sensitive topics shelter — nightmare / panic attack

[DOVEPAW!]

.you want a battle —————————

————————— i'll give you war.

▵ ———————— ◮ ———————— ▵

[ borderline panic attack towards the middle / end ]

DOVE HAD NEVER BEEN ONE TO SLEEP PEACEFULLY, OFTEN PLAGED by nightmares the minute he closed his eyes, revealing some unhidden fear that bubbled beneath his flesh. Not once did he say anything to anyone, knowing he’d been more than annoying when he scrambled up at the odd hours of the night to clear his head.

But unlike all the previous times he’s worked himself to exhaustion, he had taken a nap during the day, waking up with a rattling cry weighing heavily on his tongue. His head jerked as he woke ( hitting the side of his nest in the process ), blinking once or twice to clear the tears that welled up within owlish optics, chest heaving with the effort.

Dovepaw wheezed, scrambling up in a flurry of black-and-white fur, no doubt running his nest as he thrashed, shredding whatever his claws could latch onto in his haste to get away. He needed to get away. Everything felt wrong. He wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming, unaware of where he was, but he needed out. He couldn’t—Dove sniffled a cry, blinking through watery optics.

His nest felt constricting, rubbing raw against his sensitive skin that blossomed into full-blown panic, optics widening as he gasped, stumbling out of the apprentice den, or rather, tumbling out unceremoniously, chin hitting the hard surface, teeth biting into his tongue until the taste of copper flooded his mouth, pooling along his tastebuds.

The knobby tom coughed, sucking in a greedy amount of air, just now noticing the ever-so-growing wind that rustled his fur, sending shivers down the lengths of his spine. A whine escaped his gaping maw, shrinking into himself, unsure. Where—? His optics squeezed shut, breath coming out in short bursts, feeling dizzy. I need—Where? His thoughts remained jumbled.

The howling wind felt good against his warm skin, the prickling fear rushed forward, ears falling flat against his helm, biting back another pitiful whine, no doubt making a fool of himself as he attempted to get over his recent nightmare—one he didn’t even remember to the ever so growing tension, the darken skies rumbling.

No. No. No. Everything’s wrong—His mind reeled. Too loud. Everything’s too loud. Please stop. I—I don’t know anymore! His mind roared, turning thought after thought, unable to make sense of things as he pressed into the ground, paws slamming against his tucked ears, chest rattling. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! Acting like a kit! Dove scolded himself, not helping his bubbling panic as the wind slammed against his hide, once cool became burning.

thoughts speech​

​

​

 

[crowflower]

"Dovepaw?"

Crowflower's voice is soft like the rustle of feathers, in stark contrast to the wailing breeze. She is crouched only a few pawsteps away from her nephew, her soft features arranged in a calm smile despite the concern glittering in the mossy depths of her eyes. She recognizes the icy grip of panic entangling the apprentice and her heart thunders a sympathetic beat. Dove is more similar to his aunt than he probably has ever realized. The worst days are when everything is too bright and too loud and everything hurts. Physically. Emotionally. Psychologically. A consistent routine and carefully moderated times of solitude has helped reduce the amount of episodes, but they are never far away. A meltdown always seems to loom on the horizon like an ominous thunderhead.

"Focus on my voice, duckling," she says. "You're safe."

She's helpless to stop him from pummeling his ears. Her paw shifts forward as if to touch him, but she refrains. Not until he's ready. The last thing she wants is to catch him by surprise. "Take a deep breath," she models it with an exaggerated intake of air. "Feel your lungs expand, then exhale. In and out." Crowflower watches him patiently, allowing him to work through it himself with minimal interference so as not to overwhelm him.​

 

[Flycatcher]

Sometimes when Flycatcher could not sleep he would just sit in camp and watch and listen. It was something he could only do in the warmer moons when the weather was more bearable at night and he was unlikely to freeze his tail off. It's peaceful at night, the clan is still and silent save for the odd clanmate moving about or the sound of some distant animal echoing in the background. He is relaxed and at ease when a sudden flurry of activity by the apprentice's den catches his attention. He watches as Dovepaw comes stumbling outside, and is quickly swooped upon for comfort by his aunt. Not knowing the reason for Dovepaw's current state, Flycatcher pads over cautiously, hovering a bit further back so as not to startle the younger tom. "Is he alright?" Flycatcher asks Crowflower, his brows creased with concern for Dovepaw.​

 

[DOVEPAW!]

.you want a battle —————————

————————— i'll give you war.

▵ ———————— ◮ ———————— ▵

DOVE SHIVERED, BLINKING THROUGH THE HAZE HIS MIND CREATED, his paws still pressed tightly against his ears, drowning out most of what his aunt said until the noticeable intake of air broke him out of his stupor.

Right. Breath—His chest constricted, burning from the choked inhale, his heart pounding harshly until he was sure the others could hear it or it’d break from its bone prison. Get it together, Dove! He was fine. Everything was fine! Dove whimpered, seemingly curling into himself tighter which made things tingle.

The small tom let out choked wheezes, copying that of his aunt’s until he felt relatively sane within his own mind, blinking blearily up at the two warriors, tears gathering up along his waterline.

He was fine. It was just … Dove wasn’t sure what spooked him into whatever it was that made things more sensitive. He didn’t—Dove flinched, untangling his paws from his ear, now realizing his claws had dug into his helm in a poor attempt at blocking out the sounds of camp.

He still felt raw. He still felt like an outsider within his own body which continued to shiver, adrenaline coursing through his veins, spreading like wildfire.

With a shaky wheeze, claws digging into the earth, hunched over as he gathered his thoughts, gnawing on his lips until they spiked with pain, something Dove latched onto, pulling himself out of whatever fog he got himself into.

“I–” He glanced up, eyes rimmed with red. “I’m s, sorry.” He muttered, voice shaky as his lungs worked to expand and inflate with each shuttering breath. “I, I don’t—” He worried his bottom lip, kneading the ground. I don’t know what happened. It hadn’t even been—Dove winced, unsure of what to say other than to apologize which weighed heavily on his tongue.

He was a warrior-in-training. He shouldn’t be … No—He shouldn’t be relying on others to help. Stupid. Stupid. “I, I’m a, alright!” Darkened lips curled into a convincing smile even if he felt like death warmed over, owlish optics crinkling. “I, It w, won’t happen a, again!”

thoughts speech​

​

​

 

[STORMFEATHER]

Startled by Dovepaw's sudden exit from the apprentice den, Stormpaw reared her head up and looked after the panicked apprentice. She poked her head out of the den, frightened by the scene she was witnessing. It hit a little too close to home, Stormpaw remembered the moment when the dogs ravaged camp as she huddled underneath Little Wolf with her chest constricted and brain frozen. She would never wish such an experience on any other cat. It had been quite a while since she was last faced with her trigger, but Stormpaw had gotten better with managing it.

She was unsure of what to do as she saw Crowflower reach out to comfort the apprentice. Stormpaw slunk out of the den only when she saw her father. The tricolor apprentice settled close to Flycatcher, mimicking his stance of keeping far away. Any more presence would probably send Dovepaw into even further of a fright.

It will happen again. Stormpaw wanted to say, knowing from experience how these things worked. But she smiled. "Dovepaw," She whispered. "It's okay... you don't need to apologize."

​