion and concern even now. His left eye welled up with fresh tears, the betraying droplets that he couldn't stop from streaking his grimy face. Just as quickly as his eye filmed over, his paw swiped upward to scrub away any dampness before it could be seen. He was being overdramatic, ridiculous. Sniffling to himself, the grey-patched apprentice shuffled closer to the ice-puddle yet again, staring numbly at his new face.​

 

[icebreath]

TAGS — Icepaw's just finished with their daily chores when they catch sight of an apprentice they don't know too well, but whom they've been concerned for nonetheless. Nettlepaw's injuries from the attack had been brutal, or so they'd heard; they weren't in camp when he was brought home for treatment. They've been especially nervous about the moorland's border's since then, particularly those not touching other clans' territories... who knows when the next bloodthirsty rogue might come along? They're incredibly thankful that their tunneling specialization means border patrols aren't often on their schedule, and they have no intention of heading out there alone.

They find themselves staring at Nettlepaw from a distance as he studies his reflection, looking troubled. She can't blame him; his facial scarring must be a lot to take in. She can't see it too well from where she sits, but it's easy to fill in the blanks. Considering they practically have no relationship, a part of her wants to just stay where she is and pretend not to notice him; she doesn't want to make him self-conscious. It'd be the easier route, too; they're not the best conversationalist and probably not such a comforting presence, especially with cats they're not close with. But they'd feel like an ass if they did that, so after a few moments they convince themselves to stand up and approach. "Hey," they mew softly. "How're you feeling...?"
​

 

[Firefang]

Firepaw had always held a admiration for those who wore the trophies of battle on their skin; scars were a triumph to her a impression on the body that told a story of survival. She longed for the day she'd gain her first, it was a rarity among those their age those who hadn't seen the ferocity of battle in it's full extent; she'd still been a kit when the great battle was fought but the scars she held in great esteem were different then the ones that raked across Nettlepaw's battered body. He hadn't fought in battle, he was brutally attacked by a monster who'd snuck up on their lands leaving a boy a gruesome mess for no reason at all. She did not know Nettlepaw well but no cat deserved that, she wanted nothing more then for that rogue to face persecution she never liked seeing others suffer, especially not the weakest among them. It's a wonder to her that he's alive apart of her wondered why the stranger didn't finish him off, if they went to such extremes why just... leave him to bleed? She wasn't there she could never know, she'd only heard about it when he was brought back - she hadn't seen him when he was like that but the way she saw cats leaving the medicine den was enough to tell her it was serious. She doesn't expect to see him out, but she finds him her fur bristling uncomfortably at the sounds he makes at the apprentice who was not much different then her torn and ragged and struck with despair. He was just a little older then her it could've happened to her, to any of them so why why was it this tom out of all them.

Her steps are apprehensive her body hangs low to the ground more so then it usually does, she watches Icepaw ear pricking as the Mollie asks him how he's doing and she too wants to know, wants to be some form of comfort. She couldn't just like walk away and pretend she didn't see him he needed some sorta boost right? ❝Hey umm it doesn't look too bad, it's kinda cool y'know...❞ she meows as she sits down in the snow about a few mouse lengths away she should stop there but she continues anyway ❝At least you're not dead❞ it's meant to be encouraging it was the truth after all but it isn't the right thing to say, it's not made better by her tone of voice.
​

( PLACE ME IN MY CASKET TONIGHT ; BECAUSE IM ALREADY DYING INSIDE )

 

[ELKSKULL]

There is so much turmoil going on. So many issues. Rogues, Riverclan, this whole snow thing. So many problems that he tries his best to attend to but not everything he can look at. Not everything he can doctor and fix. That isn't something he can do and when it comes to those injuries that let out the life of those within the clan he can't do anything for them. Most of the time he stares, he wants to see and he wants to watch. It's interesting but not enough for him to lift a paw and attempt to remotely help. Sometimes he wants to touch but he knows better and the same goes for Nettlepaw. He can't touch the wound and he surely can't help the other. Still he has heard things about what happened and the snowy colored youth is staring at him now. Those blue eyes overly wide as the other rips bandages from their face. Stares into a puddle, recoils, and then stares again. So many emotions flutter around. It's funny. A soft chuckle leaves his throat but it is also one of nervousness.

What's so funny? The circumstances maybe? He doesn't know but he finds himself moving and while others as how he feels or tell him it doesn't look too bad the pale youth merely tilts his head and speaks with a bright tone. "When newleaf comes we can stick flowers in there. It'll look nice." Bright yellow or pale blue, will look lovely on him. Yes. "Hopefully bugs don't crawl in to get to your brain."​

 

[nettlepaw.]

He didn't see Icepaw's hesitant approach nor did he hear her muffled pawsteps across the snow ― even after she spoke, his responding flinch was delayed. His fur puffed out as he startled, finally noticing them on account of glimpsing a sliver of their reflection alongside his sullen own. Nettlepaw shifted uneasily, tilting his seeing side toward the other apprentice as was already a regular habit. "...What?" he asked back, having missed crucial fragments of her questions while distracted. Firepaw's voice, in contrast, doesn't go so easily unheard by him. If he was feeling better, he might have cared to ponder about some symbolic comparison between the two apprentices. Hot and cold, sun and moon, etcetera. Instead, Nettlepaw only allowed his head to droop and his jutting shoulders to sag. At least he wasn't dead, as if that was something to celebrate. "Yeah..." he half-heartedly agreed, blue eye fixating on a patch of snow off to the side. Death at the rogue's claws would have been a mercy to him, finally reuniting with his poor sisters. But pessimism wouldn't fix anything, now would it?

Elkpaw arrived in time to resolve his morose thoughts, bewildering him with the odd suggestions of decorating the sad, half-lidded socket on his right. "I don't think I want another single plant stuck in there. I'm sick of herbs," Nettlepaw abruptly snapped, uncharacteristic irritation bubbling to his mellow surface. Realizing his outburst, he hastily lowered his voice into a hushed apology. "Sorry." Claws nervously gripped the ice he gazed at moments before, and he found himself cornered at all sides by his fellow apprentices. He didn't want to even think about bugs, cringing to himself at the suggestion. "I- the... it's healed over. My eye, I mean. Eye socket." he shakily explained, paw lifting to conceal said socket as he spoke.​

 

[rainpaw]

Rainpaw had heard about Nettlepaw's injuries secondhand, but the story behind them had stuck with her for a while. Another dark spot on WindClan's recent history. It must have been horrifying, to be attacked out of nowhere, with the perpetrator still running free somewhere. The mere thought made her fur bristle and her heart twinge. She didn't know Nettlepaw well enough to ever think of visiting while he was recovering, but when she spotted Icepaw near him, she decided that maybe it was time to at least say hello. Her approach was slow, and Firepaw and Elkpaw beat her to him. She barely stopped herself from throwing Firepaw a curious glance, because she didn't often hear the molly making an attempt to be nice. She was pretty sure that Elkpaw was trying to be nice, too, although his words of comfort were certainly... unconventional. Nettlepaw's outburst in reaction made Rainpaw shuffle back a step, not wanting to crowd him. Maybe coming over at all hadn't been a good idea- it was only then that Rainpaw noticed the discarded bandaging and the frozen puddle at Nettlepaw's paws. It seemed like a personal moment.

Although it wasn't the same, Rainpaw felt like she kind of understood. Her facial scar had been given at the claws of a less formidable opponent, a rabbit, but she remembered how strange it had felt, looking at her reflection after. Her face hadn't felt like it was hers anymore. She had come around to being proud of it, since she had gotten it hunting for her clan, but it had taken time to reach that point. Looking at Nettlepaw, she remembered those old feelings. If she had been just a little less lucky, she would have lost an eye, too. That was the main difference between them. If Nettlepaw had only the scarring, she felt like she would have known what to say, but what to say who someone who now had only half their vision? She had to say something; it would look terrible if she came over, stared at Nettlepaw, and then walked away without a word.

"Yeah, um, I think you're safe from brain-getting bugs," She cursed herself for the bad opener, and continued on, speaking quickly, "You'll get used to looking different, if that's something you're worried about. I mean, I did, after a while. It's probably different for everyone." She gestured with a white-tipped paw toward her own face. "And for what it's worth, I think Firepaw's right. You look cool- like, rugged, in a good way." Rainpaw once again cursed herself, this time for not commenting on anything but his face. She didn't want anyone to talk about nothing but her face- she probably should have gone with striking up a conversation about something like tunneling, but too little, too late. She shut her mouth to prevent any more damage.​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 Wolfsong was little more than a boy when he was dealt the blow that halved his range of vision. By the clans' standards, he would have been a very, very recent apprentice, freshly free of wobbly-limbed toddling. In the same day, he was made an orphan and half-blind, and if it weren't for Sunstride, he doesn't know that he would have survived the many wound-fires lit within and without. In the beginning, it wasn't the scarring flesh so much as his newfound clumsiness that had shamed him. He had to relearn his balance, his perception of depth and general awareness. For a time, he had to work twice as hard to learn how to fight with a visible weakness.

But he is a warrior now, due in no small part to Sunstride.

He will need someone to support him as my Dawn-Bearer did for me. Wolfsong studies the other apprentices who have come to his side with comfort and smiles gently. You can never have too many people who care for you. Glancing at Rainpaw and the scars on her own young features, the warrior moves closer to Nettlepaw.

"Who is your mentor?" He asks curiously. "I lost my eye when I was just under your age. I could offer some advice that I had to learn through bruises and...embarrassing mishaps. Spare you the sleepless nights when you're older." Wolfsong eye is bright and soft simultaneously.
​

 

[Firefang]

Elkpaw like the majority of the apprentices was quite the enigma to Firepaw, he had an odd aura to him and she could never quite place why; it wasn't like he was outright creepy like Mallowlark but the chuckle he makes as he comes to the group of apprentices makes her rethink that assessment. She hadn't spent much time around him not enough to get a clue what he was truly like but she listens as he speaks brow quirked as he offers a suggestion. Flowers in Nettlepaw's eyes hardly seemed appealing she's sure the stems would hurt and she could just leave it as a naïve idea if he didn't go on. She cringes at the thought and she almost wants to snap at him for even speaking such a thing out loud; bugs seriously if she were Nettlepaw she'd never let that empty socket se the light of day again if there was a risk of anything crawling in it. She doubted it would go further in but the very idea of something squirming inside the cavity of her face made her want to gag.

Nettlepaw pipes up finally his voice a somber tune in her ears, there was no proper way to cheer him up was there? She didn't know how, it wasn't like she had any experience of the sort she doubted the others did as well from what she can gather, Icepaw tried but Elkpaw she didn't know what he was trying to do if not gross out the other apprentice further. He certainly succeeded in making her more then grossed out. She watches him for a idle second paws shifting not sure what to do or really say now, maybe just sitting near him was enough? He snapped at Elkpaw at least showing he could feel something other then.... Grief? His words assure her at least she wouldn't be seeing any bugs come crawling out of him which is good to hear she supposes. She can hear Rainpaw padding over before she hears her offering her own words and Firepaw can't help but let out a huff at her. Comparing that lame scar to Nettlepaws? It hardly seemed comparable to her. But with her here she finally pipes back up a half of a smirk on her muzzle at the very least she knows she's right but it doesn't stop her from using her presence here to give Nettlepaw a boost and insult her at the same time! Starclan knew Rainpaw deserved it for always testing her patience. ❝Hey look on the bright side Nettlepaw, least ya didn't get bested by a rabbit like little Rainpaw here!❞ she mraows with a chuckle. Even with Wolfsong here offering far better words then any of them she still doesn't back down from saying what was on her mind, it was in Nettlepaw's best interest she'd argue Rainpaw could handle a little verbal lashing from time to time.

​

( PLACE ME IN MY CASKET TONIGHT ; BECAUSE IM ALREADY DYING INSIDE )

 

[SMOKESTEP]

TAGS — For once the siblings seem in tune. Smokepaw arrives not long after Firepaw, having heard the commotion of Nettlepaw finally leaving the medicine cat's den. They'd been friends before Nettlepaw had fallen victim to that vicious attack, and though Smokepaw had visited him a few times while he was healing, it was difficult to envision where he might go from here. He knew a thing or two about tunneling in spite of an injury- the chill in his paws is enough proof to remind him of the fact every day -but Nettlepaw's injuries had been pretty... severe. Severe enough to keep him in the medicine den for a moon or two at least. Still, when he hears that the other cat is up and about again, he's excited.

Unfortunately the excitement does little to fetter his shock, though his placid expression is nothing out of the ordinary for him as he approaches. "Hey Nettlepaw," Smokepaw greets, trying not to pay too much attention to the obvious scars. He keeps his amber gaze evenly trained on Nettlepaw's blue one, forcing his attention still. He doesn't want to be rude, even though his curiosity may pull his judgement astray. He has an excuse to glance away when Firepaw speaks, then Elkpaw and Rainpaw and the rest, joining the chorus of apprentices trying to comfort their peer. Even Wolfsong arrives, offering to impart some wisdom only he seemed capable of sharing. "I'm glad you're up and about again." It's the best he can do, he supposes.

When Firepaw pipes up again, he finds himself on the same page as his sister. Smokepaw's lips twitch upwards at their corners with amusement at her joke. He casts Rainpaw a sidelong glance, murmurs a "Sorry," but his shoulders still shake just a bit with his silent laughter. Not that he's without scars of his own, but he sort of agreed- getting your licks from a rabbit or a tunnel collapse didn't feel exactly comparable to going through the shredder. In any case, he re-focuses on Nettlepaw, tail flicking behind him. "Since it's, um, all healed up now, maybe we can go hunting again sometime," he suggests, hoping to lighten Nettlepaw's mood. If that was even possible.​

​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

IS IT OVER YET - CAN I OPEN MY EYES?
periwinklepaw | 05 months | demi-boy | he/they | physically easy (pacifist) | mentally easy | attack in bold #ccccff

---

Periwinklepaw has never really considered scars to be something bothersome. In windclan, scars are something utterly common. How could they not be when sootstar tears pieces of you for disobedience and loyalty alike, when creatures like haws and ffoxes and even rabbits are commonplace dangers. Slipping forward on slightly unsteady paw, his leg still stiff from lack of disuse despite being healed, the slim figured boy joins the group unobtrusively. "I th-th-thin-k you were b-brave," he mumbles softly, flashing a shy smile in the other boys direction. He had done no such thing to earn his own - he'd been utterly useless, vulturemask had had to come to his rescue. even dustpaw had been more use than him, and while he loves his friend dearly the thought of either of the toms getting hurt because of him weighed heavily upon his conscience.
​

​

​

​