A Matter of Time [Tagged]

[ℓυиαя]

Tags: Midnight for Mintpaw [Acro.] for... I'dunno, moral support I guess, a concerned friend ;D
OOC: Thinking, due to fluid time, this will be somewhere during the middle of the epidemic but wanted to get the ball rolling now c:

Deep in the warriors den, a small tabby slept restlessly, her delicate frame never seeming quite comfortable in her warm nest of moss and feathers. A cough shook her small frame, and as a heavy feeling settled in the back of her throat and a weight sat on her chest, golden eyes opened up to the dark of the den. Giving another cough, Vineheart buried her muzzle into her feathered tail to try and mask the harsh sound barked into the night to wake her clan mates. Part of her had seen this coming - it was inescapable living in such close quarters with each other, sick cats coughing and dropping like flies. Another cough clawed up her throat, leaping out to become muffled within her tail as her ears flattened on her head.

She had to go see Mintpaw immediately. Not only was she not putting others at risk but if the deputy fell seriously ill, what then? Suddenly, her place within the clan felt so much more real.

Rising on shaky legs and feeling her stomach drop low in her stomach, the deputy pressed her eyes shut, took a deep breath and then continued on, stepping carefully around her clanmates and out into the cool night air. Briefly she considered letting Mintpaw sleep as she had been run into the ground recently however she thought the medicine cat would most likely have more to say if she put it off till the morning. Making her way over with a heavy head and trying to keep her coughs to a minimum, Vineheart pushed her head through the entrance.

"Mintpaw?" She said quietly, hoping that the coughs would stall for a few moments to let her talk to the MCA. 

[[Acro.]]

ooc:// DDDDD8


Life can show no mercy,
    it can tear your soul apart

How long had it been?

Since he'd seen her--since she'd left--since he'd slept...

What was holding him here? Was it his claws in the ground, or was his will really strong enough to keep him from running? ...it was his claws, unsheathed and anchored into the earth, keeping him still. Keeping him steady while his world was shaking. Sandstrike hardly spent time in camp anymore, only returning occasionally to drop off his absurd caches of prey. Hunting, solo patrolling... these things occupied him. Distracted him. He'd tried to keep himself grounded--focused, but... each day got cloudier, his worry blanketing his mind like a cool fog. Knowing Ratstar was out there, possibly in danger, possibly dying, and he couldn't be there... he wasn't allowed to keep her safe... it was killing him.

He lived in a haze.

This night, with stars in the sky, Sandstrike lay near the camp's entrance, fiery eyes shadowed in the darkness. He stared out into the territory, his body needing sleep while his mind refused it. He spent most nights out, away from the other warriors. This was probably how he'd avoided getting sick: can't catch something if you're never close to it. The tom had been settled for only a short while that night when a particular stretch of coughs caused his ear to turn. Someone was awake... moving across the camp. but Sandstrike didn't turn his head to see, instead remaining in the shadows by the entrance. Cats were sick--this occurrence was not unusual. but then, a voice...

"Mintpaw?"

A sudden, sharp clarity broke through the clouds in his eyes and Sandstrike's mind reeled. He nearly broke his neck with the speed by which he flung his head around. In the instant before he could recognize the source of this voice, he'd shot a prayer to the dark skies that this not be who he thought it was.

...but it was. Of course it was. It was Vineheart.

Sandstrike shot to his paws and bounded over to the Deputy, his eyes re-igniting in the darkness. He stared at her, incredulous, his brow furrowed with his unspoken question: "You're sick?" How long had she been ill? Why hadn't she said something?

...why hadn't he noticed?

The tom's expression softened from confusion into something pained, and he lowered his ears. He should have noticed. He should have been around. "You'll be okay," he told her, breaking the quiet with his low tones, and then, turning his face toward the Medicine Cat's Den, he barked more sharply, "Mintpaw!"

He didn't care who woke up.

She needed to be okay.

It can make you feel like you've gone crazy

but you're not

[ℓυиαя]

There was a blur of movement to her right in the time the Deputy stood waiting for her quiet call to be answered. A small wind danced around her, letting long fur fall between invisible fingers and her ears tracked the sound as she was approached by another individual. Turning her head as they grew nearer, golden eyes widened as the sandy tom came into focus with a look on his face as if he couldn't believe it.

Maybe if he had been around more, maybe if he had paid more attention, he would see it for what it were; inevitable.

Ratstar had said she would have support, Ratstar had said he would be there if she needed it, an ear to listen to and, more importantly, a friend. Instead, in her absence, she had hardly seen him. At first she had looked and then as time had slipped on, she had just done it herself, hardened herself to the fact that he wasn't around, and pushed thoughts of him aside while she did what she could for the clan.

Did she blame him?

No. If there were one thing she knew about the tom, it was that no one spoke for him. Vineheart knew she shouldn't have taken Ratstar's words to mean that he would but perhaps on a string of hope she had. Despite her own emotions however she saw the pain running strife through him - she had ever since the night Ratstar had announced it to the clan. Though concerned, it was still there, like a cloak that draped his shoulders and trailed along the ground behind him.

She hurt for him.... and she understood.

Yes, he had abandoned her, left her to fend the clan on her own - a young warrior that had asked for none of this but if she were in his position and he were away, what would have done then? No doubt her worry and anxiety would have overrun her. After all, destruction held hands with love. The logical part of her mind asked; why was he here now and not before? Did it really take her getting sick for him to see her at all anymore?

Why did he just get to pick and choose, leaving her to fall in the lurch when he fell short?

Oh yes, she understood his pain, but at the end of the day, she weren't in his position. Imagining herself as such meant she were neglecting her own emotions now and over the last while she had needed him before realizing him being present was a pipe dream. Maybe that's why, when he offered words of reassurance, she answered with a quiet 'I know'. She knew she would be OK and had taken it in her own paws to ensure her survival. Yes, many moons ago, he had saved her life but that didn't mean he always had to and if his absence had taught her anything, it was when she was left in the lurch, she was absolutely fine.

If only a little disappointed.

"Mintpaw!"

His voice cut out harshly into the dark, so at contrast to her one mere heartbeats earlier. The sudden bark caused the small tabby to jump if only slightly before another cough took her and she settled down lowly, wrapping her tail around her to try and contain the harsh sound that leaped from her throat. When the coughing subsided, she resumed her normal height and looked over at him, feeling so separated to a tom she had once felt so at ease around.

"How are you holding up?"

[Midnight]

First, it was a soft call. Mintpaw had been drowning in a nightmare. She was standing before Pinestorm and Petalbreeze again, and she saw the pain in Petalbreeze's eyes as she stood over her best friend's dead body. In a split second, the pain changed to anger, and Mintpaw jumped and squeaked in her nest as Petalbreeze lunged for her, clawing at her face.

Vineheart's call transferred into Mintpaw's mind as a haunting voice. The medicine cat apprentice glanced away from Petalbreeze, who had pinned her down and was tearing her apart, blood everywhere, to see Pinestorm's ghost sitting, silently asking how she could've let her die, asking why it had to happen. "No!" She screeched as Petalbreeze slashed her eyes.

Mintpaw jumped awake, heart racing, breathing shallow and fast. Sandstrike's booming voice had been the final call, and Mintpaw was nothing but grateful. "Come in," Mintpaw called. Her pelt was a mess, her neck fur tangled with a bit of barf.

Everything had gone downhill since Pinestorm had died. Mintpaw had lectured Petalbreeze only minutes before, and although she still felt fairly justified about it, ranting to a cat while their closest friend is very sick ... isn't the best idea. Mintpaw had been puking ever since, and had had some variation of the same nightmare ever since Pinestorm had died. It made for nights in which Mintpaw refused to sleep, not wanting to revisit the nightmare, and a sleep-deprived medicine cat was a grouchy and unfocused one. It was getting harder to treat her patients, but she couldn't let them slip into StarClan's paws.

[ℓυиαя]

"Come in," a small voice said, almost on a breath of weak wind

Frowning, the Deputy's eyes left Sandstrike and studied the entrance to the medicine cat den. It reeked of sickness, the smell clinging to most of the camp these days. Why did everything rain down on her now, when she already felt the weight of the world as it was?

And Mintpaw -- how was she holding up?

Her small paws brought her head to breach the shadows of the den, and light was shone on that quiet question. Looking around the darkness, Vineheart stiffled another cough but her small frame tensed and her ears flattened. There before her, seeming much smaller than usual was the healer of their clan with her fur a mess and exhaustion evident. This, was certainly not something they had both been expecting and it was driving them both into the ground with each foul blow. Another cough rattled from her and the warm tabby's nose wrinkled with the effort exposing sharp white teeth in the dark. When she felt she could speak without letting another cough out into the air, a kindness took residence behind the scars that barred her face.

Mintpaw... Starclan, are you alright?"

Her voice came out lower than usual however it still carried the Deputy's unmistakable gentleness with it. Regardless of how she sounded, Vineheart felt a sense of helpless hit her and almost floor her weighted body. If something happened to Mintpaw - what then? Without Sparrowleaf, they would be just as worse off as Whisperclan. Would Ratstar return to find nothing here any more?

That's if she returns at all, a doubt weaved through her on a poisionous hiss.

Luckily with her ears flattened already, her inner workings would be almost impossible to pick up if you didn't know her well. Taking a small step foward, Vineheart kept her eye contact with the young healer, wanting to help but not knowing how just yet.

[[Acro.]]

ooc:// I never even imagined Mintpaw being so frazzled ._.

"How are you holding up?"

Her voice, reaching him, a gentle call beneath the weight of the night. His whiskers drew back, and he stared at the deputy before looking sharply away, fixing his stare into the shadowed Medicine Cat's den.

...how was he holding up?

With Ratstar gone and the spread of Greencough making the Clans even more on edge... and now with Vineheart getting sick...

"I'm holding," he responded, voice low. He was still there. He was holding. Mintpaw called them into her den, then, and Sandstrike trailed behind the deputy, paws hesitating before crossing the threshold from cool night into thick disease. The den just felt... ill, after so many cats had come here for treatment. And Mintpaw's scent was pervaded by stress. It made the tom's skin crawl.

"Mintpaw... StarClan, are you all right?"

No.

Sandstrike's eyes drifted around the dark mess of den, trying not to settle onto the apprentice for any real length of time. Seeing her disheveled did nothing to ease his ever-growing anxiety. Mintpaw had always been so bold, so brazen and proud... and now she looked... small. The tom's chest lurched.

This did not bode well.

[Midnight]

"Don't worry about me," Mintpaw snapped at Vineheart, lashing her tail. "What do you want? Are you sick? If you're not, then go back to your nest and get some rest. I can't have perfectly healthy cats barging into my den in the middle of the night just for a chat! And in case you're wondering, no, I haven't received any prophecies, so don't you get all paranoid about that mousedung right now." The medicine cat apprentice stomped away to her herb store. She needed to look busy. The less time Vineheart had to examine Mintpaw, the better. It was bad enough that her messy pelt was out in the open, inviting all to see, without the idea of her face being noticed: Her eyes were clouded and the inner corners were covered in mucus and her nose was quite runny as of late. Mintpaw had never been more of a mess, and the last thing she needed was for the deputy to take note of it.

Oh, and that's right, there couldn't have just been one in the cat--no, no, there had to be two. Wonderful. Why not just invite the entire Clan into the medicine den so everyone can take a good look at Little Messy Mintpaw! StarClan, when was she going to catch a break? Mintpaw rolled her eyes at Sandstrike, wondering what in the Dark Forest he could possibly be doing when, as far as she knew, he should've been guarding the camp entrance. The medicine cat apprentice pointed her tail at Sandstrike--or, at least, that was the goal--and said, "Don't you have a camp to be guarding? Go mind your own business, warrior. Unless you're sick or wondering about the nonexistent prophecy too? Look, you two, there are sick cats that need my help, and nobody wants a medicine cat so tired she's dealing out deathberries. Hurry up and tell me what you need to, then get out. I need sleep." What was the point? Why wasn't she trying to put it off instead? Mintpaw should be inviting Vineheart and Sandstrike into her den, not trying to push them out of it. The longer they stayed, the less time she had to sleep. Anything to make the nightmare go away. Mintpaw shook her head and shuddered, trying to force it out of her mind, but it was futile.

[ℓυиαя]

OOC: I see your sass, and raise you another xD

Golden eyes tracked the young she cat as she focused on her new company. Hopefully this would only take a matter of moments and she could take her herbs and chesty cough to give them all some much needed rest. The three of them all standing there, sick in one form of the other, made a rather sad group. Yet when Mintpaw opened her mouth to reply, it was not the explanation Vineheart had been hoping for.

Though she could see the exhaustion written across her face, Vineheart's ears flattened and her eyes hardened.

"Yes," she said lowly. "I a-" her sentence dissolved into a series of coughs. "I am sick." The Deputies voice was unusually hard and though she understood why Mintpaw was snappy - she wasn't the only one struggling with the weight of responsibility. If anything, Vineheart had been more understanding than many cats of Sunsetclan. She out of them all, understood the struggle. And so when she walked in, she hadn't expected to be attacked, and almost accused of wasting her time. This was a hard time for all of them and the young trainee medicine cat, needed to keep that in mind.

The small tabby snapped her tail, the plumage darting towards the ground with the sudden movement. Somewhere far away, she felt Sandstrike standing at her side - but otherwise she felt alone, lost in a cold mist of sickness and irritability. "As for Sandstrike," another pause in which her voice wheezed. "He has been doing too much."

Whether she were speaking to Mintpaw or addressing the sandy warrior, was unclear. "Now let's get this sorted so we can all get some sleep, please."