private THE MIDNIGHT WOOD 𓆩♡𓆪 FIREFLYPAW

[DAWNGLARE]

Dawnglare does not feel well.

He cannot get sick. This — he knows. From his countless talks with Her, sleeping lightly below; from the way his kin, when he was with them, had once shuttered from sickness, whilst he remained unharmed. He sees it now, in the way those around him fall to their knees, willed by sickness, and he still stands above them all, despite the air they constantly share. No, he would never be a victim to sickness.

But he still felt quite bad. There is a number of things to dampen his mood, of course. It was not his specialty to speak of it— but mood could contribute a great deal to ones wellbeing, really.

Mallowlark has been able to return to their den. Frustrating, that it is fever that has swept him back within, rather than good tidings of health and prosperity. Dawnglare refuses to let go so easily, now. Why fear such a thing, if his mate was infected already, and he himself was at no risk? He worries for Fireflypaw more, really. Dawnglare can assume, pleasantly or not; that She looks down upon him favorably for his service, so far. Even if it was plenty lacking…

Dawnglare rubs at his face; the lack of sleep getting to him, surely. Mallowlark now, is fast asleep. And in his moment of rest, Dawnglare looks blearily to his apprentice. " What would you do if I fell sick, Fireflypaw? " He supposes it a test. " Tell me. "

OOC 𓆩♡𓆪 9.16.2023 𝘚𝘠𝘕𝘖𝘋𝘐𝘊 𝘚𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘖𝘕 𝘛𝘖 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘖𝘜𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘏𝘐𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎

• OOC: @Fireflypaw

• 

• ( 𝙒𝙃𝙔'𝘿 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝘼𝙆𝙀 𝙎𝙊 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂? ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
  —— He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
  —— Currently 56 moons old. Mated to Mallowlark
  
  Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest.
  

  You may find him kinder to others than is typical, exhausted from the yellowcough blight and heart heavy in a way he has never felt.​

  Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads

​

 

[Fireflyglow]

Fireflypaw lifts a sleepy head from massive paws at the sound of his name being called, blinking away sleep that would not yet come- it was silent in the medicine den, with the sound of snores and coughing interrupting it here and there. His eyes blink once more, shaking out his pelt as he listens to the high priest's voice.

What would you do if I fell sick, Fireflypaw? He inquires, and Fireflypaw bites back his own bitter response. The same thing I'd do for the others, of course! He wants to shriek out, but he keeps his mouth shut in favor of not getting thrown out of the medicine den right then and there. He shuffles his paws in front of himself for a moment, before he speaks. "I'd check your symptoms and treat you appropriately. Though, if it is Yellowcough, I'd treat you with feverfew like the others and hope the symptoms go away while we wait for Lungwort to be returned to us." If Lungwort will be returned. He thinks awfully to himself, tail swishing behind him.

He waits for the proper scolding, the You're wrong that'll get him finally kicked out of here. But he keeps his mouth shut nonetheless afterwards. It feels better to be so bitter for once, to let himself be angry over Dawnglare's mood changes, his mean words. He'd do anything for the strawberry-and-cream tom, anything! He'd given his whole life to be a medicine cat, so why couldn't Dawnglare understand that?​

SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE ✦ 14 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

It is a beat. Maybe two, before Dawnglare is fully hearing what is being said to him. A slow nod, then, with paws planted on the floor. A fine answer. Though realistically — Dawnglare does not imagine he would ever fall to something he could not take care of himself. Hypotheticals like this had a rhyme and reason to them, though... He should have these answers for the sake of the exercise. The exercise; that is what it was.

Fireflypaw's eyes were as blind as ever, and of course, he would never put a guess toward the bitterness that hides behind them. A deep breath, then; and a clarifying question: " And what would said symptoms of yellowcough be? " It is not something that Dawnglare has ever stopped to explain, too caught up in the blight sweeping them off their feet than for lessons to be anything more than fleeting. They should still know though, from his mutterings overnight and the sick that lay all around them. Nonsense - spoken words, dry noses... Feverfew is the most aptly named of herbs anyone would ever come across.

OOC 𓆩♡𓆪 9.16.2023 𝘚𝘠𝘕𝘖𝘋𝘐𝘊 𝘚𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘖𝘕 𝘛𝘖 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘖𝘜𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘏𝘐𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎

•  

• 

• ( 𝙒𝙃𝙔'𝘿 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝘼𝙆𝙀 𝙎𝙊 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂? ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
  —— He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
  —— Currently 56 moons old. Mated to Mallowlark
  
  Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest.
  

  You may find him kinder to others than is typical, exhausted from the yellowcough blight and heart heavy in a way he has never felt.​

  Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads

​

 

[Fireflyglow]

Fireflypaw listens to the next question with a raised brow, tail flicking behind him as he ponders the symptoms of Yellowcough. What symptoms did Sparrowsong show again? "Lack of appetite, fever, coughing or sore throat, and delirium." He parrots back the words he's become so familiar with over this moon, excitement in his veins to finally be able to show off what he's learned. He was showing Dawnglare his skills, proving that he was meant to be here- he was meant to be here. His tail taps against the ground then, one- two, three, four. His paws take a few steps forward, Fireflypaw moving to sit beside his mentor as milky eyes stare off into the distance.

"Do you.. Do you think Mallowlark will be alright, Dawnglare?" He asks softly, shakily- with all his bitterness, he finds himself worried for his mentor's mate at this point. There was no lungwort left for them to use, and that meant Mallowlark would have to fight Yellowcough on his own, with the help of feverfew and other small amounts of herbs. Until they ran out of feverfew- then what would they do, quarantine the sick like it was suggested? "...I think we should quarantine our sick cats." He'd been against it before, but now he was just as sure as anything that these cats needed to be moved away from the healthy ones. They needed the medicine den for other things like injuries, after all. "We don't want Yellowcough spreading more."​

SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE ✦ 14 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

His limbs feel bound to the floor; sewn over by some wayward root, the knot pulled and the rest of it being cut. The answer is spoken— but is it heard? Nonsense is what comes through to him at first, a garbled excuse of an answer that he ought to scold him for. He does not scowl— but he startles, despair crushing in the way it does not creep upon him, but bounds to meet his eye for the first time it ever has ( For the first time that he could remember )

In a first— the thought of his apprentice being beyond training nearly has him tearful, rather than biting back the extent of his anger. The thought behind such is not one he is privy to, but he is suddenly glassy eyed, and his claws tap morse notes of prayer into the ground.

It is sweet relief, when the fog passes, and Fireflypaw’s mew is more than garbled mantra. He watches his approach, fur steadily flattening. The twitch of his tail is uncomfortable. It takes a few fluttering blinks before the world feels righted again. Fireflypaw is at his side, and the medicine cat rests his chin stop his paws. Click into place— fine. All fine.

" …Coughing is uncommon, " Eventually, he replies. Dawnglare blinks exhaustion from his eyes, though it does nothing. " But... yes. That is good. "

It is all he wanted. For what it is worth, something in the back of his mind is relieved. The watery blues of his eyes slip shut.

And then— a question. One that has his pelt alight over again, and his teeth threatening the skin of his lips. It drives him to near - agony, to not have an answer for something he absolutely should. A matter of opinion, is it not? Only what he thinks. But what he thinks is not consistent. What he thinks, truly, terrifies him. He struggles not to tear at his own skin. And for all his inner turmoil, he is still largely static along the ground.

" He has to be, " he bites the non - answer at last. In subtext: that he believes, because it would hurt too badly not to. Hurt, it did. Dawnglare’s eyes are bleary. His ears remained pricked.

Oh, he could understand. On one end, the number of their sick had dwindled ( in part thanks to the cure. In part, very much not ). Were the few who remained so worth separating from the rest? In a way, it feels like chaining them to their looming death. On the other side, those few would only ever get worse, as far as they know now. Why maintain that risk?

Either way, oh, he would not let go of Mallowlark again.

In the end, he has nothing of value to say. For all he thinks, something in his mind spins it into thread only moments later. The exhaustion — he says. The exhaustion.

" Moving them would be quite the hassle, " he grouses at last— though does not necessarily refute the idea. Alive or dead, both would apply fairly.

OOC 𓆩♡𓆪 9.16.2023 𝘚𝘠𝘕𝘖𝘋𝘐𝘊 𝘚𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘖𝘕 𝘛𝘖 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘖𝘜𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘏𝘐𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎

•  

• 

• ( 𝙒𝙃𝙔'𝘿 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝘼𝙆𝙀 𝙎𝙊 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂? ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
  —— He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
  —— Currently 56 moons old. Mated to Mallowlark
  
  Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest.
  

  You may find him kinder to others than is typical, exhausted from the yellowcough blight and heart heavy in a way he has never felt.​

  Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads

​