private BACK UP EVERY WORD YOU SAY ♡ MALLOWLARK

[DAWNGLARE]

The light draws nearer. The moon wears a mask...

The shifting of seasons was grand. Far too much so, for the lack of thought or fanfare given by those forced to experience it. A war, it is. Century long battle between Mother and her parasites; the sun and the moon. It was deemed wrong of them, to simply exist as they were. They switched faces, through the seasons. leaf-bare, now drawing thin, was when the sun would wear his moon's face. She never quite sat dormant, no. Daytime was only when she tucked herself within a corner of the sky, overseer to something strange. And cats below would shiver in this lack of warmth.

But that, of course, was against the sun's very nature. They pushed and they pulled; enough, so that the moon instead would wear its mask. Mischievous sort of star. A charm you may love to hate. A sin you could not help but appreciate, in the most dire of times. Not so long, and it would be crawling upon his back, now; stuffy warmth that may persist even through the dip of night. The shift was upon them, now. The tide of the war changing. Here and now was the strange equilibrium, when the day's cold loosened more and more, and the moon lost its own ferocity.

This was a loss he mourned. The buds She'd worked so hard to destroy springing back with new life. But a traitorous soul stews with something different. Sinner, as the sun was; oh, it was an enjoyable one. Unavoidable presence, why agonize over the rising warmth? Yes, he mourns, but he accepts just as well.

An ear presses to the ground now, strange mirroring of a time that was now so far... (It certainly did not feel that way. He could still remember the first sightings of that smile. An unsureness that crept into blazing curiosity; and later, something more.) With a reverent sigh, "Hmm. Mourning you..." He does not typically express this out loud, no. But he certainly owes her. (Since how long has it been, since this was truly about Her?) Dreamy-eyed, all the same. Morally, he repents, but he strains to regret any inkling of their time, like this. His eyes flutter shut; soft indulgence. He allows himself to be further warmed by his thoughts, both new and old. His tail flicks to an unhearable rhythm, and his ears strain for a presence.

[ @MALLOWLARK :) <3 ]​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

Warmth weaved a song through his throat... apprehension, excitement, fuelling and propelling every step forward. He was taken with it, this little melody... dissonant, but all his, and for no one else to pluck from his lungs and call their own. He'd not have to wait for the madness to strike to keep this twittering song- similarly, he'd get to keep this slice of the moonlight as well. The haven of their clearing, remote, separate... beside so many Clans and yet unseen by them. Silver breath left him, enchanted by the glee- but no longer was it visible. The season was changing... he could feel the shift, the very bones of the earth moving.

There, his singed phantom, sunrise-streaked. Dressed ghostlike in the moonlight, ear pressed against the ground... it was as if he was walking into a lagoon of the past, submerging himself in it. The roles were reversed, though... his smile burned upon his face, but it was the best kind of ache, like the rush after a sprint. Inky paws picked carefully, as feather-light as such a large tom could be.

"Are you listening for her?" Star-stained eyes stared watchful, gleeful- his voice was low, silken in the wind, broken with the lilt of overflowing happiness. It was a choice, to mirror the words of their meeting... funny, because he'd never thought himself able to remember something from so long ago. Something about Dawnglare, though... every subtlety, everything they'd laughed over and been bewitched by, branded his mind with its mark.

He tilted his head, his whole body, letting one ear fall to the ground. Maybe there were whispers, this time... the corpses had grown into conversationalists, might have a message to deliver. Had, after all this time, the flesh sealing their lips been devoured?​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

Ghosting words drift across the sky. And the presence is similar– Thing beyond imagining. Something so delightfully stark, the way the very ground seemed to shudder with his presence. Fondness creeps swift upon his features, the stretch of a smile, close-lipped. The question he is greeted with is all too familiar. But it strikes him, how different things truly were. Low and alight with joy, the context was not the same. Not with the world. Not with each other. It was a different song that slipped from them both. It's a different sweep of the tail. It's with a different face, that he looks at him. Moorland scent that brings warm familiarity above anything else.

To echo further from here would be only a tragedy, on his part. But his smile reaches his eyes and his paws dance joyful against the ground; itching for something further, but tonight, they may wait. "Maybe I am," he tells him, and he lifts his head slightly. Perhaps a better look at his face was all it was. "The sun is warming. It is always difficult for Her..." Not in body, but in spirit. Strange it would be, to think that the sun could break one as Her so completely. But still, it is a change others may accept more easily... "War. That is all it is."

Not so focused, not completely. And how long has it been since he has been? How long has it been since this was about Her and Her alone? Only a question. Not repentance, for She has long since forgiven him, he's realized... Exceptions, for something that was his... Eyes askance, he murmurs, finally, "And... now it is finished."

He wonders what newleaf will spell. Sickness at bay, for the both of them. For his own good. His only worries would have to be maimings from here. That was something. That was less. At least... until leaf-bare came again someday.

And the thought of doing this for so many moons... He thinks it would bring happiness, but instead... he is discontented. For a moment, his gaze is blank.

There is no reason for him to upset. (Perhaps it was only the impatience within him, the swirling knowledge of something he barely knew). His face falls into softness. Not to be wasted, this meeting. Steadily, he placates his own mind. A quaint turn of the lips is what he greets him with. The roots seem to shift nearby. "...Do you ever hear Her?"​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

Every time Dawnglare sang his song of the earth, Mallowlark's attention was captured as readily as if it was the first time. It was that wisdom of the world that had enraptured him in the first place- had enamoured him, eventually. Speaking of the way the mother shed blood-soaked leaves, or whispered by puppeteering the jaw-bones of skulls... and now, now, the war upon her back. Hot and cold, clashing, sparking- thinking of the ichor almost brought a laugh from him. It was only a small chitter that was really there... like a skitter of claws on stone. Quiet. By now, Dawnglare'd know it meant he was as enchanted as ever.

A breath of- relief, it was- soft and refreshing, pulled itself from him softly as Dawnglare confirmed with knowing moon-drop eyes that the battle- the hardship- had ceased. Perhaps true in more ways than one. Tar-dipped paws drifted a ghostlike form over, beckoned by the magnetic pull, the crimson thread that had always connected them. His head lulled to the side, dreamlike- he did not think about the placement of his feet. At the basest level, he obeyed what it was he wanted, and that was just to be near. Close. Warm, even as it was growing warmer.

But then, that small lull- he sees the moonlight again, reflecting off the surface of lagoon-like eyes. His grin is as fond as ever, and perhaps as it ever could be. Every time he thought there was no more to feel, he was proven wrong by the sight that dreams and idle thoughts never lived up to. His ears flicked at the question, his eyes aiming skyward in thought. Did he? On the moors, where everything was loud and underpinned with that swirling feeling of eventual doom...

"I think- maybe, she brings voices to me on the wind." His tone began slow, but sped up and became injected with more joy as he spoke of his fonder memories on the hill-tops. "Keeps my days exciting, helps me out with hunting... that sort of thing. But I think- if she tries, she gets drowned out a lot there..." Nudge of his head in the direction of the moor-land. Words remained thoughtful, even with the lilt of his smile. Enraptured by the dredging of his own memories, starry eyes fell back to the face that always haunted his mind.

"I do try to listen, though!" And his tone was thrilled, then, framed by his fanged grin. It was a craft to be honed, he was sure...​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

With those words, those eyes, did Mallowlark not know just the right way to sway him? Just the right way to move in tandem with the moon, the stars, a drifting wisp of something across the trodden ground. Dawnglare pricks and he preens, warm under his attention. That of any other was hardly a sliver of what he felt here, whole beneath Mallowlark's moon-wide gaze. Tickle of the throat, his laughter brings joy. Amidst his love, he is happy to display what is his to cherish. Widest of smiles. The ghost of his tail flickers across the ground.

Any semblance of patience is lost with the drag of ink-black paws. Dawnglare stops, only to stare. His eyes are narrowed slits, now, his smile still pressed firm into his face. When the white of Mallowlark's fur drew close enough, Dawnglare would wholly knock into him. It's clumsy, fueled only by his desire to draw closer. Shoulders brushing– Pleased little rumble in his throat. Somehow, it still doesn't feel like enough.

His own eyes– soaked midday blue, but no less bright– would his in the stars. Oh so simple, like this. The night sky did not push them away like the sun so did. foul and fickle thing. But the sun has no need to. be caught up in its own smatterings– politics. That reverie was all it's own. The sky shined so much brighter, with him, and only him. They were not so much the same.

And what of the clouds? Did they help, or did they hinder? Mallowlark is much light them. In this moment, softness against his side. Angelic, hardly a part of him that was not. A sky without clouds was sweltering.

His attention is won by just a word. Attentive. Dawnglare listens with pricked ears. With vibrancy, the tom speaks, and his own eyes shine with just the same. Happiness, relief– (and of what? Something he already knew?) So disappointing, the bed in which he rested– golden moors stripped of any such sanctity. Only here, could they keep him fresh and new. "And yet...! And yet..." His cheek meets fur. The trill is muffled, sealed behind his own lips. "Reguardless, you– you're... You're doing well. Jus–t, just think–!" Sudden excitement, his voice whips into something bright. Wide-eyed, he sees him as a treasure. "Think– All you could do without those... distractions"

His eyes are bright and searching. Perhaps it is so that he clings to his dream. Briefly there, whisper in their words; the dream of a life away from it all. Perhaps even here, only, without them. He could float holly berries down the river, leave them to drink down their mistakes. Work would be quick, afterward, wouldn't it? The slash of a claw, blood and sinew. It'd only be a moment... Added, then, "Oh– I know you do! She speaks kindly of you." Here in his dreams, more than he was in his world. What else could it be, but approval? Her carrying he sighs on the wind... What has that wretch done to deserve such a gift? To be privy to something not even he could have. Gift of lives, and then what else? Had she really needed more? Greedy, it boils his blood. eyes rake across what is him, again and again. Simple statement, "They don't... de-serve you..."​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

He cared not for the neatness of their collision- or, lack thereof- and met Dawnglare eagerly. Every meeting was miles better than his dreams fathomed- every feathered brush, every touch light as butterfly-wing, every knock of flesh and bone. Feeling blood beneath skin was always better than the cold cadavers he faced in dreams, pale imitations. In sleep-dusted realms he drifted into a dawn soaked embrace that could not hold him, that passed through- but here, here... him, no reverie-painted facsimile.

It was as if he was being brought to life, seeing that light in Dawnglare's gaze, the other's attention wholly and absolutely on him. His joy was contagious, it seemed- seeped from his lips as words and lit up his phantom's face like starlight, dazzling him with the sight. It was beauty he saw in him- it was everything. That moon-glimmer in his gaze, gleaming with excitement. Without the distractions. The thrill of approval shone like sunlight itself had become Mallowlark's silver eyes. It was a common thought, and one Mallowlark met with an eager nod, expression daring not to falter. Why would it? Why ever, when all he wanted...

He was sure of it, now. The intention that had dwelled in murmurings of a dreamlike land, something wayfairing apart back then... but now, now... now could be different. "Does she?" he chimed, enamoured. His voice was full of idyll, ideal- that whipped up whispering that betrayed the full brunt of his excitement. To think, he was precious enough to be carried in messages... to be spoken of. Fondness painted his expression, the easiness of his smile, the softening of his eyes... though the intensity of his stare wavered not.

He felt it might be blasphemy to even blink. To stop looking even for a moment, for a fragment of a moment, a fraction of a fragment. How could he, when he cherished this time so greatly, waste even that iota?

They don't deserve you. It was a wonder he did not explode into bloody bits, given all that love to hold. Melting against Dawnglare's touch at the words, he found he could not hold his tongue. "You're right," and it was a simple agreement, yet something that had taken so long to admit. The moors had done nothing wrong, but... Sootstar was corroding much slower than he had thought. With a band around her, too... would they be so willing to consume each other after her death?

However long it took, he knew the decomposition would not reach him- but with so few growing ravenous and raving, and his mind ever-elsewhere, waiting seemed more painful an option than being eaten himself. "I can't stand it much longer." His voice remained cheery despite the words it wove. "I don't - HAH- I don't even want to go back there, now!" A laugh like a thunderclap burst from him, seized his form for a moment- it was ridiculous! His home that felt like someone else's... his family, diminishing by the moon. Why was it that he couldn't go back? "I can't be away from you anymore. I could stand it if it was just the moors I cared about, but..."

Mallowlark tripped up a little, swallowed- smile growing fonder still. He let himself trail away, let his words weave into the wind so that the bones in the earth could speak them. ​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

Eagerly, they follow after each others word. There were little to none who deserved it; for Dawnglare to lean off their word nearly as much as they did his. To be precisely the same would be impossible, but he smiles with every awestruck word; chimes a close-lipped laugh with the eagerness of the other's nod. It's always been his purpose, to string along hope with his words, but never before has it been so fulfilling – feather-light. It aches, the corners of his lips. Mallowlark deserved to know he was known. His goodness was not in vain, far from it. Dawnglare hums, affirmative. The mellowing of that pale face only drives him closer; fur against fur.

He knew from whispers of the mind, visions of stars shining impossibly bright, of an inky broth lain across the ground, thick enough to barely soak above your paws. Incessant, these things– a smile that's impossibly wide. (And was it Her? The tugging can blur together – burned into his mind just himself, or by someone greater. Too impossible, to consider these things. Take to what's easiest.) He could not hope to understand all of himself, not all the time. He himself is a thing of sun-dust and rosy wisps.

A honey-thick purr rumbles from him then, wholly unhindered. Not dishonest – knowing his worth. He's happy to hear such, shows it in the way he butts his head against Mallowlark's own; hopes he can feel the warmth of his purr.

Can't stand it much longer. Dawnglare listens with wide eyes, whiskers trembling with the words Mallowlark sews. I don't even want to go back there, now!

Lucky, oh lucky him, to feel closer a home than the place in which Mallowlark's spent all his life. The selfish beast inside of him pricks and preens. His purr catches abruptly, if only to let loose a laugh alongside him; smile tugging sharp. Dreamy-eyed, he swoons, purr resurfacing in full. Dawnglare can't help but trip along with him, knees knocking in the mindless urge to be closer to him. The bile in his throat tells plainly of his eagerness. He's leaning closer, at the prospect of getting what he wants. Bright-eyed stare.

How close has he ever come, to this? It nearly seemed within his reach, to claw forward and pull Mallowlark above the surface. Hardly a moment away, dreams of sun-kissed sleep, as one– together. To see those vibrant rays of gold shine past his bleached skull, crown for one so angelic, like him. Hardly contained, this one. He has to bite down the viciousness of his grin. "You don't... have to be–" stumbles out of him. He presses his head to the downy white of Mallowlark's fur. Whisper on the wind. "Stay here, with me." He'd always been willing to offer, not always willing to say... A chance like this– how could he refuse what he wants, any longer? A lightest of giggles trails from closed lips, and he's swaying, swaying... "I'd never have you do anything you don't wa-nt to..."​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

Hardly ever had he seen someone so enamouring raptured like this themselves, but- heavenly light shone blue from those eyes, pleasant. And oh, as willowy columbine swayed toward him, he caught the faltering phantom eagerly, cheek pressed amorously to Dawnglare's own. He felt star-drunk, dizzied... like the light of the heavens were permeating his skull, seeping in and bathing his mind.

A purr rumbled low and full within him, interlocked with the giggles he let free, that sing-song sound spewing like blood from a wound. They looked at each other, intense and wide as ever- and he felt it, that spark of their mutuality. The connection that fizzed and crackled between them, and had always, even when a mile apart. When sky and storm clashed in their gazes, it was thunder-spark, a clash that could tear the moon in two and soak the world in heavenly claret...

Such wonderful dreams- could paws sculpt them? Inky-black and ivory white, bone and tar- together, they could craft the beauty of their union. Couldn't they? Somewhere sun-touched, where the warm tones in Dawnglare's pelt would dance like kindles and warm him even more than he did now, merely with a look. If he could keep him so wonderfully warm merely in presence- the aid of the sun could melt and meld their flesh together! Welded as one... he wouldn't complain...

He danced, tip-toed ballet, upon the spot- heavenly suggestion. Stay here, with me- and they were together once more, Dawnglare pressed into his fur. The reverberations of his purring, the wooziness of his laughter- he was sure it could be felt in the shudder of his form. He let himself melt, let the imagined sun soften him and fall into Dawnglare's embrace. "'Course I want to," he confirmed, voice alight with gladness- how could he ever say anything else? He laughed, laughed- giddy, swooning. His grin was aflame in its intensity, but how could he care? What cause had he to let it falter? "I won't go back tonight." And there it was- a vow. Another promise to their pile.

Laughing still- intoxicated by the sun in his dreams and the moon that gazed upon them now, he attempted to stabilise Dawnglare's swaying. "You'll hah-have to go back, eventually-hee..." he murmured- duty and all that. "What if I stayed with you there, too?" And he knew what he was implying as he whispered the words into the velvet of his mate's fur. No longer did he test the waters- he had plunged his body beneath the waves, and they were oh-so-warm. ​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

A dance is formed from them both, paws feather light atop the peat. He never wants it to end– has never wanted it to. Has never wanted to be dragged from each other; pulling hairs, with that agony, duties they were both resigned to. But the chains have loosened, the grip is not so tight... The war has brought its spoils– thick roots wither away after seasons of chipping, and his grin shines ever brighter for it. They are granted more time, for once more time, with the promise– a night spent alone. And no one would miss Mallowlark, none of the monsters there– Wasn't it a tragedy?

Mallowlark seeks to right him, again. To quell the tapping of his feet, but (here's a secret) his influence is not always a good one– he does not let up, wants to bring him down with him. Hiccups– the biting down of his laugh backfires then. Quietness of his smile is effectively ruined. They hold each other aloft, and yet neither of them are quite steady.

That reminder practically depresses him. It sends him to a standstill. Sweet columbine; there's suddenly a glassy sheen in his eye, And he feels that he might kill the binding forces that stood in their way. The swaying all-but-stops. There's a death grip on Her skin at that moment. To keep himself from tip-tipping into the depths of something awful. Curled in on each other, all that keeps him steady is the weight at his side, smile pressed against his fur. Oh, but Mallowlark still laughs and laughs. Would he spill his joy over such a thing? And–

Tantalizing, that question, he can't help but shiver with excitement. Sadness is blinked away in an instant, replaced by overwhelming affection. Giggles, love-drunk are only broken by the punch in his lungs; jump of his insides. "I–" It's a dream isn't it? Must be– and yet he meets the alabaster of Mallowlark's fur like he may never see the tom again; showering him with a fondness, brush of his head. "Yes, you– You should," he tells him. Bone-bleached paws refuse to keep still. They make a massacre out of Her. "I would like it very much," Dreamily, he breathes.

It would have to be a dream, for much longer. Sun-touched angel; shared warmth within a single nest. Face that he would never have to part with for long... Not anymore. He trips over Mallowlark intentionally, now. The moon rises still, and, he'd think it good to practice their togetherness. Scent of stale air and moor would be gone, at last. Everything would be right, drowned in nettle and sugared sap...​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

He spoke- stammered out an answer, woven with silver thread. Lyrical, those words- and fitting that they were knitted in with such a melodious tone. His intoxicated stare stayed as still as ever, his form statuesque snow; he felt suspended from every word of that answer, hanging by grinning jaws. He should, he said. Should. And if he should, then he would- he'd never felt more assured. Now he was blessed with the knowledge that there was somewhere untouched by maddening tendrils, the haunt of a phantom that had drifted into his dreams and never left- the pine forest.

A nod moved him, then- enthused, eager. Ears swivelled, he could barely twist his breath into words. Little more than an exhalation left him, with the tiniest trill of glee. A quake of a purr rumbled in his chest, and never had his eyes looked brighter, reflecting within them the moonlight and too the expanse of starlight that set him aglow whenever Dawnglare was near. He had never loved so much, never known he could. He learned something new under every one these moons- and usually, that nouveau knowledge was that his love had loftier limits than he'd originally thought.

A fool he'd be not to let himself trip, too- sway to the ground, to meet his partner in descent. Eager, he met the plush of grass and pelt- and not for a moment did he let himself break away from Dawnglare. Why, when they did not have to anymore? When tonight- tonight, and every night once he was away from the sickened moors- it would be theme, unbothered and moon-bathed, cradled by the song of the earth and witnessed by the bones below it.

Laid against a warmth that usurped any sun's, he let himself melt- facing him, he cradled one he had once thought an ephemeral apparition. A half-tail attempted to twine- the ghost of it made a motion, but could not manage. "I will, then." As if it had not been obvious before- but he had to say it, didn't he? The final promise they would make beneath this moon, upon this ground. His voice dipped into a delighted whisper. "After tonight, I'll be there within the moon." His mind was staid beneath this starlight, and he knew it wouldn't change. Family half-razed, his land infected... there was nothing else for him beneath the eyes of the thieving queen.

He could smell the pine forest- it was written in Dawnglare's sepia-brushed pelt. "And I'll stay there..." he laughed, interrupting himself with the most joyous of thoughts. "... forever, I think..." His heart beat to the rhythm of sprinting paw steps, and his purr rumbled like a land-fall. ​

☺PENNED BY PIN​