private SET IN STONE ♡ BERRYHEART

[DAWNGLARE]

His mood is left effectively dampered by the time they disperse. Not quite the catastrophe that was the first, but not quite a rendevous, either. The honey-tufted Windclanner was gone and replaced, but still, it seems she's had plenty of time with her apprentice beforehand– enough at least, to leave him greedy and begging for what he did not deserve. Frustrating, like the rest of them... almost.

He'd offered him all he was willing to share (not much, he'll tell you). Enough to satisfy for a while, he hopes... But for Thunderclan, that threshold was quite a bit different. Perhaps there was more he was willing to share... perhaps there was more he was obligated to, both by the stars and by his friend. He spots him– the mottled tom with an odd leg and slack jaw. Before he can get too, too far, Dawnglare picks up his pace. Snugly, he slides into a saunter beside him. His name– he could not remember; but faintly, he smelled of the kits who came toddling into Skyclan to be little more than nuisances. "Hi," he greets with a narrowed gaze. It's a drawl of a word, as if he isn't quite sure he'd like to spend time on him (and truly, he was not). "You're clueless, aren't you?

[ @BERRYHEART ]​

 

[BERRYHEART]

Small- he felt small, an increasingly frequent feeling as of the past few weeks. How frustrating to look at others and feel as if he was looking up at a point in his life where he had always hoped he would have all his doubts dampened; quiet, he began to take his leave. His mind thrummed with possibilities, with missed opportunities- the sound of it rare in his ears, the bloodied assault of doubt. What faith he had in the stars that had lead him here was occupied- with the clear tensions between each other, there was little of such faith left for his colleagues in healing. How foolish he had been to hope for neutrality.

The forest had seldom seemed so alluring- but, heading in the same direction, Berryheart hear footsteps. Mottled ears rose to attention, and a lopsided gaze befell the follower in question- Peepers, not quite living up to his alias with the way his day-hued eyes peered slitlike upon him. For but a moment, Berryheart paused- no other scents surrounded them, nor as much as a breath from another. His limping gait halted- he had been sought, though the question asked was far from one Berryheart had ever wished to hear.

That notion- he was not fond of it, though he could not say it was untrue. "Quite, in terms of medicine." A simple answer, it was given with a beat of hesitation though his tone levelled low and without inflection. In adulthood he had quite hoped he would not have to be the one seeking wisdom, though he supposed teaching never ceased. And an odd teacher, this one, if he was to interpret this correctly...​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

An acknowledging hum rumbles in his throat. He doesn't bother concealing the glimmer of satisfaction; upward curl of his lip at the admission. And suddenly, his face is blank; dead-eyed at the berry-splotched tom. There's a tap of his claw in contemplation; the jittering of his gaze, intense, and yet not quite focused. Undeniably helpful, the offer he's about to make. Wouldn't it be so soon to judge, too, if he was truly deserving? There was little to speak of in regards to... the judgment of character, besides the scent of mapled-oak and— at the least, not a bad first impression. Was it good? ...A different subject entirely.

But, patience. Patience. It was a quality Blaise taught, and sported well (nearly too well. It will be the death of him, won't it?) perhaps, it was something to practice in these rare moments. There's a click of his tongue. Decision. "Then— allow me to... to propose..." Nearly wrong on his lips, the words need... coaxing. This one, one of few words. There wasn't much of a need to say more than he had to, but still, he justifies. For himself, more than any other. "Don't— d-do not... mistake," a sudden hiss of a warning, before mellowing into strange sonnet. "I am not here to offer service, but rather... privilege. " spoken with wide eyes and a flick of his tail.

"I have... associations with Thunderclan. ...Indirectly," he adds; finds it important to add as such. A deep breath, and his gaze flickers out toward the forest; stuck somewhere for too long. "I will steer you down the right path..." hesitantly, he says. Then, pitch-and-flame tom is fixed with a look. "Are we agreed?"​

 

[BERRYHEART]

His words were confusing, wrapped in fascination. How both could coexist in a tone was beyond him, but truly- service and privilege, the mere offer of knowledge? Such was forever a privilege, given in service from one to another. Could it not be both? In his days of gathering all intelligence he could, Berryheart had long learned that many had terms for their wisdom- Peepers requested a separation between service and privilege, that which he could offer. Therefore, at the notion came a nod of his head- assurance that he would make no mistake, that he would indeed view this... this, as privilege.

Steered down the right path. A look of bemusement crossed his crooked expression; he was no kit in need of guidance. Full grown for well over twelve moons now, Berryheart had become unused to being talked down to. At a certain age it ceased, and yet in this new role it felt as if so many looked at him as if he were as small as a newborn. Still, talk of vague connection intrigued him- and then he remembered the words spoken after his nieces and nephews had been born, the story of Shady's flight from the camp into the arms of a medic she was unafraid of, the medic who served the Clan of her lover. Here he was. "You were the one that helped my sister," he noted, finding it important to note his acknowledgement of that connection. Was that perhaps the stem of his inquiry? Or was he clueless to the fact that his leader's kin was also Berryheart's?

Peepers lived up to his name then, settling his gaze upon him. Were they agreed? Well, it would be folly to turn down aid from someone who his kin had trusted before. His agreement was offered- the nod of his head.​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

Easy to listen and quick to learn... He certainly isn't the same lost cause as the others. He's thankful– no, pleased, for he already knows how to pick something of value. Can assess what is and isn't worthless with the wave of a paw, and, his thoughts confirmed, he is satisfied. Sharp nod at the uttering of his word. Nothing more, nothing less, as it should be. And, what he says... "Huh?" Neutral tone, his jaw slackening with the expression. Family ties were lost on him, really, but he can name only one Thunderclanner he's ever helped, and– "Oh. Oh," the repetition– words truly sinking in– comes with the brightening of his eyes. Chirping words, partly a drawl, partly exclamation. "Yes, her. The little miss...!"

Pleased, pleased. What a tale (not coincidence, nor happenstance; for the stars saw all they did, and slid pieces into place accordingly). Kin of his friend's... by association, anyways. Happy accident, in the eyes of a nonbeliever. His smile twists on his face. "We have a bit to do together, then..." remarked with a purr. Another nod from a mottled head, then. Sealing this deal, set in stone, agreement for some time, and he is fine with it. More fine with it than he has expected to be. Blaise's happiness is his own, and, well...

Whisk of his tail, and off and away. Here, the towering oaks prove more of a burden than anything else. Step to the side, no, again, and there it is. The half moon, sliced right in half, its other side laying a corpse somewhere in the expanse of the sky. Again and again, this cycle of ripping itself apart, before it reforms anew. Bird from the ashes, spark in the dead of night. Powers beyond imagining. He's nearly jealous, this one. Settling again, his paws tuck beneath his tail, clouds lying heavy atop bleached paws. He puffs a breath, and it chills in the night air. "Now..." His words linger for a moment too long. "What do you know of the land, hm? Has your mind been poisoned?"​