pafp ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ The sun meets the moon | Injury ⋆☀︎.°

[Batscreech]

🗡 ๋࣭ ⭑ Admittedly, a prickling sensation of hot embarrassment coiled its way throughout Batscreech's bristling fur as he limped idly towards the medicine cat's den. It was not unlike him to fall into the grappling claws of misfortune due to his lack of foresight or perception of what was going on around him, his mind quite vacant most of the time and leaving little room for any rationality. But even so, it was unfittingly juvenile for him to have found himself lodged in the heart of a thorny bush on the outskirts of the SkyClan border after having fallen from the grassy hill above during what should have been a leisurely stroll to clear his mind and enjoy a rare moment of solitude. He had fought to free himself from woodland claws valiantly, however the remnants of such a battle remained strikingly apparent in the way his matted fur was laden with jagged pieces of broken off debris and, most infuriatingly, a rather sizeable chunk of protective thorn wedged deep within his fleshy paw pad.

Ducking beneath the overhang of the medicine den, the sleazy figure which greeted him caused him to shift his weight with uncertainty. He did not lament the fox-like feline that had served SkyClan since it's founding the same way that most others did, truthfully, he didnt know enough about the uncannily animated tom to form a very cemented opinion of him as it stood currently. However, it would taste a lie to say that his presence had quite the unpredictable edge, the way those pale blue eyes glinted in the cover of dimly lit space provoking a flurry of twitching to overtake Batscreech's ears and eyelids. He hated when he couldn't pinpoint those around him regardless of their reputations, perhaps another habit from his old life that he was unable to shed. Clearing his throat, he approached with that heavy gait he now sported, clearly favoring his other paws over the one in the front. "Oi...I um- nicked meself takin' a fall..." He would tentatively present a limp paw towards Dawnglare, a gentle flex of ivory claws glinting momentarily against shallow light. Any further information that could have been provided remained unsaid, and drooping verdant eyes refused to look up from where they were fixed on the earth that carried them both.

✧　°　.　☣︎　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: @DAWNGLARE freak
• 

  BATSCREECH — HE/HIM ･ 25 MOONS ･ WARRIOR OF SKYCLAN ･ PENNED BY SLOANE

  a small two-tone brown cat with a scrawny/lithe build. eyes are predominantly green with yellow hued central heterochromia. longhaired seal point / chocolate chimera.

​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

How quickly would SkyClan tear itself apart, were he to reveal the way its drone made him what to claw out his eyes? Back and forth, the pendalum swings between utter isolation, and the desire to be anywhere but this den. With paw steps outside the burrow, he may convince himself hes shirked it all — the responsibilities, bleeding lavender, communion with the stars and all their two-facedness; but oh, do HIs eyes not become all-encompassing with that step into the sun? A deceiving light, it is; one that swelters with such insistent kindness that it only burns them all alive. And He watches him most closesly of everyone, burning holes into his velvet spine whenever possible. Oh, this one is at an utter loss. Day in, day out, his claws scrabble for some answer; some salvation. Again and again, he prays. Again and again, Mother does not answer.

Interloper in the form of a chocolate, moon-marking face. With bitterness does Dawnglare acknowledge that he knows just who he is. He was dead in the ground — the one that had made this Dawnglare's responsibility, shamed him into memorizing each and every sorry face that wound its way to him. Dawnglare tenses when he sees him, Batscreech, and he would not know with what vitriol he mentally spats that name. Living symbol of his strife. He came to him for salvation, and whyever did Dawnglare owe him that?

This would be his retribution, he thinks: denying what His burning gaze demanded of him.

Up and down, Dawnglare's gaze passes the tom over as if he could not possibly fathom what he was here for. though it is not without an inch of knowing; without an inch of prodding — of crynicism. At last, Dawnglare says, " So? "​

 

[Cherryblossom]

It's to Cherryblossom's mild delight that two of SkyClan's most antisocial creatures would face off before her. She's idling nearby, tongue fixated on a stubborn patch of fur at the crook of her foreleg, when an umber shape comes slouching through the brambles and straight towards the hazel bush. Alone, naturally. The green around him practically shivers with awkwardness as he presents his offering to the den's inhabitants. She pities him, all the more for his strangely tense relationship with her old mentor, from which she concludes he'd be irritated by any such feelings of pity.

She lifts her elegant head to watch Dawnglare's response, because half of interacting with the cinnamon-glazed tom was trying to interpret his bizarre body language. Any conversation with him devolved into trying to discern whether she still wanted whatever it was she originally wanted from him, as though she were the witness to the mating dance of a faraway exotic bird.

It's the syllable of utterly unconcerned disdain that rouses her from her leisure. She's far from stranger to such tones, but it wasn't her that owed her clanmates much anymore. "Oh, come on, Dawnglare," the molly groans, appearing at Batscreech's side with her signature flourish. "Our lovely Batscreech is hurt!" she pouts, lending the scrawnier tom a glance practically dripping with performative sympathy. ​

 

[WOLFGRIN]

If it's a show Cherryblossom wants, she's in luck; a third antisocial creature rears his disheveled head. Lately, it seems to him that he's cursed to make an appearance every time Dawnglare does something exceptionally callous. It's annoying and inconvenient, he has things to do besides delivering swift karma, like hunting and patrolling! But something keeps drawing him to these... incidents, and Wolfgrin is Wolfgrin - he just can't keep his mouth shut, especially not in the face of such casual cruelty.

Batscreech has flitted about the fringes of SkyClan like a shadow, so it's surprising to the tortoiseshell to see him up and about, and braving Dawnglare, no less. Cherryblossom's exaggerated, drawn out tones fill his ears, and he waits for them to die down before he approaches behind them, looming like a shadow as he usually does. He blinks far-too-innocent orange eyes at Dawnglare, tipping his head up and to one side as he begins speaking. "Perhaps I could treat it. If it's unworthy of your time, how hard could it be?" Though his outward affect is careless, inwardly he curses his big fat mouth. If he gets stuck fussing over some warrior's grimy paws because of Dawnglare's indifference, he's going to hide dung in the medicine cat's nest, the inevitable punishment be damned. They can only put him on apprentice duties if he's caught, so he supposes he'll just have to be sneaky.

If such an outcome occurs. He's getting ahead of himself. He shifts his akimbo stance to the other direction, his head following the movement lazily, as he grapples with his jitters.

---

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── hiding from the sunshine ⋆⋅☀⋅⋆ wandering in the shade ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  "speech here"
  

• 

• WOLFGRIN ☀ he/him, warrior of skyclan, thirty-five moons
  ⭃ a tall, disheveled chocolate smoke tortoiseshell with orange eyes. he displays oddly dog-like qualities, even smelling faintly like a dog after growing up with them on a farm. his smug, careless, smooth-talking outer persona masks a heart of gold. though the safety of a clan serves his interests well, he is more inclined to loyalty to individuals rather than clans. after the death of his mate, flamefeather, he's begun to privately question starclan.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by solaire ↛ @funeralscythe on discord, feel free to ping for plots.
  

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