the heaviest matter in the universe + starlingpaw

[smogstar]

The sun has come and gone numerous times since @STARLINGPAW .'s bloodsoaked return to camp. Surely, by now, her wounds have subsided to an acceptable degree and she got a good amount of rest in her. She's jittery enough as is- having her be an even queasier mess during his questions would impact their results.

Smogmaw slinks into the cave which held the medicine den, ensuring that Bonejaw was beyond the camp's perimeter before doing so. Hazel eyes comb through the ferns until their line of vision consequently falls upon his objective. "Ah, hello," mews the warrior, who forces a small smile, "I hope you're doing okay. I hate to ask, but- are you still in pain?"

He suspects that many a Shadowclanner has already offered their well wishes to the wounded apprentice, therefore he decides to limit such pleasantries. All he hopes to do is establish a rapport with Starlingpaw, captivate her interest away from her injuries for a bit, and then learn where he can find a possum for himself.​

[ AND THE BASTARD WALKS BY ]​

 

[Starlingheart]

"SPEECH"
This whole ordeal was so embarrassing, all the cats coming in to check on her, all the laying around and getting tended to and doted on like she was still a helpless kit. They must all think I’m weak. The mantra plays over and over again in her head, pounding along with her own heart. ’they think you’re weak, a fool who can’t fight or even speak for themselves’ she’s almost certain the adults are whispering these words when she is not around, in hushed voices the way adults do and they wouldn’t be wrong. It had been foolish of her to believe she could accomplish anything, much less drag another along into it. She could’ve gotten Granitepaw killed. The thought absolutely haunts her.


She has too much time to think while here. Too much time for regret and shame to spill into every crevice of her mind. It’s broken by the occasional visitor though, her intrusive thoughts. When Smogmaw walks in her head snaps up, round green eyes falling on his gray tabby pelt, searching to see what it is he was here for. Was he injured? Sick? Did he come to tell her how much of a fool she had been?

His words are soft though, not the harsh reprimanding she is expecting from one of the older cats, one she knew was coming any day now. She settles back into her nest, tension she didn’t know she was holding in her shoulders releasing. "I-I-im o-o-oooo-oo-okay" she says quietly. She supposed it could’ve been much worse. She could be dead, or, and she flinches at this thought, Granitepaw could’ve gotten hurt instead or worse. "It-it-it uhm it h-h-h-hur-hurts a-a li-li-li-little" she admits with a shrug. "b-bo-b-bone-bonej-bonajaw, m-m-my my a-a-a-aunt-eee says it-it’ll it-it’ll be o-o-okay" it’s almost painful, the way she stumbled over her sentences and she feels herself wincing at her own words. She hopes that Smogmaw is a patient cat but even more so she hopes her words are true. Bonejaw seemed to know what she was doing though, or at least she looked like it when she had chewed those herbs up and smattered them on her wound, covering them with cobwebs. ‘To keep infection away’ she had explained and Starlingpaw had nodded her head, doubtful but interested in how a few leaves would really make a difference in the healing process.​

 

[smogstar]

Ah, how he had forgotten about the girl's tenacious stutter. Inarticulate, repeated words provoke an agitation which is embedded deep in his system. At his core, the older tabby is a meticulous stickler- a perfectionist who comes to be distressed when things don't go properly the first time around. Hearing the young apprentice's stammering is akin to claws scraping against stone to him. It's evident she is deprived of the ability to control her own manner of speech, given just how frustrated she appeared to be. Perhaps it's something she'll be able to grow out of. Smogmaw certainly hopes so.

He nods slowly as Starlingpaw answers him, giving her his full attention in spite of his misgivings. Contentment gradually wells up within his system over the course of her response and he sits himself down when she finishes speaking. Her injuries, albeit initially severe, have lessened to a tremendous extent since her bloody reappearance. This is good news, for two reasons in particular. For one, the likelihood of her keeling over and dying in front of him was little to nil, and that would have hampered his day for sure. But secondly, it means apprentice-aged cats were able to run away from opossums and live to tell the tale, and thus someone of his stature could handle them with ease.

"If Bonejaw says so, then you'll be fine," he says in a subdued tone, offering a smile of sorts. He didn't know of Starlingpaw's relation to the medicine cat, yet then again, he paid little attention to the convoluted family trees clan cats had. "I think you won't even feel a thing in a couple of moons," continues Smogmaw, flicking his tail. "I hope you get better soon. We need apprentices like you to help keep everybody fed- which is hard enough already. And, I'm sure Pitchstar misses training you."

He aims to pamper her up with so-called idealism, make her more receptive to what he had to ask as he feared she may be adverse to its nature.

A silence ensues his words, though fleeting. He clears his throat before speaking again. "Now, erm- please let me know if I'm being too much, Starlingpaw, but I want to know where you ran into that creature; what caused it to jump out and hurt you. As much as you can remember, if you can." ​