Posts by Zephyrbee ?!

☄ ----~ So apparently, when you get 3rd degree burns on one of the most vulnerable parts of your person (hint hint THE EYE), that is not a healthy thing. It is so VERY MUCH not a healthy thing, that - surprise surprise - you should probably rest up and let your body heal. For a good while. Apparently, in this day and age, its not a good idea to instead immediately force yourself into going on patrols, train, and keep track of your clan-mates with an unnecessary iron hand.

Apparently, Zephyrbee had not been aware of that.

Stretching out his long front legs, Zeph glared in his cyclops way at the medicine den entrance, as if he blamed the yet-to-be-reached light outside for the almost quarter moon of raging fever and burning infection he had suffered through. But no, in all honesty, it wasn't the world he was pissed at - it was himself. Of course, his self-disgust would never be that he had worked too hard - how could anyone be angry about that? No, he was pissed that he had been rendered useless for song long because, not of himself, but of the scars he had stupidly achieved. He should have been more careful during the fire (not ' he should have been more careful HEALING, because apparently his safety meant very little in comparison to being active. Okay no that's not 'apparently' that is simple fact.)

But a few days ago his fever had broke, and the infection had dwindled. His scars were waxy and unnaturally white, but they were no longer a fiery, alarming red. He was healthy again (as healthy as you could be when a few days ago you were feverishly babbling about how you could telepathically communicate with your tail). Thus, now that he was well again, the warrior was determined to get back to work. To make up for his absence.

Getting to his feet, the warrior shook himself off before taking the steps to the light of the den's entrance. Screw being sick!

☄ ----~ Zephyrbee, like many of the others in the patrol, said absolutely nothing. He stood on Bumblefoot's other side, and he didn't need to look at his mate to know he was upset. Why wouldn't he be? He was losing his daughter. Zephyrbee felt a twinge in his chest, the dark thoughts of could I have stopped this? bursting like acid in his head, burning through his thoughts until it was difficult to ignore. But he forced himself to do so, and focused instead on comforting Bumblefoot, laying his thin, serpentine tail comfortingly on the other's shoulders.

Zeph didn't like that they Doestar was the one to decide Paperpaw's punishment. But perhaps that was only because part of him didn't WANT Paper to be punished. That he wanted to just pretend nothing had ever happened, and keep tolerating the annoyingly snarky molly. But that was impossible. Not now, and not ever - not whilist his apprentice's paws were soaked in Riverclanner blood.

His face remained impassive when Blankstare announced 'Exile'. He refused to show any emotion, but his chest burned and the acid returned in his mind. He couldn't bring himself to look at Paperpaw.

☄ ----~ //im very proud of the tail joke yes. I imagine him being all sick and dying and just reaching to to bear like " bro...bro...how - how do I exile my own tail...? bro??"

"Bitter," came his response when a familiar hulking clam-mate approached. His tone was harsh and steely, a challenge of sorts to whatever force - sickness, medicine cats or even Cat God - that threatened to put him out of commission once more. Still, it was notable that he had to lean a bit too heavily on the den's entrance, and his breathing came out just a little too forcefully. He was better, but he still wasn't okay.

Of course, as Bearstorm noted earlier - that wasn't going to stop Zeph. Not now. "Bite me," he hissed in response to Bearstorm's advice, mostly because he knew this would be the first of many. It irritated him when cats told him to sit down and gather his breath like some elder. Nagging him to sleep better, and go to the medicine den before he got an infection (cough cough) but he refused to heed it (COUGH COUGH) unless he was literally dying (COUGH COUGH) At the same time though, he meant it as an odd sort of joke because they both knew Bearstorm wouldn't have listened to his own advice had their roles been reversed. "What did I miss?" he questioned soon after, narrowing his eye at the brown tabby tom warily. His first worries being Paperpaw, and what had happened to her whilst he had been out. Then came Daypaw, and if his nephew had...if he was also troubled. Followed by worries of Owlpaw's training. And finally patrols and just how many he needed to make up - and when the next one was going to be out.

And then came the horned and spike-tailed devil of a family member, Daypaw. Daypaw was as close to a son as Zeph would get for perhaps a long while (do you hear a buzzing bee nearby?) so he knew the kid at least enough to know when he was spitting out crap. His experiences with Paperpaw only made his one-eyed sight keener when observing some good, ripe BS. Glancing from the pale tabby tom, to the darker Bearstorm, and back again, the oriental workaholic sighed. "Daypaw, shush," he replied sternly, though his frown deepened ever so slightly at the 'already fantastic relationship' line.

Though Zeph had lent a paw with Daypaw and his sibling's need of parent figures outside of the nursing Queens, Zeph knew he was far from that of a good 'dad'. He didn't like kids. They made him nervous and constantly on edge - they were fragile, annoying little things. And if that wasn't already good enough reason to back away quickly, Daypaw looked so much like his father, it was difficult to look at him sometimes. Zeph still held a cold spot in his heart for what Brambletooth had done to the family. He didn't doubt if that cold spot remained long into his death.

Still though - he had tried to be an 'okay' figure in Day's life. Ouchie on the sarcasm kid.

Glancing to Bearstorm once more, the slate-grey oriental arched a nonexistent brow, "I see you've developed new enemies while I was gone? What'd you do? Tell him he wasn't going to be leader someday?" he asked, taking this excuse to sit down. NOT - not because he was tired, but because he was sure this might lead to a conversation and conversations were better handled whilst in a comfortable, resting position. Not that he was resting. He wasn't. His tail lashed behind him - mocking him ever so slightly with it's activity.

☄ ----~ There was no bigger insult Bearstorm could have thrown at him than saying he 'missed a lot', especially in regard to a major battle. Zeph's breath hitched lightly, feeling Bearstorms' words like a blow to his stomach, immediately imagining himself laying in the den, sleeping soundly whilist his clan-mates battled for their lives in Riverclan. If Zeph were the emotional type, he woul have shook with self-hatred at how weak he had been in his clan's time of need. But for now, and in the company of others, Zeph took a breath and remained professionally impassive, "Well," he said simply, before gladly turning his focus back on Daypaw and Bearstorm.

He stiffened at Daypaw's mention of being hit. Though Zeph didn't doubt for a second that his nephew hadn't deserved it in some way, Zeph couldn't help but shoot Bearstorm a look. He trusted the maine coon greatly - the former loner had earned his respect time and time again, and so Zeph wouldn't hesitate a moment to take his nephew's words with a grain of salt, but he would be lying if he said he didn't fear for Bearstorm's self control. He had seen what the hulk of a male could do when he was angry. He could seriously hurt Daypaw, and Zeph wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop himself from doing so.

But again, Zeph wasn't one to think with his heart. Nodding along with Bearstorm's explanation on his perspective, he swept away his worried and turned his hard stare on his family member instead. "Thank you, Bearstorm, for at least attempting to keep my nephew in line. Daypaw, -" Zeph was about to start chiding the apprentice, but hesitated. Remember how I mentioned he doesn't think with his heart? Well, sometimes, that irritating little organ kinda gets forces itself into your head whether you like it or not. Usually when you don't. Thus, Zeph hesitated, unsure how to go about this.

He wanted to say 'im very disappointed in you' but...starclan that sounded so lame. Who cared if this sick old oriental was disappointed?! He'd said that plenty of times to Paperpaw and look how SHE turned out.

Starclan, what if this was the beginnings of Daypaw following in her pawsteps? Crap - then he REALLY needed to think about the words he said, else he risked pushing Daypaw away, and further down that dark path.

OH JEEZE but then hat was he supposed to say!? 'Your grounded' ? 'I expect better from you' ? Should he be lenient and say 'as long as you learn from this blah-di-blah ' kind of BS?

W-what was the right call when dealing with hormonal teens!?

Zephyrbee, whilist waging his internal war behind narrowed, pensive eyes, seemed to have lost focus on his nephew and clan-mate. He kinda just sat there, staring hard enough at Daypaw to burn a hole through his forehead.

//SO MUCH FORTHWALL BREAKING WHAT IS THIS

iloveit

☄ ----~ He swallowed thickly when he was forced out of his thoughts by Daypaw's awkward inquiry. He needed to make a decision. The right decision. But what, exactly, was the right decision when in regard of a troubled cat? He had already failed Paperpaw, he wasn't sure if he could bare losing his nephew, too.

So the oriental took a deep breath and sighed, "Well, you've been punished enough, I suppose. Bearstorm, I'd appreciate it if you didn't hit Daypaw anymore, unless of course theres no other choice - but ill be keeping a better eye on him, that I can promise." He felt terrible, telling Bearstorm to lay off like that when it was thanks to Bear in the first place that Daypaw had gotten any sort of reprimand for his bad behavior. But still, it was Zeph's duty, not Bear's. He needed to be more active in his nephew's life. He needed to be a better teacher.

Starclan this would be difficult.

Hoping to change the subject before the migraine in his head could get any worse, the oriental asked, "So -erm- hows training...going?" Gotta get more involved? Ask personal questions. Nailed it.

☄ ----~ *CHOCKES ON BLOOD IM LATE

Zephyrbee nodded softly from his spot hovering by the medicine den entrance. He knew he should feel pride - it meant so much to be acknowledged at last by Jasperstarsenpai and to have a rank in the clan in which he'd truly be taken seriously...but he just couldn't. His had been out of commission for a good while - a too long while - and it killed him. He had missed so much of his clan's life, not been apart of their times of need. And if that wasn't bad enough, Paperpaw's exile still weighed heavy on his shoulder. He knew he would forever feel more shame at having failed Paperpaw than anger at what she had done to deserve this. It was all on him, he knew it. If he had been more mindful of her. Spent more time with her...He squeezed his eyes shut, sighing lightly.

"Ill do my best," he mimicked Bearstorm, a headache blossoming too strongly in his temple to come up with an original line of acceptance.

☄ ----~ One of his first patrols since recovering, and it rained. Don't get Zeph wrong, much like Bearstorm, he greatly appreciated the precipitation, it was just the mud he didn't like. Though Zeph wasn't a particularly vain cat (how could he be, when he often neglected grooming himself because he was too busy chain-smocking patrol after patrol every chance he got) but mud was an utter nuisance. It ruined prey, got between his toes, and tasted horrible should it make contact with his tongue. So, of course, at the first announcement of rain, an immediate frown filled his features.

He said nothing as he followed after his apprentice, Owlpaw, to help retrieve some of their game.

//rushed im sos orry

☄ ----~ The hail stung the scars on the side of his face with each painful fell. Like a tousand tiny birds slamming into already cracked and splintering twoleg windowframes. Though instead of said windows breaking to reveal gaping nothingness on the other side, Zeph feared he'd end up with bleeding cuts that, this time, he'd be forced to maticulously care for unless he hoped for another quarter moon stuck in the medicine den.

Ugh, he wished his body would do as it was told!

Still, the warrior slithered his way through the moorland, squinting against the storm as he clung protectively to the soaked rabbit in his jaws. Unknown to him the cats that huddled beneath the boulders as he approached, Zeph's first sight was that of Bearstorm and Citrine, awfully close. He narrowed his eyes at them, wondering exactly HOW MUCH he had missed in his time of being ill. I mean, what else was to be assumed when two young adults were apparently choosing to remain in the rain, far from the camp, all alone?

Hm.

"Well I hope im not interrupting anything," Zeph said with narrowed eyes - not that he was judging, oh no, "but you two should probably conduct your..." he was totally judging, "-business somewhere more sheltered, unless you are also planning on sharing the medicine together." He squinted at them a moment longer, before turning his gaze towards the moorland surrounding them. The sheets of hail and rain were making it difficult to see very far, so of course his judgement soon trickled to reluctant worry as he thought about Bumblefoot, whom he had seen gone out earlier that day to gather herbs. Same with Daypaw.

Still unaware that the two were practically right under his nose, he turned back to the two twined tabbies and inquired, "Have you seen Bumblefoot and Daypaw? I'd rather not go home myself until im sure they're safe," he stated, wincing when more bullets of hail hit him in his sensitive scarring.

☄ ----~ Zephyrbee snorted lightly at Citrinesun's inquiry, when just a moment before she had been brushing pelts with the brown tabby maine coon. "I don't judge," he said simply while totally judging. He didn't care how the younger generation (she was literally only three moons younger) went about their romance, but kissing in the rain (hail) was pretty mental. Teens (they were almost the same age!) were such hormonal creatures.

Then Bumblefoot's paw shot out and brushed his own and an immediate flush went over his cheeks. "Bumble-" he gasped, jumping slightly in surprise at his mate's sudden appearance, seemingly having erupted from the ground like a daisy. It was only then that Zeph took notice of the little cave, and the writhing piles of fluff within - his nephews hissing voice loudly crying out among them.

He sighed, lowering himself to the ground so he was better level with both his mate and nephew. He quirked a brow at Bumblefoot and his mention of 'space', clearing seeing none to spare, "Um, I think it'd be better if we head home instead, before you all choke on each other's tails," he said, mostly worried Day would start a fight in such a cramped space.

☄ ----~ Zephyrbee nodded seriously to Bumble´s joke, fully intending on protecting the smaller healer from the icy bullets of the atmosphere. "Well of course!" he said briskly, expecting nothing less because, of course, it would forever be mandatory his mate be safe within Zeph's presence, even if that resulted in him getting a head-full of ice in the process.

He then glanced at Bearstorm and Citrinesun once more, frowning judgementally when Bear suggested the warrior's den, implicating the two go together. Not being romantic his ass...Zephyr couldn't understand the young cats (NOT THAT BIG OF AN AGE DIFFERENCE ZEPH) and their frolicking. They ought to keep their passions to themselves, like mature adults - like himself. He would never be so childish as to publicly express his affections for the world to see. I am not the romantic type Zephyrbee thought, whilst pulling Bumblefoot close and standing over him protectively and making sure he was best umbrella for his bumblebee.

Totally not the romantic type.

Nope.

☄ ----~ Zephyrbee paused in his quest to hunt Jasper and Rabbit down for patrol assignments when he heard vereesa's call. Sparring huh? Curiously pproaching, he thought it a bit insane to be conducting a fighting match whilst slippery mud blanketed the ground. Coming to stand beside Citrinesun in time to hear her call to her apprentice in a teasing manner, Zeph rolled his eyes. "Why dont you take her offer and spar with her," he suggested with a challenging gleam in his eyes, knowing fully her distaste for soppy wet earth, "unless your too scared?"

☄ ----~ //I HOPE YOU KNOW I DON'T FREAKIN LIKE THIS

//WARNING FOR LOST OF CURSING

Zephyrbee hadn't slept a wink. Too much pacing, too much waiting, and most certainly too much worrying. Why wasn't bumblefoot back? Zephyrbee knew that, being a healer, Bumblefoot often spent time outside of the clan. That was the sole reason he hadn't yet barged into Jasperstar's den and demanded a search patrol in a more angrier version of Morningrose's freak-out. But that reason was wearing thin, and he didn't like it. A cold feeling, perhaps exhaustion, perhaps telepathic mate-hood connections, but a cold feeling nonetheless coursed down his spine. Something was wrong, he felt it deep in his gut.

And it pissed him off.

He had waited a day and a night, and - at last - the warrior had decided he'd head to the border. Both because he'd hope to possibly catch Bumblefoot returning, as well as to pace in private. He couldn't stand the eye-rolling he was recieving from his clan-mates, or the teasing whispers of "aw, look at ol' grumpy Zeph fret like a lovey dovey kitten!" Screw them! This wasn't funny!

I mean, if the feeling in his gut were, in fact, just exaughstion - then perhaps his worrying would seem a little comical but...

But screw you he was worried!

So Zephyrbee left camp. Stormed out with uncharacteristic lack of heed of patrols and chores as he headed straight for the border. The feeling in his stomach burned, as well as chilled him, somehow simultaneously making his paws sweat and a shiver to continue going up and down his thin spine. He felt sick. He probobly was sick. He wanted Bumblefoot - needed him. Else this feeling wouldn't go away. Else he wouldn't feel okay.

Just as the lanky tom crested a small hill, and after a good while of sprinting through the grass and dissolving ash of the territory, he had begun to feel a little better whith most of his nervous energy expelled. As he climbed to the top and felt the wind on his face, the oriental allowed himself a moment to breathe in, and out. But still, the ache in his stomach refused to disperse. It was starting to irritate him. "Starclan! This isn't anything new! Why the hell am I so worried-" he cried to the distant moorland.

And then he saw Bumblefoot.

"Son of a-" but the curse was swept away as Zephyrbee practically flew off, kicking so hard against the ground, he very nearly cresting the slope of the hill and landed in a race. Even from a distant, he knew that round bodied silver tabby. Even from a distance, he could tell something was wrong. But from a distance, he didn't know how very wrong it utterly was.

"Bumblefoot!" he screamed, his voice ragged with fear and rage. Rage that he hadn't acted sooner on his "ridiculous" feeling and gone in search of his mate. Damn it! He should have gone after him!

He arrived just in time to hear Swiftrain question what was wrong, and extend a paw towards the medicine cat. The action sent Zephyrbee into further a rage, and he spat furiously at the helpful molly, "What the hell are you asking that for - Idiot! OF COURSE HE NEEDS HELP!" before cruelly batting the molly's paw away and dropping down at Bumblefoot's side. He didn't care if he was being awful. He didn't care if she had only been trying to assist. He didn't want anyone touching Bumblefoot. No one touch his bumblefoot!

"Bumblefoot," he breathed, swiping his tongue over the sobbing healer's face, doing his best to keep his tone calm and gentle in hopes it would influence the turmoil ripping through his chest. He didn't need to ask what was wrong. One glance up, and he spotted the space where his mate's limb used to be.

Starclan damn it - I should have chased after him!

"You're going to be okay," he soothed softly, swallowing back bile as he turned away from the sight. He nudged the scottish fold as gently as he could, but keeping firm still. He needed Bumble to get up. He had to get up. No damn way Zephyrbee was going to let THIS be how it - no. No, no no, no -NO SHUT UP! But his voice cracked nonetheless as he inquired, "C-can I pick you up?" he wanted so badly to just grab Bumble's scruff, hoist him onto his back, and bolt back to camp where he could treat himself - where others could help. But he didn't want to risk making any injuries worse. H-he'd force himself to wait for Bumble's answer, then he'd run faster than the god damn wind!