she ate the lotus [private]

**plum** · #1 August 17th, 2024, 12:28 PM

@iliri

The thing about baggage, is usually those with baggage know what they've got. They know that they're carrying a suitcase full of issues with them wherever they go, and they know- even if they don't intend for it- that it can very well affect those around them. You would think, then, if someone no longer knew they had ever carried any baggage at all, it would no longer make a difference to the world around them. But their baggage isn't gone just because they don't know it exists. A tree still grows around the corner and out of sight. It still provides shelter, casts a shadow, and makes a difference. It doesn't cease to exist when the squirrel who planted the seed in hopes of returning for it in the colder season forgets it had planted anything there.

The squirrel could very well say, 'That tree isn't mine, I never left a nut there,' but the tree would not disappear.

A cat with golden fur and black rosettes wakes up beneath a thick beech tree. She feels exhausted despite only just waking up, and finds that beneath her chest, her front left paw folded at a bad angle. A couple of the cat's toes had dried blood smeared through the fur (her claws torn ragged) and her ankle swollen. A heartbeat of pain could be felt from the joint. A frown pulls the cat's lips down. She had only just gone to sleep... What happened? Looking up, she peers through the thick summer foliage of the tree, considering the possibility of falling. But none of the broad branches looked particularly difficult to navigate, and the cat was not sure why she would be in a tree in the first place.

Another option was a fight... But surely, such a thing would stand out to her? Standing, the cat pushes out a heavy breath and circles the base of the beech for clues. She comes up with nothing. Her tail, long and thin, flips one way and another as she tries again to draw up from the deep recess of her mind how her paw had come to become strained. Was it so important? Perhaps not.

The cat soon forfeits the half-hearted attempt of remembering this, though. Hunger was more prevalent, and drew her focus moreso than trying to figure out a mystery that mattered very little, in the end. She wanders, unsure of where she would find a meal (and unwilling to bet her life on managing to catch anything faster than she), eventually coming to a hesitant stop near a blueberry bush.

**iliri** · #2 August 19th, 2024, 07:46 PM

Being away from Autumn and Pax’s home gave the herbalist a sense of relief. While she had much appreciated their choice with letting her stay with them for as long as she needed, the calico felt a much-needed break to stretch her nimble legs. Being stuck within an abandoned twoleg monster gave her a dial of insecurity. Even if she heard that not all of them were terrible, her caution still held itself to high standards of what she had considered safe and effective for her wellbeing. Twolegs were nothing but bad news, and that was going to stay that way until the end of her days. Springlight shook her head forcefully to shake off the impending thought, a wince following suit as pain jolted up from her neck. A small part of her had almost forgotten the tangled mess she had herself in just more than a few sunrises ago; an incident that could have left her good as dead. Instead, she found herself still alive and kicking, oxygen flowing freely into her lungs and steadily into her bloodstream. Even if she was alive, a small part in her mind screamed that she should have died. That she shouldn’t have dodged death’s wrath and accept it’s cold, delicate touch to bare itself onto her. This wasn’t how she thought or acted, but they had just kept coming. The weight of them all crushed her remaining sorrow, drowning it out in a thickened layer of poison honey that brought no sense of comfort that she wished for. A heavy sigh expelled through her nostrils, a swift breeze tickling her scars as it whisked away through her long coat.

Getting used to a single remnant of vision hasn’t been easy. Her blinded eye saw nothing but darkness, a void where light once danced. Everything was cloudy and thickened with a sickly resolve. A part of her internally cringed at the thought of how other cats may look at her; perhaps seeing them look at her with a sense of pity for her lack of self-defense. Perhaps with disgust with all the fancy arrangement of scars crisscrossing her pelt. Bumblestar and Wolfhive briefly crossed her mind, her hackles painfully bristling as she imagined how they would react towards her new look. Would it be out of pity? Shame? Frustration? She held no clue, and the fact that she didn’t know left her to pluck random stands of grass out of the soil, her claws tainting a faint brown from dirt. It was a continuous pain to clean, but at this point, she held zero regard for it. She came to this forest as a distraction, not to worsen the situation that she was forced within. Springlight shook her head once more, being extra cautious about how she moved her neck unlike before. It still caused a strain of hurt to flood through her body, but it wasn’t as severe as it was before. She’s still healing, after all, and that’s not going to be a quick-and-easy problem to solve. The calico marched on through the woodlands, the sun hanging low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced between the trees. If she weren’t engorged by her own thoughts, she would have admired nature’s beauty. It was secondhand nature to her, something that she had ever since she was a kit; admiring everything she saw. Guilt tugged deeply within as she wished she still promoted that childish innocence, but that’s long ago, and that won’t be coming back.

So, Springlight continued onwards, moving her paws despite the aching pain that trembled through her body. It was almost by instinct, driven by a need to escape the crushing weight of her own thoughts. She quietly moved past the tall beech trees, briefly touching against the sun-touched bark with her tail as she strolled. It almost surprised her with how still the atmosphere felt. Maybe it was for the fact that she felt used to it after spending four seasons serving under Drizzlecloud as a medicine cat apprentice, only to falter the moment she became their sole medic. Stars, she wanted to prove herself to them; to prove that she was capable of serving her clan. Did StarClan think otherwise? Did they have plans for her that they just didn’t bother to comply with? The calico glanced up towards the blue sky, trying to peer past the blue hue and into the endless void of stars beyond. Were they seeing her right now? Did they care that they caused an owl to come down and snatch her away from ThunderClan? Did they care that… they forcefully pushed her off a position that she worked so hard to gain? Being a medicine cat meant a lot to the calico, being something that she had worked hard for, only to be taken from the owl’s cruel talon’s. She almost wanted to stop walking and observe, to try to see if she can find her way back towards the safer embrace of ThunderClan territory. All thoughts of hope diminished as she came to the slow conclusion that she may potentially never get home; she may be stuck in the outskirts for the rest of her life and Bumbles held no choice but to start at square one with healers again.

Her body tensed and her multicolored tail whisked before she tucked it low. Failure was the only thing that she had hoped to avoid, and now she trampled her paws right over its tracks. Had Foxstep really planted his paws over her own just to have her take a dive into a mass of failure and self destruction? She almost wanted to feel angry and frustrated at the stars that she had once overlooked. The failure they caused her was something that she couldn’t find herself avoiding any longer. Her muscles tensed, a pulsating rhythm of agony reigning over herself that she promptly ignored, her claws seeping deep into the undergrowth beneath her paws in order to keep herself restrained. They failed her. He failed her. She failed everyone in ThunderClan. It was all a mocking joke. A cruel agony that was constantly being repeated, inflicting itself into the very crevices of her mind just to remind her that she failed in everyone and she wasn’t going to gain what she had worked so hard for back. It hurt like hell, and it didn't help with the fact she felt her eyes start to water from the hurtful implications she caused herself. She wasn't a good medic; she failed her clan just as her predecessors had. Maybe she lasted, but she failed to prove that she could work solo, only because StarClan didn't agree with the choice. A small part of her screamed that maybe, someday, that dying light would rekindle again and she would gain what she had lost. Perhaps she may work alongside Bumbles and Wolf again. The mental pain that coursed through her ignored the flicker of hope, drowning in the negativity as she forced herself to walk again.

Before she could walk any further, a scent that was so dreadingly familiar reached itself towards her nostrils, almost triggering an instinct she left to plummet to the deepest pits of the world. Blood. There wasn't any way that she would forget it in a hurry, not with everything that happened a few sunrises ago. But, even with her nerves held in high regard, the instinct to heal and assist the weakened had been something that never faltered to leave. Something in the back of her mind had almost cursed silently to the stars as if this were another one of their “gifts”. The flicker of hope thought that it could be them saying that her job as a medic may be replenished to her someday, but the calico knew better than to not fall into disillusioned ideas. Cats who lose their ranks never get it back, whether they like it or not. It could be her self-conscious telling her this thought, but Springlight ignored it with a pained flick of an ear. She knew StarClan’s horrible games, and she wasn't in the mood to be dealing with them. Focusing herself back on the present, the calico hesitantly used her remaining senses to try to catch any sort of idea of what the blood may be coming from. It smelt old; being from a while ago. Her stomach clenched with the thought of running into a potentially dead corpse, but something in her lingered to follow it. It felt ridiculous, but Springlight followed her gut, quietly trending in the direction of where the stench of blood elevated from. It grew stronger, dancing around her nose, until she came upon the scene in inspection, her pupils quickly narrowing as her body painfully tensed up.

Flicks of dried blood were shown apparently against the tree the golden-furred molly had originally been at, the calico following her gaze to look at the suspectingly injured Bengal stumbling towards a blueberry bush. At first, the calico didn't see much of the problem with the other feline, until she found her remaining vision landing on the sprained ankle. The dried blood is obvious along the injury; it must have been there for a good minute, but not long enough for the fact that the calico could easily detect it from a bit away. Hesitancy tugged at the feline, knowing that this may possibly be a trick that could end up getting her killed—or worse, gain more external scarring. Springlight wasn't so certain though, seeing the obvious hunger and exhaustion lacing the other feline making her suspicions die down. Either way, she couldn't be so certain, only feeling her emotions bottled within herself as she stepped forward, espousing herself in the dying sunlight through the beech trees. “I… can see… that you are… injured,” Springlight spoke, ignoring the obvious agony that occurred as she spoke. She wouldn't be surprised if the owl further worsened her already bad enough vocal performance, she would just need to try to push through it as best as she can. “Do… you need… any assistance… with that?” Asking that alone almost made the medic want to cuff herself behind the ears. She knew by the obviously notable conditions of the other feline’s leg that she was in dire need of a check-up, but the question had already slipped past her lips and there was no turning back now. All she could really hope for was that the herbs that she’d need would be around nearby to help the injured Bengal.

@plum (sooo kinda wasn't sure how to really start this off so appreciate some word vomit lmaoo)

**plum** · #3 August 25th, 2024, 05:07 PM

@iliri

The cat spends far longer staring at the bush in contemplation than was really necessary. Hunger drives her toward leaning forward to pluck a delicate, fat blueberry from its place and as she crushes it between her teeth, a throaty growl takes up from deep down. Pulling another berry free, Nectar feels an unexpected sense of shame rise up in her belly. This wasn't what a cat like her should be doing. She wasn't built for plucking blueberries from their branches and eating them. The rumbling of her belly secedes slowly as the cat eats her fill, growling through it all for nothing other than the dreadful inkling that she was better than this.

That is when she hears the scratchy voice of another cat. Jerking her head back, the female turns on her heels to peer right into the cautious gaze of another. Damn it, Nectar thinks. To be caught off-guard in the woods was one thing. To be caught off-guard and injured, though... Her brows furrow and sink low over her eyes, her lips peeling back to reveal a set of pointed teeth (when had one of her canines come out?). Tucking her injured leg up close to her chest, Nectar curls her back and feels the fur along her spine prickle. Why was she so defensive all of a sudden, though? Others were not inherently bad... And she couldn't recall a time where a stranger had brought her harm. Not that she recalled much, as it was.

"Stay where you are," Nectar's voice is coarse but strong. "What is your name? Where have you come from?" If there was any way of knowing just how different she was today compared to just a couple of days ago, the cat would be beyond repulsed. But cats didn't have a means of recording anything. They wouldn't know what a recording even was. And Nectar wouldn't think about her meeting with Strawberry ever again. All she knew right now was that she'd been injured... And she had a horrid feeling that another cat had somehow been a part of it. She just didn't know. Frowning, Nectar appears to inspect Springlight more closely. "Have you followed me?"

**iliri** · #4 Today, 04:39 AM

Aggression was expected, not that the calico was surprised. Springlight had seen that look before—a look of distrust, of fear barely concealed beneath a veil of anger. The way Nectar's eyes darted between her and the surrounding undergrowth spoke volumes of her guardedness. Her posture was taut, ears flattened, and her body seemed coiled like a spring, ready to pounce or flee. It was a look that silently spoke of past betrayals and wounds deeper than the gashes on her flesh. Springlight could sense the tension radiating from Nectar, the underlying tremor in her muscles, the way she held herself just a little too tightly, as if the world might break her if she let her guard down for even a moment. There was a heaviness in the air, a simmering unease that hung between them like a thick fog, and Springlight knew she had to tread carefully. One wrong move, and she may have sharp canids dig into her already messed-up body. Slowly, she lowered herself onto her haunches, the motion deliberate and unthreatening. Her fur brushed against the rough undergrowth, and she felt the coolness of the earth seep into her paws. She let her tail curl gently around her body, a subtle gesture meant to convey calmness and peace. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, the rustling leaves pausing in anticipation. She could feel every racing heartbeat in her chest, a steady drum that felt too loud in the stillness. Springlight kept her gaze soft, steady, meeting Nectar's eyes with a careful calm that spoke of patience, of a willingness to wait, to be still in the face of another's fear. Her own heart was racing, yet she did her best to keep her breathing even, measured. She knew the signs of a cat ready to strike, and she didn't want to provoke that reaction.

This combined with her pulsating, still-healing injuries was pure hell. She could feel every part of her body protesting with a dull, throbbing ache that seemed to seep into her bones. Each breath felt like a jagged shard of ice cutting into her lungs, the air scraping against her raw throat. The pain radiated from her side, where the most severe of her wounds lay, a deep gash that had barely begun to close. Every movement sent a sharp, searing shock through her body, like fire racing under her skin. She fought the urge to wince, to show any sign of the discomfort that gnawed at her like a relentless predator. Her legs trembled slightly beneath her as she tried to keep herself steady while she sat. A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her remaining vision, which seemed to blur at the edges. She was aware of the way her tail quivered involuntarily, the tension pulling at the muscles along her spine. Her chest tightened painfully, and she could feel the sting of sweat mingling with the dried blood along her flank, the sticky dampness making her fur cling uncomfortably to her skin. She wanted to shift her weight, to ease the pressure on her wounds, but even the thought of moving made her stomach twist with dread. She hadn't wanted the other molly to think she was anything but vulnerable like this. It made her feel precautious, especially at how quick the other feline was towards jumping to conclusions. When she spoke, her voice came out in a rasp, hoarse and strained, like the croak of an old tree branch bending under the weight of too much snow. Her throat felt raw, each word scraping painfully up from her chest, and she struggled to push past the tightness that seemed to close around her windpipe. “M-my name… is Springlight,” she managed, her breath hitching as she tried to steady herself, fighting against the way her body trembled. “I… come from… a nearby den… I’m… here… to help you.” The words were clipped and uneven, punctuated by sharp intakes of breath.

Even if her words sounded uneven, she still tried to make them soft and willing, trying to match the gentleness of the breeze that rustled the leaves above. Her tattered ears flicked forward attentively, picking up the small sounds around them—the distant call of a bird, the soft rustle of a bush, and the subtle creak of old branches swaying in the wind. She hoped her words would be good enough to show the intent of her actions—of which wasn't to cause harm. Her blue eyes flickered with sincerity, trying to pierce through the veil of Nectar's defensiveness. The silence that stretched between them felt thick and palpable. Springlight could feel the weight of it pressing down on her shoulders, her own uncertainty gnawing at the edges of her composure. She had offered a piece of herself, a gesture of goodwill, and now all she could do was wait, hoping that it would be received with understanding rather than suspicion. She searched to see any conflict in Nectar's eyes, any flickers of hesitation, any possible doubt that lingered like a shadow. The air felt heavy with unspoken words, and desperation clawed deep within her to hope that Nectar would accept her willingness to help. She swallowed hard, but her mouth felt like it was filled with sand, her tongue thick and heavy. She could taste the faint tang of blood, metallic and sharp, and she had quickly assumed she had accidentally bitten down on her lip trying to ease herself, and now she had to keep from crying out in pain. Her jaw ached, and the effort of speaking seemed to pull at every muscle in her face, the strain sending fresh waves of discomfort down her neck. She tried to swallow again, but it was like forcing a stone down her throat. A snag of anger and frustration clawed at her, her tail instinctively lashing against the earthy floors as she stared at Nectar.

”If… you want… to know… I never… followed you… or caused… that injury.” She gestured towards the sprained paw that Nectar held defensively against herself, wanting to get that piece of information out of her system before trying anything else. She shifted slightly, her tail tip painfully twitching in a nervous rhythm against the ground, her blue eyes searching Nectar's face for any sign of a response. "I… know… some herbs… that can help," she offered, her voice softening even further, like a whisper carried in the wind. "I might… be able… to help you… if you let me." Springlight’s throat burned as she tried to speak, her voice barely more than a strained whisper. Every word came out in a halting, stuttering rhythm, punctuated by sharp, shallow breaths. She could feel the sharp edges of panic beginning to creep in, her mind racing with the effort to find the right words, to make herself seem understood. But every word felt like an uphill battle, her body fighting against her, her lungs straining with the effort to keep air flowing. Even with her internal struggling, the calico remained still, her expression open and honest, hoping to convey that she meant no harm. She understood that trust was a fragile thing, easily shattered and difficult to rebuild. ”I can… also find… you some… prey as… well… if you… wish… so you… don’t have… to rely… on blueberries… as a… last resort.” Her wounds felt like they were tearing open again, the skin pulling taut and raw. She could feel a trickle of fresh blood wetting the fur along her side, and she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, willing herself not to show how much it hurt. The world around her seemed to tilt slightly, the edges blurring in and out of focus. She blinked rapidly, trying to keep her vision steady, to focus on Nectar’s face and not the pain that was consuming her, threatening to swallow her whole. All she could do was hope that the other feline didn't doubt her words in the slightest.

@plum