private GLUTTONY'S A SIN 𓆩♡𓆪 TWITCHBOLT

[DAWNGLARE]

" ...Oh, " Dawnglare finds him by accident. By accident, of course — because why would he ever want to find him, if not to contract some uncurable sickness? Its a wonder that the option to find him is even there still. Dawnglare had thought him doomed, the moment he showed as a youngling, wracked with tremors before he could so much as ponder the elder's den, let alone warriorhood... The realization comes to him with a suddenness. Anger had followed the narrowly avoided crash. And then he simply could not be angry anymore, shocked by what was practically a ghost before him. A hiss had no time to bubble, quickly mellowed into empty blinks and thin - pressed lips. Up and down, his gaze drag past him, up and down. His eyes are still sickly green, still disturbed by that single well of blood. He still jitters; should hardly even be standing...

It is not out of rudeness, really. The question is genuine. " You're clinging to that life of yours, still? " Wildcat stubborness— oh, it had to be... Should he put him out of his misery? Render him ribbons with his teeth? If only he could pluck out the problem with a claw, seize that part of him that makes him do the very same. Miracle worker, yes... but mortal ones, bound to chains he was ensnared in for their sakes... It was always for their sakes. Always— and with that flicker of thought, he recalls that he owed this one nothing. No dredging of life, nor any ending of suffering.

...He had been deputy at some point, hadn't he? How in the world had that reality been? And yet... he supposes he'd thought that for every Deputy before and after, just the same.

OOC: @TWITCHBOLT

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[TWITCHBOLT]

He didn't hate Dawnglare- that would be stupid. But there'd always been something about hi that had wormed under Twitchbolt's skin, set his spasms into more violent throes. Anything imprecise, he itched in meeting- his teeth gritted, grinded- tighened, a scrunched-up face meeting it. Why in the name of all that was good had he approached him now, then? It wasn't out of love, surely- he did not think this weird tension between them was a one-sided thing ...

He looked the large tom up and down- intense, pale eyes stared down at him. Right, he was- massive, it was an easy thing to forget when you kept your distance. Even still, Twitchbolt was sure he could take him in a fight. Dawnglare would not take well to a bit of sand in his eyes, probably... he wouldn't even have to use his claws. And it was a horrific thought that he instantly quashed, borne out of fear that the medicine cat might tear his throat out with the disdainful glimmer in his eyes.

That wasn't, obviously, what he did. Stuttering blinks obscured Twitchbolt's vision, and he stared blankly at the large tom for a few long moments. A jittering jaw clattered his fangs together. "T-Trying to, you know ..." he shrugged. it was a weak sounding answer. As if he didn't want this life more than anything ... to prove he deserved it when the cats who had given it to him hadn't given a rat's tail whether he kept it. "Y'know, I think it's going pretty good so far." Quivering eyelids narrowed- there was something cold, something odd in his tone, an adamancy, a refusal to cower.​

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[DAWNGLARE]

Still, he was doing this? Fluttering his eyes about and chattering his teeth as if a thing possessed. Dawnglare openly grimaces at the sight, as he always has, and likely always would... Trying to, he supposes that was the nature of the living... The reason even mindless things could scrounge for prey and gulp for air... Dawnglare tilts his head; lets it loll, as if off its hinge. He wonders where the cat ended and the beast began. It's seized him since his youth... surely it had long, gnarled tusks in him by now. Dawnglare's eyes narrow in turn. To say he matched him would be a daring disservice to himself — comparing the delicate bend to the shuttering one Twitchbolt's wretched gaze takes. The color taunts him: the sickening crawl of greening fungus. Dawnglare sniffs.

" I suppose... " good can be whatever you say it is. It's what he had meant to say, he thinks, but a hesitation chimes from somewhere... His scrutiny is there in excess, suddenly, with a leer and looming of the neck. On the brink of death, he seemed. But then, he had thought that... How long has it been, now? A death that is karmic could be horrifically slow at times and neck-breakingly quick at others... but Twitchbolt was not due for a demise of that nature. No, his would be seized by curse, possession, otherworldly inhabitance, hm... etcetera. Did they tear away so slowly, or did he simply have that much meat?

He pivots his thoughts — ignores the way the prospect of being so wrong picks away at his skin. " Why? " Not to say that Twitchbolt ought to drop dead altogether, but, well... was his existence not a painful one? Dawnglare may dare to say he related, even without the same affliction. " Is all of this worth it to you? "​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

He couldn't believe he still spoke like this, honestly... wouldn't moons, seasons out in the wild knock some sense into you? Looked so oddly, with narrowed eyes, looming like- like he wasn't a medicine cat but some almighty warrior who could smite him in a moment. And maybe he could. Twitchbolt would never claim to know all the capabilities of a medicine cat, though he did hope that wasn't one of them...

Cold blue of narrowed eyes, ice shards- they looked right at him, and Twitchbolt's tail swatted at a ghost, his nose wrinkling. Still, he didn't cower- even if he saw Ravencall in those words, in a wayward demeanour. Predictably, Dawnglare sounded unconvinced by something that had come out of someone else's mouth- but snowy paws stayed rooted. Why, he said, and that pushed him into stasis- as frozen as he could be, anyway. Eyes narrowed further, squeezed shut.

Wrongness purled beneath his skin, knitted in his muscles. "Ww-what would you want to know that for?" His tone was sharp, impatient- though surprise lay slumbering beneath the surface, too. A flurry of blinks widened his gaze. Interest, really? Was that what this was? Or was he- was he like an ant, a dance observed? Carrying a leaf around, and for no other purpose than fascination to something bigger?

Twitchbolt shrugged, letting go of the accusatory bite in his words. "Well. I- I think a lot of cats expect me to just give up." And you're one of them, aren't you? "It's ... it's good to prove them wrong." Another jerk of the tail. "And think of all the wasted time. R-Really, what a disappointment to anyone who ever cared." Maybe it seemed disjointed ... one sentiment vaguely prideful, the other indebted. It was true, though. ​

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[DAWNGLARE]

There's a twitch of the face at the ill-temper of those words. Impertinence flung his way in a manner in which it shouldn't be. His frown nestles its way deep. Irate is the twitch of tail, only a few words further from a full-blown lashing. He can't possibly fathom what has happened between now and then. What has allowed this whelp to think he may take this tone with him. Perhaps it was the fact that he didn't pluck out his molded eyes the instant he lets it slip. The fact that Dawnglare's gaze only furrows. ( Perhaps its the fact that he too, for some mysterious reason, has softened beneath the gaze of SkyClan. ) Not all sass, perhaps... Twitchbolt is lucky that he takes the time to distinguish the two.

The both of them soften then, though there is a prickling stiffness in Dawnglare's shoulders. I think a lot of cats expect me to just give up, he tells him; and oblivious to his internal dialogue, Dawnglare replies with a blink, " Certainly. " His head cants forward. The note of distaste in his gaze is relatively light. Now, he sees less transcendental plague. More... the skittering of insect, one so minuscule and outlandishly made that he could not comprehend its effectiveness in the wild; but evidently, something was working for it. It matters some amount, just who the them is... Rather than good, Dawnglare would call it hard-headed. ...Self-satisfying, perhaps.

And think of all the wasted time. The flick of a tail-tip stills, then. A vulpine face furrows in on itself. " What if them is all of it? Everything? " The entire world, chanting in the name of your downfall. " What if there was no limit to your time on this earth? Would you still consider that time wasted? " More than malice, his words are hardened with consideration. " What if you're certain no one else has ever cared? " For one of the only times he ever has, by his own terms, he seeks understanding.​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

For a good few moments, Dawnglare listened to him. Furrowed his face like he was considering him, even. A cruel twist to his stomach, Twitchbolt almost didn't believe it- felt like there had to be some ulterior motive, some want to ridicule him laid beneath the skin. It was a paranoia he smacked upon most cats who spoke to him ... and if Dawnglare was anything, he was not most cats. In his eccentricity, Twitchbolt could only end up believing in a certain earnestness.

Everything, wanting him to fail ... in truth, Twitchbolt constantly feared it. The question of what if was one he'd pondered before- in fact, was something that plagued him daily, shortening his breath when it came to every decision he made. Expecting you, wanting you to just roll over. To give in to the rapidity of your heartbeat and stop. He didn't flinch in the face of that question, walking on familiar, burning tar.

Twitchbolt tilted his head- he studied Dawnglare for a few long moments, holding his gaze with an unwavering steadiness despite the tremble of his form. "That's- that's when I've got to care." His ears flicked. This sort of... winding metaphor, plunging into the depths of something you couldn't really grasp, he'd have slapped those drawling words out of his father's mouth. "When you've got to care about yourself. You find your path, and you run with it. I don't think you'd ever waste any time that way... even if you did have forever."

"But it might get a bit repetitive, having no limit." A brittle laugh chittered after Twitchbolt's words, barely a chuff, but he found himself smiling. Rather against his will, really. His eyes levelled Dawnglare again. "And y'know... I- I don't think you can ever be certain that no-one cares."

Sometimes they can surprise you.​

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