YOUR LOVE COULD START A WAR ☆ open, injury

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    CAPITALISM KILLS — loveletter — blizzardclan — she/her — tags

    [fancypost=border-width:0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 125%]/tw lots of broken bones


    Loveletter was fragile, even if she didn't act like it. Due to months of undernourishment, starvation, and unaddressed sickness, her bones had grown weak and the muscles of her body slowly slid from her ligaments. She had become a shriveled, old cat who's bones shook with every trembling step at the tender age of 25 moons old. She didn't do anything to fix it; she worked and ground, knowing any second of rest would bring in more problems than good new. Rest meant work left unattended. Rest meant thoughts and feelings. Rest meant nothing going right, and Love was a notorious control freak. When she wasn't in control of her situation, she wasn't in control of anything, and being powerless was not an idea Love wished to grow used to.


    So, when the bird she had been chasing eventually fluttered into the boughs of a firm oak tree, she found solace in the fact she had every idea of where her paws would go net. She mapped out her path in the trees with keen green eyes as she thudded through leaf after leaf. It was almost like a car chase scene, a scene the calico had always wanted to partake in simply because she knew she would look cool. In fact, as she climbed higher and higher through the trees and the wood beneath her paws grew thinner, she was certain anyone watching her would be awed at her she slipped through the trees like an otter through water. Caught up in her imagination, the Paladin found herself not only ignoring the bird that had brought her to the tree in the first place, but also her carefully laid path.


    At this point, the snowy white bird was within a paw's reach. She could envision her curved claws slipping through it's downy alabaster plumage and hooking into it's stark crimson flesh. She could imagine the blood staining the fresh, snowy feathers and she could imagine the cheers as she finally grasped it in her jaws after leaving the tree. Imagination getting ahead of her, she reached her nimble paw out and curved her sabers towards the avian, only to feel her heart leap into her throat as her other paw grasped at thin air rather than another branch. There was a sickening smack as her outstretched arm slammed into a branch as she began to freefall, the branches and leaves whipping at her body as she fell. The branches caught on her body and flung into her ribcage, ripping at her skin and also at the bones protecting her heart from harm. If Love's blurred mind were capable of thought at that point, she would have noticed how every single bone seemed to snap and fracture inside her, and how the sticks in the way of gravity cut at every area.


    After what seemed like an eternity, the ground rushed towards her and the Paladin prepared for the darkness. It never came, but rather pain erupting and blooming to overtake every nerve and every nook in her battered body. Hot agony sprouted within every limp as a crack filled the hollow where she had fallen. The grass tried to comfort every bruise and every broken bone to the best of it's ability, but through the sensory overload, Loveletter could not even realize there was grass. She had not even opened her eyes at this point, they were still squeezed shut, with one eye overtaken by deep purples and swollen cartilage. If one were to look at her face, perhaps they would also realize how her jaw seemed snapped into one place completely opposite of where it should be, but Love hadn't even recognize until she found her jaw snapping and crackling as she opened her jaws to let out a deep, guttural groan.


    / COMPLETE LIST OF INJURIES:
    - three broken toes
    - three broken rib bones
    - internal bleeding
    - bruised kidney and bladder
    - dislocated jaw
    - hairline fracture in paw
    - broken wrists
    - dislocated ankle
    - broken tailbone
    - various spots of bleeding (nose, mouth, gash in cheek, gashes across legs, bleeding scratches)

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    THEY WANNA SEE ME DEAD, BUT I'M LOOKING LIKE A GOD — tags

    [fancypost=border-width:0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 125%]Well, Loveletter had surpassed Jerseyboy in one thing. Hunting was never Jerseyboy's greatest skill. He learned to catch mice back in Belleville, where the abandoned building that he had lived in was populated with mice. But rabbits? Birds? That stuff was rather foreign to him. His mom constantly made him dinner too, so he didn't know a lot about actually catching his food. So, Jerseyboy probably would've ended up in the same position as the fellow Paladin if he had actually tried to catch the bird.


    He had been making his way out into the woods to have a smoke. He knew that his clanmates hated when he smoked cigarettes, so he had to go out of his way just to please them. Jesus, he should've just sat right in the middle of camp and did it just to spite them, but he wouldn't. Jerseyboy wouldn't mind the scenery and the peacefulness, anyhow. He had heard the sickening thuds, however, and it was soon followed by a low groan. What the hell was that? Jersey perked an ear, concern falling over him, and the tuxedo tom approached the source of the noises. Once he found Loveletter laying there, looking like Hell itself, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Jesus fucking Christ, Loveletter!" Had she been okay, he would've laughed it off, but this was serious. "What th' hell did you do?" Jerseyboy couldn't do anything but ask. He wasn't a damn medic.

    [center][fancypost=border-width:0px; width: 500px; text-align: justify; line-height: 125%]//rushed + minor powerplaying for the purposes of helping/healing :^)


    "Don't move."


    The words came from none other than Lorraine, an individual who did not witness the free fall herself but instead heard the terrible cracking of thick branches and then-- bones. Bones. It was a disgusting sound, one that Lori almost gagged at despite her experience as a medic. Perhaps it was the idea of falling that had bothered her more than just, well, making impact: the sensation of weightlessness, no sense of direction, no ability to stop oneself. It was just a straight path down, and two possibilities would arise from it: instant death or debilitating injury. Lori hoped that the former wasn't the case, and she was going to do her damn best to prevent it.


    The coyote was standing over the female now, making a quick assessment of her injuries. "Jersey-- do you think you could run and get Lottie or Ben? Both of them, even." Her voice was calm, but there was certainly an edge of urgency to it. She needed more help; there was no way that she would be able to help the girl or eventually move her on her own without the help of other medics. Her attention was now focused completely on Loveletter, a girl that she did not know very well but certainly appreciated the presence of-- the paladin had the ability to make nearly everyone laugh, and her spirit was almost too large for any given space. It was a beautiful spirit, nonetheless, a spirit that would certainly be affected (even briefly) by the extent trauma of these injuries.


    "This is going to hurt-- like, a lot. Hold still." She said to the femme- it was a command that was almost unnecessary, as Love was so fucking shattered that Lorraine doubted that she'd be able to move anyways. In a swift movement, she'd take Loveletter's dislocated ankle and (attempt to) pop it back into place. "Hang in there, darling, you're doing fine. Could you please, ah, well-- open your mouth for me? I know it hurts-we have to fix your jaw." Loveletter certainly wasn't going to like what Lori was going to do next. Most people didn't like someone else's paw in their mouth, but it was necessary in order for her to pop the jaw bone back into place. If that wasn't accomplished, Loveletter likely wouldn't be able to communicate with them what was hurting.


    The extent of the injuries were probably gargantuan- punctured lung, internal bleeding, laceration of the pancreas and other vital organs.... she tried not to think of the worst case scenario, for that would entail a slow, painful death for Loveletter.


    Good god. Falling.


    What goes up must come down.
    [spoiler=ghost in the machine/4.22.17]
    GENERAL INFO / PLOTTING THREAD
    ✩ Lorraine Jean-Pierre / Female [she, her]
    ✩ 13 moons / Ages Real-Time
    ✩ Blizzardclan / Member, Unofficial Medic
    ✩ Speaks French, English
    RELATIONSHIPS
    ✩ Single / "It's complicated"
    ✩ Heteromantic & Demisexual
    ✩ [1] Potential Crush
    APPEARANCE / Phys. Health [60%]
    ✩ Pretty pale beige coyote with green eyes
    ✩ Willowy build; thin and not particularly muscular
    — INJURIES/ILLNESSES: Heart Condition (Arrhythmia) ; Prone to fainting, heart failure
    BEHAVIOR / Mental Health [85%]
    ✩ CALM / FRIENDLY : Lorraine is very mellow, politically correct, and has a very good temperament. She is not prone to anger.
    ✩ ARTICULATE / INTELLIGENT : Possesses an extensive knowledge of medicine, including herbs/drugs and anatomy. She is a pacifist, very well read, and loves to partake in intellectual or thought provoking conversations.
    ✩ CAUTIOUS / NERVOUS: Lori is constantly fidgeting. It's a nervous tick, as the femme constantly has some underlying amount of anxiety.
    INTERACTION
    ✩ Easy physically / difficult mentaly
    ✩ Can powerplay peaceful / affectionate / helpful / healing actions.

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    CAPITALISM KILLS — loveletter — blizzardclan — she/her — tags

    [fancypost=border-width:0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 125%]the sounds of the forest, once so omnipresent and loud, came down to a steady white noise. The lines between consciousness and sleep seemed to blur in her mind and, behind her eyelids, little spheres of lights flashed into her eye. Silence enveloped her in a warm embrace and tossed her broken body into a current of time and space, one that lifted her away from the earth where she laid and into the stars. She felt like she belonged there, and she reached out her paw, grasping for the little twinkle of lights. Almost there - a little bit farther....


    Smoke. Cigarette smoke was the single scent that whisked her away from the universe and back to where she laid, where her bones had broken and where her body bled. The lacerations on her sides and cheeks had begun to stain the grass and clump in her fur, resulting in sticky, crimson blobs that colored the patches of white fur pink. Rousing, her body did not move but rather she struggled to lift her eyelids to look to Jersey. The only thing that allowed her to recognize him was the smell of smoke clinging to his pelt, where his visage had blurred together into vague colors. She attempted to smile at him but her jaw would not cooperate, so her mouth merely seemed to twitch and spasm. Realizing it wouldn't work, she then struggled to open her mouth, only to find that every effort to do so resulted in the ever present agony to seep back into her face, where the dislocation had dulled back to an ache. She seemed only to moan, the most she could do.


    She closed her eyes again and drew in a sharp breath, her lungs shivering and trembling and struggling to offer her the correct breath support. She nearly missed Lorraine's words, for her voice melted together into a pool of indiscernible noises and sounds. Lorraine moved slightly, and Love tried to follow her with her eyes, only to realize not even her pupils seemed to be agreeing with her at that point. Before she knew it, her jaw had popped and crackle and forced her mouth into a lopsided open position, only an agonized cry running from her tongue. Her ankle had been relocated but that was not without it's own pain, which Love readily expressed. If her entire body had not be shattered into pieces, perhaps she would have also moved her arms and legs in pain, but for now, her voice would work. Tears pricked at her eyes in pain but never fell, the tears never mixed with the thick clumbs of blood on her cheeks.

    [center][fancypost=border:0; text-align:justify;width: 530px; font-size:8; line-height:1.45]I WAS BROKEN FROM A YOUNG AGE — TAGS && HISTORY PAGE
    Imagining can do strange things to people. Get caught up in the fantasy, in the picture, and waking up could be painful in more than one way. He didn't want to call what he had gotten himself wrapped up in a fantasy, but really, was it any different than falling like she had? After reaching for something just out of her grasp? Wintercub doesn't know what he's reaching for anymore. Perhaps he wants the stars, or perhaps he wants something so simple as his parents back. Or is that not simple? They're dead, he knows that, yet it does nothing to stave off those thoughts that would plague him, of how other people have been reincarnated, have come back. Why not them? Why wouldn't they come back for him? These are questions that children don't have answers for, though that goes for most everything in his head. There are a million questions and not enough answers to even make the most modest of dents. Most of all, he wants to know why. Why do things happen, why do they have to happen, why do people treat pain like an inevitability instead of doing their part to make sure that others didn't suffer?


    It was with that last question that Wintercub had decided that he would do more than his part, that he would do everything he could where others had failed. Though at the time, he hadn't quite thought that his vow would extend to something like this. The commotion isn't quite unbearable, but the child rushes into it anyway, hearing Lorraine's familiar voice and the agony in the sounds that Loveletter offered up. It would have been more sensible to run away; even just standing a little bit away, his stomach is churning as a limb gets forced back into place. No, there's no running away, he has to be stronger than that. So sucking in a dark breath, the small lion — though already larger than even adult domestic felines — makes his presence known to the medic with a quiet noise. "What about me? What can I do to help?" If he was more of an open person, perhaps Win would have offered some soothing words to the injured BlizzardClanner, but what could he say? It'll be alright? Hopefully it would be, but that wasn't much use in the moment. "I want to do something."

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    THEY WANNA SEE ME DEAD, BUT I'M LOOKING LIKE A GOD — tags

    [fancypost=border-width:0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 125%]Jerseyboy folded his ears, his features clouded with concern for the female. She was always so happy. She was always the one cheering people up. To see Loveletter attempt a smile was truly a saddening sight, and Jerseyboy felt so helpless. "Fuckin' shit.." He gritted his teeth before turning to Lorraine, who had thankfully just showed up. "Okay, okay.." Jerseyboy nodded and backed away, his eyes still locked on Loveletter. He pursed his lips before heading off to find the medics.


    // @Iselotta Daae @Iselotta Daae. @Benjamin.

    [center][fancypost=border-width:0px; width: 500px; text-align: justify; line-height: 125%]It bothered Lorraine, to put people through even more pain than what they were dealing with- but the femme knew that it needed to be done. "Pain is just an illusion, you know--" Lorraine began, placing her paws (one on the exterior of the jaw and one near the back of the joint on the inside of Love's mouth) and pushing down and back swiftly. The sound of bone popping into place was enough to make most people squeamish, but at this point Lori had other things to worry about. "I once read about a criminal who couldn't feel pain at all, it was called, ah, cognitive insensitivity. He'd cut his skin and hide things within his own body... knives, lock picks, keys, anything he'd need to conceal in order to commit a crime most effectively. Weird, yes?" As she spoke, the coyote examined her other wounds, starting first with the gashes and scratches all over her body. Jersey was now gone, off to retrieve the medics, and Win was now with her, asking if he could be of any assistance.


    The answer, of course, was yes. "Could you find some cobwebs, Win? Look low to the ground, bushes, between the bark of trees. Moss would work as well, anything you can find." She was feeling Loveletter's abdomen now, lightly, but the pressure was enough to feel the rigidness of her torso. Internal bleeding, most definitely, and likely fractured ribs. The two went hand in hand with blunt force trauma injuries. "Definitely moss, wet moss." She added. If Love went into shock, giving her something to drink wouldn't really be an option, but for now, it was worth a shot. "Where was I? Oh, right. It would be nice to not feel pain, as I'm sure you're wishing right now-- and once the others come, we'll give you something for it-- but my point is that you're going to be okay. You could've been paralyzed, Loveletter. Never walked again. But you're feeling your legs, and they hurt like a.. y'know, but that means you're going to get up from this, you're going to run again, hunt again, climb again." She trailed off, using her paws to further feel the female for deformity or otherwise- up and down the legs to the paws, head and neck, abdomen, spine, hips. "Just.. tell me what hurts. Make a sound, yell out, anything to let me know so we can figure out what may be wrong."
    [spoiler=ghost in the machine/4.22.17]
    GENERAL INFO / PLOTTING THREAD
    ✩ Lorraine Jean-Pierre / Female [she, her]
    ✩ 13 moons / Ages Real-Time
    ✩ Blizzardclan / Member, Unofficial Medic
    ✩ Speaks French, English
    RELATIONSHIPS
    ✩ Single / "It's complicated"
    ✩ Heteromantic & Demisexual
    ✩ [1] Potential Crush
    APPEARANCE / Phys. Health [60%]
    ✩ Pretty pale beige coyote with green eyes
    ✩ Willowy build; thin and not particularly muscular
    — INJURIES/ILLNESSES: Heart Condition (Arrhythmia) ; Prone to fainting, heart failure
    BEHAVIOR / Mental Health [85%]
    ✩ CALM / FRIENDLY : Lorraine is very mellow, politically correct, and has a very good temperament. She is not prone to anger.
    ✩ ARTICULATE / INTELLIGENT : Possesses an extensive knowledge of medicine, including herbs/drugs and anatomy. She is a pacifist, very well read, and loves to partake in intellectual or thought provoking conversations.
    ✩ CAUTIOUS / NERVOUS: Lori is constantly fidgeting. It's a nervous tick, as the femme constantly has some underlying amount of anxiety.
    INTERACTION
    ✩ Easy physically / difficult mentaly
    ✩ Can powerplay peaceful / affectionate / helpful / healing actions.

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    Luna had the distinct, unsettling feeling that something was very wrong. What in particular that had happened was just out of reach as it always was. Her claircognizancy wasn't exercised frequently due to the unpleasant feeling of just knowing something, a point she hadn't reached, so it never helped her to do much but to set off an alarm in her brain and make her stop what she was engrossed in. It could've been anything; she had no idea what the range was for her abilities, perhaps something in another clan, another continent, or maybe out in space somewhere, but it must have been both physically and spiritually close for it to have had the twisting effect in her stomach on her the way that it had. Perhaps it was the claircognizancy that told her it, but it was easy deduction to realize there was only one thing (or person, rather) that it could be.


    So she went, even if she was scared of what she would find. Externally, her face was as still as it always was, save for a grim twist of her mouth as she let herself get lost in her dreary thoughts and naturally find her way to the scene. Loveletter was given plenty of opportunities for her to hurt herself, so it was difficult for Luna to be able to pick one out of all that it could've stemmed from, but logic told her that it was something to do with her friend's health. Loveletter had been in a worry-inducing state for months and Luna had always meant to pester her about it, but there'd always been that fear that she was going to cross some boundary. The relationship between them was fragile— built on jokes that made Luna laugh, something rare and a feeling she enjoyed, and she didn't want to ruin the tentative step she'd made. Suddenly, she was overcome with unwarranted guilt— Loveletter was in trouble, not her. She couldn't help but feeling like her selfishness was a factor in the equation, so she was part of the outcome.


    When she finally found Loveletter, she stilled, eyes trailing down her ever thin frame. Her first thought was about how a body could bend so oddly, but it was distant from her. However, her face didn't change from the state it had been in as she navigated her way over. She was notorious for staying stoic in the face of situations that could turn drastic, but she wondered if this was already drastic; a look at her and Luna wished that Love was dead instead of laying there like this, but perhaps she was already on her way. Luna didn't believe in death as an ultimate end— death was temporary, anyone could come back from death, even if it was a difficult trip and you had to want to return in most cases. Pain, however— nothing good came from anyone feeling pain. She wondered what the better route was in this situation: was it Lorraine fixing Loveletter up and the latter making a slow, possibly painful recovery? Or was it death taking her and a gamble of Loveletter possibly returning? They were two outcomes that made Luna sick for reasons she couldn't explain, and either path that fate had lain out could be taken.


    Realizing she'd just been standing still (she was trembling, she realized as she came back to herself), she broke out of her thoughts with a, How dare you just stand here when Love is hurt, towards herself, she turned towards Lorraine and said, "Lorraine, I hate to distract you, but is there any way I can help?" Perhaps it would be better if she simply left so Loveletter could get fixed (in a relative term) up quickly without any distractions, but as her gaze trailed back to Loveletter, she didn't want to, even if she had initially wondered if she even wanted to see what had happened. It would be a betrayal. But Luna knew just standing and staring wasn't going to help anything.


    [fancypost=border-width:0; font-size: 8pt; text-align: center; line-height: 95%; width:400px;] ✧ — I'M A SONGBIRD WITH A BRAND NEW TRACK / [color=#FFF] TAGS

    [center][fancypost=borderwidth=0px;text-align:justify;width:575px]Benjamin... hadn't heard the gruesome cracking of bones, but instead the sudden sounds of agony instead. The wolf hadn't been far from the group, and so had already begun to make his way towards the scene. Jerseyboy had run into him somewhere along the way too, telling him that — him and Iselotta were needed. Loveletter. The skinny lupine had only nodded stiffly in return, clamping his jaws shut as he took leaps and bounds through a growing territory. His paws crunched underneath grass, his ears swiveled around as he followed the sounds of someone in pain. It didn't make him shiver, or grow cold. It didn't make him — feel afraid. That part of him was gone, as he'd heard such things too many fucking times. Instead it just brought upon concern, the need to help — because he had the cursed knowledge of medicine instilled in his head.


    The male found himself breaking through the brush, trying to catch his breath as his weaker lungs struggled to work. With his mouth parted, the medic was pushing through the crowd — nearly running into Wintercub in the process, though his own thicker canine tail had momentarily rested on the kid's back in an unspoken, distracted apology. His pale blue eyes were first settling on Lorraine, puffing out a breath as she worked on the mangled figure. Mangled, bloody, partially destroyed Loveletter. The healer was distracted from the coyote as he looked over the injured BlizzardClanner. Without meaning to, he slowed. She looked... so much like — she looked like she was dead. Dead to him. In his birth-pack, they would have yelled at the younger Ben to leave the still-alive, crying, sobbing soldier. His lack of sleep only made it harder for the skinny lupine to push these thoughts from his head. It was hard to understand. These memories were so engrained into his head that Benjamin struggled to overcome them. With instinct though, his paws were pushing themselves forwards. No. She was still alive. He could save her. Him and Lorraine. Iselotta. It was obvious that the medic had been so far into his head then, as when he'd pulled himself out of that shitty place — his eyes had remained somewhat glassy. He picked up the pace, his paws putting tension into the ground as he finally moved to stand besides Lorraine. Roe was snapping himself into his work, looking over the bloodied frame of the female as a doctor would do — the way her body reacted to the evidently cracked bones, the swelling of her flesh. The way she choked into the air. He was heaving a breathe before sideglancing his former co-worker. Out of all that they'd done together, all the patching up side-by-side, this seemed to be one of the worst. She was working with what limited supplies she had, if any. Ben was slipping off the medic bag slung around his neck so that it was easily accessible to them both. Panicked clanmates, or clanmates hiding their panic stood nearby. They were afraid to lose her.


    Finally, Ben was dipping his head forwards so that Loveletter could see his face without making too much of an effort. He looked calm, tired, but calm. It was a trained expression. Yet, there was a look of seriousness plastered across his youthful face, too. "Hey Loveletter." His voice was soft, as he watched the tears slip from her eyes and onto her already-wet cheeks. "We're goin' to get you fixed up, alright?" He was looking down her body as Lorraine continued to work. "Just focus on that breathing for me." Christ. Like Lorraine, he was worried about her going into shock. The medic was pulling back after placing a paw onto her shoulder in a comforting manner, but he had further plans. Maybe it wasn't the best fucking idea, but he was no perfect medic. He was doing what he thought would be best then. Yet, it wasn't the worst idea either. They were thinking on their paws. "Lorraine, I can take just some of her pain so I can — ah, tell you where it hurts for her. It won't be all of it — and it'll be only temporary, just a few seconds, but to..." The medic was trailing off, trying to gather his thoughts. He was exhausted. Nightmares — they, they... "Je peux vous dire où les os cassés sont." He paused, before looking back at Luna who had yet to be answered. "Talk to her, Luna." He broke from his native tongue, his steady eyes looking relatively off as he jerked his head towards Love's eyes. The two of them were friends, if not something more — he wasn't sure, but again... shock would be the final lash against life. The lanky wolf had seen it too many times before. Roe had a feeling that Lorraine would want to say no to his idea, but it would mean less feeling of pain for Love. Less time wasted, as he'd be able to press a few words of realization through his jaws. It'd be quick, as he wouldn't able to draw all her pain into himself, nor would it be permanent. It'd only be a few moments before the pain moved back into her own body and away from him.


    He was glancing once more towards Lorraine before pressing some further tension into the paw in which already lied upon a bloodied shoulder, in an attempt to draw away some of her pain temporarily, in order to help them find what and where the untreated injuries were. The younger canine was attempting to clear his mind, keeping a degree of eye contact so that he'd be able to tell her as soon as the momentary pain began to pelt him.


    to be consoled as to console — 04/19

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    CAPITALISM KILLS — loveletter — blizzardclan — she/her — tags

    [fancypost=border-width:0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 125%]Other noises and sounds passed in front of her. They melted together into an amorphous blob, unable to tell the difference between Wintercub's stocky build and Jerseyboy's much leaner visage. Loveletter couldn't even control her body anymore, or she wasn't doing anything consciously. She desperately attempted to give signs of life; a movement of paws, a shake of her head, a twitch of an ear, but the only thing seeming capable of movement was her eyes, and even then, they weren't much use. Love grew sharply aware of how the world seemed to be spinning around her, and the floor seemed to dip and curve out of her reach, no matter what she did. Blood began to leak from her mouth and across her chin, leaking and dripping from her face in thick, sticky globs.


    Lorraine was speaking. Something about pain, something about weapons and criminals. Love tried to listen to the best of her ability, but her voice seemed to spin just as the trees curved around her. In her attempt to focus on the individual letters she spoke, the calico forgot about how her paw had entered her mouth and now fumbled with her jaw until the agony came back in full force. From around Lorraine's appendage, the paladin let out a muffled scream of unbridled pain, the scream carrying on until her paw had finally left. The cry died down into a whimper and then the pain to an ache, even as the rest of her body screamed for release. Her lungs struggled for breath, and her chest heaved with the effort, going up and down at a speed that was fast enough to cause concern. She could now talk, but Love was unsure if she wanted to.


    "If I didn't - hah - feel pain, maybe I'd be a superhero," Love finally murmured, her voice horse from screaming and her throat bobbing with the effort. "My name would be Desdemona and I'd - nng - be searching the clan tirelessly for the murderer of my parents." It was odd that Love was still preoccupied with her imagination and the need to be cool in her situation, but perhaps it was simply because she had smiled in the face of danger for so long. Finally her eyes found the face of Lorraine and she finally managed a smile - weak, pathetic, hardly there, but a smile nonetheless. She would walk again; that was a relief. If she wasn't able to walk, how would she be able to hit pinatas?


    Her eyes rolled back to the sky, where she endlessly, aimlessly stared, as if the clouds would give her answers to her situation. She searched for purpose in the fluffy white depths, aimlessly floating across the sky without one care for the mangled, broken body beneath their height. She croaked and turned her head so the blood instead leaked from one side of her mouth to her cheek, then to the forest floor. Feeling the crimson slide down her aching face, she glanced across the blades of grass and found Luna in her focus. The weak smile returned and she made a struggle of winking at the ebony feline. "Luna," she wheezed, still breathing hard. "Take a picture of this so future me can - urk - laugh about how stupid I am." she smiled again and coughed hard, red spit splattering from her mouth and hanging to the tips of the grass around her.


    And finally, Benjamin. He appeared, his face cool, calm collected, but past all the pain, Love could also feel the vague sense of panic emanating from his body. She could not understand why. Even with ehr body splayed in every which way, a sense of tranquility had washed over her body and, at times, she could even leave her body and watch the few that surrounded her worry over how her tumble had mangled her body to the point where it nearly seemed unrecognizable. He said something about pain, and Love found a snarky reply washing up to her scattered mind. "I know where it hurts, you nerd," she murmured, a joke appearing on her cut, bloody lips. She had no ability to move her paw to point anywhere, but the least she could do was at least tell them what was happening. "My chest and sides feel like a bear sat on them." she finally croaks out, even as the pain slowly seems to subside from those areas.

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    Talk to her, Luna. For some reason, that was what made everything come crashing down around Luna, and she wanted to scream at Benjamin even though he was doing his best and helping save Loveletter. She wasn't the one who did the talking, she never was. Loveletter always lead the conversations, and Luna just added to them when she saw fit; how was she supposed to talk to her now, when she was bleeding and bent in all the wrong angles, already looking dead? Panic rose in her chest and she swallowed it back down as it threatened her to raise her voice, but it wouldn't do anything but hurt Loveletter. That was the last thing she wanted. Benjamin knew best, so she slowly made her way over to the broken calico, her paws not wanting to leave from the position they were at. Even now, gravity was working overtime as she stood still next to the body. She could collapse in this moment; the world was spinning around her, but she had to stay conscious. Fainting now would only cause more problems.


    But, as ever, Loveletter had something witty to say she stared down at her friend, lips twisted into a painful expression as she winked at her and Luna could cry. Luna never cried, couldn't remember a single time that she had, but if Loveletter was still being herself then that had to mean she was doing okay. Or she was going to be, at least. Death might've been easier, but Luna had apparently decided it wasn't the option she preferred. As Loveletter coughed, she dropped lower, careful to avoid the range where she could be hit by bloody saliva. "Don't talk so much. You'll hurt yourself more," she chided lightly, but it wasn't all that serious. She really just wanted to hear Loveletter talk. "You're ridiculous," she breathed out after giving a weak attempt at a laugh when Loveletter told her to take a picture of her, shaking her head a little too vigorously to the point she stumbled. "It's nothing to laugh at, Love. If you were me right now and saw what I saw, you sure as hell wouldn't laugh." Luna never swore on any religious places, but she did now, head tilted as she stared at Loveletter's orange eyes. Thankfully, they seemed undamaged, still sparkling with the mirth they always did. "And don't be rude to Benjamin. He and Lorraine are the only things keeping you alive right now, you..." She trailed off, lost in thought.


    After a moment, she sighed deeply, trying to make her face look serious but it didn't come across that way. She still only looked in pain, but her golden eyes glittered with rare emotion— relief. "What happened, Love? What did you do?" she questioned, though it was obvious she'd fallen. Perhaps she wouldn't have been so damaged if she wasn't so brittle and breakable. Swallowing hard, Luna said, "After this, I'm going to have to have a long talk with you about eating better. You're so thin, that's probably why all your bones broke. If you'd fallen just a little further..." Once more, she trailed off, and she silently both cursed and thanked fate. Cursed because it had laid out the path for this to happen to Loveletter in the first place, but thanked because fate wasn't so cruel to have her fall just a bit higher and possibly end it all there. Or perhaps that was its own cruelty, putting Loveletter through pain instead of a quick death. None of it mattered anyways— fate wasn't a conscious thing, and somewhere along the road, Loveletter had taken the path to lead her to where she was laying on the ground now. In that sense, it was Loveletter's own fault, by Luna's philosophy. Perhaps it was, but Luna denied her beliefs— or, at least, she would reject them for now. It wasn't the time to get lost in thought.


    "I'm no good at this. I'm sorry," she admitted slowly, directed towards Loveletter and Benjamin both but also herself. There should be more that she could do. Towards Love only then, Luna said, "You're the one that's good at talking, not me. I'm just improvising, I guess."


    [fancypost=border-width:0; font-size: 8pt; text-align: center; line-height: 95%; width:400px;] ✧ — I'M A SONGBIRD WITH A BRAND NEW TRACK / [color=#FFF] TAGS