sensitive topics RUNNING OUT OF TIME — group 4

[ wasn't sure if i should tag for a panic attack but here yall gooooo ]

He hated this. It was cold and dark in this place, with no one being able to tell exactly where they were and what their true surroundings were. They had to entrust their lives in the ShadowClanners leading them, complete and utter strangers, and Slate felt a knot of anxiety within him grow more and more intense as the hours went on. Just when Slate wasn't sure of how much more he could take, the group had to squeeze through a narrow opening in the tunnel walls.

When the massive Maine Coon and another cat decided to shove themselves through at the same time, the situation only began to escalate by the moment. "You're squishin' me—" The SkyClanner grunted out, both bodies now effectively stuck and crushing one another. As he attempted to wriggle forward, the other cat began to move as well, causing them to dig into his side and force air out of his lungs. "Just— Damn, just... stop MOVIN' SO MUCH!" Slate roared, his voice traveling down the tunnel and maybe splitting some ears.

Slate had finally freed himself and stumbled forward, leaning against the wall and planting his paws firmly onto the ground. Weakly, his limbs begin to buckle, his heart pounding so hard that it could likely be heard from all around. "Just..." Conflicting feelings made his brain spiral like a whirlpool. Slate wanted nothing more than to be left alone, to be given space, but also if the group left him behind then he could risk getting lost. What did he want? What did he do?!

He was trapped again, though instead of cold wires and twoleg stench surrounding him it was neverending darkness. There was no way out. He was trapped in a cage and he would never escape!

Stars, stars, his limbs were growing numb. Slate lowered himself to the ground within seconds, breathing quickening though the stuffy air seemed to only make things worse. The pitch darkness only left him to focus on his unfeeling legs, his spinning head, his contracting lungs, and the blood rushing in his ears...

What was happening to him?!

  • open to any group 4 members!
  • slatechibi.png
    SLATE
    —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
    —— bisexual; single; not looking
    —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
    —— "speech", thoughts, attack
    —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
    —— penned by beatles
 
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The medicine cat apprentice remains as close to Honeyjaw as he can without accidentally bumping into or tripping the other up with his own clumsy paws but occasionally he veers to the side and finds his shoulder bumping into another cat or the stone wall of the cavern depending on the pace of those around them. He pays little mind to most the cats trailing along behind, following the older ShadowClanner through the depths where their vision was hardly impacted by the darkness like most were.

He hears the fuss, annoyance of cats growling at one another and a stuttering that catches him faintly off-guard as he turns to see the older warrior from the kittypet clan backing away and seemingly cowering at a distance from them as though afraid but given the gruff tom's previous attitude he highly doubted this was fear motivated at all; at least not in the normal sense. "Wait.." The apprentice murmurs, hoping Honeyjaw will pause their travel for a moment as he turned to wobble his way backwards to the now heaving for air tom pressed into the ground and shaken by some unseen force.
"Breathe." It's a quiet, whisper of an order and the black and white apprentice stands in front of the shaken SkyClanner with his eyes wide and almost mimicking twin moons in the dark with their sheen. Slowly Magpiepaw crouches down so he is on the same flattened level but does not get much closer than a few pawsteps, just enough he can be seen even in the dark with his pitch black coat.
"...slower breathes. Big, deep breathes-can all SkyClanner's climb from birth?" He prattles his questions out without much pause and only gives Slate a moment or two to think about his answer before pressing on, "Are you like squirrels? Inhale. I climbed a tree once and fell from it, it's why my tail is crooked. Exhale. I imagine being up that high is pretty though-the closest to flight we can get, is it?"
 
.i'll be your calm, ———

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——— before the storm!.
———————— ————————
It was incredibly difficult to see. That much was a fact, at least, if you weren't the Shadowclan type. But the same thoughts that had touched him not long after the ground stopped quaking- the ones about his temporary lack of sight? They repeated in his head. He could do this. He really could, if he just trusted his nose and crept forward, keeping himself close to another. But being too close seemed to be the downfall of at least one of them.

He got stuck with Slate briefly. His lips drew back in query when Slate exclaimed. "- Shit, I'm sorry, let me-" Batwing's paws stretched forward, trying to tug himself through. He didn't even have his eyes open, but his skin crawled as Slate continued to get louder. A resounding snarl left him at Slate's final shout, stilling his body. The bigger of the two stumbled forward, and Batwing's head cocked. Ever since they had gotten stuck within the tunnel, Batwing had opted to keep his eyes shut. There wasn't much use in trying to see without light, right?

In turn, he could hear the racing of Slate's breath, the Skyclanner's body trembling. Batwing shuffled forward, pressing his side against one of the cave walls as Magpiepaw approached instead. Batwing's face was still twisted with some kind of upset, but he kept his tongue still.

"speech"​
 
This shouldn't have been as big of a deal as he was making it, Slate told himself over and over though the voices of reason were quickly drowned out as sheer panic overloaded his senses. The voices in his ears weren't registering, not even the brief apology of Batwing, nor the initial instructions of Magpiepaw. He was still cowering to the ground in fear like the scared little kit he had been once, hopeless as well as helpless. Slate would rather the swift bite of a hound end everything now, rather the slow and miserable act of wandering in the dark for hours, days, even.

This was madness! Absolute madness! How were they all going to get—

"... can all SkyClanner's climb from birth?"

"Wh... What?" No... at least he didn't think so. The apprentices had to learn like everyone else. But then again, Cherrypaw had taken to the art of traversing trees like a fish to water...

More questions come his way, like the ebb and flow of the water's edge rather than rapid-fire like a hawk's killing swoop. It doesn't further fluster Slate, though it rather makes him stop and consider. He is oddly inclined to listen to the medicine cat apprentice's instructions this time — deep breath in — as he tries to make sense of his inquiry. Squirrels? Maybe some cats were. Certainly not him. He couldn't climb a tree ( well, past the lowest branch anyway ) to save his damn life.

His eyes instinctively glance to search for Magpiepaw's tail, as he had brought up its crooked appearance, though he still cannot see for shit. Slate breathes out, his limbs still tingling though slowly gaining feeling once more. His heart thumped still, not as aggressively, and the tom made a deliberate attempt to breathe in again and calmly exhale as a means to stabilize it. Calm yourself. What was he doing, anyway? Why had he freaked out so badly over something seemingly so... trivial?

The lead warrior's breathing regains a sense of normalcy now, the air flowing into his lungs still deep, deliberate, and leveled. Slate feels like he's taking back the reigns over his body again, which brings him instantaneous relief, but he still finds himself puzzled by Magpiepaw's random conversation starters. "Why... are you— What's with the questions?" His voice is considerably calmer now, sounding much closer to normal although it's breathy in nature as if he had just got done sprinting to Fourtrees and back.


  • slatechibi.png
    SLATE
    —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
    —— bisexual; single; not looking
    —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
    —— "speech", thoughts, attack
    —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
    —— penned by beatles