[Neptune.]

 

Originally Posted by Dark

Fishfreckle

Go With the Flow | Silver Tongue [Perm] | Mind Reader
___________

Pain.

Lots and lots of pain.

Each footstep, each breath, each waking moment was pure agony.

Many times during the walk to the newfound camp, Fishfreckle had to pause. Whether it was due to the lack of strength held within his short limbs, or he had to stop and catch his breath. He hurt. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he should feel about Dusklion finding him. Had the deputy shown up just a little later, it was possible that he would’ve met his end in that half puddle and wouldn’t have had to deal with the pain. Perhaps he deserved this though. Perhaps this was some sort of divine retribution for all the times that he harmed others (verbally and emotionally). Thinking like that though simply pissed him off instead of bringing him some sort of existential solace.

He hated it.

When he limped into the camp that he presumed would be his new home, he paused just at the entrance. Wincing, he craned his neck to take in the surroundings in an attempt to gain his bearings. He wanted to sleep. He should eat, he knew that, but he had no energy to attempt to find food. He knew should he fall asleep in his current condition that he might not wake back up, but he didn’t care. The call to the ever-familiar darkness was a comforting lullaby inviting him with promises of freedom and relief – a grandeur proposition that he was ever tempted by.

As he considered sleeping where he stood, a familiar scent forewarned him of an approaching nuisance cat. At a snail’s pace, he fixed his gaze onto a tortoiseshell she-cat. Honestly, Fishfreckle hadn’t thought he would see her again. A sense of relief washed over him and he couldn’t stop the twitch of his lips when she pointed out his sorry appearance. He blinked. A slow blink, one with a meaning he’d never admit out loud before stumbling forward and resting his forehead against Larkwing’s. It was a little awkward with the slight size difference, but in this moment, right here, right now, he did not care.

”I’ve seen better days,” The emaciated tabby admitted casually, voice soft and hoarse from underuse. ”I feel like hell too.” He added, closing his eyes as he inhaled the sweet scent of the former leader. ”I told you that I’d catch up,” He said in a laugh that came out more like a wheeze. A moment of silence filled the air as he took a moment to rest his eyes ”I kept my promise, Larkwing.” He declared.

”I’m home.”

[ @/Neptune. ]

Larkwing
~<>~
24 moons || she/her || RiverClan Warrior || Kitty Softpaws, Mind Reader, Beefed Up T2
scarred, scrawny dilute tortoiseshell; green eyes

As Fishfreckle leans forward, his forehead resting on hers, Larkwing stills, and for just a moment, the contact scares her. It's an affectionate, intimate gesture, and Lark has no idea what to do with that. Fish had never struck her as the type to initiate, let alone enjoy, physical contact for comfort, and maybe if he hadn't been half emaciated and delirious with the sickness Lark can smell on his pelt he wouldn't have done such a gesture. It's selfish, and she doesn't know exactly what it means, but the tortoiseshell finds herself wanting more of this.

Maybe she shouldn't.

"Took you long enough," she whispers, eyes watching him, worried. She wanted to know what happened, how it had gotten so bad, but she wasn't sure he'd tell her. "Welcome home."

Regrettably, Larkwing quickly returns to her senses, concern over the warrior overshadowing her relief that he'd returned home, and she broke their contact, stepping back to look him over. It was obvious he's hardly eaten, and obvious, too, that he looked as though sleep had been a mere afterthought. But, what concerned her more than that, was how sick he looked and smelled, the odd, sour tang of illness tinged with what she thought might be a hint of old crowfood worried her.

"You need to see the medicine cats," she said, and if the statement came out more like an order, well, maybe he'd actually listen - though she doubted that. "Can you make it there yourself, or do I need to drag you?" She would grab him by his scruff and drag him like a misbehaving kit if he'd refused, she wasn't afraid to do so.

Compartmentalizing, she took stock of the situation. Fishfreckle needed to get medical attention, but he needed to eat, too. The fresh-kill pile had some things, but nothing was super fresh. Perhaps she could go and grab a fresh mouse or two for him while he was being looked over... nothing too big, she knew from personal that eating too much after not eating for a while could make your stomach even more upset, so she'd have to take that into consideration.