sensitive topics NOW SPELL ANSWER [✦] nightmare

[CICADAFLIGHT]

✦₊ ⊹—— tw: descriptions of drowning.
he's in the river again.

it's night now, though, and camp is deserted, beekit and starlightkit's loud shapes gone from his side. he stands as he did when he first left the willow den, submerged up to his elbows, water lapping peacefully against the tufts of curls that grow along his bony joints. he can't remember how he got here, the water washing away the ache in his jaws and his temples, swishing coolly against his stretched forelegs when he moves them. prying eyes don't find smokethroat (or cicadastar) nearby, but he feels instinctively safe; the water laps pleasantly around him, eases the soreness between his eyes where he'd hit his nose on a rock, empties his head of the crowded feverish thoughts that always nestle there.

he ventures further and finds that the slightest kicks of his lengthy legs permit him to tread water easily, floating above the shallows with the slightly foamy water reaching to just below his throat. he paddles a bit harder, still letting the waves guide him, and finds himself drifting past the guideline of the reeds with barely a concern registering in his head. the water is dark in a good way, sprinkled with the light of the stars above, guiding his way as he makes his way along on the currents, moving faster than he ever had his first time in the water. it's nice, and for some reason, limbs loose and sleepy, he inhales deeply and submerges himself.

it's nice below the water, too, where river plants drift about his face in the blue dark as he weaves along it, close to the surface, surely. and he is, resurfacing with a painless gasp and looking about with bright and almost happy two-toned eyes. he takes another breath and goes below again, eyes open against the pleasant dimness in which the shadows of leaves nod gently in the currents; when he feels the gentle pressure of his lungs he moves to surface again.

he can't.

at first he doesn't believe it, kicking hind legs that suddenly take him nowhere, claws reaching for the surface on long legs. his lungs hurt now, like his chest is splitting in two as he begins to sink, the moon-dappled surface drawing further and further away despite how he thrashes. finally his long muzzle opens as he screams, but only bubbles emerge between pearly fangs, drifting tauntingly towards the air he so desperately needs, water rushing into his mouth, spilling into his lungs as the once-peaceful plants wrap around him as he feels himself hit the river's bottom with the slightest thud, the surface impossibly far away and getting darker and darker. he can feel his breath shredding, his chest tearing itself invisibly into pieces, the plants imprisoning long limbs and the water filling his mouth. the world is growing dark and he's still screaming ....

.... until he awakens, and he's vaguely aware of someone faraway screaming, though it sounds closer and closer until he realizes it's his own lungs releasing breath in great guttural screams that shatter midnight silence. two-toned eyes roll wild in their sockets, long limbs scrabbling for purchase on the moss nest. he pulls himself loose from the tangle of his family's limbs, staggers just outside their den. even as his screams begin to quiet, the memory of the nightmare is dissolving.

I AM GOD (✦) 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑰 𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑬 𝑫𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑶𝒀𝑬𝑫

• ooc: ——
  
• disclaimer: it's important to note that cicadakit is not always in a stable state of mind. his view of the world may not always be accurate to objective reality, which may include seeing things that are not genuinely there, reading motivations or thoughts from actions that are not actually implied, and making assumptions or jumping to conclusions. this is not an attempt at metagaming, powerplaying, or mischaracterization, and is not legitimately true or correct to reality or what your characters actually think or believe.
  
  it will always be noted in the post if he is seeing something that isn't actually there. all opinions & thoughts are ic only and do not reflect my thoughts and opinions as a writer.
• 
  — cicadakit
  — he/him ; kit of riverclan ; 2 ☾s
  — "speech" ; thoughts ; attacks
  — penned by dejavu
  

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[FALLINGLIGHT]

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⸻ Fallinglight wakes with a violent start, all traces of sleep swept away as viciously as claws across the face by a rush of adrenaline. He can't remember his own dream, but doesn't even spare a thought to try as he dodges the nests of fellow warriors in a brisk bid for the exit. The wailing that woke him has quieted, which does little to ease the thud of his heart. If anything, it quickens the pace, and he draws up short from an aborted sprint when he realizes the cause is Cicadakit. It takes him a moment to recognize the spindly shadow as a kid, admittedly, and not a figment of a nightmare. His gaze skips behind him to the den he knows houses Cicadastar and Smokethroat, and the two other tykes they're raising.

As much as his muscles twitch to reach out and comfort him with touch, he restrains himself. His family can do that for him, and they'd be more soothing, anyways, so he settles for speaking gently. "Hey, hey, what's got you out this late, huh? Did you have a bad dream? You're okay, I promise; you've got a whole clan who'll keep you safe. Between you and me, though, I think your dads have got you covered." He swallows and sits, folding his tail across his paws and smiling warmly despite his discomfort. "The rest of us are just the back-up, really." Any moment now, they'll be out of that den and Fallinglight can head back to bed, steadfastly refusing to focus on any familial warmth.
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⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 / / \ \ 𝙿𝙰𝙸𝙽𝚃 𝙰 𝚄𝙽𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴 𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙴𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 / / 07.25.23 \ \ 𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙴

• —ooc:
• — FALLINGLIGHT / / 11 moons old / / amab and uses masculine pronouns; will be startled by the use of any others.
  — warrior of riverclan / / earned warrior name early at 10 moons / / skilled but not experienced / / mentoring [n / a].
  — npc parents / / father died in the great battle and mother left when he was apprenticed / / no contact w / siblings.
  — flirtatious & disastrous bisexual / / fairly indiscriminate (even when he should be) / / closed to long-term romance.
  
  a fairly trim, athletic cream tabby and black chimera with high white. fur is thick and a bit sharp, though tends to soften and curl primarily around his face and tail when wet. eyes are a bright, gleaming blue at home with the river on clear, sunny days. he is rarely without a devil-may-care grin, though despite his daring personality, has yet to accumulate noticeable scarring.
  
• dear shell, don't tell anyone, especially saltsting, but cicadakit nearly scared my last meal right out of me. that kid needs to wear something shiny if i gotta see him in the dark again.

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[SMOKESTAR]

He had not been in the den for the incident, had stepped out for what he thought was only a few moments to get a drink; the weather was unbearably hot lately but perhaps it was him that was just soaking in heat with his dark pelt. Smokethroat's return is announced with a scream, shrill and familiar and his pace is quickened as he hurries back from the riverside to the willow den with a dark pit forming in his stomach in horror; he is not sure what he is prepared for but he sees Cicadakit outside and the looming black and golden figure of Fallinglight nearby and his immediate assumption is unbridled anger at what he at first thought was an attack on his kit. But as he storms over on long limbs, teeth barred, he hears the quietly comforting murmur of words and slows his pace somewhat; clarity overtaking the instincts to defend that had risen broiling to the surface. By the time the dark tom reaches them he has calmed down considerably, more exhausted than angry and head lowering to immediately nudge the long-limbed child in the side in a gesture of quiet affection.
"Why are you up-what happened?" His long orange eye flicks upward to Fallinglight, stares critically at the other for a moment or two before making the final executive decision that he had not done anything and was only passing by.
Smokethroat rises up the roots of the willow to sit himself around his son in silence, tail curling into a protective ring as he awaited patiently for a reply.
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[LAKEMOON]

LAKEMOON — me and the devil, walking side by side.
The wailing that wakes Lakemoon is not only alarming, but haunting.
As the screams travel, Lakemoon is on her paws, quick but careful not to startle her sleeping mate- even if the screams would soon wake the tortoiseshell as well.
A silver flash on the heels of Fallinglight, it takes Lakemoon a moment longer to realize the danger was non-existent, that the source was a kit staggering out of the nursery.
Bounding paws slide to a stop, but her muscles to not relax, not until the wails finally fade to soft hiccups of distress.
Fallinglights approach is soft, whereas Lakemoon gives herself a shake.
Nightmares, the tabby was familiar with them. Where urgency once tensed at her shoulders, the flood of empathy caused a soft breath of relief to relax them. The scarred warrior sits, nodding along with Fallinglights comforts.
"Bad dreams are just tricks, little one. I know that they’re scary, but it’s all make-believe, just like your games." Her voice is not soft, but her tone is low.
Narrow eyes flicker upwards as Smokethroat emerges, demanding to know what was going on.
She does not answer for the kit, a yawn instead stretches at her jaws as the adrenaline finally rests.

"speech"

tags​

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[BEEFANG]

( ) Beekit had been sound asleep with her body curled into a tight ball and her curly tail wrapped around the molly's face shielding it from any potential light that peeked into the willow den. But when the sound of wailing reached her ears, the dark molly's head would jolt upwards with big ears perked forward and the fur along her spine fluffed up and glanced around the den trying to figure out where it had come from. She realizes that Cicadakit is missing and can't help but scramble to her paws, Beekit bolts out with fur still prickling in several directions. Beekit spots her brother but he's not alone, she can feel herself being able to breathe once more and slowly makes her way over to her father and brother.

The sleep had been torn from her almost in the same way that Cicadastar had with his shouting and she shudders briefly at the memory before pressing into Smokethroat's side resting her head on his flank focusing her mismatched gaze on Cicadakit and offered a gentle smile. Beekit didn't want to invade his space, she can only imagine how overwhelmed he must be. She glances over at Lakemoon and Fallinglight listening to the words that offered to her younger sibling about bad dreams being tricks. ​

( KILL EM WITH THE MOJO ; CINEMATIC SLO-MO )

 

[Petalnose]

The screams made her fur rise and before she knew it she rushed over, eyes frantically scanning the area for danger until she saw the calm crowd comforting small Cicadakit who was in distress. Smokethroat was there, not throwing a paw to defend his kit which made her assess that it wasn't a threatening matter.

A small grumble to herself was made at the false wake of blood rush, pounding heart of excitement and worry in one calmed as she drew a couple of licks over her shoulder. Petalnose stood off from the others, making distance and listening to the remarks made. Bad dreams. Nightmares. For once she could relate to a kit. They fell on her nightly, they got so real her body physically moved to add to her terrors. But never had she woke up screaming bloody murder. Now that- that irritated her. Although, she decided not to speak of the matter. These kits were to be treated with more patience, her rank fell under these parents. Parents she deeply respected.

"Yeah... tricks of your mind. Been there done that." She sighed, tricks- more like taunts of your conscience.

Petalnose wondered just what was young Cicadakit so bothered by. What was he dreaming of? "Never get enough of them.." she quietly added in sarcasm, a small mutter directed towards herself. It was odd to relate to a younster for once. Although, as curious as she was- she decided to sit quiet. She didn't want to push Cicadakit into more distress and tears over remembering the scary scene of his conscious. Stars, she didn't want more drama added to this theatric.

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[CICADAFLIGHT]

✦₊ ⊹—— it's as though a hundred faces materialize from nowhere, surrounding him in a rush of questions and worries. the nightmare is bleeding away into nothing but vague shapes of water-plants and a weight on his chest, small white paws scrabbling in the sandy earth for some kind of purchase, some kind of reassurance that he's found solid ground beneath him instead of endless abyssal water. the first is one of the warriors, split in black (much like himself) and gold fur, sitting and smiling at him despite the terror that scrapes its way through cicadakit's veins. it felt so real, so unquestionably real he thinks that any second the sand is going to open a jagged mouth beneath him and crush the air from his chest.

he stares up at fallinglight with two-toned eyes blown wide with midnight terror, shoulder blades shifting sharp and tented beneath black curls. cicadakit nods silently, gaze dancing almost frantically towards the willow den's mouth. thank every star above, his pa emerges from the riverside, sitting around him as cicadakit leans into the touch in a way he would for no one else, mind numbed by fear. in a moment the boy realizes his father wants an explanation and he manages to choke out, "i had a bad dream. the ... the river." he casts a dark bicolor glance to the waters, though the horror is fading from his mind with every strong beat of his father's heart against his overlarge ears.

some more warriors, strangers unnamed to him, gather around in a way that makes his jaw ache where it meets his head. he feels like some prized fresh-kill on display, out for them all to look at him—cicadakit knows they're just trying to help, it's what everyone tells him, but he feels ripped open, trapped. it's a relief when his sister arrives in a comforting mass of warm curls, pressing into smokethroat's side and smiling at him; he doesn't have to talk so much around beekit as everyone else. beekit doesn't pull at him like everyone does, even starlightkit does it, but his sister doesn't—would never, he's sure. another one of the warriors arrives and there's so many cats around, too many cats, pressing in on him like the dark water.

"i had a bad dream," he repeats, nestling closer to his pa's side, thorns snagging in his throat as he murmurs, "i - i wanna go back to the nest, please."

I AM GOD (✦) 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑰 𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑬 𝑫𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑶𝒀𝑬𝑫

• ooc: ——
  
• disclaimer: it's important to note that cicadakit is not always in a stable state of mind. his view of the world may not always be accurate to objective reality, which may include seeing things that are not genuinely there, reading motivations or thoughts from actions that are not actually implied, and making assumptions or jumping to conclusions. this is not an attempt at metagaming, powerplaying, or mischaracterization, and is not legitimately true or correct to reality or what your characters actually think or believe.
  
  it will always be noted in the post if he is seeing something that isn't actually there. all opinions & thoughts are ic only and do not reflect my thoughts and opinions as a writer.
• 
  — cicadakit
  — he/him ; kit of riverclan ; 2 ☾s
  — "speech" ; thoughts ; attacks
  — penned by dejavu
  

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