Open Camp 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 ── .✦ inquires about the past

[DUSKPOOL]

DUSKPOOL​

Settlin' down for the night, Duskpool lay half-sprawled near the warrior's den, prey forgotten between his massive paws, likely to be tossed to the nearest warrior with another familiar lie on his scarred lips. Not like he was hungry to begin with, hadn't been must for a long time now, findin' himself goin' longer and longer without eatin' before his body started screamin' at him, demandin' that he ate.

Real hypocritical of him, ain' it? Makin' sure others ate before he even thought of himself. Somethin' he'd always done, especially now since Honeycombsplash's passin'.

Sighin' softly, Duskpool shifted his bulky frame, easin' sore muscles and stiff joints until they no longer screamed at him. Enough to give him some peace as he stared ahead at folk gatherin' in groups, talkin' between prey or some curled alone enjoyin' the lull of the air before it turned bitter and cold. It ain't till a shadow fell over his bulky frame that he looked up, brow raised in silent inquiry, havin' been off to himself for some time, not that he minded all that much, even preferred it over the chatterin' of clanmates. "Need somethin' kiddo?" His tone questionin', willin' to hear the youngster out before he herded 'em off to someone else.

It ain't until the other questioned about his younger days, either thinkin' he'd always been in SkyClan or somethin' else. It made the old warrior snort, head shakin' in amusement. "I ain't a clan-born cat like some folk are, reckon I was a kittypet durin' my childhood before livin' on my own, not like ya could tell I'd been one." His lips quirked in amusement. What Duskpool ain't about to tell 'em won't hurt 'em. It ain't somethin' worth bein' turned into a story, rather a well-written nightmare.

"Afraid I ain't much of a storyteller, kid, but life back then I ain't got much to say, not less yer interested in hearin' the messes my littermates caused." He mused dryly.

we're only haunted by the things we refuse to accept

ooc

information

main ref

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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-four 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
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