private BUTCHER VANITY 𓆩♡𓆪 MALLOWLARK

[DAWNGLARE]

Oh, he clings to him like a burr; clasps moonlight in his teeth and brings it where he needs it to be... It's all insufferable, as of late... burrowing into his ears, worming its way beneath pinkened skin. He does not bother with the guise of herb - gathering. How lucky he was that he had not been dragged to the likes of WindClan. A small mercy it was, that serenity was but a fencepost away. And oh, he could share it with him. Share the twoleg - tended filth, fascinating, despite its disgrace. Share the white wood - pickets and cut lawns that he had traipsed as Valentine before the stars clasped their collar around him.

" SkyClan — It's so... so noisy, " as their paws hit twoleg - trodden lands, he tells him. Not as if this place lacked noise of its own... the mongrel - muttered chatter. Perhaps if he strains his ears, he may hear a canid howl in the far distance... But these weren't the noises that made him mad. No the ones that left him scrabbling in his dreams, or staring at the sky... begging His will in the cease of it all. " The whining, I mean. The whining, " and his weary mew pitches into something not dissimilar. It was more than the plead for poppy seeds — the good - for - nothing oaf taking space in his den. Though he is most certainly due for a set of teeth in his neck, the same... Dawnglare couldn't possibly hope to find the guts of what plagued him.

This, this calms him. SkyClan behind him, eyes set on this familiar horizon. The rumble of a thunderpath; compensation for its scent in the form of sun - warmed pavement. He has never not seen his mate without the ugly loom of trees nearby. Acutely, this realization comes, that Mallowlark was not so... tethered to this forest. To that forest, the thing that was long gone, if only he kept himself here. He may swath himself in the tempting lull of escapism the very same way he does to his mate, dredging his head against the side of his with a lazy rumbling. " Does it scare you? " he murmurs, and contentment spares him a slow - stretching smile. " The Thunderpath. " And his paws so itch to feel it rumble... to feel the sun - soaked pavement he had always longed to lay on, if only the monsters did not so constantly run atop it...

OOC: @MALLOWLARK

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[MALLOWLARK]

He cared to spend time in SkyClan as much as any sane cat would ... that was, all right until Dawnglare invited him away from it. He'd hungered more for every moment, since his time in ThunderClan, since a murmured goodbye ... really, he was keen to rend all goodbyes into ribbons, rip 'em to bits! If it was something they could do together, Mallowlark would insist upon it. Swaying with laughter, joy ... every inky step took was one into the unknown, and yet wholly trusted. There was no one who understood the workings of the world more than his mate, and wasn't he lucky for it ...

A hum of agreement chittered through a dog-fanged grin. Face numb with it, he pranced with argent, joyful eyes all the same. "I should be leader so we'd have a den to ourselves," Mallowlark joked, a thing said flippantly. Oh, he'd be an awful leader really, and didn't he know it! He'd run troops into gaping fox-maws, he'd forget the manufactured order you were supposed to feed everyone in, Stars ... but really, should be a free for all anyway. Cats were nice enough to have compassion for starving queens and bags of bones. One way or another they'd get fed.

So it was a good thing, really, he had no ambition! They should all think him and grovel at his feet, for sparing them of some awful future ... because, well, he'd take it if he wanted.

The Thunderpath growled, rattling stones- Mallowlark looked upon it with wide-set eyes, head tilted impossibly sideways, transfixed. He snapped it a bit more upright when Dawnglare's dipped to rest against him; he laughed with the feeling, half-tail flicking. The eye of the sun peered through the clouds, looked fondly upon them even as it dipped into nothing. The whispers of the world were audible, here... and maybe the bones murmured beneath the earth. Does it scare you?

"Not- not enough to stop looking, hah...!" His shoulders shook a little, and his weight dizzied a little, woozy for a moment against his mate's side. It was a loud and scary thing, but not half as loud and off putting as the patients heaving in and out of the den, every day. "I've seen things get flattened, before ..." Midnight-soaked paws twitched a bit. That was back in WindClan ... rotting old place, made a little brighter by newly-met family. "It's a shame. I thought they'd get knocked flying!" A grin snapped wide, ravenous - it was a fun fact, wasn't it? You'd think with a monster's running speed, whatever struck into them yould disappear as a glint in the sky!​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

The hypothetical is fleeting — that of Mallowstar, grinning fangs carrying a moonlight - sheen. Could he possibly be more of ghost, were he bathed in the Moonstone's holy light? Dawnglare thinks it would frame him nicely... and perhaps it was all Dawnglare needed, to glimpse a blazing soul writhing within it, scandalized at the very notion. Oh, how he would like to prove him wrong... His afterlife deserved to be a miserable one, and wouldn't that be the ultimate vengeance? Maybe then, Mallowlark could do for him what Orangestar never would, what Blazestar had refused to. His spirit gives this little lurch...

Dawnglare holds his tongue, dares not reveal to what extent such an idea appealed to him... Really, he should. He should lift his voice in a caterwaul to the sun... but to him, its blaze is scorching. Dawnglare would not feel whatever kindness Mallowlark felt. The abundance of clouds brought solace as much as it did shade. For but a moment, he lets his eyes drift shut. For the sun is a silent thing, and like this, he could immerse himself in the sounds of the land. He hears the rattle of the Thunderpath. Beneath it chirruped Mallowlark's laughter. Beneath that still, distant birdsong... and it was where he would like it to remain, far behind him.

His eyes snap open once again, and they revere the Thunderpath in tandem. Dawnglare's tail cradles him kindly, as if to keep him aloft. " You'd have gotten your wish, had they struck something larger... " How could he not recall the liability currently lounging in his den? With bone thick enough that a monster could only manage to jostle it. " What — what would it make us, do you think? " A tempted step is taken toward asphalt. " Blood puddle, or merely on our way to the moon...? "

His paws carry him closer to it. The dismantling of his tail from a stark coat is reluctant... but perhaps its homesickness. Perhaps its the begging of the question, if he'd be rendered a slurry of something once - alive, every bone pulverized to dust... As a paw plods across twoleg - hewn roads, he reminds himself that either future ought to be impossible, for the likes of him... If the stars owed him anything, it was his mortality.

But a blink lends him the memory of sickness swelling his lungs, and he jerks himself backward as the roar of a monster comes. Smog sullies his whiskers, just barely in - tact. His heart hammers with this odd insistence in his chest. it's as if it knows something that he does not; and the slow turn he makes toward his mate's silver - stuttered visage is almost apologetic... It is on the path there, that he catches soot - stained fur at the edge of his vision. Just below the stench of tar is freshly - spattered blood... " Mallowlark, " he murmurs. Had it's chest thrummed the way that his did now, just before it had died. " Look. " Freshly flattened beneath the paws of a monster — somehow missed in the moments before its death was a grey - furred squirrel.​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

It brought comfort to feel the soft sigh of Dawnglare against him ... it was always nice to listen to him breathe, to feel the gentle pulse of his heart. Enamoured phantoms, the both of them; your paws make you a ghost at night, he remembered his mate sweetly whispering in the easy haze of morning. And, and- he'd thought Dawnglare an apparition, the first night they'd met, for surely only a spirit could reach in and yank out your breath in an instant. Two ghosts beneath the moonlight ... eventually destined to wander into the sun. He purred at the thought, the body rested against him, the knowledge he was alive.

He hummed in agreement ... yes, something big wouldn't be run down so easily. But was any cat big enough to put a dent in them, to tumble like a skipping stone across the asphalt? What would it make of us? Mallowlark's laughter rattled off again, stuttering like chitinous wingbeat. "Nyahaha, depends if we'd go d-down together!" he giggled. "I think we'd put a dent in 'em with our heads ... and, and we'll just get thrown backward, probably, but maybe the monster would bleed to death afterwards." A shattered front, broken bones, probably. His shoulders shook a little- it was a ridiculous thought, that anything but nature could kill them. "But it'd be a quick death either way..."

Wide eyes of grey watched the path, aglimmer with argent interest- the acrid stench pulled him closer, too, neck craning, as a reaper rolled past. Dawnglare jerked backward- Mallowlark met him with a comforting nuzzle as he stepped back into him, always there for open-hearted love, for warmth. In a place like this, too! Fangs tightened, grin a torch in pitch and smog. Look, his mate whispered, and he followd a moon-blue gaze to a smeared little smudge on the Path. Its fur was, was almost the same colour- it was that grim smudge of crimson that made it light up, a little beacon, an insistent arrow begging them to stare.

Of course, his face lit up like a flaring full moon. "Wow, it stinks," he said, indeed smelling the rush of death, getting a mouthful of it. Mallowlark teetered forward, skipping feet- he beckoned Dawnglare with the flick of his head. "Hey, can you help me fetch it?" He grinned, excitement brimming like a swollen river. "Be my lookout- I'll grab it, and - and I can have a look at what those monster-paws can do to little squirrel-bones." Blinking hopefully, his head lolled to the side.​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

If they went down together, he tells him, and Dawnglare titters in reply.. He's never pondered it, a simultaneous demise. Together, of course, they would bear the brunt... but if such was not the case, would it be mercy up them? An alternative to walking this earth forever, burying their noses in blood and herbs until... well, there would be no until. But... this would all be far behind them, then. SkyClan would collapse in on itself. Dawnglare can only imagine whatever existence came afterward would be a blissful one... He wonders if his mate longed for it just the same... He must, surely. How could they hope to be so intertwined, if not?

He falls into him, and Mallowlark meets him with certainty; the press of a nose. They could do this forever, Dawnglare thinks... What was between them could not be chained to the wood. There was gladness to be found here too, in the stench. He sees it, the way Mallowlark is drawn to it like moth. That wafting of death... did it roll off the monsters paws, or did they merely attract it? Dawnglare cannot help the wrinkle of his nose. A request comes his way, then, and Dawnglare hums...

" Well... " Oh, he hesitates. What great disservice is it to him, to be anything but elated? Blue hues jitter upon the pavement, and Dawnglare thinks in this mousy, unfamiliar voice of his: But what of yours? Had they not grinned at the thought, things only held back by the both of their skulls in tandem, and so... to brave one alone would be life-ending, indeed? Not as if he were incompetent, no... Not as if Mallowlark had no ears of his own. Not as if Dawnglare could ever lead him astray, but the beating of the sun taunts with this enlightened, morbid path. He wonders — did He hate him enough to blind him with sunbeams?

...Of course, Mallowlark's blood could never be spilled so carelessly... and neither could his own. Their proximity seals eternity for the two of them. So long as Dawnglare's heart did beat, Mallowlark's would thrum in accordance, a blood-strung duet. He wills himself to recall, urges the smile back onto his face. No, there was no reason to take this from him. Fondness in his close-lipped giggling, Dawnglare indeed crawls forward. " Well... of course. " What other answer was there, when the brim of his fangs made him so sick with affection?

They mustn't part with a sadness, not when his purpose promotes nothing like it. Wide eyes find the horizon line, and once monster after monster ruffles his fur, there is a brief moment of bliss... As tar-tracks recede, the stink of blood is so generously afforded room to breathe. With an odd stutter in his chest, he whips toward Mallowlark. " Now. "​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

A tiny lull, and Mallowlark felt a little skip in his heartbeat. Stupid, really. That idiotic kind that fought against the rules of everything, the way it had always been ... the smallest inkling of fear that he might have gotten something wrong. He'd felt it moons and moons ago- asked, you know I love you, don't you, and waited agonising seconds for an answer. The world had descended into hellish stasis, there had been hawk-talons in his belly once again.

Of course... it had all been fine then, and was fine now. Gleaming grey eyes blinked, excitement shining clear and clean, there. Of course, of course. Of course he'd known he loved him then, and of course he would do this now. A fun little mission, and they'd get a souvenir to bring back, wouldn't they? Dug out of that flesh and blood- grinning teeth would pick the bones clean, and there'd be another attendant to their nest.

Once, this happiness had been seldom. Mallowlarks smile grew more insistent at the thought, and he met his mate's blue-moon eyes for a moment, red moonlight stalking closer in his memory. Oh, but he had to focus!

And that he did- listened for dulcet tones to give hurried go-ahead. His ears angled, his sense steeped in a focus so rarely displayed in this heavenly company. Tar and smog fade, and Dawnglare whispered now. Everything faded as he leapt forward, seized the squirrel in grinning maws. The sun beat its approval, surely- peeked from the clouds to set his snowy pelt glowing, and he turned. Despite their moons of treading an inky path on SkyClan soil, his paws were still WindClan. There was a quickness in his gait he hardly ever showed, out-of-practice but genetic, intrinsic.

He flocked back to him, in orbit as ever. Only now did he notice the staccato beat of his heart, the insistent thrum of thrill. Eyes wide, pulse thumping, he dropped the squirrel. Oh, it was even worse up close- disgusting, ruined, fat but not quite thin enough to suggest it had been rolled over more than a couple times. Mallowlark's head tilted, and a claw sprung from a midnight prison to slice precision into the squirrel's flesh. It didn't take long for the bones to reveal themselves... he snorted. "There's a bit of its brain left on the Path," he giggled. "So it's gonna have a HAH- hole in its skull..."

At the stomach he looked first, though... broken ribs, yeah. Fully snapped off, even ... shattered, and in irretrievable fragments. "I wonder what it did to deserve this," Mallowlark laughed, thinking of a million ridiculous ways a squirrel could be delivered divine punishment. "Hah, d-do you think- it m-murdered another squirrel?"​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

It was nonsensical, really, the way his heart leapt to his throat as black paws streaked across a matching trail. He hears the whisk of them; and in a world that affords them endless lazy mornings, it is a sound he is not used to. Intrinsically, he's drawn to the ghost atop the blacktop. he turns his head — catches himself, then. For that blink could be all He needs to render him a smear of what he once was. His eyes set with a tremble upon the horizon line, and though he hears no oncoming monster's growl... Though he sees no jittering of stone or oncoming devil, he awaits the sound of snapping bone. The sound of blood spatter. Guts tumbling hot across the path and—

None of it was embedded in reality, was it? Whatever happened, Dawnglare was beholden with the paws to fix... and... nothing would happen, for he held that sanctity of safety all the same. The both of them did, yes. Right. Pure obligation is what it is, mock-devotion to this title of lookout that keeps his eyes melded to the Thunderpath. It is no thing like fear... No thing like concern. The two of them need not be plagued by such things, anymore. They are gone from His reach in more ways than mortal. He held no power here, beyond His border.

Mallowlark returns to him. He'd expected nothing less, truly. Dawnglare mirrors that touch from before, the self-soothing brush of a nose... A plume tail seeks the pale hide of his flank with a certain desperation. Oh, the thrum of his heart was so unlike the deadness of the squirrels grey chest. It hits the ground with a sickening thud. The scent of rot meets him with a kindness he does not appreciate. It draws his face into a grimace, but he too leans over it, worthy of his scrutiny if it was of Mallowlark's as well.

The cut is careful. Oh, would anyone else notice? Imbued with a certain fondness, that twist of the sickle. A fondness for viscera — but he dared not be picky with what his mate found joy in. He could find some of his own, perhaps, if only he imagined the bubble of blood from the belly of something sentient... An enemy, yes... he had plenty to choose from. The ashen coat leaves him with a smaller array to choose from... The skin could change, but perhaps the claws would not have to... Glimmering curiosity flickers to the silver of his eyes. He wonders, would Mallowlark fulfill his wish, if he only asked? A smaller ask first, maybe. Dawnglare leans at his side. " Will you fetch it for me? " It's likely that he needs not ask... but it pleases him to do so. To do so and be answered, yes.

He tuts at the display of shattered ribs... as if one piece of bone was not enough. Very suddenly, it is not. Still clinging to it was the scent of death, and on top of it — the tracks of monster paws. He would have let it be, if not for Mallowlark... but very suddenly, he wants more. With wide eyes does he glimpse it, and there's a slight sway in his paws as he does. " Is this the price of murder? " he asks. Shattering of the ribs or... " To answer to us? " his grin curves crooked upon his face.

Pale paws grasp for nothing. Upon roadkill is the gaze of a beast starved. Greed carves its way forward — for all it could give him; for all that Mallowlark could give him. " Mallowlark. " Honeyed voice, harkening to the days where Dawnglare could only hold the name at the back of his throat till the next time they'd meet. A pink tongue swipes its way his glistening teeth. " Pick it apart for me? " A thing picked clean, carved out in his name... That's all that he wanted.​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

Blood made black paws darker still- richer. It was a sight he'd never get tired of, a boundless fascination. It purpled his fur, almost ... like a bruise on fur, wonderfully impossible. This, here- entrenched entirely in interest, and in divine company... it was all he could ask for, really. It cemented the smile on his face like nothing else. At his mate's request, he gave a nod, glimmering grin accompanying. "Of course," he chirped, knowing Dawnglare had probably anticipated the answer before it had left him.

Sweetly shadowed theories strung between them- it made Mallowlark laugh, stopping his meddling for a moment, his paws unsteady with giggling. And that wouldn't do, would it? To mess this up, now... after all this effort, from him and his mate both! Little fragments, pebbles in the flesh- he lifted his eyes, wide with enrapture at the thought of being so powerful. "If it was still alive, maybe," he giggled. Oh, to be that arbiter of justice! Deeming what creature should meet its end for the pure purpose of playing with it. But this squirrel couldn't be food, it couldn't be anything more than bleached bones, now. "But if the monster was the price, then ... that makes us the purpose." Reason for its death. Mallowlark's gaze widened again.

There was a look on Dawnglare's face, now- one he loved, glinting fangs, wanting eyes. He's never looked at bones and viscera with fear- known bleached skulls only to be a part of nature made pristine, shown ultimate respect. What other use could a skull have, but to decoarte? And what other purpose would this little, shattered creature have other than to be given, if it was wanted?

A purr thundered through him- he did not answer with words, only the buzzing of his lungs and the continued tearing of tendons. Mallowlark let a fluttered blink close his eyes, concentrating solely on delicate work. That which was completely shattered was emptied and sorted. He flipped it, tore away- grinning teeth picked at the skin, split everything that was binding to isolate the skeleton.

He snorted at the horror of it, dug a small hole and began to scrape everything without purpose into the dirt. "Do you want the skull- haha, bright as the moon...?" he asked, a tilt of the head. "You could- p-point it at someone and blind 'em... just have to leave it out here, for a little while." ​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

Of course, agreement between them as easy as breathing — It always has been. It always would be. Dawnglare can look on with moths fluttering in his stomach, knowing that atop the intrinsic desire, Mallowlark did it for him. His answer flows like water, batters at the lingering remnants of distress in his posture. Perhaps no one else could ever understand this, and that barrier of confusion would keep Him from any attempt on Mallowlark's being. No... He, especially had never understood. Dawnglare wonders if there was a curious hunch in His posture now, where he sat amidst the sky; if there was any future where the three of them could coexist, no one existence inherently deterring another...

Oh, but would he ever want to share this? The brightness of his laugh, only brushed with this genuineness in his presence, wasn't that right? Dawnglare's own giggling was unlike his, a haunting bell's chime; but together, didn't they make a vibrant choir? They had no need for the others — for the discordant noise that thundered discomfortingly between his ears...

To be that difference between life and death; such has always been his purpose. With their union, in part, it would now be Mallowlark's as well. His face alights with thrill, and there's a wolfish show of fangs before he returns to his rooting. Dawnglare tries to slot himself in the place of the thing that'd glimpse it before being torn apart. His shudder is delighted. Teeth show with his grin. " Oh, would I be terrified to die, knowing what awaits me. " His shoulders shake with the viciousness of his joy. If only he could command the moonlight; have it wash him red amidst a slaughter...

Dawnglare watches those paws with fondness. Oversized things, really... And yet, with something so fragile, their work is keen. With something to be discarded — innards thrown to the wayside — it's engrossing, the cruelty. Dawnglare is nothing less, and perhaps more than an eager onlooker. How can he be anything but, knowing that it was all meant for him? His own purring twines with his mate's. Not wanting to disturb this work of his, he resists the urge to lean against him too heavily. Instead, a velvet tail comes to cradle his wraith-like flank. It's practically torn away to nothing, eventually. Naught but bone. " Please, " he purrs his reply. " I'm in no rush, " Hours, sunrises... He would not mind remaining here with him.

He smiles at the picked piece of roadkill; titters again, " What have you done? " It's only barely dedicated to a tone of mock-horror. For the most part, a quiet cackling. A whisper whipped up in his enthrall. Really, what use did Dawnglare have for so many bones? Nothing practical, really... but he would smile whenever he laid eyes upon them. Whenever he did, he would recall just what lengths his mate would go to for him... Dawnglare would find his eyes, then. The sharpness of his smile softens, for him. " ...Is there anything you wouldn't do for me? "​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

Whenever he felt the gentle brush of Dawnglare's tail against his side, Mallowlark felt something missing that he often did not notice- the lack of that limb of his own, an aching thing gone. Long ago, ripped away- gosh, and he hadn't been dead! It was a reminder of the cruelty, the power of the earth, that something so important to balance could be ripped away so carelessly by a gnashing beast. That was the only thing in their union that didn't match perfectly... the only little imperfection, that they couldn't twine together completely.

Maybe it was for the best, for if they could wind ribbons around each other, Mallowlark would likely never let go.

So he met the touch in the only way he could manage- a swelling purr. Steadying himself again, Dawnglare's delightful shudder had lit a laugh within him that was difficult to suppress. Clamping his jaw, his breath battered the backs of his teeth, hail-on-tin. Still,he kept himself steady- kept on the work, pride rolling from him at every enraptured glance. It was nice to be the one admired between them... though he knew no other cat would do it for him. And was that not why he was here, entirely?

I'm in no rush- he gladly agreed, a giggle pushing through the gaps of his smile. Mallowlark pushed the fragments into a patch of harsher light, a spot of sun bleaching the grass. It would dye the bones, too ... in time, in time. A deep breath was dragged in at the thought... melting eyes, a creature prancing in the spirit-world knowing not its mortal shell would become something so wonderful.

Faux horror, adoring fear ... the sweetest sound. The most heavenly of melodies, yes ... blood drenching Dawnglare's voice and Mallowlark's paws. And inevitable... some of the viscera will smudge on the pale-white of Dawnglare's pelt, but it would be alright. Mallowlark would take great care when washing it away, if they were in no rush indeed. Fawning silver eyes found blue, both gazes glimmering. Is there anything you wouldn't do for me? And Mallowlark shook his head, before he gave any answer. No, he was quite sure there wasn't anything in the world ... anything Dawnglare could ask of him that he hadn't already thought to do in his name.

Rip a chunk out of the moon, have it bleed again ... scorch himself plucking the sun from the sky. "Maybe one day I'll get to pick apart a monster for you," he purred, letting them sweetly collide. Oh, it would be horrifying.​

☺PENNED BY PIN​