- Feb 18, 2023
- 394
- 57
- 28
don't raise your voice . improve your argument .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
A rugged jerk of his helm, Duskpool starred at the twinklin’ lights with gusto, wooly plume skimmin’ the undergrowth, kickin’ up small twigs and fallen leaves. Somehow the rugged warrior always enjoyed starin’ up at the vastly lit sky, not out of religion, but to share its endless beauty. It gave him hope, fleeting as it was. Duskpool was always doubtful — pessimistic until some fool wallowed in self-pity, then the warrior wasn’t so keen on sharin’ negative views, not when it wasn’t warranted.
He chuffed, mangled ear swiveling. Hypocritical, ain’t it? Sometimes, he hated bein’ self-aware but rarely did those thoughts surface, especially in the comfort of his thoughts, lost to solitude.
Turnin’ a molten hue toward Palemoon — a close friend, perhaps which is an oddity in itself. It seemed the burly warrior gained more kids than genuine friends. He was all fine with that. What more than to fill his meaningless life with joy that came with guidin’ and being there for them than truly allowin’ another past carefully built barriers.
He didn’t or rather, feel incredibly awkward when accepting a helping paw, especially when he had to rely on himself for moons. Troublesome really. It took more effort to ask than it is to admit, but with time, Duskpool painstakingly hoped that would change before he kneeled over and died.
Glacin’ toward the small molly, uncharacteristically small against his hulking build. “Figured I’d take us to see the fireflies while they’re out.” It would be the closest to touchin’ a star. He figured she’d enjoy it on their walks to view the stars when he wasn’t on night patrol or guard duty. Or nowadays, takin’ care of Ghostkit and visitin’ Hollywhisper ( and givin’ Duststorm parental advice ). “How have ya been doin’?” He commented casually, timbre a deep rumble, brow creasin’ in curiosity. “Hadn’t had time for our nightly walks, kits bein’ the rambunctious brats they are.” He said it with visible mirth, warmth seepin’ through a rugged timbre.
@Palemoon
He chuffed, mangled ear swiveling. Hypocritical, ain’t it? Sometimes, he hated bein’ self-aware but rarely did those thoughts surface, especially in the comfort of his thoughts, lost to solitude.
Turnin’ a molten hue toward Palemoon — a close friend, perhaps which is an oddity in itself. It seemed the burly warrior gained more kids than genuine friends. He was all fine with that. What more than to fill his meaningless life with joy that came with guidin’ and being there for them than truly allowin’ another past carefully built barriers.
He didn’t or rather, feel incredibly awkward when accepting a helping paw, especially when he had to rely on himself for moons. Troublesome really. It took more effort to ask than it is to admit, but with time, Duskpool painstakingly hoped that would change before he kneeled over and died.
Glacin’ toward the small molly, uncharacteristically small against his hulking build. “Figured I’d take us to see the fireflies while they’re out.” It would be the closest to touchin’ a star. He figured she’d enjoy it on their walks to view the stars when he wasn’t on night patrol or guard duty. Or nowadays, takin’ care of Ghostkit and visitin’ Hollywhisper ( and givin’ Duststorm parental advice ). “How have ya been doin’?” He commented casually, timbre a deep rumble, brow creasin’ in curiosity. “Hadn’t had time for our nightly walks, kits bein’ the rambunctious brats they are.” He said it with visible mirth, warmth seepin’ through a rugged timbre.
@Palemoon
thought speech