- Oct 17, 2022
- 458
- 78
- 28
MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————
Things have been hectic lately. Signs from Starclan, the sun swallowed by the moon, yes; but also the more grounded matters of newleaf struggles, twolegs coming back to their seasonal grounds and dogs roaming the territory.
(‘Lately’ suggests there ever was a time when things were not hectic, which is doubtful, but Snakeblink could swear there was a moon or two at the beginning of things…)
He does what he can to make things easier: he keeps his apprentice busy with training, keeps their freshkill pile high with prey fat with post-hibernation feasting, keeps the nursery well-supplied with fresh moss for the expecting queens. The promise of new life is like the aura of sunrise coloring the horizon at the very break of dawn: the hope of coming light after a long and bleak night. A comfort.
They’ve had too many deaths lately. Too many near-misses as well: he fancies he can still smell blood on the wind as the memory of Valepaw’s encounter with a dog rises at the forefront of his memory. It is unwelcome but not unbidden; he has had the incident on his mind lately, mostly in relation to Rookfang. The disheveled (less so, lately) warrior is very protective of his brother, and it’s clearly weighing on him to have his younger sibling in the medicine cat’s den. No matter how brave Valepaw is being about it. As his… friend? Yes, Snakeblink would call them friends, strange as it makes him feel -- as his friend, he wants to do something or Rookfang, something to get his mind off the situation or at least soothe his bristling nerves somewhat. Something nice.
(It’s Snakeblink’s private opinion that Rookfang is in dear need of nicer things being done to and for him. He hasn’t dared to voice that opinion aloud, to anyone: it seems foolish, somehow, and he wouldn’t know how to argue for it beyond ‘nice things are nice and he deserves it’ anyhow.)
But what to do for Rookfang? Patrols fail to distract him from his concern, and Snakeblink isn’t exactly liable to magically heal Valepaw of all ills. It should be something that shows he cares, and that he pays attention. Staring at the river in deep thought, a brilliant idea dawned on Snakeblink, or rather flew in front of his nose: a vividly-colored little bird diving for silvery fish. Its blue and yellow plumage, reminiscent of the sky at sunset -- the vibrant cerulean sky and dazzling gold sun -- reminded him of Rookfang’s two-colored gaze. So much so, in fact, that once the thought entered his head it would not leave: it seemed obvious that this bird would make a perfect gift.
If only he could catch it.
After multiple fruitless attempts at jumping out of hiding to catch the rapid bird unaware, which all ended with Snakeblink falling into the river in a loud splash and the kingfisher flying away unscathed, he had to come to terms with the fact that he is, put simply, not a very good bird hunter at all.
No, if he ever hopes to catch his elusive prey, he must ask for help from someone who is very, very good at hunting birds… And ideally, who will not ask too many questions. Like all the nice things he would like to do for Rookfang, Snakeblink has neither explanation nor justification for this whole endeavor, and putting it into words would be incredibly embarrassing for all involved.
Dripping wet from his many unwanted dips into the water, Snakeblink drags himself to Lichentail’s side, nodding politely in greeting.
”Ah, Lichentail -- I do not mean to impose upon you, but would you consider lending me your help for a moment?” Since he is not above a little bit of flattery when the situation calls for it, especially not when it’s true, he adds: ”Your skill for bird-hunting is well-known, and I am in dear need of your expertise.”
He gestures with his tail to the jewel-like bird perched over the river, its body barely bending the thin branch it rests on to peer at the river’s surface. ”No matter how I go about it, I cannot seem to find a way to catch it.”
(‘Lately’ suggests there ever was a time when things were not hectic, which is doubtful, but Snakeblink could swear there was a moon or two at the beginning of things…)
He does what he can to make things easier: he keeps his apprentice busy with training, keeps their freshkill pile high with prey fat with post-hibernation feasting, keeps the nursery well-supplied with fresh moss for the expecting queens. The promise of new life is like the aura of sunrise coloring the horizon at the very break of dawn: the hope of coming light after a long and bleak night. A comfort.
They’ve had too many deaths lately. Too many near-misses as well: he fancies he can still smell blood on the wind as the memory of Valepaw’s encounter with a dog rises at the forefront of his memory. It is unwelcome but not unbidden; he has had the incident on his mind lately, mostly in relation to Rookfang. The disheveled (less so, lately) warrior is very protective of his brother, and it’s clearly weighing on him to have his younger sibling in the medicine cat’s den. No matter how brave Valepaw is being about it. As his… friend? Yes, Snakeblink would call them friends, strange as it makes him feel -- as his friend, he wants to do something or Rookfang, something to get his mind off the situation or at least soothe his bristling nerves somewhat. Something nice.
(It’s Snakeblink’s private opinion that Rookfang is in dear need of nicer things being done to and for him. He hasn’t dared to voice that opinion aloud, to anyone: it seems foolish, somehow, and he wouldn’t know how to argue for it beyond ‘nice things are nice and he deserves it’ anyhow.)
But what to do for Rookfang? Patrols fail to distract him from his concern, and Snakeblink isn’t exactly liable to magically heal Valepaw of all ills. It should be something that shows he cares, and that he pays attention. Staring at the river in deep thought, a brilliant idea dawned on Snakeblink, or rather flew in front of his nose: a vividly-colored little bird diving for silvery fish. Its blue and yellow plumage, reminiscent of the sky at sunset -- the vibrant cerulean sky and dazzling gold sun -- reminded him of Rookfang’s two-colored gaze. So much so, in fact, that once the thought entered his head it would not leave: it seemed obvious that this bird would make a perfect gift.
If only he could catch it.
After multiple fruitless attempts at jumping out of hiding to catch the rapid bird unaware, which all ended with Snakeblink falling into the river in a loud splash and the kingfisher flying away unscathed, he had to come to terms with the fact that he is, put simply, not a very good bird hunter at all.
No, if he ever hopes to catch his elusive prey, he must ask for help from someone who is very, very good at hunting birds… And ideally, who will not ask too many questions. Like all the nice things he would like to do for Rookfang, Snakeblink has neither explanation nor justification for this whole endeavor, and putting it into words would be incredibly embarrassing for all involved.
Dripping wet from his many unwanted dips into the water, Snakeblink drags himself to Lichentail’s side, nodding politely in greeting.
”Ah, Lichentail -- I do not mean to impose upon you, but would you consider lending me your help for a moment?” Since he is not above a little bit of flattery when the situation calls for it, especially not when it’s true, he adds: ”Your skill for bird-hunting is well-known, and I am in dear need of your expertise.”
He gestures with his tail to the jewel-like bird perched over the river, its body barely bending the thin branch it rests on to peer at the river’s surface. ”No matter how I go about it, I cannot seem to find a way to catch it.”
——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely
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@lichentail
Trying to catch a kingfisher but he's so so bad at it...
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— Snakeblink • he / him. 51 ☾, riverclan warrior
— a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
— gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
