"claws at her airways" - OPEN, PANIC ATTACK/NIGHT TERROR

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    He was a father in this unconscious vision. He had a daughter. That daughter went out with a few friends. He was home alone. He felt the skin on his paws peel back. He saw bones. He laughed a bit at his paws. They looked funny. It was soon dusk. His daughter came home. She was whispering very fast. Her voice was sharp. Her voice was quiet. Her voice was satanic chanting on everlasting repeat. Her face was shadowed. Where did that go? Her whispers turned into screams. She was screaming at him, screaming at her laughing dad with the peeling hands.


    "YOU ARE NOT REAL, YOU ARE NOT REAL, YOU ARE NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOTHING IS REAL, NOTHING IS REAL, REAL, REAL, REAL, REAL, REEEAAAAALLLL!"


    Claws of terror plunged into his airways as Honeypup was flung from his sleeping state, which was disturbingly infected with a night terror which had visited him before. It's presence scared the living crap out of him, and it was now taking a toll on his body. The adolescent shook like an earth quake in his vessel's glacial bodily condensation, trembling violently as it desperately tried to accumulate heat through the vigorous vibrations. His little foxhole outside of camp in which he was trapped inside warped into a hellish icebox, polluted with child-produced fear so strong it could easily be detected by nose. Thumbs of penetrating panic were now buried into his breathing corpse of a meatsuit. They had dug themselves their own graves inside the hollows of his windpipe, and Honeypup was petrified to find that he was unable to move.


    "No. Please move."


    His mind would shriek out commands for him to merely lift a paw, yet it was impossible. The male was so thoroughly locked within his own casket of hysterical terror that he was incapable of shifting about, never mind clamoring up to to sprint back to camp just to be around help if help was required again for the sake of his sanity. Iron chains of alarming trepidation kept him pinned to the dirt freckled floor, constricting around his nimble body which exposed a level of vulnerability and dread that was practically heart wrenching. He could not move, at all. That was the most disturbing thing to Honeypup, and the fact that his breaths were being strenuously, and unstably torn in and out of flaming lungs that felt as though they were going to collapse. "Please move, please move, shoot why aren't I moving?!" His heart rate flew into a tempo that took over the echoes of his imaginative daughter's insane screeches and fused it into background noise. The demonically haunting palpitating of his blood-pumping internal organ was now the main beat that caused his nerves to shatter their barrier of stability. The cold-footed boy's sanity was dwindling from being shaved down to bone-chilling bareness by the knife of concerning fright.


    The darkness slowly consumed him. Honeypup was unable to avoid the looming sense of danger as the quietness of his own panic settled into the enclosed space of his den, having nobody to reach out to for comfort. There was nobody, nobody, nobody - he would surely die alone now. Wasn't he already dead, though? This was all simply a figment of his imagination, correct? There was nothing to fear! This is a game. Why was there so much pain, though? It was upsetting, and as each second passed, the more Honeypup felt like he was shrinking and the obsidian oblivion that was now digesting him was expanding.


    All he could do was whimper.
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    [size=9pt][glow=black,2,300]The Only Way Out Of Here Is The Way I've Avoided For All My Life[/glow][/size]


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    Body Ref

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    track until i can read!


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    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border-width: 0px; width: 500px; text-align: justify;]Night terrors. It was a very unfortunate ailment to experience; your worst fears became reality and all one can do is sit back and watch, restrained by the prison that is their own bodies. Kaiser wasn't all that familiar with such a thing, but the Cadet understood how seriously debilitating they could be after hearing about them from Megaera Darling. From what he knew, they were very, very bad news, and it was even worse that Honey was experiencing them at such a horrifically young age. Kaiser could only imagine the trauma he must have experienced earlier in his life if this was what he was going through now.


    "Hey-- Hey," Kaiser understood the concept of these things; the mind was awake, but the body was dead asleep. It was a mystery how he got there, next to Honey, but at least he was present to help. "You gotta get up." He told him, knowing well enough tat he was conscious but trapped, he would attempt to shake the boy and lift him onto his feet. "You gotta wake up. It ain't real, kid, it ain't real." At least, he liked to think so. "Just breathe."


    It would have been fascinating to the handsome male if it wasn't so terrifying to the kid before him. What part of the mind influenced these sequences of unnecessary horror and panic? Perhaps it was about time for Kaiser to start reading up on things like this again. It was indubitably interesting, but right now wasn't the best time to bombard the child with questions about what was going on.

    [fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 375px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px]Sleep had not come easy to the grizzly that night. She had tossed and she had turned and in the end, she gave up entirely. Why waste time forcing something that was not going to come? Besides, she was a creature of the dark, born of shadows and the like, being nocturnal was not something she would have any qualms with.


    Rolling her shoulders, she'd abandon her warm nest, lumbering out in the chilly open with bright eyes. The quiet was peaceful and one of the few things she truly enjoyed. It made her feel at home, even within this foreign place with foreign felines that she could not make a meal of. She hated that about the Rift. She was forced to be civil and could not lay a single claw on someone who irritated her. It was frustrating... Yet she managed, forcing on a thankful and polite air to all who spoke to her. She needed to be cordial if she wished to be successful, no matter how difficult that was with her general lack of emotions.


    Estelle was about to settle down and chart the stars when a whimpering met her ears. Immediately, they would incline and a vague mask of interest would embrace her typically empty features. Had somebody injured themselves on the territory? Did she have to go and check? Frowning, the cub figured that she had to do something and began to follow the sound to the source. It brought her to a hole in the ground in which she could only presume was a den of sorts.


    An unfamiliar male already was present at the scene, comforting what looked to be a panicked child. How peculiar... what had left him in such a state of disarray? Taking a seat off to the side, the cub would merely watch, figuring that communicating via telepathy might not be her wisest choice. Who would want a voice in their head after being startled so bad anyways?


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