and all you do and don't || priv icepaw

She shouldn’t, at yet she does.

It is a habit Tansypaw tries to break herself of— has tried and tried since kit-hood. Her impulsivity is a fault that lives in war with her overthinking. In a strange way, they balance one another out, keep her from being truly foolish, but then something in her will snap like a string pulled too taut and Tansypaw will act without thought. Overall, the decisions she makes in these moments are overwhelmingly bad ones.

The medicine den has become something of a second home for her. Tansypaw doesn’t get injured as much as she used to, but the injuries she does sport tend to be more severe than the minor cut or split ear. Tansypaw certainly isn’t opposed to the company she’ll find in the medicine den.

Anyway.

She grows her skill with her silvertongue at the same time as her excuses become improbable for a scratch of this depth and length, or the perfect impression of teeth at the juncture of her jaw and neck. She’ll move with a deftness born of practice, then laugh and call herself an accident prone klutz. Tansypaw learns the art of speaking without saying anything of note as poultices are bound to her pelt.

But as is the pattern of her life, there is a cord that exists in her chest that is pulled tighter and tighter by the day; a test in increments. It feels like a physical thing when it snaps, and suddenly Tansypaw takes a breath as if she had been restricted before. She shouldn’t, she thinks. She shouldn’t, and yet she does.

“Icepaw,” Tansypaw shouldn’t. Today it’s a minor infection that has brought her in, a bite to a foreleg that has abscessed. It aches in time with her pulse and is warm to the touch, but a strong smelling poultice has already been applied to it, and it is cobweb bound. “We should- I would like it if we could maybe…”

Tansypaw is aware, so very away, about how much she shouldn’t.

And yet.

“We should go out some time. Before the snow melts completely. We can enjoy it while it’s still here.” Tansypaw continues, “Just the two of us.”

“I don't know if I'll be any use to you,” Tansypaw eyes the herbs warily, the same caution one may afford a basking snake. It isn't as if being near them will bring Tansypaw under some great harm, and if she makes a mistake Icepaw will be there to catch it, but...

But Tansypaw worries. “Is it... typically fun?” Whatever it is the medicine cats, apprentice or otherwise, do with the herbs is beyond Tansypaw. She's seen them at work countless times, and yet their work has always held a certain randomness to it. The herbs presented to her look like any other— the scent is sharp and warm, but Tansypaw is uncertain if that is these herbs in particular or just the scent of the den itself.

The place where Icepaw had headbutted her feels colder than the rest of her, as if Icepaw carried the warmth away with her. Tansypaw reminds herself twice not to touch it, “You'll have to show me how its done,” She concedes, then lowers herself carefully to inspect what is before her.