DUSKPOOL
Just like he'd done with Doe and Jackdaw, Duskpool sought out Lupine within the fray of clusterin' clanmates. "C'mon, squirt. Reckon it's about time you and I join a huntin' patrol." He mused gravelly, dull white jerkin' in the camp's entrance with bored, almost deadpan copper. "Anyone talk to ya about the code n' borders, yet?" He remarked lowly, brow raised as he stalked toward the entrance, gatherin' himself to push through the barrier where the rest of the patrol was waitin'.
"How's clanlife treatin' ya so far, kid?" He remarked once they've joined up with the rest, leadin' Lupine and Sweetpaw to the head. Reckon the squirt is Doe's kid, eh? He noted mentally, head swivelin' forward to scan their surroundings, all while scentin' the air the further he led 'em.
"I said this to Doe and Jackdaw, but SkyClan ain't about to carry dead weight, ya hear? If ya pull yer weight around, and stand tall, reckon ya will do just fine, kiddo." He rumbled at last, wooly plumage sweepin' the air, signalling the others to disperse in search of prey. "I'll show ya the borders, if ya haven't been shown already, but reckon we start by showin' me ya can hunt, eh? Somethin' important for ya to remember, kits n' caregivers eat first, ya hear? Now see if ya can scent anythin'." They weren't close to any major borders, somethin' Duskpool did on purpose with Lupine in mind, not wantin' to overwhelm the kid right off the bat, rather seein' if she can do the basics like huntin' and fightin' before movin' onto the nitty gritty of clan life.
"How's clanlife treatin' ya so far, kid?" He remarked once they've joined up with the rest, leadin' Lupine and Sweetpaw to the head. Reckon the squirt is Doe's kid, eh? He noted mentally, head swivelin' forward to scan their surroundings, all while scentin' the air the further he led 'em.
we're only haunted by the things we refuse to accept
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DUSKPOOL stands like a storm given flesh, broad-shouldered and unyielding. His frame was built from the bloodlines of a Norwegian Forest and Maine Coon, every inch steeped in the weight of a life hard-lived. His pelt is a wooly black smoke mantle, thick as winter fog and marked with faint mackerel stripes. Old scars score his flanks and shoulders like lightning carved into the night sky, with each one telling a story that was paid for in blood.
One molten-copper eye burns fierce and unblinking, sharp enough to cut through lies, while the other is nothing but a hollowed ruin. A sunken relic of a battle he walked away from when he shouldn't have. His tail is a heavy, swaying banner of shadow, and his paws are silent despite their size, measured by someone who's learned patience the hard way.
He carries himself with the gravity of an old war-chief, regular in ruin, yet brutal in beauty. His very presence is a warning that some storms don't pass. They wait. And they return.
"there's two kinds of cats in this world. those who learn from others' mistakes, and those who are the mistake."
senior sun guard of skyclan during coffeestar and hawkstar's reign (mentor to sweetpaw)
eighty-three moons; ages on the 1st of every month
brother to outlawbite & thistlestrike; half-brother to flowercloud; father to almondpaw & cinderpaw (wolfstorm & lostmoon)
his voice is a low, gravel-rough baritone, measured and deliberate, carrying the weight of old battles and unspoken truths
his scent is a deep grounding mix of cedarwood and patchouli, laced with the sharpness of pine and a lingering curl of smoke
pinterest | playlist | theme song
speech thought action
peaceful/healing powerplay permitted -
