ROSEMARY AND THYME ✿ tallpine

BZvm8rs.png
4d5460.png

Leafbare draws ever closer. A moon and a half away from the forest had momentarily warped Bobbie's perception of the seasons, and perhaps this contributes to the unnatural speed of the season's approach—or maybe it's simply dread. The golden days of greenleaf are far behind them, soon to be replaced by the frozen nights she'd had a taste of in the mountains. It's not an experience she's eager to relive, much less for several moons, but time stops for nobody. To its credit, leaf-fall's last gasp is a splendid one. Though the pines are as unchanging as ever, the air on this particular morning has a pleasant chill to it that doesn't quite freeze one down the bone.

Maybe it's the disturbing prospect of the oncoming hunger and cold, a fresh pain she's yet to experience, but today Bobbie's driven towards the Tallpine. The soft pink-grays of dawn feather the sky, the pale bellies of clouds painted golden. Early frost coats the sparse earth and crunches underfoot, sending an invigorating chill through her paws. She's slipped out of camp in the early hours, hoping to avoid too much humiliation should she fail in her quest to progress up the tree. Just west of camp, she finds it—branches scraping the sky, towering above the other pines until they look like kitten toys.

"Woah," she breathes softly, willing herself not to back out. Bobbie half-crouches, building up the force in her legs, and then bounces off the earth until she's clinging to its vast trunk. From there it's uninterrupted climbing, trying to see how far she can go before she has to push herself to take a break. There's something soothing about the smooth repetition of the process—searching for clawholds and hauling herself from one branch to the next as they grow gradually thinner. Suddenly, she's grateful for her compact frame as her needled perches shrink.

She must be more than halfway up the tree by the time she finally perches, nestled closely against the trunk against any errant breezes. The branches swaying gently around her are thin and close together as the trunk begins to wane from its considerable size at the base, though Bobbie wouldn't dream of trying to climb to the top (not yet, anyways). She squints, spots a fellow SkyClanner or two on the ground that had, somewhere along the way, become quite a distance from herself.

"The, uh, the view's great up here!" Bobbie calls. And it is. The rippling pines spill out in an expanse of perennial greenery, complemented by the slow bleed of late leaf-fall dawn. Rosy pinks and bejeweled purples wash the sky, interrupted by pillowy white clouds that cradle a newborn sun. Just try not to think of how far away the ground is.....

4d5460.png

  • she's a good way up tallpine but not at the top! commemorative 300th post <3
  • 6TR0CBJ.png
    bobbie ; lead warrior of skyclan
    x. she/her ; 43 moons ; tags
    x. small, scarred lilac tabby and white she-cat with green eyes
    x. played by dejavu
    x. mother to lupinepaw, crowpaw, and drowsypaw. mate to blazestar.

 

The early hunting patrol had been fruitful so far, it seemed. Tigerscar had caught a red feathered bird, the taste of it's blood filling his mouth. Breath was mist upon the frosty air, the grass glistening with frozen dew. He's grateful for his thick coat of fur in such difficult times. Soon enough, they'd all have to trudge through snow. Some SkyClanners would even be forced to sleep in it. Poor fools don't know what they're missing, the brutish tom thinks to himself, picturing his spot by the fireplace with a rumbling purr.

As the morning crawls by, the patrol finds itself at the base of tall-pine, where a voice calls from far above. One eye of fire flickers up through the branches curiously, spotting Bobbie perched on a branch. Dropping his bird, Tigerscar grins up at her and yowls, "If only cats could grow wings, eh?" He muses humorously.
 
Strangers. He felt that all of them, were, to an extent. Despite those he had seen the very day they were born; or faces that had cropped up beneath his very nose; there was too much between them to think anyone more than an acquaintance. There is a whole world between them; heaven, the stars. A world of knowledge that he held, and that few more would ever glimpse. These few could smile all they like, and they would never know; he could grin all he lives, and it would always be crooked, to them. The side effect of being higher; of being better.

But sickness has been oh so mortal. Uncomfortably so. His soul stings from the aftershocks; from itching, crawling discomfort. From eyes that burned and a throat that had shut itself tight.

She is nothing; a nobody that calls herself friend, whispering nonsense to and about the sun, as if she were one of them. Setting out at dawn and at dusk, as if she were one of them. Nonsense, completely, and as she tugs her way along the trunk of that great pine...

Dawnglare's lips are bitten. He refuses to put his mind to those murmurings within camp. Mates. Absurd. Inane. Where she to slip and fall, would he laugh? If only cats could grow wings, eh? There is the cant of his head. " There is no need. " He would not laugh. He would not.

And Dawnglare notes, with some discomfort, that she does not seem so horribly out of place.
EpC61GT.png

  • geLHt4I.png

  • ( I'M AS ALIVE AS HER BEARD IS LONG ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
    𓆩♡𓆪 He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
    𓆩♡𓆪 Currently 59 moons old as of 11.20.23. Mated to Mallowlark

    Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest.
    Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads
 
The apprentice hadn't been thinking much other than asking someone if they would hunt with him, until a familiar voice can be heard. The tom finds himself looking up and seeing Bobbie. He doesn't answer, doesn't even smile. All he does is stare as Tigerscar makes conversation. Wings? If we all had wings I think it would be more of a pain fighting. Dawnglare makes a comment which he can't help agree with. They weren't birds and he finds the very notion of himself having wings burdensome. It would make numerous things easier, but given everything going on it had it's downsides too. For one, he can't imagine any of them learning how to climb if they could all just climb. Would Skyclan be known as the best at flight then? What about all the other clans? He's not sure how Riverclan would be able to hunt or swim with wings. It was too complicated that it made his head spin.

"Too much," he mumbles to himself. If the others had heard, then they would be confused by his words. Too much what? In any case, it seems like Dawnglare isn't in a great mood so that quickly crosses out any conversation with the medicine cat. For that reason he turns to Tigerscar and mews "Wouldn't that make things harder? What's the point of learning to climb if we can all fly? Anyway, Tigerscar? Can you teach me how to hunt?" He is aware this is something he should ask Silversmoke, but he doesn't want to deal with his mentors aversion to hunting today.
  • — crowpaw / skyclan apprentice / masculine pronouns / 7 moons
    — undecided / single / not looking / open to flirting and crushes
    — long haired black smoke with hazel eyes with polydactyly
    — may powerplay minor harm / can powerplay healing
    biography / @ on discord for plots
    — penned by velou
 
"The, uh, the view's great up here!"

A voice about as irksome as a crow's squeaking cuts through the pines, prompting the lead warrior to duck his mangled ears and scowl. He stops in his tracks and cranes his neck, gaze scaling up the Tallpine until it zeroed in on the distant form of Bobbie. What the hell was she doing up there? Her commitment to the treacherous trek upward was admittedly impressive, especially for an earthbound cat like him, which only annoyed him even more.

Slate grumbled, "Hmph. She might be good for somethin' after all." That was a big maybe. Climbing was one thing, but being able to traverse the branches and use them to one's advantage in battle and in hunt was another. Slate would be pretty damn amazed if Bobbie could ever manage that.

With a huff, the muscular Maine Coon prowled away to continue patrolling.

  • SLATE
    —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
    —— bisexual; single; not looking
    —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
    —— "speech", thoughts, attack
    —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
    —— penned by beatles