private THE PERFECT SKY IS TORN [ ✦ ] twitchbolt

[Fantastream]

"Thanks fer agreein' to help me, Twitchbolt" her climbing skills left much to be desired but she had not been honing her skills from a young age like many SkyClanners had. Twitchbolt was a friendly face, so she had reached out to him, asked if he was willing to give her a couple of pointers and was delighted when he had agreed. When they had first left camp she had been wary of the rogues that everyone was speaking of, that RiverClan had fled from, but after a while she finds that she falls into a steady pace, allowing the more experienced warrior to take the lead.

When they reach their destination she cannot help but glance skyward, suddenly feeling daunted by the task of scaling such a large tree. She casts her gaze to the cat next to her, "So..." she says, allowing her voice to trail off ever so slightly "Where do we start?" she honestly has no idea. Once, she had climbed the tree in her garden but that was many moons ago and when she had reached the branch she had been aiming for she had discovered that she had no idea how to get down and when Hon' had come outside looking for her she had cried and cried and cried until Hon' disappeared back into the house and retrieved Dear who then helped her to get down.

@TWITCHBOLT

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[TWITCHBOLT]

Even at a terrible time like this- the sort of endless string of the worst, bottom-of-the-pit luck that made him want to either disintegrate into dust, set himself on fire or rip apart blanket-upon-blanket of moss- even now, he would always have the trees. That was permanent. A rogue could rip apart a bluejay and leave it on the ground like a personal taunt, but they could never uproot the pines and send them spinning off to a realm unseen. When Fantastream offered the solace of retreating to the pines, he'd taken up her offer- even if it'd be a repeat of teaching his own apprentice, it would at least be climbing. And when it came to things he loved, he didn't mind a bit of repetition.

Half of his relationship with Quillstrike was built entirely upon their ceaseless routines, come to think of it.

"Well, you've- you've climbed before, right?" Even once or twice mattered. "Getting up's the easiest part, really..." Craning his neck, he searched for the lowest branch. The lowest branch that'd hold her, anyway- and once he found it, a kinked tail flicked toward it. "Shh-show me what you know." There was a bit of a dampness in the air, he thought- had it rained, recently? Maybe the branch would be slippery- maybe, maybe he should stay on the floor, act as a landing-pad...​

penned by pin ✧​