back to you — circe

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“Circe?” A name that Duskpool didn’t dare think he’d ever speak again, staring at the familiar molly with an uncharacteristically wide hue. His body wavered, blinking languidly, wondering if this was a trick of the mind, conjuring up something that wasn’t there. It’d been a long time since he saw anyone else who wasn’t—The battered warrior winced, shifting his gaze to the ground, dark lips curled into a bitter grimace.

This was real. The battered warrior wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Seein’ her. He’d paused then, staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. Maybe he was. “When did ya get here?” He decided, schooling his expression to limp closer to the molly, scouring her frame for injuries, heart nearly ripping out of his throat at the thought of her being here when the rogues attacked. He had been gone, oblivious and hurting. “Are ya hurt?” He rumbled, reaching the familiar molly with great hesitance, mangled ear flat against his helm.

He wanted to tell her about her brothers. That he killed Shadowfire. That Smokefang was dead. His children—Everyone. He wanted to laugh at the hypocrisy flooding through his veins like ice, blamin’ himself for it all. He was a damn curse just waitin’ to cause agony to another cat he foolishly let in, even if he wanted to do better. He didn’t deserve a lick of it. He was tainted. Monstrous. But he willed himself to stay, if not for his adoptive kids, then for Circe who—Duskpool breathed shakily.

His muzzle rested lightly on her helm, drinking in a scent he’d long forgotten, molten gaze fluttering shut. “Yer here.” He rumbled with the softest tinge to a gruff voice, pulling away to stare at the other, heart tightening at the sight of his younger sister. Never would have thought I’d be sayin’ that. He thought bitterly.

Certain not to last when Shadowfire and Smokefang’s death still lingered on his tongue.

@Circe ​

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thought speech​

 

[Sorrelsong]

　

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---

"Youkai!" The very words ripped out her heart and laid it bare on the ground. They were loud and warm, full of relief and joy. After all this time. After everything. It was him. And he was home.
His pelt was tattered. Marked by battles Circe couldn't begin to know, but swore he would never fight alone again. She stood, frozen. Drinking him in. All of him. His pelt, his scars, his ears, his eye. His shoulders were slouched, sad. His eyes looked far away and here at the same time. What happened to you? How can I help? How've you been? Do you still snore when you sleep?
She saw the flash of shock that rippled across his face, her own mirrored in his eyes. Her jaw dropped, forming a little 'o'. The edges of her maw pitched upwards in a wide smile. Her ear perked forward, fanning her face. Her brother! Duskpool!
He'd grown since the last time she saw him. He was always bigger than her, but this was a little ridiculous. He was built like their father, with a wide frame and dark coat that used to blend into the darkness of their kittenhood home. She took after their mother, with a lither build and softer features, but with similarly set eyes. She'd missed her big tower of a brother, the one that yelled back at their parents. The one that would listen to her stories and make up funny voices with her. The one that comforted her on bad nights and let her hunt his tail. It was him. Just bigger. and older. And they'd both gone through their battles, hadn't they? Both of their skin was pucked and pink in places, raw and sore in others. Still attached though. Still them. The only thing that had changed was the scars were more visible, but for once, Circe felt little shame for her state, just worry for her brother's.
It felt like ages before either moved. Though Duskpool touched her gingerly as if she could shatter, Circe pressed into him with a force she wasn't aware she had. Her head nestled into the junction between his head and shoulder, her body curled and stretched to envelop him. She pressed him close to her, listening to the faint beating of his heart. The warmth of his scent filled her head. It'd been moons.
After all this time, after all this heartbreak, pressed up against her older brother, Circe remembered what it was like to love. And he deserved every ounce of it.
"No, no no, I'm okay! I'm okay." She murmured, frowning slightly when he pulled away. "I was a show cat before here! They took care of me. I'm okay. I came a few days before everything happened, but I'm fine. I came here to find you. There was this alley cat and he said something about a clan in the sky and, and how they accept kitty pets - whatever that means - well now I know what that means but like, back then-" Her head bobbled a bit as she talked, her tail moving to gesture to random items she spoke. The words flew out of her. She sidestepped around the uglier parts of her story. The anxiety. The hatred. Licking her own fur out. He didn't need to know. She was safe and this is how she could protect him. Not with claws, not with lies, but with omitting details that would worry him.
"But you! How are you? You were on the journey, right? Are you okay? How did you get here?" Her eyes scanned him, curious and wide. She wanted to begin grooming the fur around his ears, the part he always missed as a kit, but couldn't gauge if that was too much.
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// ooc:​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Never in his life would he hear his old name, but Duskpool never would have thought anyone else had survived. It felt good. Baffling as ever, the battered warrior was happy despite the well-masked terror bubbling deep within his gut. Many of the cats he gave a damn about ended up dead. It was a well-placed fear, wonderin’ if she’d meet the same fate as so many others.

He was a selfish bastard at heart, drinking in Circe’s smell, letting out a low rumbling purr that rattled his insides like buzzing bees. The sudden force was welcomed, her head nestled between his neck and shoulder, neck straining to curl around her smaller stature.

At her reassurance, Duskpool sighed, shoulders sagging and muscles uncoiling, accepting his sister’s embrace. His mind rumbled, distant while his heart thrummed behind the bone. He was thankful. Relieved to know she hadn’t been subjected to a life that he now bore on stained skin. Pulling away had been difficult, awkward—unsure.

Listening to her words, the battered warrior rumbled in acknowledgment, fitting a molten copper gaze over her frame, fur plucked and pulled, but she was here. Despite his disdain for apologies, Duskpool felt one weighing heavily on his tongue, wanting to apologize for not being here to help, to protect her, but she was alright. She was fine. “I’m glad they took care of ya.” He grinned weakly, laughing softly. I came here to find you. The statement echoed, sucking in a breath to turn, staring elsewhere.

“Doin’ just fine.” He let his attention return, resting on the molly, voice deadpan despite the crinkled optic. She didn’t need to be knowin’ about Lostmoon, taken away from him even before he returned. It hurt, but Duskpool had gotten better at hidin’ it, even if his heart wailed with grief.

Grunting in acknowledgement. “Busted my shoulder climbin’ a cliff, but I ain’t that easy to kill.” He huffed in amusement, gesturing toward the semi-stiff limb. “Popped out like I’d never seen, but ain’t gonna stop me.” He chuffed.

“Joined some 15 moons ago.” He remarked, molten copper narrowing. “Was a rogue before that wanderin’ with a few cats. Some of ‘em ended up becoming my kids.” He remarked. He didn’t bother mentioning anything else, dark lips thinning at the foul stench of dog filling his nose, to its breath fanning across his neck and hindquarters, promising pain. The loss of a mate. Duskpool wasn’t all that willin’ to share those memories. “I’ll have to introduce ya to Mason. He’s out near twolegs with a few others, not too keen on joinin’ SkyClan.” He still hadn’t gone out to check on the kid, tellin’ him about Lostmoon’s death. He winced, muscles rippling with the motion.

“Shadowfire and Smokefang—” He swallowed. “Castor and Pollux.” He breathed. “Joined a few moons after I did. Lucky enough, the three of us ended up goin’ to the same place.” He rumbled, glancing at the bramble entrance. “Got split up halfway, hadn’t seen ‘em until then.” He spoke bitterly. Can’t even say they’re dead. He wondered if the others told her about their deaths.

Shaking his helm, Duskpool offered a bittersweet smile. “How have ya been likin’ SkyClan?” Leaning forward, the obsidian-furred warrior let a tongue rasp over her head before pulling back. “Been settlin’ in well?” Anything to change the topic. ​

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thought speech​

 

[Sorrelsong]

𓆝 . ° ✦ A warmth unrivaled by anything before caught in her heart and spread like wildfire as she heard the unmistakable sound of her brother's purr. It felt as though flowers wrapped their way around her ribcage, pushing against the skin under her chest and above her belly. It was a pleasant feeling, and it filled her with so much joy. It was a song she never thought she'd hear again.
"I'm glad they took care of ya."
Her smile turned thin at the comment. She swallowed thickly but resisted the urge to look away. Her eyes narrowed briefly in confusion when Youkai looked away, but she let the moment go; softening as he continued.
"It would take a tiger to stop you," She teased, but part of her still believed it. When they were younger, she remembered how Castor and she got obsessed with the tales of big cats she'd overheard from somewhere. They were bent on trying to figure out which one Youkai should be for their games - everything had to be true to life for kits, you couldn't just choose - so Castor and she had devised a plan to figure out which one Youkai was. They tried sparing him, racing at him, pouncing on his tail, scaring him with scary stories, and grooming his fur in odd ways when he was sleeping. Somehow they had deduced he was a tiger, though she didn't think that was the cat he wanted at the time, she still smiled at the memory and inside joke.
She tilted her head, smiling at his words, flinching as he did when he mentioned their brothers. She swallowed thickly. The ground felt like it would slip away from under her if she wasn't careful.
"I've been settlin' in well," She confirmed, smirking a bit at her poor attempt to mimic his accent. "Joined a day or two before the rogues came. Met some cats, and a particularly angry kit in Shadow Clan while they housed us." She smiled faintly at the memory of Bitekit. Where was he now?
"I meet Lux and Blazestar and they -" She nodded, forcing herself not to look away. "They gave me the, uh, news, about Castor and Pollux."
She watched his face with moons of experience of a concerned little sister. Would he look away when he didn't want to confront something? Would his maw still tighten the same way when he side-stepped something? Was this too much? Was this hurting him?
"I'm glad they could spend their time with you." Suddenly she sounded so young. Like a kit. "They always liked giving you crap." She tried, lightly bumping his good shoulder with hers.
Back at their house folk's house - the one that held so many memories but wasn't really a home - Youkai had been so strong. Just by looking at him, she could tell not much had changed. Circe had been the poet of the family, always weaving stories with words and hope, but Youkai had done much more. He'd turn her words into actions. He protected all of them. He listened to all of them. He'd been their little warrior, even then.
It pained her so much that he did not have the life she'd spent moons making up for him in her dreams. She'd dreamt that he was loved. That he wanted for nothing. Was always loved, and lived with his love. She had dreamt him so happy that even when he frowned he had laughing lines at the edges of his eyes. This was not the life she dreamed for him, but this was a moment she dreamed of. Seeing him again.
"Do you," She stole a tentative step toward him. "Do you remember the games we used to play? About the stars?"
Youkai loved her enough for.... everything that happened. Circe just hoped that her love could make up for everything that happened to him.
I'm sorry. She wanted to cry. I'm here now. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I'm sorry I couldn't be the hero you deserve.

✧　°　.　✶　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
• 

  CIRCE— SHE/HER･ 37 MOONS ･ WARRIOR IN TRAINING & SKY CLAN･ PENNED BY @KEEEKEEEY!

  Once a rather pretty brown smoked molly, Circe is unnaturally lithe and is missing large chunks of her fur. She has an oddly muscular and feminie build and small paws. — physically easy && mentally easy — Attempting to learn Sky Clan's ways — NPC x NPC : Sibling to Duskpool, Shadowfire and Smokefang

​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Ain’t that the truth. He couldn’t help but think, wooly tail flickering with languid hues only for the ground to come out from underneath him, stiffening until he let out a quiet breath, nodding. He never did quite get over it, did he? Listenin’ to Shadowfire’s ragged breaths and Smokefang’s unseeing hues starin’ off into the distance, wide-eyed and terror-filled, they were. There wasn’t a night he didn’t dream of that, shakin’ out of his nightmare-filled sleep to stare at nothin’ in particular, questioning why it had to be them.

A darker part of his mind couldn’t help but agree that Circe would have been better off with her littermates than a cold-hearted murderer. He didn’t deserve her softness, not when he ended Shadowfire in a pitiful attempt at mercy. “Sorry, I couldn’t tell ya myself.” He glanced up, dark lips curling in a bittersweet grin while molten hues glanced off to the side, refusin’ to meet Circe’s. Damnit. Some older sibling he was, eh? Couldn’t even protect ‘em and look where he ended up.

Biting back a sigh, Duskpool couldn’t help but nod, bittersweet grin turned dark, but as soon as it appeared, Duskpool smoothed it over, facial expressions molded into indifference. Should have been ya. He wanted to say but refrained. He didn’t want to be worryin’ her more than she was, especially when the molly could read him better than most felines. What could he expect when the battered warrior grew up with the molly? “Sure did, didn’t they?” He rumbled in amusement, expression muddled, clouded by grief yet his words were laced with fondness. “Castor didn’t change much, pullin’ pranks, but ya would be proud of him. He did good. Pollux wasn’t any different. Keepin’ him out of trouble.” He paused, shaking his helm. The warrior didn’t bother to elaborate further, not all that willin’ to reveal any more than he wanted. Which wasn’t all that much to start with.

He wanted to tell her. He did. He wanted more than anything to tell her that it was his fault. That he should be the one and not them, anyone but them, but fate had a real funny way of workin’, didn’t it?

Shaking his helm, Duskpool couldn’t help but hum. Stars, huh? He cracked a weak grin, letting a molten gaze rest on Circe’s form, wooly tail flickering in thought, mangled ear swearing upon a smokey helm. “It’s been a while since I thought of ‘em.” He admitted, molten gaze crinkling. “Never was all that good at playin’.” ​

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thought speech​