crash and burn // p

[Ivypaw]

[[ Mousepaw ]]

She wasn't sure why she was drawn to the wreckage. Maybe it was because it was of twoleg origin- the structure, as broken as it was, still reminded her of the barn. Or maybe it was the way that it hung above the rest of the territory on it's own cliff, taunting, silently challenging any who passed it to just try. So she had climbed, out of spite, or nostalgia, or whatever it was, and found herself there.

It was quiet, at least for the time being. Critters skittered to avoid her, but since she wasn't making any effort to quiet her steps or hunt, she made no effort to follow. She just wanted to be.

Self-evaluation wasn't her thing. She didn't like to question her own choices, to think about why, when she'd rather just do. But lately, it had felt necessary. She absentmindedly weaved around and under the twoleg seats, most damaged and falling apart, tasting the air for a moment for any sort of predator. None seemed to be around at the moment, but she decided to keep an eye out anyway- she'd overheard a warning that they sometimes came here. She leaped up onto one of the less damaged ones, and, after deciding that it was admittedly somewhat comfy, sat down. She stayed there for a while, thinking and looking around lazily, until she heard the sound of somebody else approaching and she lifted her head. "I can hear you," she called out, keeping her voice neutral. Maybe a distraction was just what she needed.

[Mousepaw]

I hadn't meant to fall asleep, in all honesty. I had slipped out of camp earlier that morning, when the sun had still yet to rise, unable to sleep. Of course, my paws led me up the mountain, towards the peculiar wreckage that almost everyone believed to come from the twolegs.       The plane had always held my interests, unlike most apprentices who were too frightened to go near the sharp scraps of metal. It wasn't because I was interested in twolegs, necesarilly (although I did find them rather fascinating), but more for the way it looked. It contrasted heavily with the rest of the landscape and, for whatever reason, automatically drew me towards it.      I had jumped up onto one of the cushioned objects, watched as night creatures passed by the windows. Occasionally a sound would shock me out of the daze, but, without my instruction, my body began to shut down. I decided it had probably been because of the peaceful silence and the fresh air, which often seemed to make me relax.       And now I was awake. At first, I wasn't sure why -- but the gray she-cat that entered the wreckage drew my attention. She must've made some sort of noise, or perhaps my body had recognized another cat's presence. When she spoke, I raised my head over the seat. "Hello." ● ● ●

[Ivypaw]

Ivy snorted at the simplicity of the other's response, quickly locating the source of the new voice. It came from another apprentice, possibly around her age, lounging about in one of the seats. She observed the tom from afar for a moment, noting his relaxed position. It was likely he'd been here for a while, but Ivy had just failed to notice. Serves her right for letting confusing feelings distract her like they had.

She needed to stop thinking so hard. It was becoming problematic. Not to mention generally bothersome.

"Morning," she replied, leaping to sit next to the other apprentice without even waiting for an invitation. It wasn't like he really had the grounds to stop her, anyway.
"I didn't expect anyone else to be here." She sat, wrapping her tail around her paws, and stared at him with bicolored eyes, almost expectantly. "So?" she started, tipping her head to the side slightly. "What brings you so far out, to this wierd creepy twoleg thing?"

[Mousepaw]

I blinked at her with large eyes, watching as she made her way towards me. I wasn't sure if I was in a mood to talk; I wasn't asocial, but I was tired and groggy. Besides, others seemed to think I was strange sometimes, with the weirdly observant, mature, or just plain odd conversation topics I brought up. But, then again, I wasn't about to stop her.      "Neither did I," I responded, moving over to allow for room. I lowered my head to stifle a yawn. I wondered, for a moment, if she found it odd that I had been sleeping here and concluded that she probably did. I didn't really mind, however, as I had never been affected too much by the thoughts of others.      "Hm?" I turned my head towards her, away from the window, and she began to speak again. "Mm, I'm not really sure," I responded, tilting my head to the side as I thought. "I suppose it was a subconscious decision -- the brain, it's strange." I chuckled lightly. "Before that.. I couldn't sleep," I added after a pause, waiting for her to continue with why she had come. It didn't really occur to me that I should ask, as I assumed she would continue herself.  ● ● ●

[Ivypaw]

She scoffed lightly what was in her opinion, an overly poetic answer. "That it is," she agreed. It struck her in that moment that the other apprentice was a bit odd, or at the very least, rather different. Most cats preferred not to delve into the mystery of the mind, and instead opened their mouths without thinking. They were usually more vocal about just about everything.

It took her a moment to realize that his silence meant that he was waiting for her answer. Most cats just outright asked, but she supposed that worked, too. "For me, I guess this thing reminds of the barn. Made by twolegs and all," she shrugged. "That and it's just plain cool. Weird, but cool."

"I'm Ivy. You got a name?"

[Mousepaw]

(aaa sorry this is so late, i didn't realize you had posted)    I nodded at her agreement, shifting into a better location to see the other apprentice. I curled my skinny tail around my paws, my back pressing against the seat as I rose into a sitting position. I had never seen her before -- I always found it odd that I wasn't familiar with, or had at least seen, all of the other apprentices. I lived with them, breathed the same air as them, after all.     She didn't answer for a few moments, and I tilted my head to the side. When she did, I smiled ever so slightly. "I remember the barn," I said, reminiscing slightly. The journey had been bittersweet, and although it had been tedious and hard, I didn't want to forget it.     I glanced around the collapsing plane. "It is," I responded with an affirmative nod. "It's quite beautiful at night, too," I added, glancing back over at her, wondering if she'd ever visited the place at night. "Mouse," I responded, sticking to her theme of just stating the prefix of my name. I was fairly certain it was clear I was an apprentice. "-star," I added after a moment with a devious smile. Even if I did wear quite an imagination, and a mature one at that, that didn't mean I could be childish sometimes.  ● ● ●