YOUR EYES ARE VACANT / OPEN, TEMP? JOINING

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Something is wrong with him. He knows that. Something about him is off, there's a screw loose, there's something wrong. It doesn't bother him too much, though. He doesn't know enough for it to bother him, he doesn't feel enough for it to bother him. Last he knew, he'd been in WindClan, though — though he can't say what he'd been doing, exactly. He remembers Boypaw. Stevie. Redkit. Cherviltea. Sanctifiedpaw. Happykit. Corey. Kate. There are a lot of people to remember, but trying to think through them doesn't lead him anywhere in particular. There's no tug back to WindClan, though he's sure that he would prefer that place to this one, simply because it was familiar and the wolfdog tends to prefer familiar things. Familiar faces. But his gaze is stone-cold as he looks around, not even a faint hint of nervousness to be found. Nothing of who he had been before.

That's not entirely true. The six month old canine looks the same, for the most part, and underneath the blank exterior lies that same gentle energy and strength. Time ticks on, yet that side of him doesn't make an appearance as he sits and waits, carrying everything he needed strapped to his body. For now, Darkpaw doesn't speak. There's hardly a point in wasting his breath yet, though he supposes that this is a way to force the people here to waste theirs. That doesn't quite bother him, though he does clear his throat to possibly speed things up.
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It was straightforward, he supposed. Something so simple, so easy to answer. People don't ask why he chose this place, or where he came from. Just his name and what he wanted. It hadn't been like that in WindClan. He'd been sobbing when they first found him, scared out of his wits and simply asking them not to make him. Not to make him do what, he'd never told them. Perhaps that's what's wrong with him now. He caved, he did it anyway. Though it can't be that simple, can it? The child exhales. "Darkpaw. Joining." A simple question gets a simple answer, though he almost calls himself Darkpup. To combat the moment of discomfort, he simply flicks his ear at the statement that had followed here. "I wouldn't be here otherwise," he assures, because the wolfdog never does anything without a purpose. This place didn't offer a purpose, but it was a place to sleep, he hopes. To sleep and make a plan. The only friends he had were in WindClan — perhaps he would go back there, at some point.

For now, he's here. Darkpaw turns towards the second person, blinking quickly at the armor they wear before moving on. "I'm not a sir," he says, as easy as anything, not so much as a smile on his face. These days, the canine is anything but open. While he had once been easy to talk to — well, he'd already said it a few times. Something went wrong, and now he's who he is. It's okay, though. He doesn't mind. It's not that he's here to escape, either himself or WindClan. In fact, he's not sure what has him coming here. He just woke up nearby and decided to stick around. Maybe some part of him knows that there's nothing left for him in WindClan. Maybe some part of him knows that the person he's supposed to be one day is dead. Instead, Darkpaw is starting with a blank slate.

Ice blue eyes turn towards Nighttales, though the serval has yet to say anything. He doesn't question that, or ask for his name. Instead, the wolfdog seems to be waiting for his approval or something similar. Was his introduction good enough? Did he say the right things? It hardly matters, but something about the stranger seems important. As if they know what they're doing. Still, he would find some form of weakness in Nighttales' way of thinking. After all, where had caring about anyone gotten Darkknight? In contrast to the gentle sweetness of what the ColouredClan's leader thought, the child's mind took him down a different path, one that tasted bitter. What was the point in going back there when all they would see was a dead man? No, he was his own person. No matter where that leads later, Darkpaw is here to make his own path. That's what he tells himself, at least.
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Just as quickly as his gaze had turned to Nighttales, it turned away. Instead, the cool weight of it is now pinned squarely on Blackpaw, obviously unsure of what to think of him. While there was no obvious cruel intent, it was hard for the canine to think anything good of a complete stranger. Still, he wouldn't treat them badly because of what he was going through. Darkpaw relaxes slightly, staring down at the feline for a moment more before speaking. "I appreciate the offer, but I'll find a house on my own. I wouldn't mind the company back to camp, though." If anything, it would show others that he wasn't a threat, and was here with a ColouredClanner that others would recognize. That meant less confrontation, right? He would rather not get in another fight, since the cut on his cheek and the nick in his ear were already hurting him some.
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