sensitive topics the clock it taunts me // fainting [yellowcough]

// TW for musings of death (his and others)

LIKE A PICTURE IN A FRAME
WISH WE COULD'VE STAYED THE SAME
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
periwinklebreeze 25 moons demi-boy windclan lead warrior
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
82895788_uPPlp3McehSP0eh.png
It's been days since he'd first brushed off the ache in his lungs, blamed it on being out of shape - and yet, Periwinklebreeze only feels worse. Teeth worry at his lip, blue eyes darting glancing at wolfsongs den - and yet, something stills his paws. Maybe it's that he doesn't want to be a burden - doesn't want to make something of nothing.

Or maybe it's the memory of silver furred tom splayed across the ground, fevered by blackcough in it's last moments. Of another silver cat who'd gone far quieter to the same sickness that now tears it's way through windclan once more.

If he waits long enough, will he see them again?

But then he remembers the press of white fur against his own, the warmth he now shares a nest with every night. Periwinklebreeze isn't entirely certain how long he lays there that night, just looking at his mate. Lost in thought, or perhaps thinking nothing at all. It's a blur really, bleary eyes glossed over by fever by the time morning at last arrives.

He should- he should go, shouldn't he? He can still recall the pain he'd felt as he'd watched one friend after another succumb to the illness - as he's seen bilberrypaw taken away, to the badger sett that holds such painful memories for him. He can't do that to them - not to Gravelsnap, and not to his kits. Legs wobble precariously, as fragile as a newborn fawn as he tries to find his footing. World spins, lungs heaving against the pressure - chasing breath he can't seem to catch.

He means to go quietly, to slip away in dawns light amidst the growing bustle of activity as patrols sort themselves out - to tell wolfsong and celandinepaw and then - and then -

He's not sure what would come after that, but it matters little in the end. He only makes it a few pawsteps towards his destination - a quiet choking noise leaves his lungs as he gasps, eyes widening as dizziness only doubles - world tipping as black invades his vision. As smoke tinged tom collapses where he stands, all he can think is 'I shouldn't have been so stubborn'


actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes'
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
I ' V E - A L W A Y S - B E E N - R E A L - B A D - W I T H - C H A N G E
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
// tl:dr the combination of stress, strain, and fever has led peri to have yet another vasovagal syncope and pass out in the middle of camp; he is showing signs of yellowcough now
he will not wake during this thread, any/all healing & non-violent powerplay perms are allowed

@CELANDINEPAW @WOLFSONG - meddie pings
 
Bluefrost does not leave the nursery anymore. Pinkshine and Cricketcry bring her prey in the absence of a mate, of kin, and even when her friends' presences darken her doorstep, she feels uneasy. Every breath drawn in her direction causes her pelt to prickle; every itch of the throat simmers in her belly like searing panic. She has watched cat after cat succumb to this disease, be forced by Wolfsong into the abandoned badger set, and every Clanmate lost is like a set of claws to her tender belly.

I see him everywhere, she thinks; the rheumy glaze of her father's blue eyes, the way his ribs clacked with his coughs, the delirium, fever-driven and insane. She sees her mother's despair, the way she could not bear to look upon her kits for fear of seeing Weaselclaw in their features.

I have lost them all. I will not lose you, too, she thinks, pressing her paws close to her belly. Her gaze is sharp and pitiless as Periwinklebreeze, in a haze-driven mission, collapses in the middle of their camp. Another warrior down. Another councilmate. She wobbles to her paws, but she does not go near the warrior, noting his heaving flanks, his twitching body.

"Wolfsong!" Her tone is sharp. After a few heartbeats, she forces herself to mew: "Celandinepaw!" The name is still awkward on her tongue, but she pushes her bad feelings away. "Periwinklebreeze has fallen." He will join the rest of them soon.

  • ooc:
  • 69334192_7vVwuq2U19bWMTh.png
  • Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — 18 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
    — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
    — windclan lead warrior and queen. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
    — penned by Marquette.

    lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.


 
➴➴ The discomfort, the illness that trails along behind Periwinklebreeze is a dark cloud, full to bursting with rain. Gravelsnap is just waiting on lightning to strike their mate down and condemn him to a future spent in the badger sett. They do not say anything, because they fear losing him—what if his affliction is not yellowcough at all, but something different? Peri has always been prone to sickness. If he doesn’t have yellowcough, then leaving him to die in quarantine, to be forgotten… Gravelsnap could never forgive themself.

They wonder if maybe they should have told Wolfsong, though, as they watch the smoke-pointed warrior fall limp in the middle of camp. No, they think, panic clouding their mind. They know he isn’t dead—Gravelsnap knows that—but the reassurance of heaving flanks does little to change their reaction. "Peri!" Unlike Bluefrost, they do not keep their distance. Black-patched paws race to their mate’s side, and they press their nose to his forehead. The space between his ears is warm, and it isn’t a good sign. They turn to look for the medicine cat, but any words they plan to say die in their throat. Tears sting at their eyes, not yet falling but certainly visible.

They think of their own suffering, the way their lungs had burned as each breath seemed to take more effort than the last. Their recovery had been swift in comparison to some less lucky clanmates, with the aid of lungwort keeping them far from StarClan’s reach. Does Wolfsong still have lungwort, now? Will another group of clanmates have to take on a journey into the mountains? Will they regretfully, tearfully, promise to return to their ill mate with a cure? For the sake of us both… please fight it off, they think, staring numbly down at their fallen mate.

  • ooc:
  • 58921334_LvhpdhRxLH7s4eM.png
    GRAVELSNAP ❯❯ they/he, moor runner of windclan
    average-sized black and white warrior who seems smaller than he is. speaks rarely and quietly.
    mate to periwinklebreeze ; sibling to slateheart
    mentoring sheeppaw ; formerly mentored thriftfeather
    peaceful and healing powerplay is allowed, but they hate physical contact & will lash out if not close friends / family
    penned by foxlore
 

˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖  Vulturepaw has noticed the way their dad's breath comes as a wheezing rasp, the lethargy that dogs his steps. They have noticed the distant look in his eyes, the heat they feel when they press their pelt against his. He is sick. They know it. Bilberrypaw got sick, and now the apprentice den feels emptier without him. The stars have it out for them, it seems - but they will not let Periwinklebreeze be taken away from them.

It is selfish, they know it is. They do not tell him to go to the medicine den. They do not draw away from him, only closer. He is sick, and they do not know whether the difficulty of their own breathing is from fear or illness. But they want him here, more than anything. Not in the badget sett, rottinf away to die a slow death. He is their mentor, and he's supposed to keep them safe.

And then he collapses in the middle of camp, and their heart stopped.

"D-d-dad!" The apprentice cries out, rushing to his side. Their breaths are quick, thei eyes wet. "Oh no, oh no..." Someone is calling for the medicine cats. All they can hear is the blood rushing in their ears. He doesn't want them to take him away. He was supposed to stay with them, even past the nursery. It's too soon, too soon, to[ soon.

"C-c-c..." They press their paws into his side, begin to shake his unmoving body frantically. He is as limp as the dead. "C-c-c'mon, g-get... get up, please..." Don't leave me behind.


  • 78719023_Dn5AkWBYFbxxqzb.png


    "SPEECH"
  • VULTUREPAW he / they, apprentice of windclan, six moons.
    a spiky-furred dark tabby with amber eyes.
    skittish and dour, with a superstitious sort of pessimism.
    micheal x npc, adopted by periwinklebreeze. sibling to dustpaw and bilberrypaw.
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by SATURNIDsaturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.