TOO SOON TO LOSE ♡ FIREFLYPAW

[DAWNGLARE]

[ Takes place after this thread! ]

Not quick enough. Not quick enough.

Agonizingly slow, a dreadful moment of time. Stark silence where he can only wait and listen as Firefly is brought to his den. Whitecough. Wasn't that all it was? A known killer, yes, he's certain, but never one to kill so quickly. Early onset, a gasping that should not be there. The threat of death calls so soon, and for a child, nonetheless. Another victim. Always merciless, never pleasant. Leaf-bare has always been this way, he'd always see, even from the comfort of his own nest. Even as the flames flickered within his home and the furs piled high, he could always see Mother's snow-soaked purge. He would feel the chill– a nipping at his flank if he so much as trailed past...

No matter how wide the eyes or how small the legs, he'd known. Beautifully cruel, the way of things. Snow that made the very world pale with sickness. And yet, it was warily beautiful. Since the very day that war had wadged, it's been like this. Constant struggle, pull at the chains of all that lived. But never before, has its touch seemed so intentional. No longer a rippling, raging wind, but a wave that rode past all he knows, worming its way into every crack in hopes of a break.

A prayer slips free past his lips the moment it is clear he may do so. That is, left alone. A hymn ever-reverent on his tongue, he scrapes together what he needs. Catmint's frosted leaves and Feverfew's wilted blooms. Enough, it is enough, he knows, and yet the nagging, the nagging–

Shamefully, his worlds trail into silence. Too distracted, too distraught. Gnawing at his nape brings tingling discomfort; the crawl of his sins. Nonsense, when the cure was at his paws. Nonsense, wasn't it?

"Ffh.. Fuh-Fire-fly," Stutter of something strange, a paw prods at Firefly, jostling his pale form. "Dear. F-firefly. Get up." So simply, it's a demand. His own breaths feel stifling in the room's chill.

[ @Fireflypaw ]​

 

[Fireflyglow]

WE'VE BEEN DOIN' ALL THIS LATE NIGHT TALKIN' ✧​

The smell of herbs helped ease the wheezing of his lungs, every pass of air rattling in his chest. He's faintly reminded of his sister in these moments, the wheezing and choking breaths she had given as she bled out on this very floor. Don't cry, She told them, choking on her own crimson ichor. Tell them not to cry. A tear slips down is cheek as he rubs his face into the nest below him, another phlegm-filled cough ricocheting in his ribs. He's scared to infect his family, sends them away when they try to visit too close. It burns, it burns- rejecting the ones he loved never felt good. Loneliness had no room in his body in these moments, illness keeping him company and Dawnglare's soft hymns of singing like a lullaby for his messy mind.

Sometimes, he found himself humming along with the high priest. When his chest wasn't so tight, breaths coming out in ragged bouts.

Ffh.. Fuh-Fire-fly, His name is called amongst the feverish heat, and Fireflypaw is reminded of the warm coat of his father once again. His mother's milky scent, even though no milk was to be found. Comfort, safety. Crusted eyes flutter for a moment, a ragged breath drawn from parted lips before aquamarines flicker against the dull light in the den. Dear. F-firefly. Get up. A simple command, but it felt impossible. He felt like he was his dad's size, too heavy for his paws. Fireflypaw aches to obey, to listen to his familial tie; Dawnglare was family, too. He only wanted what was best for him. He weakly wedges a paw underneath himself, pushing in an attempt to get up. Failure. He crumbles back into his nest, whining in complaint. He can smell herbs close, nose twitching- snot dribbling. Agony, oh the agony. "'m I dyin'?" He asks softly, hopeful for once. A dark thought, but he hopes he can see Morningpaw again, if only just once. Dawnglare wouldn't let him die. He wasn't bleeding from his throat like his baby sister was, and they had herbs to fix him. "Wha.. What's that?" He croaks, barely audible in the wheezing of every little breath. He's barely conscious. Wants to sleep again. Was he dying? ​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

To his relief, the child stirs. Dawnglare lets out a blustery huff; allows his shoulders to fall along with the grip on his soul strings. Loosened, now, that hold certainly is, but it is still very there. Death did not only come in the absence of breath. No, his shuddering legs certainly weren't a sign he was pleased to see. But wobbling legs were better than stone-cold ones. With these poor few, the bar lays pitifully low... Limbs could be split and a face blood-soaked. As long as you lived, he would breathe sweet relief. The Lady's cradle of wanton life, safety net, for this little one...

The question– oh, the question. "No," instantly, he snaps. Sudden anger flares with the baring of teeth and a lash of his tail, hitting nearby herbs with a bluster. He sucks in a breath between his teeth, refuses to acknowledge the possibility, and vehemently hates the way his voice pitches in something akin to acceptance. "Little fool. You are f-far from star bound... Do not–" don't scare me like that, left unsaid, traded for a low-rumbling growl. Cold-soaked glare, he regarded him with sunken pinpricks. Though, there is only so long you can stay angry at a sniveling kit for. "Besides... I did not mean literally. Sit," he demands, tail sweeping behind him, decisive in nature.

He huffs, and allows his jaw to slacken. His attention turns to what exactly Firefly spoke of. His voice was more akin to that of an elder's rather than a kit. Horrific sickness. Worse, worse... Unholy thing. Without shifting his attention away, he dips down to grasp the stem between his teeth. "Your salvation," he tells him with a click against the earth. The words he mumbles are reverent, though his tone is anything but. Lame and strange, he cares not for the formality of teachings right now. Cares not for teaching at all, really. Quick to invade their space, he offers the stem to him. "Eat."

His gaze burns like incense, a smolder that would not leave until he sees his gifts chewed and swallowed. Eerily still, aside from the flicker of his tail tip. And when the herbs were taken, his gaze would not leave, but it would lessen. Firefly would be allowed his space, gloom-darkened eyes no longer close enough to feel. He sits, and he waits.

And he hates it, this feeling. A madness he felt he had no bind over. The clutching of his heart and holding of his breath. For what, exactly? A scrap he could cut down at any moment? A thing whose demise was nothing less than inevitable, sooner or later. His body failed him, and would continue to do that. They would be snapped up without an ounce of thought, merely a waiting victim, to anyone willing to take advantage of that sweetness.

His jaw sets in a grimace. Pest in his hide. It's doing him no good. Stress bundled in it's purist. His stomach keeps twisting. Mother tells him to get rid of it. Rumble of the earth. These problems... unnecessary , she tells him. Dawnglare would not be one to forsake her, no. Claws tap against the ground. The earth hums with anticipation. His own drawl soon follows. Realization– it hits, obvious with the way his eyes blow wide and his ears stand tall atop his head. Staring, that silent gaze.

"Mm," His eyes brighten with his hum. His neck goes slack, leaving his head to loll to the side, pale curls framing his face. "I–I could... keep you," Steady drum of his paw against the ground. He muses to himself, gaze flicking between Firefly and the earth.​

 

[Fireflyglow]

WE'VE BEEN DOIN' ALL THIS LATE NIGHT TALKIN' ✧
Forsaken, forsaken beast was this illness. It carves broken gospel into his heart, Dawnglare's hymns of comfort echoing. Dawnglare levels him with a glare, but fear sparks idly behind his pale gaze. He can see it clearly despite the blurriness of his vision. A crack of a smile ghosts upon his lips, and yet another command. Sit, Fireflypaw frowns. He didn't think he'd be able to do that right now. Oh, but he pushes something odd to him and beckons him to eat it. Poison, it could have been- Dawnglare could end him right here. But Fireflypaw finds no resistance in his stare upwards. A soft prayer of thanks to the Mother, he'd seen Dawnglare do the same once. "Thank you," He dips his head down, grasping the stem in his jaws and chews, chews until his tongue is pressed with herbs that makes him salivate. Mid-chew, he looks up at his uncle and blinks fondly towards him.

He swallows once, twice- shivering at the taste. It goes down smoothly however, and Firefly feels his throat ease just a little. He would be alright, Dawnglare wouldn't let him die- not when he had the herbs to help. He dazes off for a moment, staring into the distance. He sees snow beyond the high priest, pale against his berry-kissed coat. He's pretty, Firefly thinks to himself as his gaze wanders upwards, before he meets the thoughtful eyes of his uncle.

I–I could... keep you, He echoes, talon tapping at the ground. His eyes follow the sharp crescent, examining it in quiet. His throat hurts too much to talk like he normally did, but the confusion in his eyes is evident. His head tilts, curious. Beckoning Dawnglare to speak, as if he was preaching gospel. "Keep me?" He's hopeful, something feels odd. Dawnglare seems pleased with whatever thought crosses his mind. "I'm no good at fightin', Dawnglare. My nose is good, though- would that help any?"​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

Dawnglare huffs at the thanks given to him. The more he dwells, the keener he is to commit to such an idea. It is not like Firefly would be dead weight, no, he could put them to work... Frantic, oh, he's a mess, but not a lost cause... Far from it. With a blustering breath, he sits back, lifting his chin upward to better scrutinize this... thing. This project. Of course, the child hasn't a clue. They echo back to him in a question, though his gaze begs for an encore, and Dawnglare is more than happy to oblige.

He reaffirms his words with a hum, and a smile twitches onto his face. Icecap eyes narrow with their rasping. "Irrelevant." His current assets did not matter, as long as he was no lost cause. No one hopelessly foolish or hopelessly cursed, a standard that was pitifully hard to come by, truly. A great mind could mold anything to their will. They may bend and break, no matter, the ends justify the means. "I will make you great," he proclaims with a close-lipped smile. It presses into the corners of his eyes, wild in the sudden salvation he's found. No one else possibly could.

"You will never die for as long as I live. And that is– life everlasting." Wouldn't Blaise be pleased with him? Finding a way to stretch their mortal lives into anything substantial. He would outlive, outlast. He only needs to solidify that devotion, and the clouds will be parted, coated in liquid gold. His thoughts running– flying, he paces the room. Even if Firefly centers his thoughts, he is barely there; backdrop to something sinister. Of course, of course, he wouldn't know who else. Who else would he find quite as worthy? In such desperate need?

Hardly, does he think to truly seek their approval, though. He would be a fool to refuse. At best, a fool, at worst, a corpse. The pacing stops, here, in front of the child. Wide-eyed and frantic, Dawnglare leans close, his gaze unavoidable. Beast hunched over its treature. His tail flicks in idle motion, anticipating. And finally– "What say you, then?"​

 

[Fireflyglow]

WE'VE BEEN DOIN' ALL THIS LATE NIGHT TALKIN' ✧​

The words Dawnglare always spoke were confusing to process, but as he got older, they slowly began to piece together and make sense. While he didn't agree that many of the cats Dawnglare considered cursed were, in fact, cursed- he could see how he thought that. What he did believe in was the Mother below, the Mother around them- She speaks her words in soft winds, in the blooming of flowers when the snow defrosts. Her fury is stormy, wind-swept and dangerous. I will make you great, He states, and Fireflypaw coughs softly as he nods his head. If Huckleberry couldn't make him great.. If he was bound to be more of a burden on the patrols he wandered through, unable to properly fight- would Dawnglare make something of him?

Does he.. See something in me? Did Morningpaw tell him something from StarClan? He thinks to himself as his eyes remain glued to Dawnglare's smiling form. You will never die for as long as I live. And that is– life everlasting. A wind sweeps past his face, and Firefly's gaze moves to the source; outside, the snow flickers with light- he cringes away from it.. Stinging eyes. Would he live forever, if Dawnglare looked after him? Was this.. His purpose in life, to follow Dawnglare through the seasons? He stands to pace the room, muttering soft to himself like a madman.

He couldn't feel more at home, in the presence of one so blessed by the Mother herself. By StarClan.

What say you, then? It's almost immediate, Fireflypaw grins upwards to his uncle- his savior. Toothy and in reflection- attempting to mirror the high priest's grin. "To never die.. Never decay- Then, I'll grow old here?" Outlive my father? He blinks sadly, but the reality of his situation is dire. Obvious. "I will~" He sings back, all sore-throat and broken toned. Deeper, deeper he would sink- but Dawnglare would always pull him out. Unstoppable, immortal. "..To life everlasting, gifted by the Mother." He prays softly, aloud, eyes shut as he lowers his head. A promise. He would serve her well, be a good student to Dawnglare.

"I will.. Do my best. For you. For Her."​