" cheers " he announces himself with a purr of greeting. Though where the typical feline holds a gentle thunder in their throat his was raked over his vocals in a most gravelly racket. His limbs sleek with a greasy shine that carry him toward the solitary flame point. Finally getting a closer look at the bloke. He’s tall, with a thick reddish hued pelt.

Not at all a bad looking man, Thistleback’s silvery eyes inch over the short neck and mane haloing the tree king’s ears. " perhaps I’m the last to offer- my congratulations,- congratulations nonetheless" The piebald licks over his grimy smile with a sense of static in his brain.

" or if you’re anything like me… ‘my condolences’ " he chuckles now in regards to his own detest for having children. " this Thunderclan woman, you must love her " Thistleback’s jaw sets and bulges on the edge in an uneasy way. The mention of love, the word itself- foreign and strange on the tongue. " may I ask…" he pauses for a while- tail lashing now as if what he was asking was difficult. Maybe it was.

" how it came- to… you- and her. How, one falls for a-… you fell for her " he’s tripping over his words and it’s not normal for him. His accented tongue knows no trip until today. He shuffles his bony toes like a deck of cards. @BLAZESTAR

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Blazestar looks up, startled to find Thistleback addressing him. Handsome despite the harsh, fumy haze of Twoleg mist that clings to his black and white pelt, teeth exposed and challenging despite the friendly lilt in his voice, Thistleback approaches him with congratulations on his lips.

The Ragdoll's eyes fall to his sienna-dipped paws, though he can't help the smile that breaks through the pale clouds of his face. The spiky-pelted tom amends himself to offer condolences instead, but Blazestar's good humor isn't tempered."Thank you, Thistleback. I'm nervous, but for the first time in so long, I'm... happy." The word comes out in a purr, one that startles him. StarClan, the last time he'd been happy had been in his Twoleg's nest, hadn't it?

He's startled by Thistleback's continuation. "May I ask..." Blazestar's smile minimizes but remains as the piebald chokes out his musing. Thistleback is the last cat in the Clan he'd have expected to come to him asking about his love life. The Ragdoll searches the other's well-structured face, wondering what the ulterior motive might be, before dismissing the idea. It doesn't really matter, after all, does it?

Blazestar replies with a flick of a golden ear, "I fell for her immediately, Thistleback. She's got the kindest heart, and that's rare out here. I know you know what I mean." His smile becomes wistful, and his eyes glaze over from the memory. "But I guess the first clue... I wanted to be around her all the time. Wanted to see her again. I was leaving my Twoleg nest every night just for the possibility of seeing her face again, catching her scent on the wind." Before the Clans, before he'd foolishly gotten lost in the forest. He laughs a little, "At one point, I even thought I might join the wild cats and protect her. It's how my foolish tail ended up in Rain's colony."

He fixes Thistleback with a clear-eyed gaze. "But there must be some reason you're asking me, isn't there? Is there..." He furls his brow. "Is there someone?"

The leader had a dream-like smile on his face, the type that displayed his emotions and adoration for whatever he was thinking of. Thistleback notes it like he would the hollows of a tree- fascinating and wondering what it took to do it. Envy coursed him- if he looked like Blazestar, he would be willing to bet Deersong would like him. Why did that matter, Blue eyes did magic though, pair that with a long soft-looking plumy coat? Blazestar was warm and stoic-looking, soft yet strong, and beautiful in his own right. Thistleback was sharp, jagged, cold and grimy. Like sludge stood next to sterling. The daylight warrior feels one of the lids of his eyes twitch from staring too long. happy , Blazestar claims, for the first time in a long time. " it looks good on you " he murmurs in agreement, a nod of his tattered skull.

He wants so desperately to know what love is, he clings to every word and says nothing. I know you know what I mean , his eyes flick back to the ragdoll with a twitch of his ebony nose. Yes- it was, like he was talking about Deersong. Thistleback stews on it, absolutely rests with each offering of insight. Living his entire life alone, disassociated, he feels foreign to these concepts but yet, craves them simultaneously.

Rain’s colony, Thistleback’s neck tilts back with interest and visuals. He was a vicarious listener, " foolish or not- you’re where you are meant to be… and that’s coming from someone who believes little in fate " he adds with idle thought. He hadn’t been here for the great split and founding- but stories still tune around camp at times. Not many had faith in Blazestar apparently, good on him for sticking it to them. Society was a toxic cesspool anyhow.

Ah, here it comes- the fair return of question and those blue eyes are on him. His toes he had been shuffling stiffen and press hard ino the dirt. " that’s… terribly complicated… I suppose, I can say- yes, there is someone" he pauses, grey eyes flicking back and forth with a quickness suggesting insecure effort. " she’d never… she deserves someone- not me " he says it with conviction and contempt in a shake of his head and humorless chuckle.

" I do like being around her. I can’t understand why she wants to be around me." he says with honesty and a puzzled press on his face. " Deersong " he says it, finally, to someone at least. Might as well be the man who’s job is their lives and problems technically. " She’s very kind… very beautiful- too beautiful. enchanting " he lists with a faraway stare again. " and I’m no Blazestar- " he bids the leader a compliment with a sly grimy smile.

  • — Thistleback | thirty moons | cis-male
    — daylight warrior of Skyclan
    — bisexual | crushing on Deersong
    — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes. Wears a purple collar with brass clasp.
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"It looks good on you," the piebald warrior tells him, voice quiet, and the Ragdoll blushes beneath his thick coat. Does it? Is it obvious, now that he isn't walking around their camp with his thick tail dragging through dust, now that he feels his life might have meaning beyond dying for a Clan who does not care for him? He is pleased at the comment, despite his embarrassment, and flicks a ginger ear to acknowledge it.

"Foolish or not- you're where you are meant to be... and that's coming from someone who believes little in fate." Blazestar looks at him, wanting to believe it so -- and not long ago, might he have scoffed to himself? Might he have gone back to his doubts and suffered in silence with them?

"I believe that you're right," he replies. Little Wolf is his mate, carrying his kits, and SkyClan is thriving despite their hardships. He has fine warriors, and he is proud to lead every one of them. He does feel he belongs here now, though StarClan and his position as the leader has little or nothing to do with it.

Thistleback's posture changes somewhat when Blazestar poses the question on him, the silvery eyes falling to the dust where his paws press. "I suppose, I can say - yes, there is someone." Blazestar's gaze sharpens with interest. Thistleback isn't the type of cat he'd have expected to fall for someone, but he's now dying to know who the object of his affections is.

"She'd never... she deserves someone - not me." Blazestar knows that place of darkness, that insecurity -- StarClan, doesn't he! He's been there too many times himself. Would have died there, probably, had it not been for Little Wolf. He tilts his head. "Deersong." "Oh?" He smiles to hear it, picturing the sweet, dedicated cream-colored feline he's just promoted to lead warrior. "I've seen you two spending time together, but I never would have thought..."

Thistleback says, "And I'm no Blazestar--" and he has to bite back a sharp bark of laughter. "And thank StarClan for it! Trust me, you don't want to be Blazestar." His smile dims, but only slightly. "Deersong is a wonderful she-cat. A good friend. And she's nothing if not patient and kind. Why don't you ... talk to her? She may surprise you."