( ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ ) These poor Skyclanners were clueless, their pelts mangy and sense of style even worse for ware. As someone from a greater origin, it's up to him to distinguish right and wrong from them. He'd like to have a little faith, to believe that anyone from the same place would possess the same sense of style. But unfortunately, this isn't the case.

Foul, ugly, wretched and green, these all describe the travesty that wrapped itself snug around Harpy's neck. Foolishly, they almost seem proud of it, in a fashion Dawnglare couldn't possibly imagine. Poor poor soul, he needed to be steered in the... right direction.

Kind as he is, he takes it upon himself, disappearing come night time only to return in the day with star-bleached silk tied around his neck. Blue and brilliant, it beats out the mangy green by default. Sinuous ribbon hangs dutifully where its tied, its sway and curve perfect in the eyes of many. Today, he enters Skyclan in a grand fashion, descending from a branch with a thunderous sort of sound. "Good day, Skyclan," he rumbles, tone casual aside from the subtle lilt of his voice, the sing-song that accompanies it, the low hum as he adjusts the tail-end of misty ribbon with a white paw. Yes, yes, it's all very natural...

[ @HARPY , no need to wait <3 ]

Dawnglare's dramatic entrance elicited a snuffing chuckle from Daisy Flight. A silken weave strangled his throat, its sloping shimmer catching the bright sun. The colour openly evoked the imagery of the night sky and the queen couldn't help but speculate that might be on purpose. A tie to Starclan and all that... questionable stuff.

What had spurred this smug accessorisation, she had no idea. Instead, she simply rose a proverbial brow. "You're looking particularly pleased today. Might it have anything to do with the bold decoration you sport?" The laughter in her voice remained, dramatically piquing as she obviously eyed the navy strip that crowned his shoulders. "I thought you allied more with the celestial than the twolegs?" It was a trend Daisy Flight saw more between the visiting kittypets than any forest-dwelling folk. Though, she supposed Dawnglare was unique in every classification.
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The lilting voice of Dawnglare never fails to rub Harpy's fur the entirely wrong direction, his weaving paws faltering. Today, the thick fool dons a ridiculously extravagant ribbon. Although, the petty undertones of the dramatic gestures he does not quite comprehend... He just assumes it to be Dawnglare's annoying personality. Harpy simply rolls his eyes, moreso at Dawnglare's presence than the actual ribbon itself, a thick-furred tail tip twitching as he turns back to his work and continues to reinforce the nursery. "Is binn béal ina thost..." He mutters to himself, eyes narrowing. "Off with you and your lousy lump, don't you have more important duties to attend to? Gathering leaves, b'fhéidir?"
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Shell has been trying her best to get used to the camp, of all the noise and new bustling chatter. The noises scared the young child, but yet she finds solstice in sticking to Harpy’s side like a lost dog. Its the one thing of comfort she had besides her little ribbon around her neck, being with the cat that first found her after her parents said they had to leave. She still doesn’t know why they went away.

Her father- Harpy rumbles something in annoyance and she peeks out from her little hiding spot, coming to scamper next to Harpy and bury herself in his fur, only barely looking at Dawnglare. The guy was scary to her, but he had a little bandana just like her, just like Harpy, so she looks up at him in questioning. “Is… binn beal ina thost!” she repeats his mutter in a very broken way, eyes wide as she looked back and forth between Dawn and Harpy once more. “He looks silly.” she does not mean it in a bad way as she speaks quietly, he’s silly just like Harpy and her! She thinks, at least.
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"He looks stuffed." Tugger growls as he approaches, keen on leaving out before the day's hustle and bustle began, though his dislike for SkyClan's alleged 'prophet' gets the better of him. With a silk ribbon tied around his throat and his saucer-plate eyes wide and innocent, the mocha medicine cat reminds Tugger most distinctly of a teddy bear that had once laid on his humans' bed before he had thrown the stupid thing to the floor to make more room for himself. He has half a mind to do the same with Dawnglare, though he is unsure whether or not he would be punished for the action - however justified it definitely was.

He contents himself with the thought, however, as he marches past the growing group. Best not to give the idiot any more attention than he already has, lest his stupid head will explode from the ego-pumping. At least he wasn't like that, his pedigree was real and therefore he had a reason to be proud of his own appearance, unlike some cats...
✦ ★ ✦
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He's less than pleased to see Daisy flight's split face within his view, expression set in something amused as she addresses him. Far from a fool, Dawnglare still gazes down on her, unafraid to let his guard down, to play her silly little mind games. Games they certainly are, as her next words are particularly empty-headed. Cloud-headed, stupid. A glare that gleams death, that is what the queen receives, slit eyes and lips pressed thin.

Deer's words are far more agreeable. His tail fluffs upward in a dismissive motion toward Daisy Flight, instead, he addresses the cream-fleced molly. His tail is an air-light flutter on the wind. "Quite,” is the reply she draws from him, low and sweet song like a dream. He turns around in a pose... isn't quite right. He turns. He turns... he turns... he turns... Shapes and color, liquid ribbon... ehe.

—Stops as a familiar shade of ugly encroaches on his thoughts, that nasty green thing greets him dead in the eye. Blue eyes blow wide as moons, cinnamon-flecked ears pin against his skull. He stares. The universe halts and...

...doesn't start again until Tugger speaks, because he doesn't know what the hell the other two are saying. Lips pull taught in a grimace in the presence of these judging few. Malice and confusion muddle together in a brilliant mind. Cretins, sinners, folk made of shadowstuff, the tongues they spoke. 'He looks stuffed.' Dawnglare blinks despairingly, jaws parted slightly as thoughts fall to nothingness. "...?