Figpaw's voice whines like a gnat in his ear. What he'd give to rip her tongue clean off with no further effort needed but that very thought. Too-far, though, and too kind– he directs the burning to his friend, instead. (Was that what he was, a friend? Or did he only have the pale body beside him to rely on?) Mallowlark is heaven's oasis within a howling pit of living filth. He smiles through it all, and what monster could possibly do the same? (Stupid, the assumption is stupid.) Holy thing in the face of a nightmare. And that itself works strangely. To think this wasn't a thing borne of sleep-addled stupor. The screams, the shrieking– he's heard it all, but never would he have thought–
His heart jumps as Blazestar hisses back to him. It only shows in the slight widening of his eyes. His teeth are still bared, the hellfire still flaming, but oh, something about it makes him want to gouge out his own eyes and peel his own skin clean off. "And I tell you, he is no enemy! Listen! Listen, listen, listen, for once!" A hint of desperateness dips into his words. His mouth is moving quicker than he can think, now. It's falling apart. Blaise's face falls into this hollow vessel like it kills him. Dawnglare knows better. Oh, he knows.
I never would have denied you a mate, you fool, A fool for what? What, possibly–? "What do you think you're doing now, then? What? Do you think I picked the wrong one?" He bristles at the words he's stuffed into Blazestar's own mouth, furious at that very idea, the proclamation– "Open your ears! You're saying it now," he spits, eyes flared wide in his indignance. Was he so frail and broken that he couldn't grasp his own words on his sharpened tongue? Liar, liar. Dawnglare won't think what he wants him to think. He's choking on his own spit. He wanted to claw at his own chest.
And anger gives way to an unplaceable fear with each passing second. Blaise sinks into himself as if his own foolishness wasn't the thing pushing the other away. Dawnglare cannot move for a moment. Cannot speak– He's thinking of green pastures and tiny feet treading upon them, ideas preached from the gait that wound round them all.
He returns to put a paw in between his mate and Blazestar, eyes rounded with newfound distrust. And, confusion when– "What?" Heavy-boiled shock is not subtle on his face. A parted jaw and bewildered eyes is what he meets Blaise with. When did this become about choices? "Or?" he echoes. "Nothing is keeping me from you both but your own tragic self," he bites, growing louder with every word, now. Distress rings clear on his face. Frantic paws rap at the ground. Bristled fur gives him the appearance of a frightened beast; backed into a corner, nearly ready to begin slashing at anything he could just for the sake of it. "Why must it be either or, Blaise? Are you so stupid? So insecure–?" He swallows the bile in his throat. "T-to think that I– that I can't care about you both?"
Silence follows after that crescendo of voice. Nearly trembling limbs, he stares fear-faced. Whatever it was he was shaking with did not last. Oh so slowly, his fur begins to flatten along his spine. He grounds himself in the earth below, gripping, then not. His eyes are scrunched into something pitiful, but he continues to wear his frown. He's tired.
"You're a damned fool," he hisses the words with the last receding traces of his anger, and he'd turn his head to the rest of them. "All– every last one of you."
Dawnglare is in no hurry to turn back to Blazestar; and when he does, his eyes are hollow. Never in all his life would Dawnglare heal any rogue. Any WindClanner, any RiverClanner– none of them are so important. But upon Blazestar's own empty-headed terms, he supposes his loyalty would be long gone. "Loyalty means nothing to you, so why keep trying?"
He flicks his tail dismissively, and with a hollow sigh, he sinks back into the warmth of Mallowlark's side. It's all he would need.
