private MOONWALKER ♡ MALLOWLARK

[DAWNGLARE]

[Takes place after this thread! ]

A tragedy, not so long ago.

It's cruel in it's timing. The crashing of ocean waves above his head when the reality should be so much more joyful. The night should be alight with wonder, everything he could ask for in this moment, despite the screams and the constant chatter. The smile he's worn ever since that night– not-waning, insistent, unnerving; he himself a mimicry of the one he loves most. (And love– love. Wasn't that such a thing to think, to live, to breathe? To cozy yourself the best you can despite the season's freeze, and warm yourself knowing you are loved, and you too love something, someone, a someone you'd never forget). He'd thought that smile neverending, and then a corpse had been delivered to his door.

He hates that he hadn't known before. He hadn't known that he loved her too, a different kind. For all his distance, he cared. How could he not, when he had been there that day? When he could he could what Blaise and his love did for the five of them. When he looked at him with such light in his eyes and named her so.

Under other circumstances, he wouldn't have even been there. The matter was personal, the names of one's children, he even knows. He hadn't expected a thing, only stood by in the case of complications.

After my dearest friend, he'd said, and she'd lived. And now–

He's been staring, he realizes. Storm-overcast, eyes clouded as he dully appraises the catmint he'd left on the way here. Brittle in leaf-bare. Being left unattended for so long surely did it no favors, but it would do fine. He's just glad it remains, and hasn't been snapped up by a watering jaw between now and then. He sways on his feet. Whips his head suddenly, to see that Mallowlark's still there. Too sudden. Too fast. He's... dizzy. Moonlit eyes flash wide, but so quickly fall back into a lull. "Ss-sorry," he mumbles. A word nearly cursed; said more within these few nights than throughout his entire lifetime.

"You alright?" he'd nearly forgotten to ask. Though, before he could answer, "You will be," then follows. He leans to grasp the herb with such sluggishness, his body betrays him so. Seemingly, it pays no mind to the franticness of his mind. Fix him, please, make it better. It's all he wants. No more of this ever hanging cloud, fear that Mallowlark would pass, and Dawnglare wouldn't even know it. No more of it. "Oh, please..." whispered thin, though he hadn't meant to say anything at all.

Easily, he glosses over it, concentrates on talking despite the tickling in his maw. "Y-you ever smelled catmint before?" He tilts his chin upward, and the stem flutters along with him. Just to make sure he understood that this was the herb in question. "S'to die for. I could just– die." He isn't sure why that leaves his own mouth. It isn't true. He doesn't know if he finds it horrifically sad or terribly amusing. His eyes frantically meet the other's then, as if to make sure he wouldn't keel over at the very word. Mallowlark told him he wouldn't.

"I couldn't– I can't–" Why had he said that? It's impossible. His head aches. "Doesn't taste as good as it smells, y'should savor it... hm?" Inviting, he nudges closer. Sincere, but not too much– so much so. Too much and the gathering would be over and done with before Mallowlark could return. He wouldn't want him to be in trouble.

[ @MALLOWLARK ]​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

There was void where there should have been light, eyes darkened with- with something other than happiness, something he wanted to get rid of. Sadness did not look right on Dawnglare's face, but Mallowlark knew he only felt that way because it should not be there at all. The silence seemed to last forever as they both stared, Mallowlark at Dawnglare and Dawnglare at something... sat upon the ground. A scent, strong, wafted toward him, riding the breeze. The cure, if his cure couldn't be Dawnglare. An apology stammered out, something that on reflex Mallowlark shook his head in receiving. He- didn't need to apologise, not for helping him, not for being here.

His smile was persistent, as ever- but smaller than normal, not quite reaching high enough to curve his eyes. And at the assurance, a small laugh left him, a breath with a growing grin. He would be alright. A whisper rode the winds, but quickly was shoved aside- perhaps not an utterance meant for his ears. And then his dawn-soaked phantom leaned forward, offered him the cure- "No, don't think so," he murmured- it was a cleansing smell. Shame it didn't taste that good, apparently- but on his mind clattered noise, like the bullet-fire of a woodpecker's beak. His ears twitched at the talk of death. For once it is not amusing.

Inky paws took a step closer as Dawnglare did too, and they were close again. Almost had he forgotten how it felt, just to be near him- even when it had not been very long since the last time. But though a snow-dusted maw moved to backtrack on his talk of demise, he could not help the shiver of worry in wide silver eyes. He had to ask if he was okay, as Dawnglare had him. They didn't have much time, but what would he be if he didn't ask? And- even then, Mallowlark saw little point in asking. "You're not alright," he murmured. Not an accusation, but it was spoken as if it was fact though his voice held a waver of sadness within it. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, inhalation of the herb a reminder that Dawnglare was helping him.

If only like this, he had to return the favour. ​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

Always waiting, always there, the smile upon his face brings safety and comfort. Stability, in the way it rarely wanes, happiness for him, even when he could not show it himself. That in itself is a rarity on its own. Always graced with smiles in his mortal presence. And they're natural. Never strained. Never the kindly upset in his language despite thoughts that ran, anything but. His giggles were always naturally won. Never not. No, never. Not until now, maybe.

He does not, would never feel the need to put on a mask for another's sake (nor would he ever– his will belongs to him and one other. Child of that soul-defying light.) Though at times, at times, it simply comes. Body defies mind, and defies thee, greatly. It's a twitch of his face and a shaking of his chords. Words tumble out without meaning, and he hates it– can barely stand it. His spine prickles as his smile is mashed shut between lips. (Embarassing) He's uncomfortable. Velvet ears flicker back and forth. "...No?" Quiet reply, lacking much else to say at all. (For shame. For shame.)

A stilted breath comes out heavy, and his gift is held for Mallowlark to take; but– away, away, why was he going away? (For shame) His face falls, and so does his heart. The aching for something feels like little more than wistful thinking; and, small, his tail curls in on himself. Mallowlark does not ask, only points. And, were it any other, Dawnglare would surely spit in his face.

Instead, he huffs a breath, closed-lipped. He bares his teeth in a grimace. "I'm..." what? What, really, and– why dedicate the thought to it, when this was not about him? It was about Mallowlark. Was about Morningpaw. And the wavering of sadness, the not-quite smile. He never thought the lack of something would bother him quite so much. Never before. He never wanted to upset him.

Dawnglare dares to lift his eyes to those silver pools. Apologetic, though he tires of the word. He might just rip out his throat– Twitch of something. "I- I will be." That promise, repurposed. The both of them would be. The both of them had to be. Who would be left to forgive?

He might cry. He might.

He does not approach again, but he lifts his head, and his bounty along with it. Mumbled between teeth in stem. "You have to go, don't you? You should just take it. " Stark white against the ground. He shuffles. And another moon he would have to wait. He can only pray for safe recovery.​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

Everything was quiet, too quiet, even as Dawnglare spoke. Assured him- he would be fine, curled in on himself. They were not close enough, and Mallowlark immediately thought of what he was doing, wasting time away from him when he could be closer still. Swallowing the pebble in his throat, the one that had thickened his statement with concern, he took in a sigh and moved closer, smile growing in sincerity, eyes appraising every movement of his face. Inky paws stopped only when as close as he could manage- close enough to take the herb, and anything else. Snowy soul lulling to the side, acceptance fled him softly. "Okay. We'll both be, then." And he did believe it, that Dawnglare would be alright. And he felt no need to push it, not more than he already had. It wasn't fair- and if it could rid the sadness from moon-blue lagoons, even just for a moment, he'd say it thousands of times.

Quiet came the following breath, exhalation in the cold, a plume past their ears. A hum of agreement left him, though it was a vaguely unenthusiastic one. Indeed, he could not stay for long... it never felt like long enough, but tonight would be exceptionally short. Close did he bow his head, tender as he took the herb from Dawnglare to between his grin- held it there, in suspense. Oddly- in that closeness, and in that exchange, his memory hearkened back to a night soaked in blood. But wonderful ichor it had been- not this... sort, this sadness that did not leave, even when he knew how happy he was. At once he was happy and sad, cruel dichotomy.

Still, he let his grin remain. Assurance for them both, and he really was happy knowing that Dawnglare would be alright. Would be, if not now. And it was nothing that could be fixed with medicine, or else deft icy paws would have already administered a cure.

Medicine was not his forte- never had been. It'd been some miracle he'd managed to live this long, especially before the Clans and their medics even existed. So as he held it in his maw, suspenseful- smell clouding his sense, taste bleeding onto his tongue... he felt pride, felt joyful that he'd been extended this generosity. Love, it must be- permeating even through sadness. Sky met storm in their gazes, and he held the collision together, unblinking. He kept the joy with him even as he chewed the herb, forgetting the warning, and-

Argent eyes flared wide, his smile growing sharp- the flavour of it really was quite bad, and it showed as his snout wrinkled in disgust. But down- down it went, down the hatch, and once he had swallowed a great, bubbling giggle left him. What a show he'd just put on, and- and this close to Dawnglare, right in front of him- a night gloved paw moved to cover his mouth, a hurried choke of "S-Sorry... !!" as his head fell to rest upon his phantom's shoulder. ​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

His ears angle strangely. Listening, and then not; but he does not know what he's listening for, hoping to here something, something, he knows. Something to stave off the burning insecurity, the irrevocable damage he's surely caused, and, with the only one he would ever seek to mend a bond with. Irreplaceable, he strains to think, even if the thought is nonsensical. This forest was fragile. Just how long, could it truly stand? The few worthy faces here would be just the same no matter where he went. Just as scarce. Just as many. But when the oak burns away to ash and the others are naught but dust... When he's pulled along to the next of these worlds, he'd imagined... he'd pull Mallowlark along with him.

But the closeness returns, and suddenly, there's no need to worry. His own reddened face may lift with the return of that familiar gladness. And, he's been holding his breath, he realizes. With the sigh of Mallowlark's breath, he releases his own; loosening the coils around his chest. He blinks the glassiness from his eyes. Banishes it, swift. It was not something Mallowlark deserved. he would be okay. For him, if nothing else.

He would not allow himself to be shaken by trivial sadness. No, he stands still; blinks something entirely different from moon-lit hues once his salvation is stowed in the maw of the other. Stars lining his vision. The turmoil is the same– regret, that their time would be cut so short. Off the cusp of a loss, both literal and not quite so, he isn't sure what he could want more, than a night in star-studded comfort. The distance between them only seems to yawn wider. Even if they sat nose-to-nose, the distance was always there. Separation by design.

With the ever-looming inevitability in place, he pays attention to what he has. He does not allow himself to look away, (and where else would he look, but into the depths lain right in front of him?) He too, sits unblinking, refuses to leave a moment of the precious time they held together. And– what a tragedy it would be, if he had missed the look on his face. By far, the closest thing he's seen to a face that didn't speak never-ending joy, and yet, still very much a grin. Dawnglare snorts, before erupting into giggles, stifled only by his desire to keep still as Mallowlark rested on him.

Lips bitten, he shifts to nudge his cheek against Mallowlark's. "Oh– I would've mourned for seasons if you'd passed before I could see that." he says, and his own muzzle wrinkles with the proclamation. Silly, in that, it implies he would not mourn otherwise. Mourning, he was, but in this moment, he could find no better distraction. He heaves a sigh, wonderfully, and miraculously, content; even though it would not last.​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

It was laughter like never before- yet familiar in its intensity. Cackles came frequently to him, often incessant in onslaught, but never was it as genuine as it was in this company, heavenly company. Melodic dissonance from his lips, discordant chords crackling with the campfire of joy. Quickened breath left him in floods, tidal wave of it, flowing from him- tears prickling at the corners of his gaze, hiccuping his breath, but it was all vivacious in nature, vibrant and brimming with adoration and amusement.

How quickly- quick as the moon rose- did his tune change. Sadness had been palpable in the air before, intense and lingering, but now- now he could concentrate on nothing but what a display he had just performed, and the fact that Dawnglare joined him in harmonious giggles, and how wonderful that sound was. Spiralling thoughts, ascending loveliness- the dance of their laughter heaven-bound was all he needed to heal. The catmint was forgotten, though taken.

Dying, dying down- though he tried to grip it, the giggles fell and fell until they were nothing but aftermath. Muffled mumbles, still joyful, less intense. How hard it would be to lift his head from Dawnglare's shoulder... though time ticked, and Sootstar would surely be keen to leave the Gathering, urgency felt like unnecessary cruelty. The nights grew colder, and yet Dawnglare stayed warm. Just being near him was warmth enough, as if the nature sang siren's song to keep him here. Persuade him he didn't need to leave. That everything he needed lay here, under the moon, with him. He leant into the touch. "W-well, I'm glad I got sick then," wind-chime words, airy as laughter.

Every shadow eventually lead to light, no matter how long it stretched. That attitude was taught, and lay within his smile and his outlook. It was why, even with the sunlight in his heart, the moon beckoned him home. Home to the moor, he supposed. If home had to be there, and it did, because it always had been. The acidic gaze of the moor's temporary queen would search for him, and if she did not find him...

"I love you," he murmured, softening the blow as he lifted his head from Dawnglare's shoulder. The first inch of separation that inevitably lead to many more. "Thank you, so much." The sincerity shone from his smile, because the adoration in his heart knew no boundaries and yet had to be contained somehow. Every ion of it that he could feel was given in that grin.

Tilt of the head. "I have to... you know." Lingering, lingering- why he did so, he knew. Once he had not, but it was love, wasn't it? Who knew something so wonderful had the capacity to be so abyssal. Every time they split apart he felt as if he was leaving a larger chunk of himself here, kissed by moonlight and speaking to the earth- eventually, there'd be none of him left to go back to WindClan.​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

So much more like the Mallowlark he knew, laughter falls swiftly, but never fleeting. Always, Dawnglare will relish in the plentiful joy. The howls in the night, no matter how they may persist, always send a pleasant rumble to his mind. There's comfort in the way that he's always singing. Shoulder to lean on, a constancy sturdier than stone. The pierce of that cry was always familiar, and in this way, always good. He doesn't think he would ever tire of it. He doesn't think he could.

Moonlight-pale form shakes with the weight of Mallowlark's joy, and Dawnglare is here to support him all the same. Smiling through it all– relishing in this brief reprieve. Steady, still for the first time since yesterday's moon had fallen. Not so hollow, not so much a shell. In any matter of moments, Dawnglare would become a willing pillar for him, but the stone would never reach his face. He would never find himself so cruel as to not laugh along with him. A gift to his ears and his mind. Who would he be if he left that joy unreciprocated?

His prelude into the laughter, and the fall-off behind. That was beautiful too. The wheeze of well-spent breath. He felt it was where it belonged, ghosted across the velvet of his cheek. Closer, Mallowlark comes; and it was more than ghosting, now. He huffs subdued amusement. Mallowlark's sentiment is ridiculous. Illness could sweep one into its feverish heat in moments. It was not to be toyed with, tested, or tried. But strangely, he found himself agreeing, all the same. What may have happened otherwise? Or rather... what may not have happened?

The pull of time never dragged with Mallowlark. It always moved too quick, too fervent, and more than ever he feels that now. They hadn't the time to dally, he knew, but still, he pushes his luck. The greatest of shame, for Mallowlark to be bound by a witch so... frugal.

And so, with their separation, he does not argue, though he does pout. But Mallowlark is gentle with the knowledge they both share. No matter their willingness to not abide. He knows it's mutual... The words tell him so. "I love you too." Spoken with a smile that wars to stay on. So unlike Mallowlark's own. The sight of his bright smiling face makes his own just that bit wider. The thanks is half-acknowledged. If only because, he could not imagine a universe where he would have stood idly by. "Always."

Dawnglare huffs. He's known. He's expected... but he scowls all the same at the thought. "Yes." suddenly grit between his teeth. Yes, he knew. No fault of their own, these circumstances. And still, he did not want the final note to be a sour one... He fixes his face, not quite smiling, but it spells... resignation, begrudging acceptance, something along those lines... Their time was ending. He twists around, and witch his head, briefly nudges Mallowlark beneath his chin. Fur a frail willow, washed out red pressing to off-white; still, he sticks close. "Let's walk back together."​