OLEANDER ♡ BLAZESTAR

[DAWNGLARE]

Familiarity. Was not everyone susceptible to its effects somehow? In some way?

Oh, not even he was immune. Nevermind the mistakes. No matter the word. Dawnglare never understood, and would he ever? Made a fool to fit with the rest of them. Too well, does he take to forest life. Too quickly, does the sickness seep into his bones. And never before have there been so many others, so many jumbled words. His own word is now that against many. And– bitterness. At times, it creeps upon him sudden and swift. A stirring in his nest, quivering limbs as he stares ahead. They were nothing to him, of course he knew. Not a name, barely a story flashed in tandem with their woeful faces. He long outlived them, both relatively, and completely. It is nothing to worry about. Nothing to think about

Still, perhaps desperately, it is a familiarity he clings to. He cannot remember the last time he's imagined a world without him. (And he hopes... He hopes that he will never have too.) Harrowing presence at his side. A familiar face still, if nothing else. Mutually, they would always owe eachother. Mutually, they always should. Blaise's mistakes could bring wonders along with him. He would not say that they did not.

Prey seems more than a scrap for the first time in moons. The bushy tail of a squirrel is snapped within his jaws, and, spotting a sundrop face within these walls, he slithers forward.

"Blaise," The thing is dropped at the others feet. Dawnglare makes a face at it, brows furrowed and lips pulled thin. Still, he is unsure how to feel about food, as things were... His draw to the squirrel was more out of curiosity; a fly in his mind that buzzed about oh, how fuzzy it was, oh, the ruddy sheen of its fur. Dawning on him that he'd be expected to rip it apart, well...

He sits beside him, and he hopes that he will stay. Dawnglare blinks. "I f-feel like I've seen less of you lately."

[ @BLAZESTAR ]​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar remembers his first meeting with Dawnglare -- before the Clans were even a thought, before a time he'd known love and loss and hardship. A shiny, transparent veneer separating the two of them as kitten paws press up to glass, plump and pink.

It's almost the same, now, he feels sadly. Dawnglare and now his son live a life separate from that of a leader, of a warrior. They walk closer with StarClan than they do any mortal cat, and Blazestar misses the days when he was Blaise and his friend was Valentine.

The sepia darkens his den entrance, and Blazestar looks up, fearing a strange complaint about something in camp, or an accusation of witchhood against some hapless she-cat. But Dawnglare arrives bearing a gift. A squirrel hangs limp from his jaws, a gift.

"Hi, Dawnglare." He sniffs the prey appreciatively. "Is something wrong?"

And a friend shouldn't ask that, should they? Dawnglare settles beside Blazestar, in a place where they can share prey. He feels the warmth of the medicine cat's flank, and blinks with surprise at his old friend. "I f-feel like I've seen less of you lately."

He can't help the purr that rumbles easily from his chest. "I could say the same of you, he says, reaching to take a bite from the squirrel. He chews lazily, forgetting formalities. "I feel like you're always gone. Whether you're looking for herbs or... going wherever you go at night." His tone is good-humored. "Some strange adventure I'm not privy too, I imagine?" He truly can't imagine. Dawnglare has always had strange ideas about the world and the way it works... without those thoughts, he wouldn't be him.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[DAWNGLARE]

Sweet relief sinks deep into his bones, and he can't quite place why. It's unassuming– Oh, he always is. Who would expect anything bad from the sun itself? Always there; trying, trying, even if its warmth could not stick in any given moment. There's more beneath the surface, though. More that happens behind the ripples of sky. It would all be shattered, someday. It's remains would streak across the sky. Burning fluid would rain upon them all, singe them where they could not reach, themselves.

Perhaps it is only the lightness of Blaise's purr that brings warmth. His chest does lots of twisting, as of late. To see certain others happy, it is not in a bad sort of way, pointless as it is. He doesn't remember what he'd been thinking about, before.

There's a crease of his face– confusion. A pale jaw is already parting in some sort of rebuttal. He wasn't away so often, was he? Perhaps leaf-bare had run him more ragged than initially thought. Dawnglare stares at him strangely, though, were Blaise's eyes to try and meet his own, he would quickly look away. Rest is not something he often neglects.

It wasn't so often. It wasn't that often. Was it?

His eyes crease at the corners, narrowed in a way that implies something impossible. "Hmm." His hum is flat, said with squinted eyes and pink lips pressed thin. It's idle chatter, something said between the bites of a meal. Not meant to be mulled over, not meant to be scrutinized. But for how much he loves the song of his own voice, he may not have said anything at all. What to say? It's a strange, base instinct, to smile. The corners of his lips quirk up, just slightly, and a chitter spilled loose. (Has he always done that? Has he taken it away– No, a habit to be shared?) "We are not so different..."

And why hide it? Wouldn't the sun want his subjects to be happy? He nearly does tell him, but he does not, and he is not sure why.

It's not as if that was the only thing he did. There was no reason not to tell. "I go lookin-g... listening for things, sometimes." He plays with his food more than he eats it, the way the fur puffs is pleasing to the eyes. "No one else can hear, though– Why bother...?" More often than not, is was Mother's lecherous things, cryiing out... But sometimes, sometimes, it was something pale and warm, so unlike their cold-blooded fronds. "Didn't– You used to do the same, didn't you?"​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar hardly notices the way Dawnglare pauses midway through their conversation, the way he takes an innocent remark and studies it as though it's a rare specimen of insect. The taste of meat is sweet on his tongue, and he's felt more relaxed than he has in far too long. Even with his children, he cannot let his guard down this much -- for he must be an example, always, except for in places where he's already failed to be one.

But Dawnglare expects nothing from him. Nothing probable, anyway. Nothing concrete. Blazestar snorts at his companion saying, "We are not so different..." "That's not how you used to feel. What's changed?" His purr rumbles once more, easy. "Has something humbled you at last?"

Dawnglare looks on the brink of something. A confession. Blazestar does not notice the gravity of it. He is incapable of imagining his best friend slipping through shadows unseen, masked by moonlight on hallowed grounds to seek secret thrills.

He holds no suspicions at all. Dawnglare's answer is typical. "Used to do the same?" He truly doesn't understand what he's talking about -- nothing has clicked for him. Dawnglare is cryptic, dancing around something, but he can't put his paw on what that something is. "Go wandering around at night? I mean..." He trails off. Sure. He had. "To the ThunderClan border," he murmurs, casting his gaze down at the bit of prey Dawnglare plays with. "But... those days are over. As you know."​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[DAWNGLARE]

Again, he pauses. Out of confusion, more than anything else, this time. A comment that gives him pause... Dawnglare sniffs. "I don't know what you mean." Half-confusion, half-accusation. Whatever humbling he referred to, he may only assume to be derogatory in some sort of way. Suspicious, but not overly so. Blaise was a fool. Dawnglare rolls his eyes. Fondness for something he could not name, maybe.

His gaze drifts to the side as Blaise continues his line of questioning. Cotton-headed. He mulls and mulls... Dawnglare is strangely patient, though. Unconsciously, he chews his lip. No hurry, really... No, no hurry. Perhaps he's breached uncomfortable territory. The both of them seem to still, a moment. There's distant birdsong, the call of Greenleaf. He hums distant agreement; allows himself to recall their days within twolegplace. The sun, unhindered, speaking of his strange night encounters. Danger it had seemed then. Danger, it had turned out to be. His fur's lost that once-familiar luster, but he supposes, it hadn't all been a loss...

Resigned to his fate as he may be, he would have never come without Blaise. His life is no less full of wretchedness. But it is no less full of companionship, either. He can hardly imagine a world in which he had stayed. Sky without a sun. The moon, too, would shine so bleakly without a canvas to paint. How had he ever loved it before...?

"I do." he says. Roots have lain in the wrong places... Anchored her to their land. He knows. He understands. The forest tends to tether its subjects to it. He is no different in that regard. Had it ever been a possibility in her mind? Or was she too far chained to the way her life has always been? Had she not loved enough? He would like to think Balise was not so much a fool. Of course, that did not make it reality.

Off-topic. It's not important. He did not quite luster, anymore. But he was still bright. Daybreak taken as it was, eventually, recovery had come. He would not unearth an old worm. Physically, he shakes himself, and the thoughts along with it. "I am not here to talk about that. I'm only here for you," he says; and after an eternity of staring, he bites into the prey.​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar smiles at Dawnglare's genuine confusion. "I don't know what you mean." "Usually it's the other way around," he purrs, butting his head against his friend's. It's rare for either of them to show affection openly toward one another -- but Blazestar remembers the medicine cat as a kit, gangly and soft as cotton, and his heart is warmed by the memory. Tiny paws separated by a sheet of invisible stone, translucent, spotted opaque only by their breaths.

He feels some of the momentary sorrow at Little Wolf's memory drain. Dawnglare tells him, "I am not here to talk about that. I'm only here for you." Tears gloss over his blue eyes, but he blinks them away. "I know you are," he says simply, watching Dawnglare begin to bite into the piece of prey, rather than mussing its fur.

Blazestar sighs. Even his positive interactions are colored dully now. Even his good memories are frayed and worn. But he brings his smile back, eager to flee the topic of his lost mate, his lost family. "How is Fireflypaw doing? With training?" His thick rosegold tail sweeps the floor of his den. "He certainly... has started to take after you," he jokes.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[DAWNGLARE]

Dawnglare scowls, dully aware now of this intention– to make him look a fool, is it not? It could be nothing less than a hyperbole; a joke on its own, even, to imply that Blaise's mind shined brighter than his own. If there was anything he would ever not understand, it would be due to the others own foolishness, and nothing else. If not seen rightly, the stars could blind a wayward soul. Blaise has found himself victim, again and again. Dawnglare's breath is held in silence, for a moment. He contemplates pulling the clouds right from his eyes.

But his thoughts melt away with the butt of Blaise's skull against his own. For a moment, he only stares, blank blue sky. He returns the gesture without further fuss. The irritation is gone as quickly as it had come. The ruddy tom huffs a breath.

The topic shifts then, to Blaise's child. So the same, and yet so different. Only void, in place of the sun itself itself. Into the bite of flesh, again, he would glower, namesake in this moment. "He is a-nnoying," Honestly, he answers, seeing no reason to keep such a thing from Blaise. For he should know that one would've never been picked to begin with, were he to be impishly and utterly unbearable. "Always, always, these things I would not ask. Oh, 'its messy,'" he mocks, and fiddles with his own paws. Idle complaints peter off with the hint of a hiss, tongue held between his teeth, feigned face of disgust.

Its a quizzical glare he regards Blaise with for a moment, trying to recall if he had been such a pestilence at Fireflypaw's age. With Blaise's comment, he'd grit his teeth in a grimace; genuine, rather than exaggerated. "...Quite," he drawls, and would roll his shoulders with an irate puff of air. "No one world should deserve two of me..." he says, chewing at the insides of his mouth. Oblivious, this one, to how another may interpret such words. "A paltry mimic, at best... He ought to rediscover himself, no matter how bad it may be." Tufted ears angle forward and back, as if said mimicry was to be creeping around this very corner.​