private MAGNOLIA TREES 𓆩♡𓆪 FIREFLYGLOW

With the springing of the leaves comes parasites of all shapes and sizes... Not just those most blatant: that being, the grass, the leaves... all things leafy and green that bounded, eager to prove wrong the cold winds that had tried — and failed to kill them. Once they deem the sky clear, they come back to life unabashed. With new seeds, new buds, new blooms, it is a triumphant laugh in the face of Mother; in the face of those like him that would seek to pick them clean... But he is well honed now. Well aware of the inevitability of this circumstance, as sad as it made him...

And alongside them — symbiosis, or something of the sort, came the bugs. The worms, flies, and spiders. Mindless little terrors that merely sought out their fundamentals of life... but what relationship did that make, when such fundamentals were treacherous? Dawnglare often steps loud and wide. Anything with ears ought to hear him and act accordingly. Prepare your ears, your eyes, your mind... If you are something that lacks two or more, its best you leave, skitter or hop or fly whichever way that did not involve him. He was not so needlessly biased as to make exceptions for the likes of butterflies or moths... Pretty insects, a few would purr. Dawnglare could make keen progress on those minds with a paw wrenched through their ears.

But fireflies... What about their nature was so conflicting?

The realization comes in the form of heavy paws and herb - scent. A tufted ear flicks at the arrival. Certain company – the non-exclusive sort – was rare. At this time of night, rarer still. ( And did that bother him any...? ) He sees the stars, and he winces. A sanitized sort were the fireflies. Shining, but small... They would not look cruelly upon you. Would not laugh in the face of your anguish. The brute could not hide himself if he tried. " Fireflyglow, " without turning, he would acknowledge him.

Fireflyglow could remain if he liked. He hardly cared anymore. ( Was that the truth? )

A twinge. Dawnglare rubs at one paw with another. " W-what do you think of your name? " he asks — isn't even certain if Fireflyglow would care to stick around... No one did, evidently. Not those who would be in the dirt without him. Not those who he had spent all his life with... What did it take? What, that got him closeness in one form, and one form alone. Was it that the moors were do despairing, anything could be better? The night is full with cricketsong. He finds it more comforting than the whispers, for once. ( What's become of him, then? ) " I have never... never cared for insects. " Unnecessarily, he adds. ( Why does he do that? )

 
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His arrival is signaled by the scent of pine and mint, the sound of hefty paws shuffling grass and leaves beneath them. He cannot look upon the stars as his mentor can, but that didn't bother him as much as seeing other cats expressions did. With Dawnglare, it was obvious how he felt- he could never truly hide his feelings behind a neutral tone. He couldn't fool a cat like Fireflyglow, whom had been by his side since Fi was born.

His muzzle dips low in greeting to Dawnglare, still showing that reverential respect to the tom even with his back turned. "Dawnglare." He echoes the tone used, a faint smile upon his lips as he seats himself a safe distance away to listen to him. He must have caught Dawnglare at a time where he pondered everything in existence, thoughtful tom he is.

His pondering comes to a momentary halt at his question voiced aloud, milky blues shifting to look at Dawnglare curiously. "I love my name." Fireflyglow hums softly, kneading his massive paws into the herb-scented nest below him. "It is a gift that you and my parents bestowed upon me. I could never ask for another." He shifts in place, his forepaws sticking out as he grooms his plump stomach awkwardly. Then, Dawnglare states another odd thing- he didn't care for insects. Fireflyglow chuckles low, nodding his head. "Yes, insects aren't necessarily my favorite either. Fireflies, though.. I remember what they look like, the glowing.. The feeling of hope they give." He tilts his head, rubbing his paw over his chest fur to straighten it. "Do you remember the last time you looked upon the land, and felt hopeful, Dawnglare?" He asks inquisitively, curious as to how the tom would answer.​
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Predictable. Borish. What was it that Fireflyglow did besides love? Love every fool that comes traipsing into his den, stuttering, stumbling, stubbed toes and sliced spleens... Fireflyglow fawned over every one of them, spoke in that same tone of his... Perhaps this is what had himself drowning in a never-ending sea of ungratefulness. They were grubs that he had fed and nursed, given... mother knows how long of his life to madness and mayhem. But the wildcats wanted their own kind — forest born, and if not, let them be soft and stupid at the very least. Wave of resentment, and then... awash with awareness. (For what? Of what? Must he despise others for their happiness? It's something else beneath the surface, toiling, rumbling waves...) Dawnglare is silent.

He winces, and he nearly tells him, I had no part in it. Had it been him, his former apprentice would glow something else entirely... Or perhaps he wouldn't glow of all, blackest of suns, newest of moons. A squirming kitten, eyes unused and ears made plaster, would he name them for what they were, or for what they would be? His futures are in terms of stone and earth, stretching on and on... Where the clans exist, and one day, would no longer. To think in moon cycles — in the bodies that would breathe and live, rather than the ones that would calcify... Oh, does he struggle. Perhaps then, Fireflyglow would have been Beetlekit, deemed worthless upon his inception.

But then... he is most thankful that future had not been. For he would have never known the lurch in his heart that'd come with the crown of Morningkit, for my dearest friend. For he would never find himself here, pondering the likeness of beetles.

...It is then that I realizes, that glow is what he means. It is not sheepishness that warms his cheeks, but memory. It is unlike anything kind, that warmth, unlike nights within his twoleg home, swaddled in pelts and delighted in the crook of Twoleg flesh. It is uncomfortable and prickling, like the burn of freshly - made tears. It isn't instant, the correction of his mistake... Fireflyglow talks on, speaks of fireflies as an exception. Though Dawnglare ponders their absolution still, it seems their minds wander to similar places... " It is what distracts from their wicked nature: the star - shine upon their backs... " he says. " Some would say it absolves them entirely. " He was not some. " I am not so eager to be blind to their theft. " Hope... what a strange thing to feel in such a presence. Dawnglare eyes them warily, the dancing things.

What a question. A talent, this one had. Penchant for asking things that did not matter. " No, I do not. " his reply is the bitter crackle of a long - decayed herb. " I cannot say I've ever felt such a thing looking across... this land. " What had he felt, when he'd stepped across that fence? When he'd taken the mantle of Medicine Cat, followed destiny's scent across stones and borders... What had he felt beside Blazestar for the first time? When Fireflyglow had been born? When sickness had wracked them, and Newleaf teased just around the corner? " Once, I had felt... devoted, I suppose. " he breathes. The word is alien on his tongue in a way that it should not be. Syllables catch on the roof of his mouth, contort his face into something... forlorn." Devoted. "