private LIKE A LUNAR BELL 𓆩♡𓆪 BLAZESTAR

[DAWNGLARE]

Dawnglare sees that Fireflypaw is gone before he says anything. Dutifully, his apprentice leaves— with a straightforwardness that perhaps his past self would've never afforded him. Fireflypaw was childish— was and still is, but at least with certain things, he could listen. He could listen to someone that knew infinitely more than he did. Someone who was meant to guide him; sent for nothing else but that very purpose. This clan— this forest would've never had him. He came for Blaise, no matter how deeply he did not understand his wants. He came for Blaise, even though he never listened to a word he's said. Why, why, why, is the request simply to stay alive too much for him?

Dawnglare sits quietly, his tail in silent lashing. a small bundle of herbs sits between them; wintergreen and marigold that would pressed into the leader's wounds so that he could lose his last life to infection, and cant his head ever - proudly as he did so. He'd look to the stars, and surely they would not smile to him, knowing what he had thrown his life away for again and again. His blessing was one of prosperity, not so that he could take on the foolishness of others. Silently, he begs: open your eyes. There is no better time to do so, than now. Intensity like the sun, between them both. How could he share a gaze with someone so foolish.

His teeth clamp down on innumerable questions. He doesn't believe him. And he has seen foxes rip away lives. Why not two, or three? But knowing this, he does not believe him. He says this with a look— but it was something he would not ask.

" Does it matter? " he grits at last. The wilted blooms of marigold sit idly, and perhaps they would continue to do so— looking as shriveled and miserable as Blazestar did before him. " Does it matter if I fix you? If I patch you up? What if I sat here— " herbs under a paw, Dawnglare threatens to tear them back toward himself, for why should he offer them to someone so ungrateful? " And I told you... "no." " Never cutting eye contact, he stares. The lash of his tail has come to an eerie stillness, only the end left twitching in his irritation. " Would you fight for your life at all? " A breath. " Or would you lie down and die? "

A WISE WOMAN SAID I'M ALIVE 🍷 NOBODY'S EVER TOLD HER SHE'S WRONG

• ooc: @BLAZESTAR
  

• 

• ( I'M AS ALIVE AS HER BEARD IS LONG ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
  𓆩♡𓆪 He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
  𓆩♡𓆪 Currently 60 moons old as of 12.05.23. Mated to Mallowlark
  
  Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest.
  Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads

​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar is tired. He watches Fireflypaw leave the den with weary blue eyes before he turns them to where Dawnglare sits, twitching, his herbs in a messy spill before him. His tail, fox-colored like the fabled beast who’d stolen his life, lashes in silent anger. It’s several heartbeats before the medicine cat breaks the quiet that spans between them. “Does it matter?” he asks Blazestar, his teeth bared. The Ragdoll does not have the same fire in his voice when he responds—he’s quiet, almost-despondent-sounding. “Of course it matters.” He puts a paw to the red encircling and drying at his throat. “I did not wish to die anymore than you wish to be here now, treating me. Do you imagine it’s pleasant, Dawnglare?”

He grits his teeth as he shifts in his nest. His gaze falls heavily to the bits of marigold encircling Dawnglare’s large white paws. Would you fight for your life, the medic hisses, or would you lie down and die? “I have fought for every life. I—” He wheezes, his lungs squished and deflated. Blazestar rights himself, but his gaze does not leave his paws. The story he’d told his Clan paints him as a fool, wandering alone, attacked by a predator within the confines of his own territory.

But the truth is locked behind his teeth.

“But if you do not wish to waste your herbs on me, I won’t force you to.” His tone softens. “We have Clanmates who may need them more.”

, ”​

​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

It does nothing to convince him, the intensity of his voice— which is to say, there is hardly any at all. The medicine cat sniffs. A wry chuckle would follow his words then, clench of his teeth not at all matching his tone of voice. " Well – " a hitching of breath. " I imagine it must be, for it to befall you eight times, now. There are kits who've lived lives longer than some of yours have lasted, " he sneers. Blazestar's protest is weak— hardly befitting of a leader, and that is all that he's ever been. A fool playing at a rank he was not meant for. When Dawnglare listens to him, he does not see Blazestar, weakened despite the odds, unable to protest, only for the blood caked on his fur. He sees Blaise, who was never, never meant to be here.

And when he wheezes, Dawnglare steels himself to keep him from surging forward. His eyes blow wide, but he maintains his place; paw over his herbs, fur at a bristle. He hesitates— and he feels that it's all that he's done lately. Frustration melds to fear, when he looks at him them.

" ...Waste? " And the word is half - wheezed and strange, terse in a way that spells complete and utter incredulity. " When have I ever—? No— No Blazestar, there is no one that could ever need them more, " he hisses, he pleads, as if that were the thing that would finally get it through his thicker than thick skull. That the clan needed him. ( That he needed him. ) What is it that he sold his soul to, to ingrain such ridiculousness into his head. How dare he say it like that? LIke it was something noble? Like it was something to love?

His eyes are wide in the realization that he would do nothing. That he would simply sit down and die.

Let the claws that find him be dull and sluggish. Was praying for that all that he could do?

Split decision; he snatches up his bundle of herb, and settles beside him. What a pitiful thing, he's chosen for a friend. Blue eyes narrow upon the his wounds, and in a mumble, he tells him. " You couldn't force me to do anything. "

A WISE WOMAN SAID I'M ALIVE 🍷 NOBODY'S EVER TOLD HER SHE'S WRONG

• 
  
  

• 

• ( I'M AS ALIVE AS HER BEARD IS LONG ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
  𓆩♡𓆪 He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
  𓆩♡𓆪 Currently 60 moons old as of 12.05.23. Mated to Mallowlark
  
  Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest.
  Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads

​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Dawnglare’s ire splashes onto his flesh and fur, melts them like acid. He flinches away from the blatant anger bared to Blazestar’s eyes. There are kits who’ve lived lives longer than some of yours have lasted, and genuinely, the Ragdoll cannot fault him for his upset. Though much has fallen into the rift that runs between leader and medicine cat now, there stands a cat he’s known since kithood. There stands Valentine, not star-blessed but only star-tongued; there stands a cat who has watched his blood wet the earth, soak the snow, melt away under monsters’ paws.

“Dawnglare, my friend,” he murmurs. He is sick at heart, for a moment, thinking of the rage blazing through his chest and stomach upon Mallowlark’s arrival to their border. “You have been through as much as I have, in some ways. You’ve been beside me for all of it. You…”

Tears prick painfully behind his eyes, but they do not waver, do not fall. “You saved my mate’s life, when she bore our kits. You made sure each of them was born healthy. You did everything you could for Morningpaw—it was you who had to watch her die.” He bows his head. “I’m sorry. I owe you a debt I can never repay. I don’t have the time to do it anymore.”

You couldn’t force me to do anything, Dawnglare murmurs, and Blazestar laughs, a cracked and painful one that sends ripples through his body. “I never could. Not when I was Blaise. Certainly not as Blazestar. Even StarClan cannot command you, my friend.” The tear slips closer to the sheathe of his eye. “Despite it all… I would not change it.”

, ”​

​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

He knows not where Blazestar is going with such thoughts. It has been moons now, since Blaise jumped that fence; since Valentine followed behind, not impressed with the likes of SkyClan, and never would he be— but he stayed for him. Only him, and the call of the stars, and the gentle thrumming of the earth below... It's what he is here for. To beside Blaise through it all. Heed not his warnings, Dawnglare has remained. Patient, patient, waiting for the moment wherein everything would change. Blazestar had never given it to him. Now, he believes that he never will.

And yet here i still am, threatens to spill out, but he is silent. An unfair comparison, he knows in the end. Dawnglare could never... He wouldn't ever...

He chews his herbs into a poultice as he listens. All of that... yes, he supposes he did. He eased Blazestar's mate so that his own could later be turned away. He saw them grow, saw them die— Blazestar's daughter with a moon - face like that of his apprentice. He does not think about these things anymore. He does what he can not to, but he cannot help the occasional haunting of his own dreams. He is terse, as green stains his teeth. The cut of Blazestar's wounds reek too much of death. What he does not expect is this— is... I'm sorry.

A pause. And then he is slathering the mix of herb on his leader's wounds. His eyes burn with frustration not from the cobweb he unwinds from his paw. I owe you a debt I can never repay. He did. I don’t have the time to do it anymore.

He swallows, " You could've, " in a mumble. He still could, if only he was careful. And yet he knows that this would not happen.

Dawnglare hopes that he understands. That everything he has done for him, he had wanted to do. He fights the stinging at his eyes. Despite it all… I would not change it.

Do you forgive me then? he would like to ask. Perhaps when he was younger, he would've, but his head hangs in silence. His nose gives a wet sniff. There is too much to say, and not nearly enough time to say it. Out of time, out of time. And moons ago, it had seemed limitless.

Cobweb slowly plasters his friends wounds. Efficiency is lost, as he tries not to allow himself tears. " Again and again I would do it for you, Blaise, " he swallows thick around his words. " All I would ever ask in return is that you stay with me, friend. "

A WISE WOMAN SAID I'M ALIVE 🍷 NOBODY'S EVER TOLD HER SHE'S WRONG

• 
  
  

• 

• ( I'M AS ALIVE AS HER BEARD IS LONG ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
  𓆩♡𓆪 He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
  𓆩♡𓆪 Currently 60 moons old as of 1.1.24. Mated to Mallowlark
  
  Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest.
  Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads

​