Caduceus Place [Invite Only]

[redshiftreign]

WHEN I GO INTO THE GROUND

THEY GOTTA BURY ME FACE DOWN.

CASKET ; he/it
@Rani

the walk was fine- it always was. more or less. on unsteady legs, the blue-grey tabby ambled alongside nathaniel, shoulder pressed to his. the routine had fell in comfortably, easily, where each motion was expected. as easy as breathing now, even if his muscles still flexed with tightness and his body protested from both stress and old wounds. the walk was the easy part.

it was always the next step that made him twist and churn in disgust. that made his skin crawl, and his breath hitch and the world stop spinning.

frozen. ice in his veins, scorching like liquid fire.

Water.

it never got easier. curse what anyone said- it never got easier. and every day, his paws stopped, nearly tripped over themselves at the bank as he stared down with raised brows, fur bristling. every day that small little voice in him said he couldn't do it. he couldn't. he'd die. it'd crush him, smother him, suffocate him and he'd die.

and the other part of him, the stronger, sharper, meaner part that burned with a fire hot enough to flash water into steam, told him to suck it up. for every small whisper of terror, he grit his teeth and snarled inwardly, forcing his lead-heavy paws forwards until cold Water soaked into his short fur like frigid acid on his skin. every day, without fail, he hesitated but never caved. he was not weak.

he was not weak.

so, carefully, the tom slunk deeper into the brook, paws shifting silt aside and digging in for support. the cold- (though warmer than the morning before, and the morning prior to that)- Water shocked every system in him awake with electricity. tentatively, he made a few breaths of distance between himself and nathaniel, craving the independence so unjustly robbed of him. he slowly worked raw, underused muscles free from their gauntness, rolling his joints and flexing his back until he felt his spine pop satisfyingly. better. better. better.

but still, he felt familiar fear pin-prick up his back as the water sat in, a cursory glance spared over his shoulder at nathaniel.

just to be sure.

he trusted him- stars, he trusted him. he was certain he trusted nathaniel more than he thought he had trusted anyone in a very long time. but, still, paranoia settled like lake bed silt, and he had to brush it away with a fleeting, cautious glance. just to be sure.

[Rani]

Nathaniel

Kittypet Healer | He/him | 40 Moons | Dreamwalker | Silver Tongue

It was heartbreaking to watch this all effect Casket this way, watch him struggle with a simple task that should be enjoyable to watch him struggle with it so much. But.... He wasnt struggling with it as much as he once did. Improvement came with a sort of slow painful ice thaw, but it came, quicker with the effort expended to crack that ice into smaller pieces that'd melt faster.


It was a strange analogy perhaps, but watching Casket stretch not a fox length away it felt right. Snakeheart had once melted and bloomed into Nathaniel, healing an injury more mental then anything but painful all the same and so Casket would do the same.





Noting that the other tom wasnt going to get much more loose at the moment Nathaniel slipped into the river, lithe form gliding around the terrain he was born to as he tested the flow today. It wasnt too hard today, just enough that walking upstream would provide some small resistance and walking down would need some balance. Perfect.


"Once you feel ready you get to experience the ~wonderfully interesting~ activity of pacing up and down the river in mid shoulder depth. Going upstream will build strength as the water cushions you and supports your frame even as the resistance of the current helps build muscle and going downstream will help you figure out your balance and allow you to kind of rest.


Ill be here the whole time Ill just be swimming rather then walking, maybe see if I can catch a fish for us. Also if you make a comment on how much Im puffing I will be feeding you the most bitter herb in my store, Rowan already asked me if she was gonna get a belly like mine when she grew up and Ive not recovered." Kittens could be the most unintentionally cruel creatures in existence and Rhiannons mad cackles had truely broke the toms ego. Nathaniel might not be able to 'hit back' on his mate and innocent (if cutting) kitten but Casket could be punished for snickering. Though if it lightened the other toms spirit and he didnt laugh then it could be ignored.



The potential punishment would probably be something not at all serious to be honest, bitter herbs or Nathaniel siccing his kits on Casket to use him as a play toy and yank on someone elses whiskers for a change.





Paddling around the deeper parts of the river Casket would be given space to move as he wished though the russet healer would stay within easy conversation (and helping) reach, musing a gentle "Have I told you how the twolegs have been a menace lately? I think theyre twitchy with how long Im spending out, especially given Rhiannon isnt wandering as much as she used to with the kittens, they now expect both of us to stay home more.


They keep trying to collar me, frankly its a nuisance more then anything given I refuse to wear those uncomfortable things and they refuse to make one I cant slip out of~ An endless cycle of them putting a new one on me as I swipe at them and me 'loosing' it as soon as I leave the house but I hope they grow tired and give up soon because I will not."



Nathaniel was fully aware that Casket had been collared in a brutal way before and the healer had all too keenly seen the visceral reaction the tom had suppressed when a collared cat poked their head in for a minor heal on occasion. It wasnt a good reaction to have, even if valid, so here was a topic of conversation designed to gently loosen whatever silent knot of emotion the other held if possible. Also to test Caskets lungs, how his breathing and speech was when he was exerting himself would say a lot about the damage remaining after all this time.



@redshiftreign

[Mica]

Eaglepaw
Outsider
she/her | 10 moons
[Golden and white tuxedo tabby with green eyes and a heavily scarred face]
Purrks: Dreamwalker, Herbal Knowledge T2
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ The Star ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
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[Snowdrop - @Estelle ]
· · ────────────── · ·
Every day, Eaglepaw missed RiverClan. She missed the sound of the river lulling her to sleep, her soft nest of moss and feathers, patrols, training with Fadingsun. But every day, she was grateful to be gone.

She slept better than she had in moons, if she was being honest. The unnaturally soft nest was alluring, and the quiet trill of night insects and a far-off drone of a Thunderpath was remarkably similar to the river at home. But never the same.

She attributed her sleeping well to the stability of this place. Nathaniel and Rushwater--Casket, as he called himself now--took great care of her, and with Nathaniel's knowledge and Rushwater's endless cuddles, Eaglepaw's fever had abated swiftly and she was able to focus on letting her face and leg heal.

Eaglepaw laid in her nest, the scent of Rushwater long since replaced with her own, despite her best efforts to keep it near. He visited very frequently, and even had to be kicked out by Nathaniel so Eaglepaw could get her rest. Nathaniel. What an interesting cat. At first, she had wondered what a Nathan and an iel was, assuming that it was in the same format as a clan name. But when he revealed that he was a former RiverClan medicine cat, the apprentice had been shocked. She had immediately pestered him with questions--when was he medicine cat? Did he know Tansypaw? Did he know where she was?--but none of her questions could be answered. Snakeheart was his former name. In all honesty, Eaglepaw didn't like it. It felt demeaning, like she was calling the tom who had saved her life a liar and heartless. Nathaniel suited him, and he wore the kittypet name happily. Eaglepaw did not understand the desire to live as a kittypet, but she would be dead if he hadn't found her. So, Nathaniel it was.

The golden tabby stretched in her nest, resisting the yawn that grew in her throat. Her mouth had healed up nicely thanks to Nathaniel's care, and was no longer required to be taped shut by herbs and cobwebs. That wasn't to say it didn't hurt like hell, and any time Eaglepaw tried to talk or move her mouth too much, she was struck by blinding pain. Nathaniel told her she would likely be disfigured for the rest of her life.

Strangely enough, that didn't really bother Eaglepaw. Plenty of cats in RiverClan were disfigured, including Cobwebpaw. Some cats wore it as a badge of honor, and Eaglepaw had decided to do that too. The first time she had been allowed out of the den--Rushwater insisted on sticking to her pelt at all times in case she needed help--she had made a beeline for a puddle and stared at herself for a good hour. Back then, it had been covered in cobwebs. Now, it was only patched on the worst of it. She could see hints of her tiny white fangs through the torn flesh, and would sometimes bare them at her reflection just to see what it looked like.

It looked pretty badass, to be honest.

What bothered Eaglepaw about this place was the lack of cats, and the lack of responsibility. In RiverClan, she was expected to go on patrols, clean dens, and help around camp. All things she enjoyed doing. But here, there was really only the medicine den, and there were only a few cats who popped in and out. Rushwater, Nathaniel, her... and Nathaniel's kittens.

Stars, when she found out Nathaniel had kittens, Eaglepaw had been horrified. Kittens?? Living out here, at the twoleg place? Wasn't that dangerous? Twolegs could snatch them up at any time and take them away from their parents. Eaglepaw had run to Rushwater one night, expressing her concerns in a frantic game of charades and mumbles. But Rushwater assured her that the kittens were kittypets, and that this place was much safer for them than the clans would be. It had taken a little convincing, but Eaglepaw eventually understood.

Eaglepaw desperately wanted to go on patrols, had even offered to Nathaniel to go with him to look for herbs, or to hunt with Rushwater, but had been turned down. She knew it was because she was a liability, wounded as she was, but stars did it sting. Her claws itched every moment spent stuck in this den, unable to go out and patrol. Patrolling had been her one solace in RiverClan. When being in camp and around the cats who made her life a living hell got to be too much, she could always offer to go on a patrol. The territory comforted her, as well as the act of providing. She had once confessed to Fadingsun that she had wanted to be medicine cat apprentice when she was a kit, but had realized that her true place in the clan was as a warrior who could provide for the clan. She didn't have a clan to provide for, anymore. RiverClan was long gone, and who knew when or if they would ever come back.

She wasn't even sure she wanted to return with them.

The distant sound of birdsong filtered into the alcove in which Nathaniel's den was built, luring Eaglepaw with the promise of a warm Greenleaf day. She tentatively stood, wincing as she put weight on her injured foreleg. It was mostly healed, save for some tenderness and muscle weakness. All the more reason to get up and walk, right? Nathaniel couldn't scold her for sitting outside the den... and Rushwater did whatever Nathaniel said, so he couldn't rag on her either.... right? Right.

Eaglepaw limped to the den entrance, poking her head through the entryway and squinting at the sunlight. It was difficult to get used to after spending so long in the dim den, but she pushed through it until she was fully outside of the den. She sat near the entrance, drinking in the scents of the twoleg park. She wondered vaguely if Nathaniel's kits were around. Sometimes they visited, little tiny things with such hope in their eyes. They were fat and soft like kittypets were described, but Eaglepaw almost envied the way their coats shone healthily. In the last few months, Eaglepaw had declined significantly in her health. Her pelt hung off her frame, and her ribs showed through the ragged fur. Her eyes were dull, and combined with the new injuries, she made for quite a haunting figure. She was almost afraid that she would scare the poor kits away. But they usually didn't seem to mind her...

[Estelle]

Papa had said they had a cousin, and an uncle. That he was mama’s brother and that she was mama’s brother’s daughter and she knew where they were staying – in the den papa often disappeared to in order to heal the wounded. Snowdrop never paid much mind to it before. It was interesting, yes; but the kitten found much interest in her surroundings, distracted by all she could see outside.

Yet the promise of a cousin, someone to play with – a new cat, it held something interesting. You see, for however much Snowdrop loved watching the outside, she enjoyed doing so safely from her seat in the window, cuddled up in many soft blankets until she fell asleep and mama had to bring her back to her nest. She loved being within the comfort of her home; even the upwalkers sometimes gave her little scratchies just behind the ear that tickle nicely.

But today was different. Snowdrop had grown curious: ever so curious – she always was; “curiosity killed the cat” is saying she scoffed at because, you see, she was still alive! And this very morning she had followed her papa secretly (or as secretly as she could) to his den, a path she slowly began to memorise for funsies. She hoped to find their mysterious cousin there, keen on meeting her.

She wondered, what would she look like? Would her fur be soft and fluffy like mama’s, or sleek like papa’s? Would she be tall like she had heard Casket was (what a strange name)? Or would she be small, because she was still young, like herself? Snowdrop had a difficult time imagining this cat, and yet – would she look anything like what she could imagine?

Not quite. Snowdrop arrive near the place of healing, a home away from home, a home much different to the twoleg home. And outside sat a cat, one she did not recognise. Wounded, clearly, yet she wasn’t under the impression that it was a new patient based on the way these wounds looked; they looked treated, you see, and she set there so peacefully… As if she belonged, as if there was no where else she had to be.

Suddenly, Snowdrop felt rather self-conscious, and the pep in her step promptly disappeared as she hid behind same grass, firstly observing this silent and malformed cat. What happened to her, was she born like that? Snowdrop wondered. Her mind battled between curiosity and shyness, a want to meet her cousin and a fear of doing so without papa or mama.

But time stopped for no one. Just as the first winter snow had fallen the day of birth it had gone as well, and just like that the young kitten was required to move forth and introduce herself – or inquire upon this cat’s identity. So; taking a deep breath, the white-patterned kitten with mismatched eyes tentatively stepped forth, curiously looking.
“Are… Are you my cousin?”
She began, eyes trailing along Eaglepaw’s body. She looked nothing like the kittypets of the neighbourhood.
“What… Happened to you? What’s your name?”
She asked, each question a bit more tentative than the other.


[ @Mica ]