sensitive topics taking the world // injured

[✧ Siltcloud.]

THERE'S A HOLE IN MY SOUL ( I CAN'T FILL IT )
siltcloud | 13 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #905d5d

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Siltcloud returns from her trip to the 'carrionplace' reeking of all manner of trash, and most importantly, blood. She's been gone for hours now, nothing all that unusual for the girl, but what is are the light scratches that line her muzzle, already dried over with blood, and the deeper gashes upon her chest and along her flank. She's clearly been through a fight - but with who? Dull green eyes reveal nothing, impassive and avoidant as ever as she reaches the makeshift camp, tail twitching uneasily as she pauses at the mouth of the tunnel with a frown. She really doesn't want to have to go down there - but she's pretty sure she needs cobwebs at the very least, lest she bleed out here and now. A heavy sigh escapes the dust toned girl, and the frail figured feline finally enters, darting her way into the darkness. "Can someone point me to where starlingheart is staying," she asks quietly, tone polite and soft as ever - as though this is just another days events, as though she has not done something worth explaining.

// abusing the hell out of fluid time, technically these wounds happened before the surprise bear plot but oh well
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[loampelt]

Siltcloud carries the scent of blood with her — Loampaw watches in the lowlight at the dark blossoms on her chest. She doesn't sound worried or upset or angry at all, only quiet. Loampaw cannot help but wonder how much of that is real, how much of Siltcloud is just like him. Still, it soothes some sprouting fear in Loampaw's own chest: surely if it was terrible Siltcloud would sound more — more?

"StarClan," Loampaw says, and it doesn't sound like a prayer, "T-tuh-tell me that whoever did th-thuh-this is walking away with double the sc-scuh-scu — the — the scratches." Tell me you aren't all that hurt.

Loampaw doesn't sound worried. He wonders if he should be sounding more. He feels some emotion, something that keeps crawling up and up without leaving his mouth. Fear doesn't catch him so much as it settles over his spine, and Loampaw smiles as if this is something perfectly normal. He can take things in stride when the mood for it strikes him: when it means he doesn't need to question something too deeply.

"Right this w-wuh-way," Loampaw flicks his tail for Siltcloud to follow, and stops only when he comes upon Starlingheart's temporary space. He makes a gran gesture then, attempts a bow that almost overbalances him — but he knows how to take things in stride. This is normal, and Loampaw isn't afraid. He knows how it feels to be fussed over, and Loampaw isn't fussing.

"Siltcloud's rough," Loampaw tells Starlingheart. He swallows something brittle, some delicate emotion for later.

@STARLINGHEART . ​

tags ∘ shadowclan apprentice ∘ solid black with hazel eyes ∘ curled front foot ∘ 12 moons​

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[GECKOSCREECH]

above the usual rancid smell that comes with their temporary camp drifts in the all too familiar metallic scent of blood which causes geckoscreech to pause whatever it was she was doing to scout out the source which leads her gaze towards the mouth of the tunnel where she spots siltcloud making an appearance clearly showing signs of having been in some sort of scuffle.

there was no move made by the lead warrior to extend any sort of concern towards the younger, only watching as loampaw meets her halfway asking who the culprit was but he didn't sound worried either and perhaps it was because of siltcloud's lack of reaction to her own situation. geckoscreech did not trail her focus after the duo when they headed to starlingheart's temporary set-up and instead resumed doing her previous task, unless siltcloud was dying then there was no reason to pay attention. ​

∘₊✧ ONE LAST LIFELINE, I'M HANGING HIGH. ✧₊∘​

 

[Yarrowpaw]

Perhaps everyone else was willing to not mention that something weird and bad had clearly happened to Siltcloud, but Yarrowpaw most certainly wasn't. The young tabby tom, who had been halfway through devouring a pair of frogs' legs, picked his head up in surprise and alarm at the scent of blood and the reek of Twoleg trash. Geckoscreech was nearby, but she didn't even say anything; Loampaw led the battered she-cat towards Starlingheart without even inquiring what had happened. Incredulous, the blue-eyed apprentice abandoned his meal and trotted swiftly in pursuit, stumbling occasionally over his oversized paws in his haste. "What happened?" he asked: it came out in a much more demanding tone than he'd meant it to. "Are you okay?" he appended swiftly, blinking with concern at Siltcloud.​

 

[✧ Siltcloud.]

THERE'S A HOLE IN MY SOUL ( I CAN'T FILL IT )
siltcloud | 13 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #905d5d

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Loampaw make as little of a deal as she herself does, and it both pleases and annoys her as he leads her towards starlinghearts temporary setup. She knows they should have cobwebs by now - hadn't the kits of all cats helped with that? She moves along in silence for a moment green eyes actually looking up at him for a moment, before she finally speaks. "Of course - he'll remember me for a good long while," she says softly, words quiet as the dust furred molly continues. "There was a loner - one of those windclan exiles, at the carrionplace. taught him a lesson for ruining my hunt," its mostly lies, but they fall easily from her tongue - why had she ever been worried, when doing so was this easy? Not even a twinge of guilt rocks her for lying to her clanmates, not even to loampaw. She has little interest in explaining further - she wants to get patched up and cleaned p before taking a nice rest. She's been walking for hours after all.

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[Starlingheart]

Her herb store is nowhere near what it should be, nowhere close to the amount she had back at camp in her actual den, but on her journey back to their actual camp she and all the others had grabbed as many herbs as they could carry, and they had grabbed all of the important ones anyways. All the herbs she would need to treat the various injuries her clan had garnered on the way to their makeshift camp. Stars forbid a cat got sick though. There hadn't been enough time. The threat of the bear looming over their heads, they had grabbed the essentials and swiftly departed, not wanting to linger when the camp still reeked so strongly of those horrific creatures.

She is in the middle of counting what she had when the figures approach. She looks up from her herbs, surprised to see Loampaw and even more surprised to see Siltcloud in such a state. The wounds looked old, not fresh and she silently wonders how long she had been like this, how long she had not said anything. The black and white she cat frowns slightly but motions with her tail for the molly to lay down in the empty nest nearby so that she could tend to her. If Magpiepaw was nearbye she would turn to him and say "We will u-use Marigold for infection an-and G-gold-goldenrod to help- to help speed up the healing" and then she would show him the leaves, allowing the apprentice to study them for a moment before turning to her patient and, after a brief moment of chewing she would gently spread the paste on her wounds. "Does-does it hurt?" she asks. If it did she would give her a painkiller as well.

@Magpiepaw apprentice tag!
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[loampelt]

Loampaw isn't going to fuss. He reminds himself twice as Yarrowpaw asks his questions and Starlingheart looks Siltcloud over. At least Siltcloud looks at Loampaw when she speaks, assures him that she can manage herself. It's Loampaw who looks away, his ears twitching as if they can't quite settle into one position. The casualness of all of this bothers Loampaw. He can't make it stop bothering him. But he's following Siltcloud's lead in this, and she isn't bothered.

"That's good," Loampaw says to his paws, "Hope heh-his wounds are still bleeding."

He looks to Starlingheart instead — also calm — and tries his best to ask if Siltcloud will actually be fine with his eyes alone. ​

tags ∘ shadowclan apprentice ∘ solid black with hazel eyes ∘ curled front foot ∘ 12 moons​

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[Magpiepaw]

He is dutifully at Starlingheart's side watching her organize and equally toddling along after her as she rushes to assist Siltcloud, he had mostly been observing to this point, trying to memorize the names of things but finding it difficult to parse the odd words associated with the plants; choosing instead to cobble together his own method of recollection that would either help him or somehow tangle him into further confusion. His gaze darts to the cinnamon molly's battered form to Loampaw anxiously teetering nearby; rough was a word for it he supposed. Yarrowpaw's presence was ignored.
"...I see."
Marigold burnt orange like the blazing sun, Goldenrod a yellow sheen of firefly light at night; the sun burnt away the impurity, the firefly tore through the nightsky with alarming speed. Infection, swiftening the healing process. He could remember that. Magpiepaw nodded slowly, not that his mentor could see with how she dipped her head to focus on her task and he watched with wide blue-violet eyes curiously to the mockery of a bird feeding her young; the chewing of plant into pulp to affix on the wound. The black and white apprentice blinked, intrigued, he'd always wondered how one got the flower into the hurt part but he supposed they needed to help it along and reduce it to a matter that would fit. Did chewing it help Starlingheart at all? Was her maw now protected from infection as well? He'd ask later.
"WindClan has many exiles, doesn't it...?"
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