Thistleback is a thorny silhouette at his mate’s side per usual, grey eyes revealing neither warmth nor coldness in this moment but his smile though jagged and foreign on his maw is etched their regardless. He follows Deersong to the middle of camp, feeling his pelt twitch with the sudden draw of attention. The former criminal was naturally repelled by the thought of eyes on him. Yet, for her- he’d do anything, be anything she needed.
He was still processing the news himself. Still compartmentalizing his emotions. Fear and oh how foreign it felt, but not of anything practical- he feared his capability of being what is necessary to being a parent. How could one be what they were never taught? He fears his lack of warmth, his clumsy view of right and wrong, his metaphorical sharp edges that cut without his notice.
Kits, during the first breath of leafbare- it was a dangerous thing to do, who better knows that than he who was born in the claws of winter himself. Though, if there was anyone who didn’t fret nor give in to anything it was also he. No matter how deep the cut, how long the trek on bleeding paw, nor empty his own belly- Thistleback wouldn’t let anything happen to his family. It was the first time he could say the word and it associated with himself. The former orphan stray had felt it with an envious churn in his belly as potent as hunger, staring through the glass snow-lined panes at the warm fire, the strangely decorated tree, and the small family of cats cuddled under the orange dancing light asleep.
The rogues lurking the lines of the forest, the coming of snow, the threat in Sootstar’s very existence. Everything around him felt like a threat against Deersong. He felt the need to bare his teeth to the whole world. Only now it took the deceiving form of a smile.
The crowd grows, Snowpaw’s question earning a snort and chuckle from the otherwise stony warrior. He’d let Deer answer that for sure, it was hard enough to keep his dark humor at bay. Peering across the throng of cats, Twitchpaw's worried gaze is paired with a smile this time, uneasy- sure, but a smile. The warrior idly considers whether or not he'd seen the kid smile ever.
Grapejuice’s voice rises above excitedly. Deersong was so loved by this clan, and that was all that mattered to him. Thistleback would stare at the side of her face like the heavens had carved her out of stardust right in front of his mortal eyes.
The southern chime of Huckleberry was enough to distract him though." already we have a sitter, lovely " he hums to Deersong jokingly, nodding his skull with deep appreciation for the dark warrior. Another voice associated only with altruism and the kindest of words, spoken in that lovely french accent. Perhaps, Huckleberry was to Deersong what Foxgecker was for Thistleback. A deeply rooted respect, and genuinely enjoyed presence of the other. " still a terrifying concept, but thank you- dear friend " he jokes with a smirk angled at Foxgecker.
Blazestar is next and Thistleback nods with his words, thankful for the leader’s willingness to help as he had done for Daisyflight.
" thank you all. I hope to give them what I never had. Good memories… surrounded by good cats, Hope. What Skyclan has given to me. " it would be the only words he offered to the crowd. He wasn’t a good man, so his words were limited. Then again, as stated before, for her he would try.
