PATHS TO PARADISE, BEGIN IN HELL | dawn

[ThistleBack]

" Dawnglare " he greets the large willowy-furred wizard of herbs and word, confusing strands of emotional depth, perspective, and indifference sewn up into a cat. Won by the affections of a Windclanner so long ago, and having finished the training of his perfect little mini-me with Blazestar’s blind son.

Yet, held with high esteem and love for Dawnglare despite not so verbally displayed, out of respects to the memory of their shared friend and duties fulfilled to their clan. The medicine cat was a master of herbs, and he that of claws and battle. Their paths crossed surprisingly little during the thirty moons they had shared a home. Yet, history threaded them together.

The sun had drowned, the sky above his ears full of stars glittering across the eternal darkness. He stands before the medicine den, a man who knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight due to the ache in his shoulders. Fortunately the night was young, he was hoping to catch the medicine cat before he was lost to sleep. Wait, did Dawnglare sleep easy? Surely not, he was more of a bat than a cat.

" I don’t need any… medical attention- well, maybe I do but… I’m no soft-paw " he waves off any suspicions, nose pinched from the thick herbal scent. He hated the smell, he thinks of words to coax the creature from its shadows. " I’d like to talk with you. I’m no Mallowlark but, surely I’m not terrible company " he attempts, a smirk twitching at the edge of his maw. He felt like he was slapping swamp waters trying to bring out an alligator .

⛤ OOC INFORMATION REFERENCE ⛤

• — @DAWNGLARE
  
  
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  forty-eight mns. EVENT TRACKER | IMPORTANT INFO
  — Former Lead warrior of Skyclan 12.22.22 - 06.2023
  — Father of Coyotecrest, Eveningsun and Scorpionpaw
  — mentoring Teeveepaw formerly Snowpath & Quillstrike
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
  — voice & accent
  — biography･ﾟ✧​
  OPEN for Dice battles | stine#3004
  
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[DAWNGLARE]

He greets him by his name. Dawnglare greets him with a word. " You. " uttered with such passionate non - feeling that it could not be true. Not for one that he's known for all these moons... Not for one of the few that had stood at Blazestar's side, and that Dawnglare felt no great distaste for, in turn. To say that Blazestar made this decision in sound would be to say the blind worm chose the finest herb to nestle on. Unknowable, his criteria had always been. Thistleback had always stood strangely amount them all, the ill - tempered brutes and the wicked witches... Perhaps he and Blazestar had much in common, intrinsically attached to that which poisoned them.

Oh yes, Dawnglare certainly knew his name... and yet the puncture of a lack of one; lips forming that O and the slow lift a skull toward its summoner seemed most fitting for him. Especially at this hour; the skies eyes out for the night. He may pretend that he is winding down... that his eyelids are leather and so too are his paws — but he is restless, and that fact has not left him for some sunrises. Perhaps for some moons. What would steady the shaking of his paws would be the plush coat of his mate, rather than any sort of dream - seeking, but even then.... It's all dwindling, isn't it? Was it not enough, anymore? It ought to be. It really ought to.

Still, he would rather not put himself to work, if he could help it. No, he would rather... stare at the wall, he supposes. Rather duck beneath the stars in the sky — all he did as of late. With respite form the sun comes glimmerings from the stars. With respite from the stars comes blazing for the sky. He is being watched. They tell him plainly, with a prickle up his spine. She is silent. Mother is silent.

Thistleback grants him this mercy: no calling to a job that does not way him. Well, Maybe I do... And Dawnglare's gaze flickers up and down, dredges the nooks of shadows and the crannies of night - dimmed white. Fine. He looked fine. And why should he bother with this at all? Dawnglare says nothing; wrinkles his nose. I'd like to talk with you. Surprise garners his gaze once again. I’m no Mallowlark but, surely I’m not terrible company. And what was that?

...Who knows what goads him forward. Perhaps it was that the tom in question already snored soundly, and Dawnglare would find no solace in his murmurings tonight. A blink, then two, and he is stepping forward, regarding Thistleback with a narrowed gaze in passing. " I could certainly be worse off, " he says. He need not name names... " Whatever about? "

OOC: ignore how terribly late this is

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