With the heretic's word, so it is sealed. The "it" in question, being yet another call to agreement over personal error... but they all must worry because they know they are all equally the fool. Dawnglare wouldn't dare be caught up in such nonsense. He should hope the same for his apprentice. He does hope the same - Wills the same. Under his care, Fireflypaw has not been caught by sickness again, and perhaps it is that blessing that led to his own immortality being shredded. It isn't fair, really. In what he bids next, he asks StarClan that it is returned to him. This is wha twould... entrance them so, after all.
" Alright, alright, " he muses, and abruptly, he is at his paws. No more apologies - if anything they should apologize to him. For making him endure their stupidity across generations. For WindClan, the fourth, For ShadowClan, there would soon be four, for ThunderClan... four. RiverClan, hm... Three? And SkyClan...
His nose finds it's way to Fireflypaw. There the oaf is, sitting atop paws that have healed plagues. Paws that have overseen a clan on their own without difficulty. Who... may have, nor may not have seen things that he hasn't. What he may call blasphemous, the fools would likely rejoice in. The heart of the mountain thrums wilder. In a gross misuse of Mother's gift to mankind, StarClan seizes the Moonstone to peer through its looking glass. He can imagine Blaise's face, smeared in such an ugly way against its surface, like it did against the walls of their youth. They had been see - through, malleable only by twoleg paws. Perhaps they should have kept them shut, after all.
Did he yearn for a hair of him, even once? A whisker? Perhaps not, him and his son both, and perhaps someone would be glad for it.
He would give them what they wanted. He would give and give and give. Just like he always has - this life he's been damned to. " Fix yourself, Fireflypaw, " That is the warning he tosses his way, with eyes narrowed like crystal daggers and a thick tail thumping against the ground. This spectacle would be for them all; one eagerly awaited by most, dreaded upon by few. He takes a breath. " You have been with me for quite some time. " Long enough for them both to outlive his father, long enough that the so - called Medicine Cats Dawnglare had grown aside are no longer.
" Quite some time, " shakily, he repeats, and Mother goads him forward still. " And though you may only have so many seasons of wisdom... " A keen reminder, one that he hopes is knocking within the thick walls of his skull. You do not have what I have. " You... You have proven yourself able to oversee SkyClan on your own, if need be. " And what did that mean, really? it was the same for Moonbeam, for Gentlestorm, and they were still proven fools.
He whirls to face the moonstone. It is every bit as beautiful as it had been the first day he saw it, and yet his heart does not leap in the same way. His tremor is something besides wonderment. There are about a dozen pair of eyes within each crack and crater. Impatiently, they cry out. It's something that Mother would never dare exude, without their influence. Fireflies, disgusting little things, but things that could seem to swell with starlight, if you chose to believe so. Let them fill the cracks then, of StarClan's... negligence.
He faces them with defiance, with fear, with bewilderment. He would not crumble in the way his legs desperately urged him to. Final hurrah, and final word. He steps closer. Closer still, until he is but a whisker away, and his breath hitches at the thought of seeing his dear friend again.
He does not face Fireflypaw just yet, for when he did, he would like a Medicine Cat of SkyClan to face him. Not the youngling he had took under his care, nor the scared, younger him that whined with fresh scars across his eyes. Before him should be someone else entirely. Before him should be someone... worthy. (Even if he desperately wished that he wasn't).
" I, Dawnglare of SkyClan, come before StarClan to look down on this apprentice. My apprentice, " he specifies with a hiss, setting him apart from Ravensong and Gentlestorm both, as he should be. " He has trained hard to understand the ways of a Medicine Cat, and with your help, he will serve his Clan for many moons. " Narrowed eyes watch the moonstone, to see if the stars would pick and preen at their mention. Did it make them happy, to be needed? Did it make Him happy?
He turns, and there is Fireflypaw. There has always been Fireflypaw. " Fireflypaw, " he calls to him, and if he had any sense, he would step forward. If he had none - the meeting would be drawn to a swift close, instead. " Do you promise to uphold the ways of a medicine cat, to– to care for your Clanmates, forgoing any personal grievance? " If only they would tell him no.
