Something HAS to improve, right? [p]

***Rani*** · #1 January 14th, 2025, 10:02 PM

Things were reaching a breaking point as the days ticked by, the kind of building tension that came with watching someone slip away. Not physically, not from the horrible sickness the clan had watched many die of of late. But more of a sickness of the mind.

It'd been over a week since Wolfhive had died, since the era of sickness had come to a horrible and abrupt end, and Mudhound had not spoken once. Not a purr, not a chirp, not a bark, nor his, none of the endless chattering they usually did in one form or another. Just silence, utter silence. It wasnt a lack of capability, that had been checked for but no words were coming, as if the tripod didnt know what to say if they had anything worth saying at all. Which they probably didnt, judging from the blank hollow eyes and empty shuffling through camp they'd been doing of late.

It was a problem, the lack of action or anything without explicit instruction and the growing feeling this would build to something horrible if left unhandled. Mudhound couldnt spend the rest of their life being told to do every little action. They couldnt rot in silence, mentally declining, forever.

Something had to break, something and the only hope was that it wouldnt be Mudhound, who was just kind of sitting in a corner of camp staring into nothing.

@korok @Starfall @Lightningpaw666 ( @Beaan @Alchemist Kitsune @vellichor We're attempting to fix the dog. If you want in just post, wont bother you past this post~)

**vellichor** · #2 January 14th, 2025, 11:24 PM

•° Violetfreckle °•
Rapid Recovery • Collector • Master Scout
Tired. Hollow. Numb. Too much. Not enough. Vi's mood had been swinging like a rogue pendulum lately, with short bursts of energy and an intense need to do something followed by hours of sitting in camp, staring at the wall. Right now, she was just staring at her paws, but in a few heartbeats? Maybe a couple minutes, hours? Days, if she was unlucky? Who knew when things would change.

But she wasn't alone in her suffering. No, a familiar pelt caught her gaze as she mindlessly looked around the camp. Mudhound. Looking much worse for wear than Violetfreckle. Something was off, she noticed. Besides the heavy air of grief. Come to think of it, she hadn't heard a single sound from the usually chatty cat's mouth in... since before they went to the sick camp. She'd never say it out loud, but she kind of missed it. Mudhound's chatter had been a constant for seasons. It had been odd enough to go without it for this long, and now... still nothing.

She decided that a distraction was better than what she was doing now and sat up ungracefully, not bothering to shake the snow off her paws. She was just gonna sit back down again. She slowly approached Mudhound – not on purpose, mind you. It was just hard to move her body. It felt like a boulder was sat upon her shoulders. When she made it to Mudhound, she cleared her throat in case the cat (somehow) didn't see her coming. "Heya," she murmured. After a brief moment, Violetfreckle went to bump her forehead against Mudhound's shoulder. She knew they enjoyed physical contact, as she recalled from her days in the warrior's den. The faintest hint of a smile crept onto her maw for the smallest of moments. Then, gone.

And she sat down beside the Hornet. "You holding up okay? As best as you can, anyway?" Maybe yes or no questions would be good to start. Maybe that would lead to conversation. Hopefully. Vi's ears were pricked and attentive despite her slouched posture. She wanted to hear something, anything.

// @korok @Starfall @Lightningpaw666 @Rani of course i'm in. silly goose \\

***Rani*** · #3 January 15th, 2025, 12:09 AM

Vivivivivi, pillow, friend, kinda sister in law.

If they were being honest Mudhound didnt even notice her approaching and sitting down until she was there bumping the warrior, wide vacant eyes drifting over almost startled.

A distant part of Mudhound, buried under grief, wondered if Violetfreckle felt the lack in the warriors den, despite how full it was given their old nest layout. When she was in the warriors den and not up with Bumblestar, that is.

Once upon a time there'd been more cats, Redhawk joining her nest with Mudhound's to sleep on top of the tripod (how could they have missed that they'd loved eachother?! How could they not know until it was too late). Once upon a time despite a large enough space Mudhound still flowed over to encroach on Violetfreckle's to use her as a pillow. Once upon a time Wolfhives soft breaths created a backdrop nearby.

More silence now, there too.

Lost in muffled memories the tripod jolted again at more words, floppy ears twitching as they tried to understand the simple phrase through the static.

'You holding up okay? As best as you can, anyway?'

...... Were they? Mudhound didnt really have an answer, they'd not been thinking about it, not been thinking much at all and though they tried to come up with an answer for Violetfreckle, it wasnt a really pleasant experience. Because they hadnt been. They'd been staving off a proper breakdown that'd come with processing everything with the knowledge that they needed to be strong for thunderclan and their sister. But Mudhound wasnt really being strong they just werent being weak, weakness that was needed for coping.

The tripods breathing started to spike, becoming tight and high as their pupils came into focus. It was more aware then they'd been for ages but not for the right reasons. Two steps forward one step back type thing.

But really Mudhound didnt want to think about how they were doing, it was bad it was all bad, wasnt being weak bad when the clan couldnt afford it? Maybe that was an excuse but they didnt want to think about it because that would mean coming to terms with everything and moving on! It'd mean a final end and a new reality and they didnt want it!

Breaking and remaking. God was it horrible to watch Mudhound start to silently panic though.

@vellichor @korok @Starfall @Lightningpaw666 (it gets worse before it gets better~)

***Alchemist Kitsune*** · #4 January 16th, 2025, 05:46 PM

A scowl marred the usually empty gaze the tom held as he realized that Snotzilla was nowhere to be found. Perhaps bonding with friends and family? That made sense, he supposed. Still, he thought the days that he had allowed to pass had been sufficient for all the pointless pleasantries to be made and for his apprentice to be ready to resume training. Or at the very least talk to him about how well she could cope with said training. He wasn't a monster, after all. If she was still too weak to hunt and battle, he would gladly work on her form or on her regaining her stamina in camp a little at a time. There was no rush, really. Sprucejumper had never been the hurried type of cat.

What he had not expected was complete silence. From her, in any case. A lack of dialog was the usual for him, but the younger feline tended to be a chatterbox. With a scoff, he picked up the chipmunks he had hunted for her, no longer feeling any level of hunger in his disappointment and worry. For... himself, of course. He wasn't worried for her. That implied he cared, and the former housecat was above such trivial notions and weaknesses. Hmph!

Whatever. He had tried. Surely Angry wouldn't skin him if his apprentice was simply nowhere to be found. Although he certainly felt right foolish for having gone out of his way to provide the freshest possible meal for the formerly sick feline. And speaking of formerly sick felines... wasn't that The Boulder standing next to... that cat with the face. Violent or something along those lines. In his experience, Violent was actually not all that violent at all, but considering she seemed to be pretty tight with Ire McMurderstar there might actually be a case to be made that she could in fact be every bit as Violent as her name implied. If so, it would probably be wiser to stay the hell away from her and his former mentor for the time being. They seemed to be talking. Or... she seemed to be talking... The Boulder was... not.

His hesitation gone, Sprucejumper padded deliberately and with purpose towards the two warriors, the scowl that had momentarily adorned his features gone. Melting away to leave a very real concern etched within them. There was... a familiarity to the look The Boulder now bore. To the vacant, hopeless, broken stare into nowhere. It was like looking at his reflection back when he had taken his first life lesson from those city rogues. A day after he had lost it all. His mother, his father, his littermates... his Brownie... his home. There had been nothing left, until a complete panic overtook him as it finally settled in. That this was his reality now. That he was all alone.

Dropping the chipmunks at their paws, he tried to nudge them closer towards them before looking up at the sharply breathing mountain of a cat. He didn't keep up with news much. Little mattered to him anymore. As long as he was providing, he could survive here. The chocolate point understood this was his worth within the clan. It was hard to have any further worth when one refused to gain weaknesses in the forms of friendships that would abandon you or backstab you in the end, one way or another. But... that was him, not The Boulder. The Boulder was... different. A kind soul. A gentle heart that against every reasonable explanation wanted nothing more than to help and love. Who took these abandonments, especially those in the form of death, harshly. He knew. He could still remember how broken they had looked when they had gone out to the Willow to grieve their fallen clanmates, and he wasn't even certain if there had been anyone particularly important to them among the graves that day. This being his singular experience having ever seen anything close to this side of the brown furred cat it was the only conclusion he could reach. Somebody had died. Somebody dear to them.

"Food," the tom finally blurted out.

His voice was uncertain despite his attempt to regain his composure, knowing full well that his own emotions and confusion on the matter here were meaningless. The singularly uttered word seemed out of place here, but... what else could he do? Sprucejumper was not... talkative. He was not caring. He was not warm and affectionate. Those were all things The Boulder was, not him. All he could do was offer sustenance. A means for survival. For what could be a bigger display of... well... of affection of any sort than the offering of a fresh meal when one was at their lowest? He didn't know. Probably the reason why cats avoided him as much as he avoided them. But it was all he had at the sight of such a broken shell.

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