05-11-2020, 10:47 PM
As of late, Michael's mind had been a bit of a scattered mess. It wasn't exactly hard to see why, considering the thief's attention was constantly being pulled in so many different directions, mercilessly inflicting whiplash upon him without a care in the world. Before the meteor shower, the bobcat's only worries in the world had been about his new position, as well as whether or not Trygve was doing alright. He hadn't seen much of his nephew since the other's unfortunate encounter with Brandy, and he had found himself often wondering if he should go out and try to bring the other back, whether he liked it or not. It was the kind of decision that would've sounded heinous to younger him, considering it was authoritarian and unforgiving, forcing Ry to come back for his own good. Hell, it still sounded a bit heinous to his current day self, who still wasn't the biggest fan of authority figures shoving their noses into things. Trygve himself probably knew that about his uncle best of all, considering Michael hadn't been sneaky in teaching the other the most underhanded and dirty tricks and combat maneuvers he knew. Still, he had kept the possibility of going out to retrieve Trygve on the back burner, figuring it was always an idea he could return to if he really felt Ry was in danger – or Roxie was in danger because of the sorrow Ry's absence was causing.
But then, all hell had broken loose. The sky had been filled with flames, that damned meteor had come crashing into the water, and Michael's vision and hearing were filled with utter panic and dismay. When he even just tried to think about the emotions that he had felt in that moment, it was enough to push him precariously onto the edge of a panic attack. His mind had been pulled in so many different directions, desperate to insure the safety of his sister, and his friends, and his nieces and nephews, and his boyfriend. In the end, the tremors had managed to knock him directly off his feet, sending his skull slamming into the ground below. Everything after that was an unpleasant blur of nausea and blood, intercut with Roan's worried, low tones, and Trevor's crazed and frantic high ones. Waking up after that had been a nightmare, and the privateer had never been more eager to shove himself into the fur if his coyote lover, on the verge of tears and reeling from the pain and disorientation his concussion brought with it. He would never admit the vulnerability that had gripped him in those moments to anyone but Trevor, but it had felt as though his entire world was falling apart. For the first time in a long time, he hadn't worried about Trygve, mainly because he was just so entirely worried for his own sanity, and the safety of those around him.
The rehabilitation process after that had been... rough. His life had begun rapidly swapping between nausea, pain, and near constant crying not only from the aforementioned issues, but also from the sheer emotional strain he was under. It had taken several days before he was finally able to emerge from his home again and be able to help out, and even then he was on doctor's orders not to overwork himself. For once, his mind was not focused on a clear, linear path, or plan. He wasn't looking towards the future. Mainly because it was being tugged violently in many different directions. Roxie, Trevor, the concussion, the meteor, those that had been injured, the rest of his family and friends, Trygve... there was so much to worry about all at once, and it didn't help to alleviate the ever present headache his concussion had brought with it. He could truly understand now why Goldie had constantly been complaining after she had gotten her own concussion. He supposed he should just be glad they had actual sages now, and weren't operating off of their own skills alone. If that had been the case, he probably already would've been dead by now, buried naturally by the sand carried on the wind.
When he had left his home yet again that day, it had been on shaky legs. The beginning of the day was usually the hardest part, since he needed to leave the warmth and safety of his home and lover to go help others. However, once he got after that initial hump, things became far easier. His pawsteps were slow as he moved along the beach, his mismatched blue gaze watching as work was done that he would help with later on. For now, he needed some food. In the first few days, Trevor and others had brought food to him, not wanting him to overextend himself and get sick everywhere, but now he was making an active effort to do so on his own. He wasn't about to be made useless just because of a little concussion. Not in a million goddamn years. The thought made a little smirk break across his muzzle, the first that he had gotten not in the presence of others in a few days. Even if his mind was still struggling to catch up with all that had happened as of late, at least he was relearning his own ways, something that he was infinitely grateful for. Being dreary and miserable all the time would've just driven him crazy, and make the whole healing process that much harder.
Michael was halfway through his walk down to the food stores when he heard a voice calling out, frantic and full of emotion. It sounded familiar, and the thief had to stop himself from turning his head too fast and giving himself whiplash. It was... Trygve? Calling out names. Eulia, the rest of his siblings, Roxie, him. Michael was hesitant for a moment, the bobcat wondering if perhaps his concussion had made it so that he was hallucinating things. Once he was sure that the shouting wasn't all in his heard, he began to jog over to where his nephew was, crying in the sand with a bear in his arms. The fugitive glanced around warily for a moment, as if he was wondering if anyone else was gonna step in to do something. When no immediate other solution besides himself provided itself, Michael moved in more closely, his voice hoarse as he mumbled, "Ry...? Jesus Christ, you're back..." He struggled with words for a moment, never having been the best at close, emotional chats. Eventually the dark furred feline just gave up, moving in close to press his side against Trygve's, his head gently bumping against the young boy's cheek. He muttered, sounding weaker than he had been the last time they spoke, "I didn't know if you'd be alright... where you were... the meteor..."
But then, all hell had broken loose. The sky had been filled with flames, that damned meteor had come crashing into the water, and Michael's vision and hearing were filled with utter panic and dismay. When he even just tried to think about the emotions that he had felt in that moment, it was enough to push him precariously onto the edge of a panic attack. His mind had been pulled in so many different directions, desperate to insure the safety of his sister, and his friends, and his nieces and nephews, and his boyfriend. In the end, the tremors had managed to knock him directly off his feet, sending his skull slamming into the ground below. Everything after that was an unpleasant blur of nausea and blood, intercut with Roan's worried, low tones, and Trevor's crazed and frantic high ones. Waking up after that had been a nightmare, and the privateer had never been more eager to shove himself into the fur if his coyote lover, on the verge of tears and reeling from the pain and disorientation his concussion brought with it. He would never admit the vulnerability that had gripped him in those moments to anyone but Trevor, but it had felt as though his entire world was falling apart. For the first time in a long time, he hadn't worried about Trygve, mainly because he was just so entirely worried for his own sanity, and the safety of those around him.
The rehabilitation process after that had been... rough. His life had begun rapidly swapping between nausea, pain, and near constant crying not only from the aforementioned issues, but also from the sheer emotional strain he was under. It had taken several days before he was finally able to emerge from his home again and be able to help out, and even then he was on doctor's orders not to overwork himself. For once, his mind was not focused on a clear, linear path, or plan. He wasn't looking towards the future. Mainly because it was being tugged violently in many different directions. Roxie, Trevor, the concussion, the meteor, those that had been injured, the rest of his family and friends, Trygve... there was so much to worry about all at once, and it didn't help to alleviate the ever present headache his concussion had brought with it. He could truly understand now why Goldie had constantly been complaining after she had gotten her own concussion. He supposed he should just be glad they had actual sages now, and weren't operating off of their own skills alone. If that had been the case, he probably already would've been dead by now, buried naturally by the sand carried on the wind.
When he had left his home yet again that day, it had been on shaky legs. The beginning of the day was usually the hardest part, since he needed to leave the warmth and safety of his home and lover to go help others. However, once he got after that initial hump, things became far easier. His pawsteps were slow as he moved along the beach, his mismatched blue gaze watching as work was done that he would help with later on. For now, he needed some food. In the first few days, Trevor and others had brought food to him, not wanting him to overextend himself and get sick everywhere, but now he was making an active effort to do so on his own. He wasn't about to be made useless just because of a little concussion. Not in a million goddamn years. The thought made a little smirk break across his muzzle, the first that he had gotten not in the presence of others in a few days. Even if his mind was still struggling to catch up with all that had happened as of late, at least he was relearning his own ways, something that he was infinitely grateful for. Being dreary and miserable all the time would've just driven him crazy, and make the whole healing process that much harder.
Michael was halfway through his walk down to the food stores when he heard a voice calling out, frantic and full of emotion. It sounded familiar, and the thief had to stop himself from turning his head too fast and giving himself whiplash. It was... Trygve? Calling out names. Eulia, the rest of his siblings, Roxie, him. Michael was hesitant for a moment, the bobcat wondering if perhaps his concussion had made it so that he was hallucinating things. Once he was sure that the shouting wasn't all in his heard, he began to jog over to where his nephew was, crying in the sand with a bear in his arms. The fugitive glanced around warily for a moment, as if he was wondering if anyone else was gonna step in to do something. When no immediate other solution besides himself provided itself, Michael moved in more closely, his voice hoarse as he mumbled, "Ry...? Jesus Christ, you're back..." He struggled with words for a moment, never having been the best at close, emotional chats. Eventually the dark furred feline just gave up, moving in close to press his side against Trygve's, his head gently bumping against the young boy's cheek. He muttered, sounding weaker than he had been the last time they spoke, "I didn't know if you'd be alright... where you were... the meteor..."
[glow=#75603C,1,000]" oh, it's a setup, no, no, we won't fall. "[/glow] ![[Image: Sx2KbYd.png]](https://i.imgur.com/Sx2KbYd.png)
— Reggan