letting things settle [dusk]

[Johnnyflame]

HE SAID, "WELL MY NAME'S JOHNNY, AND IT MIGHT BE A SIN
BUT I'LL TAKE YOUR BET, AND YOU'RE GONNA REGRET, CUZ IM THE BEST THERE'S EVER BEEN."​

---

It wasn't often that Johnny was forced to take a break. He was a resilient cat who took his training seriously, and it meant he could handle having a lot thrown at him. But even he had his limits, and while he didn't like to acknowledge them they weren't something his clanmates were willing to turn a blind eye to. The fight with the rogues had taken a lot out of him, as had Brightpaws death, and while a part of him just wanted to bury himself in work to save himself from having to feel it all, he also knew he couldn't afford to push too far when the clan still needed him.

Begrudgingly he swept his gaze across camp in search of a quiet place out of the way where he could take a few minutes to relax like he'd been told to, even if it was the last thing he wanted. How could he rest when he felt so much anger? So much grief? For all his accomplishments in Skyclan, Johnny was still new to all of this. He'd never had cats that relied on him in the ways his clanmates did. He'd never been responsible for the training and shaping of a young cat before. And he'd certainly never had a youth under his watch be savagely killed on the battlefield right in front of him.

He couldn't even put words to the things he was feeling.

With a soft huff of frustration he sulked off to a quiet part of camp out of the way of his clanmates, lowering himself to the ground with a wince. He was sore just about everywhere, with clawmarks and bites scouring his body, fur still ruffled and bloodstained. The faint scent of death still clung to him from carrying Brightflame back, and in the back of his mind he knew he should be checking in with his twolegs soon after having been away for so long. He wouldn't though- not tonight, at least.

There was still more to be done before he could go back.

OOC- Takes place shortly after the journey cats have returned. Johnnys been working nonstop since the rogues were chased out and was finally ordered to go take a break and clean himself up. @DUSKPOOL

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[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Heavy with grief, concealed beneath a fine layer of stubbornness, Duskpool remained in camp. He hadn’t let himself slip past the bramble barrier, staring aimlessly in the distance, molten copper rising to watch the elongated pine branches overshadowing the camp, reminding him of the dense oaks. His frame stiffened, shoulder pulsating at the sudden coil of compact muscle causing his lips to peel back in a quiet grimace.

He sighed, peeling his gaze away from the claustrophobic trees bearing down on his battered frame to rest on familiar tri-colored fur. He knew little of the events that had transpired since traveling, hearing bits from Glimmerpaw who had been talking to their mother. His thoughts strayed to his apprentice, before settling on Johnnyflame.

A rogue invasion. His lips curled, molten gaze darkening. If he had been here and not embarked on a suicidal journey, then perhaps he could have aided his clan in the fight for their home, or as much as it was now that—Duskpool winced, maw parted just slight to let out a puff of air, muzzle wrinkling. Heavy paws padded towards the lead warrior, wary and tired, he couldn’t help but note.

The male didn’t offer a verbal greeting, instead dipping his helm, thankful that another hadn’t died. Although not close, the battle-torn warrior considered the fool a friend. “Ya should get some rest.” He rumbled, watching the other through his peripheral to settle, more like falling into a seated position, curling a wooly tail loosely around massive paws. The battered warrior turned, watching the other with a steady molten hue, noting the lead warrior’s injuries. “Don’t wanna end up passin’ out.” He could smell the familiar smell of death on the tom’s pelt, so much like the one that refused to leave his own. Ya don’t wanna end up like me. Was left unsaid, blinking languidly to watch the rest of his clanmates with a heavy heart.

He couldn’t help but notice the weeping ichor and rumpled fur. “Ya won’t be doin’ anyone any good by makin’ em’ worry about ya.” He sighed, hypocritical as it was, but damnit no one needed to be workin’ themselves into an early grave. He was here. “I’ll be with ya to help. Ain’t goin’ anywhere. Better to share the burden than sufferin’ alone.” He ignored the subtle wince as he spoke those words.

“Need any help?” He jerked his helm towards Johnny’s bloodstained fur. ​

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thought speech​

 

[Johnnyflame]

HE SAID, "WELL MY NAME'S JOHNNY, AND IT MIGHT BE A SIN
BUT I'LL TAKE YOUR BET, AND YOU'RE GONNA REGRET, CUZ IM THE BEST THERE'S EVER BEEN."​

---

The bobtail had never been good at masking his emotions. Johnny had always been an open book, to the point where even his twolegs could read him as if they spoke the same language. Even all the way back when he was just a kit bristling at and shredding every pink, glittery, pretty thing they'd presented him with. They'd quickly learned his preference for masculine things and were quick to accomodate him- but there was no accomodating loss. There was just dealing with it, and Johnnys inexperience was glaringly obvious as he sat there, silent and tense.

He was pulled from his thoughts by pawsteps, gaze flickering up to land on the towering figure of Duskpool before softening just a little. The two weren't close by any definition of the word, but the encounters they'd had still managed to leave an impression on Johnny, bruising out a nice little soft spot for the other all the same. Dusk was an easy cat to respect and admire, their efforts and kindness not going unseen by the lead despite the distance they often tried to keep between themselves and others. For those reasons and many others, Johnny wasn't surprised to find that Dusk scored incredibly high on the list of cats that the stocky little bobtail implicity trusted.

"That's what they keep telling me." Johnny huffed, trying for amusement but poorly masking the annoyance settled in his tone. To be honest there was a part of him that almost wanted to just work until he dropped. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so completely devastated and angry, like a bomb waiting to go off in the middle of the woods.

"Ya won't be doin' anyone any good by makin' em' worry about ya."

His gaze fell to his paws, effectively chastised despite the swirl of frustration at just how hypocritical those words were. Johnny and Dusk might not have been close, but the patched tabby didn't need to be close to know how much the shadowy feline suffered- how he never let himself stop suffering. He saw it everytime they slunk out of camp to return to their nest in the tree hollow out by twoleg place, every time they offered themselves up for the most dangerous task so that another clanmate didn't have to do it, everytime their eyes darkened a little more when someone was lost.

Even now, injured and exhausted, and Dusk was trying to look out for him instead of looking out for himself.

There were a dozen things Johnny should have said or done in that moment; tell him to take his own advice, scold him in return for always acting so rashly, admit that Dusk worried him sometimes with how withdrawn they could be with the clan- but he did none of those, disarmed by the words that continued to come from the other.

"I'll be with ya to help. Ain't goin' anywhere. Better to share the burden than sufferin' alone."

The fight went right out of him, stopping any sharp comments in their tracks. Because Johnny did need help, and he didn't want to be alone- and for just a little while he didn't want to have to be the one calling the shots in a situation he had no idea how to navigate. He knew it was selfish to ask Duskpool to do it instead, but the realization that he could trust them to do so made the exhaustion and sadness all the harder to keep hidden away. He could feel it creeping up on his in the subtle tremble of his shoulders, in the tightness of his jaw, and the aches on his body that seemed to run straight to his heart.

The gesture toward his fur made him hesitate for a moment, because he could see very plainly that Dusk was injured and tired as well. And Johnny could groom his own fur. There was no reason to trouble the larger tom over something so trivial, and yet, he found himself guiltily nodding in acceptance.

"Please."

He cleared his throat softly, trying to chase away how pitiful he sounded.

"Haven't been able to get to it yet- haven't even been back to my twolegs." he admitted, unable to bring himself to leave yet despite knowing they were likely beside themselves thinking he was dead somewhere. "I- I had to make sure Brightpaw got home. Couldn't leave her layin' out there with with all those rogues, you know? Had to bring her home."

He couldn't bring himself to look at Dusk as he rambled, didn't want to see whatever might be staring back at him. Blame? Disapointment? Disdain? He felt like he deserved them all.

"Blazestar made her a warrior just before she died. Called her Brightflame."

---

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[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The battered tom shifted, peeling his gaze away from the deflated warrior, Watchin’ the other deflate was like a slap to the face, broken and uncertain, so much like himself when he was a youngster, terrified and tired. He didn’t have the time to grieve then, trapped in an endless loop of grief, just waitin’ for death to take him and he still was.

Johnny didn’t need to go through the same thing he went through. Shuttin’ everyone out. Duskpool deserved it. The unperturbed loneliness that’d nearly gotten him killed a few times since he joined SkyClan.

Duskpool had ensured he kept his distance, but hell if he did a good job at it. Some warrior I am, eh? He nearly lost his entire family. A curse, he’d reckon. The warrior had little else goin’ for him.

Letting out a shuddered breath, muscles coiling and uncoiling with the motion. He grinned bitterly, helm tilted just a fraction to stare at the other’s rumpled frame, urging his tired body forward until he settled beside the other, rasping a tongue over the lead warrior’s frame, smoothing down rumpled fur and tasting copper on his tongue.

"I- I had to make sure Brightpaw got home. Couldn't leave her layin' out there with with all those rogues, you know? Had to bring her home."

He paused, muscles stiffening at the familiar name ringing loudly within a mangled ear, molten gaze widening just a fraction, hidden by the turn of his helm. Forcing himself to continue, letting a tongue glide over blood-tinged fur, gentler than the gruff male could ever possess.

He wanted to laugh, feeling the familiar tendrils of grief grip his heart in a vice-like grip. Brightflame. Fittin’ wasn’t it? He thought, mangled ear flat against his helm. She’d been too young. She was nothin’ more than a kid, fightin’ for their home against rogues. Take care of her, Shadowfire.

He couldn’t help but wonder if the outcome would have changed. If he’d been there to fight. Dyin’ on the battlefield didn’t seem such a bad idea, but he had some worth left in him, realization hittin’ him square in the face when he’d been starin’ death in the face, just inches from crushin’ his neck.

He’d deal with his own emotions somewhere else. Not here. Johnny needed someone and Duskpool wasn’t about to break that silent promise. He’d be there. He ain’t goin’ anywhere. “Ya shouldn’t be blamin’ yerself.” He pulled away, pivoting just so to stare at the other, molten gaze giving nothing away. Hypocritical, but nothin’ else was new.

“Pullin’ away and pushin’ yerself.” Punishing yerself. He rumbled, deadpan as ever, but soothing. “Nothin’ will ever make it go away, but it’ll be bearable.” He sighed, grinning bitterly. “Take it from a fool who's been runnin’ from it for a while.” A bastard at heart, Duskpool didn’t deserve a lick of forgiveness. He might be tryin’ to do better, but it was a fool’s game.

He wasn’t all that good at comforting, offering gruff words that may never help. Duskpool continued his mundane grooming, helpin’ the lad out. “It ain’t easy.” He breathed. “The damn what-ifs and blamin’ yerself for something ya couldn’t control.” His gaze narrowed, calculative. “Learn to lean on others. I’ll be with ya. Promised I ain’t gonna leave.” Johnnyflame had helped him, although this wasn’t about gettin’ even, but knowin’ just how terrible grief could turn a cat. He wasn’t keen on seein’ it happen to someone who didn’t deserve that fate. ​

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thought speech​

 

[Johnnyflame]

HE SAID, "WELL MY NAME'S JOHNNY, AND IT MIGHT BE A SIN
BUT I'LL TAKE YOUR BET, AND YOU'RE GONNA REGRET, CUZ IM THE BEST THERE'S EVER BEEN."​

---

It wasn't often that Johnny let himself fall apart in front of others. For one, he was usually too optimistic for that, clinging almost stubornly to any scrap of light he could because the last thing he wanted to do was lower the morale of his own cats. Secondly -and more importantly- Johnny was used to having to be the rock. He was the one cats ran to when they were scared or frustrated or upset; the cat with bright attitude and crooked grin that would happily chase away whatever troubles were botherng his friends.

He wasn't used to be the one who needed a stead shoulder to lean on, wasn't used to crawling to others for comfort in this way. Belatedly, he realized there weren't many cats he'd allow to see him in such a vulnerable state, and he was glad for the quiet lull of camp around them now so that there were less prying eyes to witness just how badly he'd been in need of a grounding presence.

He forced himself to swallow back the emotions that clawed at his throat when Duskpool pulled away to speak, a meeting of copper and gold and their eyes met. How could Johnny not blame himself? He should have been paying more attention during the fight, should have taken into consideration the possability that those rogues didn't know the meaning of the word 'honor'. He should have never let a kid fight a bunch of fucking monsters in the first place.

For the first time in a long time- since he was a kit, maybe- Johnny felt particularly helpless. He knew the world had monsters in it. He'd seen it when Kuiper admitted to murdering all those cats, had seen it when Windclan tried to sneak into their camp where their kits and elders and queens lived- but he'd never seen the outcome so harshly as he had with Brightpaws death, had never watched as a horrible, completely senseless cruelty was commited right before his very eyes. That rogue could have run away, but instead they'd fought to the death with a cat who didn't even have their full warrior name.

"Pushing myself is the only thing keeping me sane." he admitted with a bitter laugh, wiping at the tears that started slipping down his cheeks. "I'm so angry Duskpool. Those cats- those fucking monsters- came into our homes and took lives. Why should they get to keep breathin' when Brightflame can't?"

Another ugly piece of himself that seemed comfortable revealing itself to the other tom, but the daylight warrior couldn't help how he felt. The grief he felt was only acting as fuel for the frustration and anger he felt at the injustice of it all. Even if there was nothing Johnnyflame could have done to change the outcome, it felt unmistakably wrong that the cats responsible for her death were still out there somewhere.

"At least she took the bastard with her. Brightflame will walk with Starclan now, but that pathetic excuse of a cat will never see the stars again where he's going."

Johnnyflame couldn't imagine the kind of hell that waited for monsters like that, but he imagined it a was a dark, cold place where the light of the stars never touched their pelts or shone on the ground they walked.

Learn to lean on others, they said, the ryhtmic, lulling rasp of Duskpools tongue returning to his fur.

"You don't think I should go dig myself a nest out in the forest somewhere?" he asked with a small smirk and a glance toward Dusk, a light jab meant to land on the playful side of things, even if he was inadverdantly calling them out for not taking their own advice.

He sighed, continuing with a bit more seriousness as he lowered his chin to sit between his paws. "It's just- it's hard, lettin' the others see me like this." another sentiment he knew he didn't have to elaborate on with Duskpool. "I'm not supposed to be moping around or losin' my head over shit. It's hard enough as a lead warrior, but you throw in the daylight warrior stuff and.."

Johnny couldn't afford to seem weak. Many of the cats- including some of his fellow leads- already thought that Johnny was compromised due to his double life. He had to be strong because the second he started letting the edges fray, cats would begin trying to yank and pull at those threads until they ripped him apart.

He trusted Duskpool not to do that, though. He didn't doubt the other toms words when they'd said 'take it from someone who knows'. In the short time Johnnyflame had lived in Skyclan he'd watched as cat after cat was ripped away from them, and he knew that whatever pain and frustration that he was experiencing was nothing compared to the experiences Duskpool had endured. He couldn't picture the older tom weaponizing Johnnys grief against him.

"Thank you. For lookin' after me." For not leaving. He hated being alone. Hated handling things on his own. He was probably too social for his own good, always chatting someones ear off or getting in someone elses space, but it wasn't something he typically knew he was doing until he was pointed out to him in some joking comment or snide remark, and he was grateful that Dusk seemed willing to deal with all that just to make sure he was okay.

---

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[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

It made him wonder, bittersweet with the flooding sense of melancholy because he would be doin’ the same damn thing—still was, even on the journey. He was pushin’ himself. He couldn’t just pause and take a breather because that led to thinkin’. He hadn’t even allowed himself to since Yukio’s death, maybe earlier when he was nothing more than a foolish youngster.

His breath rattled deep within an empty cavern, slipping through the bony bars and soaking up the bitter smell of pine and misery. A molten gaze crinkled, solemn. It might have been the tiredness weighing heavily on his mind, threatening to buckle, but Duskpool breathed, shaky and rumbling, rattling his empty chest for a heart that had long faded. Or maybe he just couldn’t see it anymore.

He watched the crystalized tears pool down tri-colored cheeks, blackened heart twisting something ugly at the sight. Johnnyflame had every right to be furious. He wouldn’t have blamed him for seekin’ revenge. Duskpool had done the same thing, tearin’ into Kyungmin’s frame like a starvin’ man, relishing in the pained yowls that erupted from a bloodied maw, knowin’ damn well the murderer suffered somethin’ horrid, not when he noted Quinn slinkin’ off to finish the job brought the warrior great satisfaction.

Duskpool couldn’t help but agree, molten copper narrowing. Brightflame died as a warrior, but damnit, he couldn’t help the bitterness from swelling until it spread across a sandpaper tongue. Only a kid, but when had life given a damn about fairness?

He snorted in amusement, shaking his helm. “Don’t go becomin’ me now.” He’d fire back, knowin’ just how hypocritical it was to be preachin’ about leaning on others when he couldn’t do it himself. Molten copper brimmed with sarcastic amusement. “Can’t be havin’ two of us walkin’ around.”

At the drop of tone, the battered warrior couldn’t help but sigh. “With that mentality of yers will get ya nowhere.” He rumbled, watchin’ the other. “Ya ain’t invincible, shit like this will get to anyone—daylight warrior or not. Ya deserve to grieve, Johnny. Ya lost someone. Ya can’t just get over it. ( And so soon after it happened. ) Speakin’ from someone who’s been grievin’ their entire lives.” He grunted. “If they’ve got a problem with it, then well—” Duskpool’s gaze narrowed. He wasn’t all that fond of the upwalkers, but he wasn’t about to make another cat’s life a livin’ hell just because of it. Daylight warriors, or not—Duskpool didn’t have much of an opinion of ‘em. They came here willin’ every mornin’ to this hellhole of a camp huntin’ and fighting like any other warrior.

“It ain’t their life to live.” He finally added after a pregnant pause. He understood more than anything. Hidin’ behind a mask, terrified of showing any kind of weakness for cats to pick at and criticize.

Humming, Duskpool bumped his shoulder with the other, expression soft despite the litter of skin graphs and scars scattered across gruff features. “Ya don’t need to thank me.” He murmured. “Ya did the same when I was lost in my head.” He breathed, not before adding, “I’m here for ya.” Molten gaze shifted, muscle rippling beneath obsidian fur. “If ya feel like the ground is bein’ ripped out from underneath ya then come find me, ya hear?” ​

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thought speech​