private vor í vaglaskógi — houndthistle

WOLFSONG

WOLFSONG

ᚾ INN SKYGNA ᚾ
Controlled Burn [WC '24] Spring Prompts [WC '24] Fall Prompts [WC '23] Yellowcough [Sitewide Event '23] WindClan 10K WindClan Medicine Cat Unity [WC '23] Rogues [WC '22]
Dec 18, 2022
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──⇌•〘 INFO 〙They all feel Tigerfrost's loss keenly, and he knows that Houndthistle counted the tabby as a friend. Wolfsong isn't certain he can say the same; he respected him, and respects his memory, and there was the potential for friendship, but they hadn't spent enough time together outside of their responsibilities. It hadn't seemed so important before, when he thought there would be more time to know him better, to face more battles knowing they could rely on his claws. Never again.

Still, he can't pretend that seeking out Houndthistle is born purely of empathy. There is a selfishness in believing you can be the one to comfort, to be relied on. I have never claimed to own a pure heart, but even this is lowly of me.

"Houndthistle," he greets once he's found his tall, scarred silhouette. "I'd hoped to speak with you privately, if you are...amenable." His rasping voice lowers, just barely above a whisper.
​
 

"BECAUSE COWBOY DAN'S A MAJOR PLAYER IN THE COWBOY SCENE"​
Houndthistle took Tigerfrost's loss pretty hard, all things considered. Sure, he didn't weep aloud or even screech revenge, no wails or meaningless threats left him, even when he had helped carry Tigerfrost's body, he hadn't shed a tear, hadn't made any other emotion viable in his gaze. His grief was inner, the way he sat quietly at the vigil, the stern, vacant gaze, the ferocity in the spar, the usually atleast semi-jovial tom was subdued, the death but a reminder of why he shouldn't get close to others. It wasn't just that they could betray him, claws secured in his back to rip his trust to shreds, but because he couldn't save them. He couldn't do anything, at all, to save anyone of these cats he considered friend, and the death of the lead warrior was but a silent, painful reminder to him. He couldn't save his mother, his brothers, that she-cat, couldn't even save his son, and he sure as hell couldn't save Tigerfrost. He mulled over the thought that perhaps it was better to hold everyone at arm's length, to go back to being that mindless beast of violence to be used like he originally thought he was, rasping his tongue through his thick mane when Wolfsong approached.

His twin ears perked, lifting his large, bulky head to look at the pale tabby, amber eyes opening expectantly as he spoke, offering to have a private conversation with him if he was able and Houndthistle looked around camp a moment, the evening beginning to set upon the rest as he observed clanmates hunker down to rest, a few sharing final meals, grooming eachother. They wouldn't miss him a moment. Houndthistle nodded, rising to his paws with a flick of his tail for Wolfsong to follow, leading the way out of camp and out into the open moor as the last rays of sunlight rested over the horizon, deep as blood in it's array of warm colors to fade into the navy sky above. He stopped once a comfortable ways from camp, turning to look at the other. "'ight, what's on yer mind?" He asked, gruff voice dulled slightly as he prompted.​
✦ ★ ✦​
 
  • Crying
Reactions: WOLFSONG
──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 Even believing firmly that there is a life after death does not ease loss. One day, he knows Sunstride will go to the lands of boundless prey where all wounds heal— and it is a day he hopes is after his own. He does not believe life will ever prepare him enough for a world without him, and he does not think Tigerfrost had such a person, which is all the more wretched. Friends, surely, but a dearest companion who loved and was loved in return? He does not think so. Perhaps the tabby was simply far better at disguising his affections.

He cannot find it within himself to be irritated by Houndthistle's authoritative gesture, though he might have, in different circumstances. He had asked to speak, after all, and it is only fair that Houndthistle should choose the location. Perhaps Sootstar's favor has fed my ego, he thinks wryly.

For a moment, he stares at the horizon and wonders how far he would have to walk to touch the place where two worlds meet in manifold color. Then he's seeking the resin of Houndthistle's stare. Even his oddly accented voice lacks vigor. "I know Tigerfrost was a friend to you," he begins slowly. "I thought that I would offer you comfort, however you might like it."
​
 

"BECAUSE COWBOY DAN'S A MAJOR PLAYER IN THE COWBOY SCENE"​
C_Angelkisses.gif
Houndthistle waits patiently for Wolfsong to begin, eyes watching the other with guarded sternness, a blade waiting to be wielded, commanded, told his purpose as he stood there. But Wolfsong's single eye was focused on the horizon, staring at the vastness away from them, and Houndthistle idly wondered what went through that head. Wolfsong seemed to have more in his mind then Houndthistle did, those thoughts that always seemed to be working, eye observing, so much that worked like a machine, that Houndthistle found himself wondering how tiring it must be, to think so much and so freely. Sure, Houndthistle himself thought, he thought alot, but most his thoughts were simple. What shall I eat? Have the border's been checked? Is Mirepaw doing well? When's the last time I shed my claws? Things his brain simply wondered, idly, about, interrupted every so often by memories and familiarity, wisdom but a tool that desired to keep him humbled from how little he thought.

Wolfsong's voice brought him from his wondering about Wolfsong's thoughts, eyes coming back into focus as his ears perked. I know Tigerfrost was a friend to you. His brows flicked up, surprised at where this seemed to be leading as he chuffed idly, cutting his gaze away from the other as a sliver of self-hating guilt flooded those amber pools, lips drawing in a thin line over his long fangs. I thought that I would offer you comfort, however you might like it.
So I can watch you die, too? He inhaled, sighing heavily as he rolled his shoulders, tired from the weight of his own emotions. "I 'preciate it... I do, but... I'm fine, Wolfsong," He said tiredly, though despite his words, he sunk down onto his haunches, head bowing from the guilt that he should have been able to do something, he should have known better. But, even if he wanted to talk about it, lay it all out, guilt, anger, detachment, everything, where would he even begin? Would he start from the beginning, when his paws were first stained red and his tears spilled freely from a more youthful, less-scarred version of his face? Or would he just stick to the end, his conviction of distrust and deluded paranoia that dogged his heels as much as death itself did? No. No, he couldn't because, if he did, that's prime target for betrayal, and Houndthistle, as dumb as he was, knew better than to leave such things open for others to spot. Still, he stayed there, sitting in his quiet grief across from the Lead Warrior, eyes on the grass and shoulders strained against the weight he carried.

"speech"
OOC CURRENT STATS INTERACTION RULES
  • text
  • Physical Health
    100%
    ⤷ no current wounds
    Mental Health
    98%

  • Single | Bicurious | Not actively looking | Interested in none currently

    Houndthistle is both an easy one to gain the trust of and impossible to gain the trust of. He'll rarely reveal personal information or be vulnerable-if he's even capable of such things-but he will show trust in his willingness to lay his life down. To gain it, he needs evidence that you're loyal and strong, same as him, otherwise he understands he may one day have to come head to head with you.

    — will start fights / will not flee / will not show mercy
    — excels at Fighting, Tracking, Following Orders, Intimidation
    — poor at climbing, swimming, stealth, talking, strategy, politics
    — sounds like: deep, gravelled and thick with a sort of country accent / Arthur Morgan
    — smells of iron, leather, and wood
    — speech is #435E75

​
 
  • Crying
Reactions: WOLFSONG
──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 He would not ask for more than Houndthistle is willing to give. Even Wolfsong has secrets of his own, burdens he will not draw attention to if he can help it, choices made by other people that have followed him, filled his pawsteps with their ugly shadow. And his selfishness in this is its own beast— offering comfort to steal some of it for himself. He has not seen Sedgerunner in some time; perhaps she would have approached Houndthistle more kindly, with fewer designs of her own.

A pale eye watches the tom's posture bow and sink. Some people crumple completely; others shatter like ice as it falls during thawing; and there are those like Houndthistle who stoop, as though the weight seeks to strain them like a branch under stormy winds until they snap. Wolfsong moves closer, pressing his shoulder against the dark feline's front leg. "I thought you could lie better than that," he says without malice or admonishment.

Sunstride and Houndthistle are taller than Wolfsong, but he thinks the latter has his flame-hued friend beat in brawn. He has always admired strength, in its many forms, and there is strength here even as Houndthistle suffers. "I cannot take the pain from you, but I can ease it for a while. Long enough for you to rest."
​
 

"BECAUSE COWBOY DAN'S A MAJOR PLAYER IN THE COWBOY SCENE"​
C_Angelkisses.gif
The touch of another, even as innocent as he read this as, is something Houndthistle hadn't felt in moons. He lets out a small chuckle, eyes closing as Wolfsong presses against him, absolutely savoring any amount of contact he could sustain in that moment, soaking it up like a greedy leech. But, somewhere in his mind, alarms screamed about how wrong this was. Houndthistle wasn't like this, he wasn't this type, no matter who he thought he was-killer, weapon, mindless tool to those smarter then him-he wasn't... this. After a long moment, he inhaled, lifting himself reluctantly away from Wolfsong's shoulder as he cleared his throat. "I can't... it ain' right," Houndthistle's words were awkward, embarrassed even, ears feeling warm on his head as that disconcerted feeling seemed to fill his entire being. "I'on know what you and Sunstride's situation is but... I'm not that cat. I don' have much dignity, but I'on look at what's claim't," He spoke lowly, words he clearly didn't want to say, but for his already withered conscious he knew he had to.

He didn't honor much, mostly whatever he was told he had to, but love was something Houndthistle held dear to his heart. Love was the one pure thing that he just couldn't have, and it was because his paws were too dirty, too sinful to approach, and he'd never forgive himself if he was atleast part of the reason another's was ruined. So, despite how much he craved this "comfort," he knew he couldn't.

"speech"
OOC CURRENT STATS INTERACTION RULES
  • text
  • Physical Health
    100%
    ⤷ no current wounds
    Mental Health
    98%

  • Single | Bicurious | Not actively looking | Interested in none currently

    Houndthistle is both an easy one to gain the trust of and impossible to gain the trust of. He'll rarely reveal personal information or be vulnerable-if he's even capable of such things-but he will show trust in his willingness to lay his life down. To gain it, he needs evidence that you're loyal and strong, same as him, otherwise he understands he may one day have to come head to head with you.

    — will start fights / will not flee / will not show mercy
    — excels at Fighting, Tracking, Following Orders, Intimidation
    — poor at climbing, swimming, stealth, talking, strategy, politics
    — sounds like: deep, gravelled and thick with a sort of country accent / Arthur Morgan
    — smells of iron, leather, and wood
    — speech is #435E75

​
 
  • Like
Reactions: WOLFSONG
──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 He recognizes the moment Houndthistle relaxes. A good sign, he thinks, and yet it's only heartbeats later that the dark-furred tom straightens up, pulling away from him. It ain't right, he says. At first, Wolfsong doesn't understand, and then apprehension sets in. I did not think WindClan had reservations about such relationships— or the loners in this area. Houndthistle continues speaking, simultaneously settling Wolfsong's confusion and bewildering him all the more.

He blinks, staring at him with a wrinkle in his brow. "Sunstride and...me?" Wolfsong loves Sunstride, of course he does, and in another life he might have been brave enough or less indebted to him to risk telling him. But Houndthistle believes they are together? Is he alone in this conclusion? What would Sunstride say? He holds dearly his reputation.

"My friend," he says at last, finding his tongue. "You have misunderstood what we are to each other, and you have more honor than you think." He reaches out to pat the top of a larger paw. "Allow me to be here as a friend, then."
​
 

"BECAUSE COWBOY DAN'S A MAJOR PLAYER IN THE COWBOY SCENE"​
C_Angelkisses.gif
You misunderstood what we are to each other. The moment those words reach Houndthistle's ears he seems to also draw confused, brow furrowing. As dense as Houndthistle was, he caught those subtle glances at him when he'd hang around Wolfsong, noticed the sharper tone in the red tom's tone when he last spoke to him, even the wariness he'd greeted him with not long ago-though good natured, it had barbs. Had he really misunderstood? Perhaps, perhaps there wasn't anything there... yet. Houndthistle rasped his tongue over his maw, swiping away the shame and his thoughts as his amber eyes looks down at where Wolfsong's paw touched his own, though not much smaller, definitely noticeable in its difference. He nearly snorts at the word of honor, the word like bittersweet stings from gathering honey. What he desired, and what he was were different then. "Now, don' go sayin' things like that," His eyes glance up from under his brow, the intense orange and reds piercing as they peered at Wolfsong, watching him, before lifting his head so his face was close to the cream's, "You don' wanna be surprised now, do ya?" The words are almost purred out, coy with a side of playful danger. The admittance that Sunstride laid no true meaning to the cream was enough for Houndthistle to ignore that little voice that told him he shouldn't, for what wasn't claimed, left it free reign for him.

"It's up t'ya, then, on what ya want, Wolfsong," He proffered, still speaking low and hushed, his breath stirring the air upon Wolfsong's cheeks as he observed, the last of the sun's warmth dipped below the horizon as Houndthistle's eyes gleamed with the dying light of twilight.

"speech"
OOC CURRENT STATS INTERACTION RULES
  • text
  • Physical Health
    100%
    ⤷ no current wounds
    Mental Health
    98%

  • Single | Bicurious | Not actively looking | Interested in none currently

    Houndthistle is both an easy one to gain the trust of and impossible to gain the trust of. He'll rarely reveal personal information or be vulnerable-if he's even capable of such things-but he will show trust in his willingness to lay his life down. To gain it, he needs evidence that you're loyal and strong, same as him, otherwise he understands he may one day have to come head to head with you.

    — will start fights / will not flee / will not show mercy
    — excels at Fighting, Tracking, Following Orders, Intimidation
    — poor at climbing, swimming, stealth, talking, strategy, politics
    — sounds like: deep, gravelled and thick with a sort of country accent / Arthur Morgan
    — smells of iron, leather, and wood
    — speech is #435E75

​
 
──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 It occurs to him the moment Houndthistle speaks, all sly invitation, that this is the first time he's returned Wolfsong's flirtatious teasing. He thought he needed to be more direct, but perhaps the dark tom's merely blithely overlooked his comments because he thought of Sunstride as his lover. Sheer delight widens his remaining eye, Houndthistle's own close enough he can easily trace the flecks of leaf-fall hues where they mingle and bleed. He hadn't thought of them as flame-drowned until now, their intensity warming Wolfsong's ears.

Each beguiling word fans along his cheeks, tangible, and he feels— not quite taken aback, but close to it. It's a novel experience.

He inhales delicately. At this scant distance, he's certain Houndthistle heard it easily. "A night, then," he says, his own voice dipping into a lower register. The sunset wreathes Houndthistle in an ebbing glow, muted but drawing burnished highlights through a deep pelt. Wolfsong leans closer, until his cheek fits against one of the tom's. "For now."
​
 

"BECAUSE COWBOY DAN'S A MAJOR PLAYER IN THE COWBOY SCENE"​
C_Angelkisses.gif
He can't stop the wolfish smile that draws along his lips, fitting given both toms' names, as he watched Wolfsong react to his rarely tuned in charm. A deep, crackling purr rumbles as he hears that sharp inhale, pleased by the reaction, before Wolfsong murmurs. A night, then. Houndthistle perks his twin ears, brows flicking up as that smile slowly falls, intrigued and hanging onto each soft word Wolfsong mumurs. The cream leans in, his delicate cheek pressed so close Houndthistle can feel how soft and cottony his fur is in comparison to his own rough, scraggly pelt, it tangled like delicate spider silk in brambles. For now.

Houndthistle presses his muzzle into the space behind Wolfsong's ear, large fangs delicately brushing his skin as the large brute inhales deeply the scent of his companion, breath stirring those sensitive furs. He's gentle, as though handling glass, each movement calculated and it's so delicate how he presses his muzzle to the other, as though he feels his mere presence will shatter Wolfsong into a million pieces. "Sounds like a date, then," He purrs, chuckling playfully as he grins again, moving so his chin can rest heavily upon the other's neck, looking at the other from the corner of his eye.

"speech"
OOC CURRENT STATS INTERACTION RULES
  • text
  • Physical Health
    100%
    ⤷ no current wounds
    Mental Health
    98%

  • Single | Bicurious | Not actively looking | Interested in none currently

    Houndthistle is both an easy one to gain the trust of and impossible to gain the trust of. He'll rarely reveal personal information or be vulnerable-if he's even capable of such things-but he will show trust in his willingness to lay his life down. To gain it, he needs evidence that you're loyal and strong, same as him, otherwise he understands he may one day have to come head to head with you.

    — will start fights / will not flee / will not show mercy
    — excels at Fighting, Tracking, Following Orders, Intimidation
    — poor at climbing, swimming, stealth, talking, strategy, politics
    — sounds like: deep, gravelled and thick with a sort of country accent / Arthur Morgan
    — smells of iron, leather, and wood
    — speech is #435E75

​
 
──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 The weight of Houndthistle's touch is a comfort he hadn't realized he wanted. He has no illusions about whose muzzle presses against him— Houndthistle has a distinct scent wholly difficult to mistake for anyone else's, but he allows himself a single moment to pretend that it belongs to a different cat tall enough to rest their heads like this. Only a moment, and then it is Hound again, whose name is an uncomfortable reminder of a green-eyed RiverClanner and his size close enough to another's for reverie. It isn't fair to him, he knows, but when he steps away, it isn't to apologize and end the night between them.

"Ah, but it won't be so easy. A show of skill remains." His eye glints playfully and he shifts into a battle stance. "I want to test you myself— a worthy opponent is a worthy companion."
​
 
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