THE MOON'S OUR MIRRORBALL \ dawnglare

[MALLOWLARK]

He would not be late, would not miss him, not this time. And how, how he had missed him! That gaping crevice grew more void by every gathering and every moon-touched meeting that passed, and... though the brightness still shone through on the moor, he found he much preferred being here, with him. Found that every night the temptation to purloin the moon, prop it up in the ink-soaked sky and keep it there was more fierce than ever. Before he had gone to sleep each night, he had touched his nose to the long-withered leaf, frost-dressed, and bid it quiet goodnight so that the message might take to a tango and trot all the way to SkyClan. But never was that assurance good enough... never did the dreams compare to being near him, and never did the gatherings suffice for how close he wanted to be.

Oh, he was unused to this sort of yearning! It was a funny feeling, for what more could he want? He had Dawnglare's love, and that was enough. It was selfish, greed to want for more when he was so unsure of what more could be. He had thought he'd wanted the other half of his tail back, but now- that seemed hardly like wanting at all.

Arriving to their meeting place, he let his grey eyes flutter closed, letting the sounds of this place lull him into relaxation from his runaway thoughts before his phantom arrived. The patter of paw steps, once they finally grew closer, would be met with an instantaneous look of wide-eyed, dog-fanged glee, a move of attention so fast it was a wonder he did not snap his own neck.

/ @DAWNGLARE ​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

He missed him dearly, indescribably so. The Gathering of yesterday's moon had been a breath of fresh air he hadn't known he'd needed, but at the same time, so, horrifically stifling. The air was nearly stale, unfit for breathing, at least by him– by either of them. A wonder it was, how the same place could shift so drastically under the light of the very same moon. Taken for granted, it was. The bodies that wove together within the clearing were blissfully unaware of the joy it could bring, caught up in their worldly trials and tribulations. It was good. He would rather they didn't know, didn't tell. They deserved only the unforgiving chill of leaf-bare. Nothing like this.

Mallowlark's smile is blinding, set upon him, suddenly so. Seeking its maker, brilliantly something– more than something. The thoughts jumble in Dawnglare's mind. His own smile would never be quite so captivating, but he smiles all the same. The skipping in his heart to finally take in a moment alone; it nearly douses the smolders of his ever-warring anger. Nearly, but his priorities take hold... for now.

"Mal-low-lark ♪" Singing greeting, because he was happy. He does not waste a moment, meeting Mallowlark with a touch of his nose to his. So like that night bathed in blood. So like the night prior, but no sense of urgency was needed. He could remain for as long as he wished, night permitting. "Hi." He blinks wide at him, moonlit pools against those silver planes. Obnoxiously close. Though Mallowlark would not find it so, he knows. Holy matrimony, the purest of joy, despite the twitching of his tail tip or the scars he now bore...

And Dawnglare's thankful that Mallowlark no longer reeked of sickness, healthy again. He smelled like the very sky itself. Open and whole, not bogged down by sap or pine. He knows. He knows it's gone, but just in case– "You– you're better? Yes?" He pulls away, only to closer examine him; the drag of icecap eyes. Clear as the snow that had, at last, retreated from their dens. And there's a prickling in his spine. Reminder that, if he were to fall ill again, his ability to take care of it has been... diminished. Of course, he's sure those things stolen were with the intent of using it for their own. He does not trust their excuse of a healer to give any worthwhile care. He was not sure if Mallowlark truly qualified, either which way. "They didn't send you on that little..." A pink tongue swipes across his teeth. "...mission, did they?" He knew they hadn't, of course; but still, foolish anxiousness.​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

What wonderful symphony on the breeze, warming up the cryogenic air... never had he known how sweet his own name could sound. Truly, he could listen to Dawnglare speak forever- and every time he said his name, dulcet and sing-song, he tumbled more and more into the depths of affection he felt. Every time he thought he was as in love as he could ever be, Dawnglare would hum that melody of Mallowlark and he would be proven wrong.

Last night had been a heavy relief, a relaxation of tension that he'd held since the missed meeting, since he'd heard of the raid. It felt strange, almost, to see him wholly alright- alive, cherished, heavenly breath pluming from his lips. He was not unharmed, though- the small patch of wound-webbing, gauzed over what could only be an injury, had caught his gaze the night before. Whoever had done it... he was unused to the magma of anger that swirled crimson in his chest, scarlet bubbling.

At the touch of a nose he was soothed again, letting his eyes drift closed for a moment as a soft sigh slid through his fangs. "Hiii," he crooned, warmed, close. Close as he wanted to be, no eyes to prevent him from everything he wanted. Everything in one place, because everything was Dawnglare. He nodded quick, an answer wordless, confirming his cured state. Nothing bogged down his ability to breath now, no crackle of a cough caught in his throat, and it was all thanks to Dawnglare. Healing touch, healing presence...

Ah, but he had wondered how long it would be before it was mentioned. The raid, the... thievery. Treachery brought upon his lands, harming the only one who mattered to him in that moment. Slate eyes settled upon Dawnglare's face, wide, watching him for any sort of reaction. "No, no," he answered, thankfulness a sigh with his words. "I kept as quiet as I could when they were rallying! I don't usually get put on patrols, but- but I really didn't want to risk it. I..."

He felt his words running away from him, but he could not deny the worry that wracked him and the guilt that grasped a path through his guts. "They- hurt you, though, I- I should have been there, so I could have... stopped it." What a misbegotten decision that would have been! Daylight betrayal before an entire patrol, but he knew he would have done it. In some other universe, one almost-the-same as this one, he knew he had. Overcome with the need to, he leaned forward to press his cheek against Dawnglare's. Tender, cherishing- reassuring, reinforcing that he was here. ​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

He was never quite ready for it. The overwhelming affection, the softness that calmed his blood and reduced bone to something supple. Stark, nearly embarassingly so, emotions so easily manipulated. Feeling he would always keep to, and stay by no matter the thoughts of any hard-headed fool. What was it that it took? A smiling face, eyes that made the very stars sing praises. One in a million, it had be. Shameless in the way he felt, and that budding love was more than a part of it. A piece he hated to miss, and missed all the more the longer it went unrealized. And did Mallowlark deserve anything but this? He didn't think so. No.

He was denying nothing, for the shift was as true as anything else. The song of his greeting prompts a smile, and deeper, giddiness. His skin buzzes with the same thrill he met the moon with. Itching, itching. Like this, he could hardly imagine feeling anything else. The bliss of togetherness. It only passes all too quickly... Dawnglare is relieved then, with the news– all of it. That unevenness gone, his fur left unscathed. The words, pitched high, gasp along regardless.

And Dawnglare listens, oh he listens. Twitching in his face, like he can't quite settle on just one. There's the pressing of his smile, sincerest of relief, but his eyes narrow crudely, still. Difficult, so difficult to think of. Pitiful beyond imagining, that in truth, their efforts were organized. Their blasphemy was well-known, and well-carried through. It was no mistake... And had it been, they would be struck down for their sins, regardless. The things he would offer to be the bringer of it himself... Oh, he hoped, and he prayed. Rare mistake of the stars, to offer power at the tips of of those claws. Hardly deserving and wholy misused Wishful, dreaming. To sit still was at times, no less than torture. What face too make? His eyes furrow further and his smile narrows, sharp. He could never achieve that same sense of joy, but it was there. Unwavering, was Mallowlark's but he could not say the same.

His eyes had wandered, he realizes, and iced luminaries are set upon that grin again. Him, hurt. Sudden insecurity, that ugly thing pressing into skin. Again, he glances away. Only a fleeting second, before his adoration is won over again. A battle there was no need to fight, and still, it always won. Unconscious, really; his claws are scraping at the clumps of hardened frost-hardened ground. "S-stopped it? You?" Not condescending, but increadelous. His smile breaks, and suddenly he's wide-eyed and gaping. The fool, what could he have done? Oh, he would've hardly wanted that. Standing by to watch one of his flea-bitten clanmates damage a face more valuable than anything they'd ever have? And what would he have been left to do then? Blaise would not be happy with him, no.

Frozen solid in Her winter. Oh, he can't move. The scratches ache and his face burns. Stillness, until there isn't. The touch of a cheek is what brings him out of it, blinking and jaw slack like a thing opening its eyes for the first time. He melts. He melts so easily. His jaw snaps closed, and he swallows his bile. Dawnglare would never need saving. Not really, truly– no. But it's a thing unimaginable, that knowing this, Mallowlark says this anyway. His wound burns. "Th-they'd have taken you away, y-you know..." Mallowlark knew, didn't he? What use was a dog who did not follow their pack's lead? What use was a dog who was not a dog at all? "And...a-and they'd have to t-take me away, too..." For he knows nothing good would have come. From his own mouth; from his own teeth.

And it almost sounds like heaven. Both away from this place, where the very rules of this life were what kept them together. Bound by fate, was he. But oh, what was Mallowlark bound by...? Impatient, insistent; Dawnglare nudges closer. "I'd have taken you away..." He deserved more than this. More than anger and sadness. How would he spare him? How could he? The thoughts ran and ran. A heavy sigh. He does not mean to push or to prod. He only... wishes things. He only prays."And t-they wouldn't be able to bastardize us any longer..."​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

Hearing him then, shock striking his voice like shattered porcelain- it brought a small bout of giggles from him, as quiet, emerging as quiet as he could hope to make them. Like the trill of a bird, songlike, tuneless all at once. He could not help his amusement, could not help how funny it all made him feel. How much he wanted to have stopped it- and how silly it was that he should even think it possible! What a traitor he would be, no matter what he did! Standing by, watching- even cutting down a couple Skyclanners, tearing them up only for the one he wanted to live more than anyone else to have to fix them up. And what if he'd turned? Latched grinning jaws around other moor-dwellers, tore them asunder for daring... well, he would have been cast to the side near-immediately. At best.

It would have been a sight no matter what, wouldn't it? A spectacle! The picture brought his laughter more, beckoned by love's proximity and warmth. A silly, silly thought- one that would have left him nowhere. Nowhere but at Dawnglare's side, perhaps. Wherever they went. And it seemed that the dawn-painted tom at his side had a similar idea, for as he hummed his quiet agreement, confirmation he did indeed know, he listened to Dawnglare's sighing serenade. Humming of heaven, melodic- a place where they were nowhere but away, and with each other.

Away was here, and yet- a different image flashed in his mind. One of the two of them in daylight, warmed by each other and the sun's kind rays. Sunlight caressing them, as they spoke, words winding into the lost time of the day. And- and that time would never be lost, truly. Not with him- with Dawnglare, time would always be cherished and well spent, and there would never, ever be enough of it. Even someplace away...

Affinity, affection- he met Dawnglare's closeness readily, nuzzling into the plush of his fur and the enamouring embrace of being near him. That pine-scent; one he was meant to hate, but could never hope to. Not even if he was demanded by a thousand voices- forever would he succumb, willingly, to what it was he loved. Did that make him a traitor? "Maybe I should've done it then," he hummed, something of a joke, though truth lay veiled within his words. "It sounds like a dream."

Funny, how many times he brought up dreaming. Being with Dawnglare was like living in dreams, walking through their mist- light of stars on their pelt, the bones in the earth whispering their approval. When they had first met- back, back, back then- he'd thought Dawnglare an apparition. Reverie in feline form. And then... how wonderful it had been to discover that bones and flesh and blood made him up, made him... here. "I could see you in the sunlight," he hummed simply, as if that was the only thing that would be wonderful about it. And- it was not the only thing, but how wonderful it would be! He had only ever seen him moon-kissed, and however beautiful that was, he found he wanted to see Dawnglare whenever he possibly could. So willing for betrayal for that... for a bit of sunlight. But he meant it, meant every word, meant more than ever.​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

With his company, Dawnglare's voice lulls into a purr, rattling slight against his bone. The wind carries shivering excitement along with it. There's happiness that comes with the realization of those words. Deeper meaning; perhaps, that havoc would be wrought in his name. Dedication. And that was truly love, wasn't it? Not caring about the rest. A mere minuscule matter relative to what you loved. It's all he's ever wanted, to be subject to that undying affection. His smile is giddy. Giddy, and his voice shutters in a close-lipped giggle. Always, forever warm at Mallowlark's side.

"You– you should have," Dawnglare agrees. Crook of his neck as, unconsciously, he wills the other closer. His smile creases iced eyes into crescent moons. Humorous, it always was. But the deeper truth is not lost. His own words are entirely genuine, even caked with the lilt of laughter (for he could never truly find himself upset with that shining face.He would never want to imply disappointment). The fright; a face veiled in shadows. A repeat of that night, stood still in blood-tinged light. Oh, He would have liked to see it. Perhaps he could dream... There, an agreeing hum.

"First chance I'd get, y-you'd be...." A paw lifts in an aborted gesture, unsure of what it even wished to reach for. Something at the tip of his tongue. Selfish desire, declared, secure. Even now, there was little keeping him from doing just that, aside from Mallowlark's own wishes, that is. A sickening attachment, plague in nature; but it was one that he himself could not cure. Dawnglare knew better than him (of course, as always). It was not the fear of wrongness, but rather, the fear of displeasedness. He holds it close to his heart, this new love, neverending. Were that promise to break...

Warm, he indulges; a moment of quiet silence with this one, so cherished. Always there, comforting... But was it so fufilling? Content, that their meetings were restricted to midnight chills and an ever-staring moon. Their warmth would always be their own. The sun so bleakly absent. Would things always be like this?

Perhaps he could look forward to that day. Know when he gazes upon his face, sun-warmed and gleaming with skylight, he would sleep soundly from there on out. Already pale as a cloud, Mallowlark might just blind him in the sunlight. "Mm, do you shine like a star?" Leaned close, his voice slips into a whisper, for his words were impure. The implications ridiculous; to glow brighter than light itself. "I think they'd be jealous." Hiccuping giggle; gossiping like a dear apprentice.​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

Should have, should have... silly notion, silly regret, because it might have gotten him killed. But knowing the reward at the end, would he have let them kill him? Pulled his punches? The laughter often kicked him in the lungs in the heat of battle, toppled him over in faux-joyful hysteria, but- if there was one motivator to rip through the seizure of his breath and let his laughing jaws rip through foul ally flesh... not the natural order of course, not killed for food or fuel, but battle enabled any sort of bloodshed.

Traitorous thoughts, really, but what did he know of betrayal? His vow to WindClan was mostly to the moors they stood on, home to his family for generations. Stolen, really. One day... one day the moors would drive them all mad. He'd do no killing himself, for they would turn on each other and run out all food except for each other. And his mother, his sister and he- immune, of course- would watch as they succumbed to the hunger, and fuelled the ground for new life, and became another pile of bones in the earth to whisper to him...

Could he truly bear to wait that long, though?

Falling into the warmth, he could almost feel his bones crack as he hit the bottom of that endless comfort, resting his weight against Dawnglare. The flame of blood beneath their skin warmed them both, and he was reminded how incomparable a feeling this was. One unable to be replicated. A hum of contentment buzzed from his throat, but little more for the moment, decadent as he indulged himself in the all-encompassing hearth of adoration. And he thought, mind wandering after that world and that dream. Seeing him in the light, warmed by the sun and each other at once. Would his blood reach boiling point, in a body loved so much?

Shining like a star, snow-dressed- maybe he would compare! In this dream-world he might glow from the inside out, happiness seeping like leaves leaking light through his eyes and ears and nose and mouth. Blood from a nose-bleed, but liquid light- from within him. And- as Dawnglare closed in, the dance of his whisper prickling along his spine, Mallowlark felt his body falter a little with laughter. He drew back then, eyes as wide as ever, twin full moons fixed upon Dawnglare's face. He had to look at him then, really look as he grinned, as chittering breaths shuddered from his maw. "Together," he murmured, interrupting himself with laughter.

His pupils danced all about Dawnglare's features as he continued, and he leant forward, touching his nose to the mark of love between lagoons of moon-drop blue. "We'd shine so bright that- hah-" A stopping shock of laughter again, the picture in his mind was too, too vivid and wonderful to suppress a giggle. "Anyone who looked at us... their eyes would m-melt right out of their skulls!" A hushed whisper, Dawnglare's volume met, he let his laugher trickle off into the back of his throat, body rocked with. the slightest swaying of laughter's woozy aftermath.

He could picture them, force of nature. Perhaps that was why the borders kept them apart... ​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

It was hard to imagine Mallowlark being brighter than he already was. Starlight muffled beneath the night's dull gaze. A secret, but not one that was well-kept. Vibrant light always peeked through the cracks. Sharp-tooth smile mimicked the sun itself. A bubbling laugh sent flickers of firelight into the very air. Invisible, but there. What else could explain that undeniable warmth, a sound that sent his soul aflutter no matter how harsh the cold bites?

Hardly fair, the way things were. The whispers of song were constrained to here and here only, exchanged only at the moon's distant peak. It watched over them kindly, certainly. A face that could not smile on its own, but rather, through the light of others. Mallowlark's eyes reminded him of it now. Twin moons, shifting only to fix wide-eyed splendor upon Dawnglare's own face. The moon lives within them, chosen vessel. Made for him, he realizes. Ever-glistening moon beside the morning sun. And maybe this was why their time together was so fragile. Perhaps the moon didn't want to let go of him.

Together. All at once, he holds the whole of Dawnglare's attention. It's the only time he would ever be patient, when laughs filled the space between words. Expectantly, he blinks. Though, with the shadow cast, they fall shut entirely. The ghost of a touch is soon so much more. Warm feeling. Breath he can feel, rattling and all. And the idea of being able to petrify with just a look. Wouldn't his job be made that much easier? His own giggles join the other's in a cacophony of sound, kept pinched behind closed lips. "N-not a soul would ever be quite safe..." His eyes crack open, just a sliver. "Who would we spare to clean the residue?" Convening, conniving, whispers exchanged with the softness of a secret. As if their claims were genuine. (And oh, he wises they were).

He imagines the goop at their paws, swirling pools of technicolor, the only remainder of what had once been. In this moment, he could hardly care about the other faces he'd miss. Not Blaise's, not Firefly's, however darling they may be. The only eyes he can see are star-studded silver, and its more than enough to last him an age. Dawnglare hums low in his throat. "They'll all fall eventually." Ominous without quite meaning to be; accented with a giggle. One-track mind. Adoration in those eyes. It was only love. Something many could only dream of attaining. In the face of something you hate, what can you do but disappear? It always remained just the two of them in midnight's clearing. What's the shame if it remains that way for a little longer?​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

It was as if they were illustrating a plot, weaving their words together in whispers, painting with blood-soaked imagination to create a painting dripping with ichor and monochrome-red. It was all such a wonderful fantasy to conjure that, as he embraced, Mallowlark wondered whether there was some way to bring it into fruition. To melt whoever stood in their path, to walk across the remains into a sunlit land where they would rival the stars in shimmer. He met liquid-moonlight as it shone toward him, crescent-creased with glee. Hardly there, the blue- but he could see it, gleaming there above a grinning maw.

A shudder of a laugh, heavenly melody, honey-dressed... that sound that wound a silver thread into his ears and pulled him closer when closer was possible. He breathed in the pine-scent, sugared strawberry. Mix of herbs ten times as pleasant as any medicine den. The closeness strung a sigh from his lungs, reeled it through the gaps in grin framed fangs. Wide, wide silver- he wanted to look, keep looking. He joined the harmony, if he had not already been a chorus with it- his own giggling, the sort that permeated his every breath in love's company.

Who would they spare, indeed... was there anyone worth the effort? They'll all fall eventually- accompanied with the bell-chime of a giggles humoured response. How fond he was, how lucky he was! To shine so bright- to think it even possible to rival the sun and moon both in intensity, and to know it to be true! "We'll outlive them," he hummed, fully convinced of it. They had already endured the pains of these meetings and partings- the bones would not be so cruel!

Eventually could mean eons from now- and they would be part of those skeletons below Fourtrees, part of the spirited whispers, eventually. But not unpredictably, not quickly. "The moors make people go mad," he whispered, voice whipped up in thrill, eyes flared wide. "I'm immune, but- WindClan'll eat itself eventually. Is the pine forest the same?" Affection continued to overcome him- he brushed an inky paw against Dawnglare's leg, feeling the silken kiss of his fur. Alight with reverie, a sigh slipped from his fangs. It felt- strange, to think this way.​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

Their separation was for the greater good, perhaps. Snuffing of the overwhelming light. So that it would not blind, would not startle. It was not inherently meant for any soul besides the two that stood here, loving, ever-close in spirit and in mind. An unfortunate byproduct, really. Mites crawled across the world they lived in (A world made for them). Kind faces, the two of them, to offer even a thought to them. Undeserving, always. Life would feel just as full without them. The moon sings to them her condolence. It was not her fault.

Of course, to Mallowlark, he agrees. To not place his faith in those words would disrespect his own blessing; forsake the gift that has been given by Her. "Certainly," said with a sweetened smile. For as long as he lived, Mallowlark too, would live. Mother-bound, his voice would still reach the heavens; holy either which way. A world to themself, eventually, eternally. How lovely would it be? To walk without prying eyes, to sleep, to dream. A blissful rest would be less than a snake's skull away. Dawnglare could have this warmth, always. Sickness would no longer be a looming ghost.

Now, the other speaks. His spine prickles anew with the warning Mallowlark weaves. Plague of madness, yes, so much he could guess. But from these lips, this wisdom means so much more. Immune, of course he must be. Though mortal, his soul chimes with purpose above any other. It sounds like a fate he's more than dreamed of. Yes, the beasts will eat themselves alive. And with this promise, he calms. Sooner rather than later, he oh-so hoped. "Is the pine forest maddening...? No, no..." Never in a hurry with him, the words peter off. His eyes slip shut for another moment with the brush of Mallowlark's fur. "They were all mad when they came there. ...But somehow... they manage to live. Though..."

Blue lakes stand open once more, wading through a thought. Perhaps Blaise was the only exception. Once-sensible, once-something. The forest drove his mind away from him. Now meant to be one beside the very same dogs Mallowlark spoke of. A mistake. Wasn't that all it was? And again and again, he had paid for it. Something good came of it, though. A few good things. Even if that face remained hidden amongst the clouds. He blinks the stars from his eyes. Suddenly there. Now here. "Uh-hmm, They are not all beyond repentance..." And what a place it would be if only...

Suddenly staring. He catches his grin on his teeth. "...Curious?"​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

Pines could not be as plaguing as open air, surely. Nothing on WindClan's moors stood welkin's way other than the rocks, structures built from tumbling down into the ninth circle. Trees stretched their bodies and extremities up, up- encroached the clouds with the sharper ends of their leaves, with their deadened branches. He imagined they were too high up to be touched by the curse, to be bound by it- constricted by shadowy, thorn-ran tendrils. Dawnglare, soft and singing, phantom chanteur- he confirmed it. Phrased it as if- in fact- it cured madness. Stripped them of it... mad when they arrived, but flouting the flesh-hunger that overtook moor-runners.

His grin shone, halo-light from his features. With a word, Dawnglare set lagoon-blues upon him, and Mallowlark met them with fond argent. A word that prompted him to think- because he was indeed curious, and why he was curious was an idle thought that had been sleeping in his mind since the patrol had departed to rob SkyClan of its herbs. Not even a mere thought, but some... dull, aching abyss. A crevice that had grown from meeting to meeting and now stood as a bottomless ravine, splitting his ribs as the borders split them. For the greater good, he supposed... they'd kill, together.

Missing him grew more than that long ago, and now he did not think there was even a name for the feeling. That... ache, that all-encompassing adoration. In his thoughts even when not around- when anything reminded him of Dawnglare, he felt it. When the dawn bloomed, burning bright with umber sepia across the sky, he saw him streaked across the horizon. When the clouds of leaf bare parted it was as if love stared down upon him. When he settled into his nest he could not think of much other than how feeble the embrace of something inanimate felt when compared with the willow-furred touch of a pine-dwelling ghost. "A little," he admitted, a giggle following his words. His eyes trailed idly, danced with grey flame.

"If we were to go anywhere... it'd be there, then," he admitted with a small sigh, one lilted with his grin, swimming with all the affection he felt. In a place that did not go mad... to live on the back of anything but an ouroboros. It felt like a dream, even without the idea that Dawnglare would be with him, would be there, would be daylit. "Couldn't think of making you live somewhere like the moors. You wouldn't be able to hear any whispers over all the yelling." A small tap of a night-dipped paw upon the ground... as if they met for the skeleton's voices, anymore.

This dream was one to indulge in, it seemed. Thinking of a plan- what they would do, where they would go. Would it ever be possible? Could he wait, truly, for however long it would take WindClan to decompose?​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

His eyes remain wide with that sudden admission. But a word, maybe two; but it draws him closer, still, like a moth to a flame. Hopes up– rising higher. And it's foolish, he knows, to hang off of a mortal word like this. Dawnglare bites back his own rise of laughter. Too hopeful, it certainly would be.

But oh, perhaps he is not quite ahead of himself. Perhaps it's intentional, to hold the possibility over his head like this. And suddenly there's a future in sight, more than just a tantalizing dream, kept to the warmth of his nest... Wasn't that all it was? A dream, to go anywhere together. Not when their duties bound them so... supposedly. Enraptured; for once, he is quiet. His smile grows sharper, clamping something down. An outburst, practically at the tip of his tongue. "Oh." It's all he can muster, spoken strange. It titters off into a close-lipped giggle. For a moment, he can only look anywhere but at him.

There's a desire to be closer, even if such a thing was neigh-impossible. Creeping forward, a velvety tail slithers for purchase. Loving touch curling around the other. The giggles are louder, then. His willpower fading. Or perhaps, it was the bruising of his lips that laid his guard to rest. Funny, that the other thought he could make him do anything (Funnier, maybe, that it was true. Exciting, that he's in his thoughts...). "P-pointless noise... Disappointing." Alongside him, he caresses her ground. A snow-pale paw knocks against Mallowlark's own, black as the night they sat under. Pointed ears seem to strain against the silence, as if the noise surrounded them now.

"They're closest to her, after all. They should–" Suddenly he jolts, eyes flaring wide again. Offended. He stresses, and for a moment, he sneers. "Ph-physically." Namesake in this moment, he glares at the trees; piercing cold without tangible reason. The bristling in his spine smooths, then, and his shoulders slump with the release of breath. "It's a waste. Pointless noise..."

What agony it must be, kept away from Her will without the capacity to change it. Born into something that was lesser than him; vice grip around his throat. "And how do you stay there?" he questions. Why remain somewhere he would never bring another to?​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

That small slip- that oh- lifted through the air like a symphony, wrapped around him with the feathered touch of Dawnglare's tail, beckoned him closer. Ever-warm in this company, despite the creep of frost in the air. Despite everything that fizzled beneath the surface, burning cold eating away at flesh. He could forget the pain of all of it, here- shrug it off like it never mattered, like he could slash it free. Limpet-parasite, that pain- a leech. He'd rend it from him, execute it... he could do anything here, with him, hearing that sound.

His ears stood to attention, lively as ever, so very alive- here, it felt almost as if he was dead everywhere else. A mere cadaver, a ghoul, stalking the moors... echoing giggles haunting the hills. Was that why glances often seemed off-put? Maybe they could tell... but they were too busy devouring each other to care. WindClan, caving in like a collapsed tunnel. It was ironic- brought a quick shudder of giggled from his lungs, tangoing with his exhale. He laughed more with physically- yes, with it... for it was only a physical closeness, wasn't it? Close to the mother-mouth, whatever they called it... close to the stars. Close as they were close, now... physically, though perhaps not in the same way.

He wished he could return the gossamer tail-touch. That subtle embrace... it was there in spirit, the ghost of something lost.

Humming in agreement, his mind sprawled at the question- why, why did he stay? When parting was agonising and all he thought of upon moor-tops was the gentle touch of Fourtrees moonlight, of a silken phantom? "I was there first. The moor madness'll kill 'em, and... I'll be left standing." His voice had not the same shine within it as normal. His heart was not entirely in this certainty anymore. "But I don't know... how much longer I can wait..." Thickened voice, sharpened smile. He pressed against Dawnglare's touch, lingering affection, lingering dream.

Aborted thought. He pushed it away, for now. It'd be impossible to leave. He'd been given chance after chance to flee, and now... for now he resolved to hold onto this thought. His family might rule the moors, and WindClan would be gone, the Clans would dissolve without the five...

"It's late..." Disappointment in his tone, he glanced at the glare of the moon. Tone lilted with his smile, sweetened in this presence and embittered from the threat of parting once again, he murmured into the plush of Dawnglare's fur. "I love you so, so much." ​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

Moon gleam in the night, Dawnglare's eyes narrow. He studies the other for a moment. He can identify with this, the claim one felt to something very much deserved and theirs in their eyes. That keep to maintain, that need to hold on no matter the circumstance. Just to be there, so you may tell others it is yours even if it does not seem it. But, this, well... Remorsefully, he notes, Mallowlark is few to the many. Blessed as he may be, he is woefully bound to the earth. Things did not always come so easily to his type.

The easing of worries comes with the knowledge that all things end. Retribution will come as She pleases. Impatient, he may have been as a kit. He has long since learned, though that these things take time... Sickness could be as sadistic as it could be swift... to rip life now or later, well, you could not ask Them which.

It's acknowledging, his hum. Not enthused; the shuddering wave of excitement comes to abrupt stop. His face abruptly shifts, careful coolness. Lips press into a thin line, and his words are careful; bird atop a wire. "Not all sickness kills quickly..." And– persistent vermin, they never seemed to dwindle no matter the madness swelling within their ranks. Turmoil, it must be. Skin-crawling, the thing that just barely outsped their own plague. It is waning, though, that faith to tear quickly. It's strained, that darling face. His heart twists so much as it batters hid ribs, tickling with wondrous possibility... (Was it giving up, so much as it was starting anew?) With the weighing touch, he closes his eyes.

And he does not understand... The agonizing, when it would be so easy.

The quiet is broken, his eyes slit open, and the world chimes, melancholy. A loss for them all, that this time may end. He hums, and were he more reckless, he would have left it there. How deep the night sunk only mattered if they wanted it to. But he would not want to be missed. (He would be either way, wouldn't he?) His gaze is far away, but he is here. To be anything but would only be wretched. Fresh sky and heather, he breathes him in. "And I, you." Never did he want to part, but it was only stranger, knowing they were not resigned to this. His whiskers tremble, starlight sheen. "You will always have a place with me."​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

It felt cruel to even think of leaving when he didn't wish to, but... what was left of the family he had lived upon the moors with stayed there now. Slept, sure- but stayed there together in immunity. They'd live, too, when the decomposing started. They'd be intact, and their blood that had occupied the moors for so long would never spill out of their veins by the fangs of a Windclanner. It felt selfish to leave and selfish to stay, so for a moment Mallowlark stood in stasis. Complete suspension.

"Unfortunately," he murmured, voice light and humoured despite the despair it brought him to know it could take even longer for them to dissipate than he had anticipated. Patience was a virtue... though it felt unfair that the moor-madness worked quickly on some and so agonisingly slowly on others. He could have died, but... that illness had brought about good. And that illness had been curable- not that all-encompassing madness that broke a mind down to only warbling and screeching.

Mirror of the moonlight, his eyes flickered to the night sky- lingered upon the progress of the moon. Heavy, heavy- his heart might barrel down into the floor, then. He'd be dead, but at least his heart would be here, and not on the moorland... not the way it was now...

The battering battle in his chest- ceaseless, furious. He felt like it could kill him. One day, it might- like a honeybee after a sting, he'd tear away from Dawnglare and he'd leave something vital behind, and stagger into a corpse. Die here, decompose here. But- confirmed in that sweet tone, that soft birdsong, that voice ever in his reverie- he always had a place with Dawnglare. A place to go if he could not bear the ripping anymore. The shouting. The...

"I know," and he grinned again, truly. Maybe he hadn't known before, but he did now- and so he said it, that truth. He knew he had a place, because Dawnglare had just said so. That dream-land... did it have to be so? "And I'll remember it." Confirmation, knowing glint in his eye as he pulled away, not bothering to hide how much it hurt to do so. Frigid air pulled in, his breath misted, joined the cloud above. "And I'll see you, soon," Soon, soon. Because if he knew it was soon, he knew there was another time to look forward to. Another place he could go, another place...

He lingered for the farewells. It was a strange possibility. His paws buzzed with quiet longing, with new horizons. Next time... next time. He'd see what the pain was like, and if it was even greater- and he almost knew it would be- he'd not endanger his life by tearing away. ​

☺PENNED BY PIN​