camp we have it all — returning

[YUKIO]

.don't rush something you —————————

————————— want to last forever.

▵ ———————— ◮ ———————— ▵

takes place a few hours after this thread !

DUSKPOOL FOUND THEM HOURS LATER, CURLED UP AGAINST THE BASE of a trunk, paw cradling his bleeding cheek that’s now dried, clinging to his fur like water droplets on carefully crafted cobwebs. The older male had tried getting him to talk, but Yukio stayed firm, maw wired shut during their trek to camp, following the molten copper-eyed brute with a heavy heart, mismatched optics glancing at his swollen stomach every few seconds, worrying the inside of his cheek. Would they really kick me out? He thought helplessly. He didn’t want to leave, but what could he do?

Shaking his helm, Yukio wiggled after the older warrior, ignoring the blood that smeared across his cheek, a stark contrast against his light-colored fur. “T, Thank you.” He offered Duskpool a wobbly smile as he slide past, ignoring the wind that battered his pelt, now realizing his ears hurt.

A whimper escaped his maw, ears falling flush against his help, blocking out most of the wind, and giving the queen some relief. Oh, dear—He never knew how much the wind could hurt until now, body all but collapsing near the nursery entrance, willowy tail swishing, lost in thought, head cocked, staring absently out. He wanted nothing more than to burrow into his nest, but he promised to wait until Duskpool returned with the flowers he picked before … The queen shook his head, whiskers twitching. No need to think about that! He hummed softly, claws carving random shapes into the earth.

thoughts speech​

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[DAWNGLARE]

Dawnglare was not one to pay much attention to the daily comings and goings of each cat. And in SkyClan, this was plentiful. The excess of cats still attached to their twoleg pets made for quite the hustle and bustle. Dawnglare's eyes glaze over it all. He does not put the individual to the face, most of the time, and today was no different.

Were it not for the strain against the wind, the tired drag of a body to the maw of the nursery, the stench of blood, the medicine cat would pay no mind. A head swivels on a near - perfect axis to lock eyes with the non - well of blood, now dry and crusted across a pale sand face. The collapse of weight at a den is not one typical for a cat who spent their days lounging, nor from the struggle of fighting against wind, no matter how fierce the howling may come.

Claws grappling with his inherent sagely nature today of all days, he starts toward the cream feline. Slow, deliberate movements aid his large body in staying afloat against the wind. Dawnglare peers at them with eyes unrelenting. Red and white whisks of fur are blown to and fro, framing the weighty frown on his features. Teeth flash momentarily in his grimace. " It's as if you hardly care at all, " he remarks, gaze flickering to the swell of the queen's belly. Perhaps it was not meant to insult. His tone waxes matter - of - fact. Dawnglare would not like to carry around such a burden himself, either. Dawnglare wonders what the kits would become, with their carrier out and about like this, as they were.

Dawnglare does not question his bloody cheek, for he does not care. He tilts his head back in search of a familiar face, instead. " Fireflypaw, wet moss, " his voice had to raise a little louder to be heard over the wind.

( ooc: calling for unpaid intern @Fireflypaw )​

 

[Fireflyglow]

// crawls in from the depths of unpaid intern hell

Fireflypaw was never one to enjoy seeing Queens out and about, struggling their way through the camp with swollen bellies so delicate it was hard to keep them still. So upon hearing Dawnglare's voice calling for him, demanding wet moss, Fireflypaw immediately makes a run for the moss pile and the nearest puddle possible. A quick dip, one, two- then he pulls the moss from the liquid and waddles over to the strawberry-and-cream tom to hold it out as an offering. After all, it was normally Dawnglare who treated those who were injured, not himself. Not yet, at least.

"What's happened?" He asks, not exactly the best at detecting when he should just leave things alone in this moment. After all, one of their Queens were hurt. He couldn't allow them to keep leaving the camp when he was so close to kitting. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He finally adds when he realizes how rude he's being, tail tapping the ground in rhythmic fours. One, two, three, four. He waits, then.​

SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE ✦ 10 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS​

 

[Dogskip]

Watching the queen wander from camp without a care in the world grated on his nerves more than anything else he had seen in this clan so far. Perhaps it was due to old wounds, ones that had not healed necessarily, but rather ignored and as such were left to fester. One of his sisters held the same wanderlust this one seemingly had, and just as this one does, wandered rather than stayed put while carrying kits. Unlike this one, she met her end because of her foolishness, an injury that weakened her to the point of dying during childbirth.

He warned her. Again and again, and she did not listen. To this day, it weighs heavily on his soul that he had not tried harder to talk to her.

"How many times do you have to be told not to leave the camp?" His tone was sharp and cool. "You must know it isn't safe out there for one carrying kits. Your kits may suffer for your foolishness."

He was not being harsh out of malice, even if it sounded that way. It was out of fear. The very, absolute last thing he wanted to see or hear was a repeat of his sister's death. He will never forget the mourning cries, the gut wrenching anguish he and his siblings felt that day. If he had to be mean to get the point across, then he'd do it for Yukio's sake as well as the little ones growing inside.

His old wounds he had pushed aside were being dredged up quite often recently. He didn't know how to feel about it. Was fate trying to tell him it was time to face them? Good luck.​

 

[Cherryblossom]

An oddity trembles through the nursery air, sharp tendril weaving among milk-scented and foggy winds. There's a commotion outside. The sound of a heavy thing against the ground, voices crackling (they don't sound pleased), and as always these days, the wind stirring up all the sounds. Cherrykit had been satisfied with the nursery today, empty-minded and messing with the feathers lining Orangeblossom's nest, until something more interesting came along outside the holly walls. She perks up, delicate ears catching eventful snippets as she weaves her way through. "Fireflypaw, wet moss . . . don't have to tell me if you don't want to . . . how many times . . . not to leave the camp?" Her mind churns, trying to link it all together before stepping outside.

The first thing she notices is red. A shock of red, staining Yukio's gentle cheek and dribbling down like spit. Some of the birds on the fresh-kill pile are red, bright red, and most turn a wet red when she bites into them. The berries littering the nursery walls are red too, along with some of the flowers Yukio weaves into the den before they wilt. Red is not a cat color though. Sometimes her skin gets pinkish after playing, only seen when she curiously parts the fur, but only ever pink. Dawnglare, Fireflypaw, and Wobbledog stand around the queen; the latter looks the angriest, though Cherrykit only knows "angry" as a scolding from Orangeblossom. "What's wrong with you?" she asks. He's different today—sad, that's the word. He's sadder than she was when Orangeblossom wouldn't let her have milk for the first time. Her mother, and later her father, comforted her though, but no one's comforting Yukio. She pauses. What do they say when she's sad? "It's okay," she simply offers. Maybe that'll do the trick. She would like him to stop being sad so he can keep bringing them flowers, now that he's here again.
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[YUKIO]

don't rush something you want to last forever .​

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶​

Time was a fickle thing, one Yukio hadn’t been paying attention to until Dawnglare spoke, shocking the queen with a soft squeak. How long..? Blinking until the words uttered by the other slithered past the cotton within his ears, causing the small feline to flinch, curling into himself.

“I-” I’m sorry. Was it true? Was Kyungmin right? No. No … Yukio wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about a lot of things now. He blinked, paw reaching to touch the dried blood caked along his cheek, pulling back with a startled hiss, withdrawing as Firefly came into view. Oh. They wanted to know what happened.

The usual sunny feline frowned, further tucking himself into his tangled pelt in need of a good detangle, but it seemed a far bigger chore to him now than it did earlier.

How could he explain? He had only wanted to get more flowers for the nursery. He meant nothing by it. He was still valuable, wasn’t he? He didn’t want to bother anyone with a silly chore when the wind grew increasingly worse. He had still capable. He didn’t like it when he had to seek help, knowing Kyungmin had always been prickly when he did. If he had to ask, then why bother? The silver blue tabby would say, tail curling around Yukio’s measly frame, tone granting on his ears until they became raw.

He wanted Duskpool. He felt too exposed. Raw. In the eyes of everyone who stood around him, caging him.

He didn’t know how to—Yukio’s maw parted, snapping shut at the brute’s tone, flinching. Was it true? Would they abandon him? “I, I—” He licked his lips, chest constricting, owlish optics blooming into the size of moons, gaze watery. “I’m sorry.” His voice wobbled, head bowed, ears tucked against his helm.

Yukio blinked through the haze, sniffling at Cherrykit’s voice, dark lips curled into a wobbly smile. “N, Nothing.” He mumbled, not wanting to tell the poor thing the truth. He didn’t think Orangeblossom would appreciate it and so he kept his maw shut, simply offering a shuddered breath that felt too hot against his burning skin. His head muffled, feeling lightheaded. Oh. I’m supposed to breathe.

Blinking through the haze, Yukio flinched. Would everything be okay? The cream-ticked tabby wasn’t sure anymore, but the simple offer sent the queen spiraling, chest hiccuping as the first well of tears brimmed his waterline.

“Y, Yes.” He offered the small kit a watery smile, sucking in a harsh breath through his nose until it burned, head bounding. “T, Thank you little one.” He offered. His tone a mere whisper, refusing to meet anyone's gaze knowing the dam would break and a flood of tears would sure to stream down his cheeks, no doubt making things worse for the queen than they are now.
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thought speech​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

A queen, close to kitting, injured in their own territory is Blazestar’s concern. He pointedly ignores Dawnglare, settling beside Fireflypaw as the medicine cat fusses at Yukio—“It’s like you hardly even care.” The Ragdoll frowns; he knows that couldn’t be it. Yukio’s head is full of cobwebs, sure, but he’s a gentle sort of feline, good with the other kits and friendly with the other queens. “They’re right, you know,” he says, voice gentle despite the look of agreement he shares with Wobbledog.

After a moment, Blazestar makes a “mrr” sound, verbalizing his disapproval. “Nothing isn’t an answer. Did a rogue do this to you?” He growls, low in his throat. “I need to know as your leader if there is a dangerous cat loose in my forest.” He curls his lip. “A cat who would attack a queen, at that.”
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[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[YUKIO]

don't rush something you want to last forever .​

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶​

Yukio flinched, owlish optics widening at Blaze’s appearance. Oh. Oh—Kyungmin wouldn’t hurt anyone else. He was sure of that. More than anything. Yukio was a silly thing. Kyungmin was just reminding him of that.

He shook his helm, fiddling with his fur, having something to do than stare at his leader, gnawing on his lip, ears flattening against his helm. “Oh—” He let out a soft, pitiful mewl. “No!” He shook his helm, tears collecting along his waterline. “H, Heavens no.” He curled into himself, crooning. “H, He won’t hurt a, anyone.”

Glancing down at his swollen stomach, his tail reaching to curl around the supple flesh. “No. I deserved—” Maw clamped shut, laughing nervously. “H, He didn’t mean t, to do it.” He mumbled, voice barely audible. He hadn’t taken well to seeing Yukio still with kits from the visible swell of his stomach holding something so precious, Yukio had refused to give them up, even if Kyungmin wanted him to. ​

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thought speech​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

His call is heeded– wet moss promptly taken into his maw so that he may unceremoniously clean up the dried blood. Dawnglare is not so oblivious– only uncaring, to the matters chattered about betwixt them. Fireflypaw had a knack for caring for the least important of things. At times, he is more than happy to leave idle chatter than him. It is a waste of time, for himself. What's wrong with you? The kittish question does not come out rude. Dawnglare hums agreedly around the moss in his maw. Between the queen's meek stuttering, Dawnglare would press forward to clean bloodied wounds.

It does not take long, and Dawnglare has no more reason to be there, once it's done. Even less, as Blazestar noses his way forward, disapproving trill on his tongue. Dawnglare is apathetic to his approaching. That is to say, he doesn't care at all. Not a morsel, in fact, HIs stare is perfectly blank and half - lidded. He looks about anywhere else. " Do not apologize to me, " He says flatly. It would be a detriment to himself, really. Digging at loose scraps of moss, he'd shoulder his way past Blazestar, ears pivoted to the conversation he lives.

He won't hurt anyone. A narrowed gaze would come to meet the queen's own; blue moons daring in the glimmer of question. Hurt someone certainly has been already.

An accident, though. An accident. Faces rarely met the same face a gangly limb or uncurled tail might, but he cares not enough to say such a thing. Dawnglare walks on, attention pressing only forward.​

 

[Orangestar]

"Whether he meant to or not, this is his fault. You're hurt. Who is he, Yukio? Even if he's a friend, we need to know so this doesn't happen again- to you, or anyone else." Orangeblossom stalks over, narrow eyes darting between Yukio's wounds and his face. Down for brains. Her tail flicks, irritated. An expecting or nursing queen shouldn't be out of camp without an escort for this exact reason, and he had known that full well when he'd gone on this jaunt. His intentions are moot in the face of his injuries, but maybe he'd listen to reason under the potential threat to his Clanmates.

She tosses a glance to Blazestar, then to Wobbledog, then zeroes on the small calico form at Yukio's side and exhales a sigh through her nose. Orangeblossom's voice softens as she calls, "Cherrykit. Give Yukio some space, okay? Dawnglare and Fireflypaw need room to work so Yukio can feel better."

// mobile

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar does not acknowledge Dawnglare’s approach. He’s silent as the fox-pelted (foxhearted, too) medicine cat presses wet moss to Yukio’s wounds. Blazestar pretends Dawnglare isn’t there at all; once he leaves, uttering something flat to the injured tom, the leader lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’s holding. “So you know this rogue.” He narrows his eyes, catching Orangeblossom’s glance and holding it for a moment. They’re sharing a thought, it seems.

“Is this cat who hurt you the sire of your kits, Yukio?” A horrid thought, but one Blazestar is now almost certain of. He hadn’t known such cruelty in the short moons since he’d met Bobbie and Yukio. One queen abandoned and left for dead in lands she could not defend herself in; another mauled and abused in their own territory. Even wretched, evil cats could have mates who loved and defended them; Sootstar certainly has one, among others. Why are sweet cats like these treated so terribly?
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[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[YUKIO]

don't rush something you want to last forever .​

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶​

Yukio flinched, silent as Dawnglare dabbed at the wound, no longer stained ichor, but darkening the cream-colored fur. He winced, shrinking in on himself at Dawnglare’s gaze, knowing how odd it sounded, but really, Yukio knew Kyungmin wouldn’t hurt anyone. Truly! It was just an accident—His mouth felt dry, tongue peeking out to wet his lips, unsure.

At Orangeblossom’s appearance, Yukio seemed to sink further into himself, paws kneading the earth. “I—” He paused, unsure, gaze lowering until he stared at her paws. Was it Kyungmin’s fault? No. No. He had been the one to anger—Yukio frowned.

His body stiffened, gaze unpractically wide at the thought. No. No. Kyungmin wouldn’t hurt anyone.[/u] He was certain of it. He shook his helm, muttering gibberish, breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

Snapping out of his frenzied thoughts at Blazestar’s admission, nodding meekly. I know him. He knew him. Yes. But Yukio couldn’t seem to form words, tongue like sand against the roof of his mouth, incredibly swollen, but not. Oh. Oh.

“Y, Yes.” He finally got out, chest quivering, gaze uncanny. “H, He really d, didn’t—” He murmured. “D, Didn’t w, want them.” He finished with a downcast expression. “K, Kyungmin—” Yukio stated, pausing, nibbling on his lower lip. “M. My f, fault.” He didn’t elaborate, unsure. What was he trying to say? The queen wasn’t sure. ​

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thought speech​