* ✰. — miracle man ❞ / tree-climbing

[SLATESNARL]

Akin to a fish out of water, or perhaps a timid baby chipmunk who had not yet grown comfortable in its skyward abode, Slate clung to the Tall Pine for dear life and carefully situated his hind legs so that they were firmly glued to the branch's surface. He had climbed fences, certain buildings, even monsters, but the former rogue was not accustomed to scaling trees. Their branches weren't always sturdy, there was less area to grasp onto, and they were tall.

Slate's pupils hesitantly darted over the edge; cats stood below, watching him, judging him, even sneering at him. Huh, and these SkyClanners liked climbing trees?

The rusted-belly tom felt that he had secured himself, for now at least, so he mustered the courage to push himself to his paws and crouch. "So... what now?" Slate reluctantly grunts to the patrol below, who had agreed to show him around SkyClan's territory and even teach him one of their signature battle moves. So far, he wasn't convinced that any battle could possibly take place on the likes of a tree. Maybe they had told him to climb to the branch to see if he'd fall on his ass and fail; that seemed like a more realistic theory.

​

— * ✰. ooc information recent events * ✰. —

• slate is trying to learn the trunk spring move!
  
• 
  ✰ SLATE
  —— amab, uses he/him pronouns. twenty-nine moons old. warrior of skyclan; former rogue.
  —— unrefined, rough and tumble rogue who is not accustomed to clan life. only trustful of his littermate, duskmane.
  —— link to tags. @ on discord for plots.
  
  quite the hulk of a cat, slate stands above the average clanmate with an arrogant gait. he has a dark gray ( bordering on black ) colored pelt with a pale-brown-tinged underbelly and whisps of tan at the tips of his chest hairs. amber-colored eyes contrast against his dark palette. notable features include a jagged scar across his right eye and two small scratches across the bridge of his nose.
• 
  

​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

/ set post-'reunion' hehe

It was with keen interest that Silversmoke watched their newest clanmate scale the tree, his eyes glinting with a vicious glee whenever the dark feline hesitated or stumbled. He hadn't truly been apart of Slate's patrol, duty had evaded the tabby that week, but he busied himself shadowing the older tom all the same. The kittypets were disadvantageous but mostly harmless, though it benefited SkyClan to have a fighter like Slate amidst its ranks, fury still burned in the warrior's heart whenever he saw him. He pictured his own claws running down their face, leaving them a worthy mark that would stick with Slate even as he ascended to StarClan (if such a creature would even be allowed there). His heterochromatic gaze never left the tall tom, for just a moment, he felt his heart sink as Slate secured himself to the branch. 'Shame he didn't fall off.' It would have saved everyone a lot of hassle if Slate had passed or gotten severely injured before he could do any harm, but with life not going Silversmoke's way this time, he chose to indulge in the other's question.

Stepping out from the half-dead brambles he'd hid under, Smoke shook the laziest burrs from his thick coat, deciding he would deal with the other messes later. Briefly, he glanced towards the patrol, and when they were too slow to give an answer, the tom interjected. "Figure it out yourself." Tufted ears moved to the back of his skull, and without much rhythm, Silversmoke's tail lashed. He recognised that the patrollers were trying to get Slate to do some sort of SkyClan technique, the trust they put into the gray-coated tom already left the taste of mouse bile in his mouth. It was times like this, when his fur bristled with hatred and he was a few poor comments away from tearing into the newcomer, that he wished SkyClan had a method of sorting out problems between clanmates that didn't just involve talking it out. He needed to sink his teeth into the other, non-fatally if he had to, just to feel comfortable being around him again. "You have a brain, why would a SkyClanner suggest climbing a tree in the middle of battle? Other than in hopes you'd fall out of it." Speaking plainly, Silversmoke's unsheathed claws tussled in the snow below as he sat down, his head held high in the face of expected adversity.



​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

It was neither with judgement nor a sneer that Twitchpaw watched Slate- it was simply the ever-set wariness upon his chocolate-coated features, olive eyes sunken in their sockets, blinking only when they started to sting. Being- new, Slate was in Twitchpaw's eyes someone to watch. From afar, preferably. In the company of the rest of this patrol he felt safe enough that he could get a little close- especially since Slate seemed to be sticking his neck out in order to learn a custom or two. Or maybe- maybe he was a spy. Spying on them. Trying to learn their territory so he could use it against them one of these days. Not everyone was going to have these ill intentions, but he had to be sure, just had to be sure. Someone- one of these days, someone might be.

But- but he didn't want him to fall and die, either. If he fell and died (not that it was likely from this height, but who knew how one could land wrong), who would be to blame? People might think someone on the patrol pushed him, and then- then they'd all be exiled, or- or worse. Whatever was worse than exile. So, he swallowed his fear- though it was pushed down like a pebble, the aftershock still thick in his throat and voice. Thick with worry, wavering- "Pushhh- j-just, jump 'n push, off the- the- the-" a dithering paw gestured to the trunk. Pupils set tiny in a green expanse darted all over the place. ​

penned by pin ✧​