stressed out — fainting

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

They usually saw Duskpool taking patrol after patrol, or venturing out into the forest on his own without a single glance over his shoulder at the concerned glances tossed his way. He sure as hell didn't need the concern. He was fine. Sure. He hadn't been sleepin' properly, but he was used to the sleepless nights, often plagued by nightmares, keeping him up into the early hour of the morning when he'd join the dawn patrols.

Despite steel-heavy paws and eyelids threatening to fall shut, Duskpool kept pushing. Not once had he subjected Drowsypaw to such feats, pulling her on a few patrols before training started and he'd send her off to rest, but never himself.

Damnit. His paws stumbled, reaching to press a paw against his throbbing helm, vision swarming as everything tilted sideways for a second until he righted himself. His shoulders squared out to stare into the undergrowth that'd become blurrier by the second. Shit.

He paused, helm pivoting to watch his patrol through a narrowed optic, body swaying where he stood, urging his paws to move. His stomach churned threatening to spill a poorly eaten vole before he'd given it to Yukio, unable to finish more than a few bites that morning when he set off with a silent flick of his tail.

Molten copper fluttered, legs giving out beneath his bulky frame, helm barely grazing the trunk, barely able to catch himself as he crumbled with a thump.

Until tired copper fluttered open seconds later, disoriented and ill-feeling, sprawled across the floor with a shuttered breath, blinking several times. Fucking hell. He could barely string a coherent thought, helm tilting to stare ahead, lips curled into a subtle sneer, urging himself to get himself together before someone noticed. "Fuckin' fine." He'd mumble to whoever approached, torn ear twitching with an inaudible groan, muzzle rippling as he pulled his paws beneath him, fatigue weighing heavily on his mind. "Don't need—" He paused, paw pressing against his helm with a grunt. Don't need your help. He'd thought belatedly, molten copper fluttering languidly.

/ he isn't sick !! he just fainted because of overwork ^^ but first prompt for dusk ! apprentice tag @DROWSYPAW

Spoiler

duskpool is an independent soul who doesn't like to feel like he's burdening others by asking for help. however, what if he gets into a situation that requires the assistance and cooperation of his clanmates? could be something like getting stuck in a ( non-dangerous ) twoleg trap or getting tree sap on his back and being unable to groom it out.

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thought speech​

 

[DOEBLAZE]

✿—— as a new warrior, bobbie hasn't quite yet blossomed into the overworking habits she'll fall into in the coming moons; for now, she takes the patrols that she can, fills the rest of the time with training or the brief moments of rest afforded to the warriors. today, she's out on her own, practicing her budding hunting skills—she's determined to catch her first fresh-kill before the moon's over, so the tabby's been spending her spare time working on it. she's had little success, one close call, nothing fruitful so far; she can't say it's surprising, exactly, given she's only been a warrior for a few sunrises, but it's deflated her spirits a little.

her nose, lifted to catch any stray prey-scents—after all, the first part of hunting is finding the prey, right?—instead finds the heavy spiced scent of duskpool and the familiar one of drowsypaw. rounded ears perk excitedly and she turns her white-soaked paws towards it; perhaps it's embarassing, but she'd like to poke her head in on her daughter's training for once. she moves through the thin underbrush clustered beneath the pines on light paws, walking in on a scene she hadn't exactly expected—a patrol isn't surprising, but to see the usually unshakeable duskpool crumpling to his paws. her paws carry her forward in quick, uncertain steps, moving with a surprising speed towards where the dark-furred tom lies just by one of the trees, pale eyes glancing towards those nearby in a silent question.

"duskpool? are you o-okay? do you need-" she's cut off by a tired growl, harshly worded, making the tabby flinch backwards before she reaches a tentative paw towards his limp frame, pressing it to his slumped shoulder. he doesn't appear to respond again, eyelids fluttering shut, and the fur along her neck bristles; with the tales of sickened tallulahwing, had he fallen ill too? she prays not, prays he's just been working too hard, gaze turned towards whoever he'd been patrolling with, tone even to conceal the anxiety clotted beneath, "is ... is he okay? what do we do?"

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┏━•✿°•° OOC -ˋˏ ༻⚘༺ ˎˊ- INFORMATION °•°✿•━━━━━┓ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

• ooc: ——
  

• 

• ❀ bobbie — for her kithood love of bobby pins she/her ; cisgender female — skyclan — queen — 39 ☾s —— bobbie is a beautiful but insecure lilac tabby, dotted with white patches and with pale green eyes. a queen of skyclan, she's sweet and kind if prone to melancholy; the heartbreaking end of a lifelong romance has left her scarred.. —— smells like sweet lavender & tea leaves ; sounds like sansa stark ; speech in #D64933, thoughts in #B1C797 —— peaceful / healing powerplay permitted ; attacks/contact in underline ; won’t start fights ; will flee ; will show mercy ; won't kill or maim —— pansexual panromantic monogamist, divorced, not looking ; open to friendships, enemies, casual interactions, plotting ; not open to unplanned romance & unplanned battles penned by dejavu— desklamp9 on discord for plots

• shhh don't look here (battle info will go here at some point)

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[DOOMPAW]

Doompaw is enjoying his limited freedom, though nervous, twitchy @TWITCHBOLT is always nearby keeping a cautious eye on him. He’s finding out the freedom is really just being able to leave camp; there’s always a warrior watching him, which is enough to cause his fur to itch as though he has fleas again. He still isn’t knowledgeable enough to hunt on his own, and though he’s made some clumsy attempts on this patrol to snag birds, he’s not so much as grazed a feather.

Bobbie’s presence causes his ears to flick, and Doompaw turns to see who she’s talking to. Grumpy old Duskpool, trailing behind the rest of them and looking like he’s about to lose his breakfast. “What’s wrong with him?” He asks the cat beside him, his whiskers twitching with impatience. “He’s slowin’ us down!”

But when the older warrior keels over, Doompaw jumps back, eyes alight. “Didja see that? Duskpool died right here on patrol!” He hops once, flexing his claws.

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — doomguy . doomkit . doompaw
  — afab, he/him, apprentice of skyclan
  — unknown sexuality ; single
  — short-haired blue tortoiseshell with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette

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[SLATESNARL]

Whatever exhaustion Duskpool was fighting through, he sure did a stellar job at hiding it from his clanmates. Perhaps he noticed some sluggish steps here and there but Slate hadn't assumed anything out of the ordinary. Then... Duskpool collapsed. Shock struck the patrol like a bolt of lightning; even the lead warrior, who didn't care to emote all too much, couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in surprise. "For the love of—" The Maine Coon stood there for a moment, dumbfounded and unsure what to make of the situation.

It's only a few moments before Duskpool begins to grumble and complain groggily. He's obviously still alive, much to Doompaw's disagreement. "You're obviously not fine." Slate states flatly, large form stalking up from behind Bobbie with an amber gaze glowering down at the fallen warrior. "Can you stand or are we gonna have you drag you back to camp?" Well, it was more so Slate would have to drag him back. Duskpool was a big guy, and so was Slate. It would only make sense that he would have to support the older tom's weight if need be.​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

With a shuddered gasp, the scarred warrior bit back a sneer at the rumble of his clanmates voices. The sounds sent sharp throbs against his head, wondering what it’d take to get them to shut up. He struggled, claws sinking into marred flesh, welcoming something other than the pounding of his helm, synced to the patter of his heart. Shit.

A paw pressed tentatively against a slumped shoulder, head barely able to turn to see who it was, struck by an overwhelming sense of fatigue. His mind muddled, urging him to get his paws, but that didn’t seem like something that’ll happen soon. His helm lulled, watching the gathered patrol with a quirk of his lips, frowning. “‘M alright.” He grunted, voice sluggish, briefly catching sight of Bobbie standing next to him. Whatever energy he had left depleted, turning a scarred eye to the lead warrior. Could he? Duskpool didn’t bother answering, muzzle crinkling with an inaudible hiss trapped beneath clenched teeth, stomach-churning, threatening to spill its contents across the dirt-ridden floor.

He stumbled, nearly bumping into Bobbie if he hadn’t tilted away, pressed up against the bark of the tree he’d fallen against earlier, nostrils flaring. His expression shifted, indifferent to the realization he wouldn’t make it far without collapsing save for the dread that pooled into his stomach, tangling with the nasua that slammed into him, causing him to cough, gagging.

Duskpool turned, staring at the gathering lot, annoyance flickering briefly across his face at the predicament he found himself in. “Get goin’.” He forced out, jerking his helm in the direction they were heading, barely more than a twitch of his head. “No reason for the lot of us to stay. Just need … a few minutes.” It was a struggle, nearly tipping over with a silent curse, maw clenched shut. ​

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thought speech​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

A watchful eye lingered upon his apprentice, keeping very steadfast despite his dithering. Doompaw, he'd learned, was the type to... to bolt off in a different direction. Whatever receptor in the calico tom that felt caution was clearly damaged... he couldn't imagine, at that age, straying unprepared into the unknown, knowing there could be a dog or a fox of some other... untamed, unknown beast waiting in the undergrowth, ready to swallow you whole.

Duskpool died, Doompaw says, and- in the haze of his worry, Twitchbolt didn't immediately question it. "What?" he yelped, immediately turning back to face the rest of the patrol, panic puffing his pelt into a thorn-thicket. Seeing the rise and fall of Duskpool's breath, however- and the woozy words that seeped from him like blood trickling from a cut... he wasn't dead, at least. A weary sigh crackled through his throat. "We won't just- j-just- just leave you here. Ww-we should... split up, take you back to camp." He wasn't in any fit state to keep going, not if he could barely stand up; Dawnglare needed a look at him, or... or he at least needed to eat something. ​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

His stomach churned, nearly spitting out whatever remained in his stomach. His teeth gritted at the sensation until he breathed out through a parted maw, settling his stomach, if only for a moment. A torn ear flickered, molten copper staring muddled at Twitchbolt’s form, barely making the tom out without a sharp stab against his temple. Shit.

Duskpool breathed deeply, flank moving with the exaggerated motion until he nodded, barely noticeable, but a silent agreement. He knew well enough he wouldn’t be making it back to camp without toppling over like a newborn fawn. It still didn’t help the prickling annoyance, having to rely on someone when he should be able to walk on his four paws without wanting to punk. His mind flickered briefly to the time when Fireflypaw told him to sit back, still injured but wanting to do something than sit and watch.

The obsidian-furred male grunted, leaning away from the support of the truck, rigid claws digging into the textured ground, giving him some stability. An annoyed flicker of his tail gave him the push he needed to take a few steps forward, balance unsteady, but otherwise alright until someone offered their flank. ​

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thought speech​