WHISPER-DARK; duskpool

[TERMITEHUM]

( 𓆣 ) Termitepaw is a nocturnal creature. She prefers the dark of night, prefers the quiet only broken by owl-cry and cicada-hum. Perhaps she'd be more suited to ShadowClan, with her fear of her own Clan's hunting techniques. Her pelt blends seamlessly in the pitch, starry-white splotches the only sign of her presence. The true stars hang heavy over head; the clearer sight they grant her is not worth the fear they bring, little eyes watching from above. She keeps her head down.

Perhaps this is why she runs directly into another cat, an older tom, the molly colliding in a tangle of paws before jumping back and away, eyes wide as she attempts to make out the shape of the dark-furred warrior in the pine-shaded darkness. "Ah!" she exclaims, still hushed despite her jumpiness. It feels sacrilegious to disturb the stillness of night. "So-orry, sorry. Di-idn't, mm, se-e you there." She shuffles her paws a bit, sheepish eyes peering up at the other cat from where her head sits dipped in embarassment.


// @YOUKAI | DUSKPOOL​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

.anger makes you stupid —————————

————————— stupid gets you killed.

▵ ———————— ◮ ———————— ▵

THE LARGE BRUTE OF OBSIDIAN AND white flickered through the darkness with only the moonlight to pave the way, splitting through the darkness like a well-pointed spear. His copper-colored hues brightened significantly beneath the moon’s welcoming rays, dotting his pelt with moon-kissed freckles. His ears sat on top of his helm, swerving in tandem with the sounds of various bugs and nocturnal animals.

He was at home in solitude, far outcry to joining a clan brimming with felines. An uncomfortable, but welcoming feat. His skin buzzed in anticipation while copper-coated hues flickered from pine to pine, head cocked, watching the limbs groan and shiver as if they were sentient, adding to the eeriness that darkness provided. Yes. He was home in the eerie darkness with only the moon’s rays to guide his path. I should be returning to camp. A thought that damped his mood significantly. Dusk enjoyed the comfort of cats, but for someone who spent his entire life alone? It was a distracting change. Something he still couldn’t quite get used to.

Often he’d spend his nights outside of camp within the comforts of silence, only returning at dusk to begin his duties as a warrior. He sighed. The tom made his way through the thick pines, ambling mindlessly until something collided—head-on into his chest. He grunted at the impact, copper-colored hues flickering down to stare at the smaller feline with a raised brow, head slightly cocked.

The male made no move to speak, simply observing the dark-furred feline with a critical eye. He shook his head, offering a shrug of his shoulders in response to the other. “Didn’t do any harm.” He remarked, tone deadpan. “Barely moved.” He added. It was in no case making fun of the molly’s strength. The obsidian-hued male was naturally blunt, uncaring of the harsh words that ripped out of his throat like thorns. He wasn’t mean, pre-say. He just didn’t care about etiquette when it came down to it, but he wasn’t mean. He still cared. He still had compassion, even if it was buried deep within his caged heart. For good reason too.

He shuffled back an inch, observing the molly with a curious hue. “Not hurt, are you kid?” He rumbled out, voice vibrating deep within his throat. The sleep-deprived male wondered if he should question why the molly was out this late at night. He made no move to question the other of her odd sleeping habits as he too was someone that was a night owl, although much more for the fact he was terrified. Of what? Duskpool would take that to his grave.

He sighed, rotating his shoulders in thought. The male offered the molly a weak-filled grin that vanished seconds after. “I should apologize.” Wasn’t looking where I was going in the first place. “Sorry, kid.”

thoughts speech​

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[TERMITEHUM]

( 𓆣 ) Termitepaw's eyes focus slowly in the moonlit dark, taking in the cat in front of her. He looks not unlike herself, black-and-white fur with copper-orange eyes, though certainly much larger. It takes her a moment to take in the smoke, the stripes, blending seamlessly with the night. His eyes glow beacon-like and golden bright, moonlight glinting off of then in a nearly uncanny way. Perhaps if she had looked up, she'd not have run into him; the brightness of his eyes is the only part of him that stands out in the sea of pitch. He seems like he belongs here, in the dark, in a way she's never felt like she belongs anywhere. He looks at home.

Termitepaw herself feels more comfortable with the night, certainly, the blinding gaze of the sun beating down upon her back was nearly unbearable on some days. The bustle of Clan life, the constant prying from nosy Clanmates, she did not miss it in these hours. There is a fear to her, obvious to all who see her, that is diminished in the quiet and solitude. Her lack of sleep was not quite insomnia, but rather a search for respite which sleep could not grant.

The molly exhales a shaky breath when Duskpool eventually speaks. He's probably not a figment of her sleep-deprived mind, then, probably not some kind of specter. Can never tell, at these hours. His voice is flat an rumbling, no hope of reading emotion into it. Is he mad? Is he mad and lying? They hope not. "So-rry," they mumble again, lamely, when he says that they barely moved him. Whether she's apologizing for bumping him at all or for not bumping him hard enough is unclear.

“Not hurt, are you kid?” He asks then, and they blink. Why would he care if she was hurt? She's the one who bumped into him! Shouldn't he be going on about annoying apprentices not watching where they're going, or something? "No-o! Not, mm, not hurt, no, 'm fine." She does mean it this time, though she rarely does when she says it. Strange for this cat to be concerned for her. She eyes him suspiciously, this tom who looks so much like herself, who just so happened to be out at the same time. Weird coincidence, she thinks, maybe even not a coincidence.

His next words catch her even further off guard. He's... apologizing? He's apologizing? Perhaps it's their clear nervousness that causes him to do so. The grin he briefly offers seems genuinely apologetic, surprisingly. "Do-on't," they say abruptly, more forceful than they realize. "I-I mean, no rea-son to apologize..." They feel awkward, having a proper warrior apologize to them. "Sorry," they reiterate, more a filler word than anything at this point.

The silence stretches on. They should probably fill it. "...'M Termitepaw, by the wa-ay. Ha-aven't seen you around much." It's a question, almost, though not asked, as they wait for any introduction, any explanation from the tom.​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

.anger makes you stupid —————————

————————— stupid gets you killed.

▵ ———————— ◮ ———————— ▵

HE WATCHED THE OTHER WITH CALCULATIVE HUES head cocked to the side with a throaty hum. His obsidian-hued fur rippled as the tension leaves his frame, opting to take on a less threatening stance, or as much as he could despite the heavy slouch of his shoulders. It was clear the other seemed nervous, noting the distinct pattern of inky black and white that did well to bleed into the black of night. His own showed similarity, although he had more obsidian hues than he possessed white that grazed his muzzle and neck.

Dusk let out a rumbling chuckle at the apology, shaking his helm. He undoubtedly should have remembered the smaller feline that stood in front of him, but the older brute couldn’t seem to put a name to a face. Of course, Youkai made few attempts to get to know the others than what was required of him, preferring the midnight chatter over the obnoxious sounds of the clan during the day.

No doubt Dusk would be sporting a decent headache if he ‘hung’ out with other fellow clan members. He wouldn’t have the energy to deal with some of them. Hell. He wouldn’t have the energy to deal with any of them. He wasn’t anti-social … just preferred non-inanimate objects for company to something … more animate. He would have snorted if he didn’t catch it at the last second, taking a deep lungful of pine-scented air.

His ears flickered on top of his helm, letting out a rumble that vibrated deep within the expanse of his chest. “Good to hear.” He remarked rather deadpan, copper-molten hues giving the other a once over to make sure, deeming the other uninjured with a satisfied huff. He’d kick himself and then some if the black-and-white feline was injured, certainly because he hadn’t been paying attention, something the brute aced in.

He was uncanary observant, borderline creepy, but if he wasn’t, then he sure as hell wouldn’t be standing here talking to a little thing like the feline before him. “You say sorry a lot, don’t you kid?” He remarked at the second apology in the same of a few minutes. “How about this? It was both of our faults.” He shrugged broad shoulders that rippled with compact muscle just beneath sensitive flesh.

He noted the long stretch of silence, falling back into his calloused paw pads with a grunt, bones protesting against the weight. His lips quirked in annoyance. Damn brittle bones. He thought dryly. He was getting fed up with the bitter cold that nipped at his skin.

Dusk tilted his head, rumbling in tandem with their introduction. Termitepaw, mhm? His brow furrowed at the name, not as odd as he thought it’d be. “Wouldn’t expect you to, kid. Don’t usually stay in camp.” He remarked. “Not something that’s appealing to this old loner.” Dusk ruffled his obsidian-hued fur speckled with snowy white. “Name’s Duskpool.” He cocked his head, lips curled into a friendly grin that dropped the second he felt his lips tilt up.

There were other things keeping him from socializing, but that wasn’t something for an apprentice to listen to. He sure as hell wouldn’t lay it on anyone, especially someone as young as the feline before him.

thoughts speech​

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