private JUDGEMENT BY THE HOUNDS // DIMMINGSUN

[juncoclaw]

// obligatory takes place before cotton's disappearance

"And so she said.. 'I didn't think we could be something.' Like.. what am I, rabbit guts?" A troubled, dramatic sigh leaves the molly's mouth. Junco rests her chin on her paw, propping it up from the ground as she rests with her head half-poked out of her burrow. The golden guard next to her, Dimmingsun, may have been the only cat ever to indulge in her gossip, even if it is only by ear. So, she's spent the better half of her day chattering away to him, pouring out the contents of her hearts. May as well while she's not babysat by a prickly fox-heart, after all.

Her heart aches, but she snorts disdainfully in the face of it. 'I didn't think you liked me that way.' Like - like the past moon or whatever of daily visits was nothing. Suppose she shares breakfast with everyone every morning, huh?" Of course, the cat she speaks of is not named - but it would not take a wise mind to figure out just who. Another sigh leaves her mouth, but this time she leans her head against the ground, staring up mournfully at the cat that sits just next to her head. Was he still listening?

"You ever like.. loved a cat who loved someone else?" Junco mews quietly, tracing a claw across the ground in a sad little circle. How pathetic she's become - falling in love, being completely humiliated by her suitor, then pouring her heart out to the stranger that holds her captive. But.. even after all that, it'd still feel nice to be understood..

// @dimmingsun
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CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER

• juncokit juncopaw JUNCOCLAW "JUNCO" ━━ penned by ixora
  ━━ BARNCAT
  ━━ 16 MOONS,, ages every 21st
  ━━ CASSO xx BUDGE
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to none | FORMERLY MENTORED by mockinggrin
  ━━ HEALTH ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎ | junco is healthy.​
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• speech is #6a7d8a​

 

[dimmingsun]

Junco is an enigma — and every familiar face within DuskClan's ranks by extension, but she truly takes the cake. It's been an odd feeling to have a lingering prisoner who has yet to display any signs of true danger... but then again, Snakehiss had been quite mellow right up until something swept his fur the wrong way, allowing him the chance to show his true colors. Would the same happen with Junco as well? Despite the knowledge that naivety is never a good trait to posses, Dimmingsun's gut feeling tells him otherwise.

Either way, duty is duty. It is something that makes everything so much easier; it's the simple, unquestionable reason for his presence here. Junco needs a guard (less for her own comfort and more for WindClan's peace of mind) and Dimmingsun is happy to be one.

In a more... ambiguous way, Junco needs someone to talk to; Dimmingsun might be a little bit less willing to be that someone, but he is it nevertheless.

She speaks of love. Unrequited love, to be more exact. It takes a great amount of effort to turn that building snort into something more acceptable: his chest moves with it, the exhale keeping his amusement at bay. There is precious little Junco could do if she thought he's making fun of her- but still. Dimmingsun himself is not certain how he feels about it. Maybe he assumed a prisoner would not find anything more to talk about, or that she would not want to share the more vulnerable parts of her life with him... surely, she knows he would choose the good of his Clan over her, courtesy of switching sides all those moons ago?

Her words plant images in his head anyway. Dimmingsun thinks of a course black pelt — love is something of a mystery to him, not a concept he cared for much, but he supposes Gracklestep comes closest to that notion. He thinks of another darkened fur then, its black monotony separated by a streak; Dimmingsun has grown awfully close to Slateheart lately, but does that count as anything?

"I dunno. Maybe?" The indecision in his voice and the shrug are equally sincere. Dimmingsun does not know. What a fickle thing this is... "Love's a weird thing. If you ask me, it's better if it finds you first, so you don't waste your time looking." What he says does not suggest experience on the matter, nor confident wisdom... but then again, that is not the intention.

Dimmingsun finally moves his head to the side. It is a small, unassuming motion; but it is enough for him to actually see Junco, and for her to look at his eyes instead of his back for once. "Who's this mysterious she again?" Junco hasn't uttered a name, has she? He hopes he's been a dutiful enough listener not to miss such a crucial detail.
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