#jaunting

John was quite adept at climbing and luckily enough for him in this particular place of residence, there was a rather large tree out in the yard. Most likely an Oak from what he could tell. Long branches, sturdy trunk, perfect really. Just waiting for him.

Always one for new perspectives and vantage points (also to scout their perimeter because old military habits die hard in John’s strategically minded case), he climbed up the tree, one easy limb at a time, finding his footing rather easily.

He looked out onto the new town, so quaint, so quiet. Not at all like the places he’d been before. He and his mates would certainly show Swynlake a thing or two, they didn’t know what they were missing after all. He was a little rusty in his climbing (or so that’s what he’d tell himself) and missed the next branch he was supposed to be grabbing onto. His gift of balance steadied him and he just smirked a bit at the branch that had thought it would best him. Unfortunately, the next limb he planted his foot on crunched beneath him and wiped that smirk right off his face as his fingers slipped from the bough he’d been holding and he was sent plummeting down into the grass below, his ankle landing a bit awkwardly as he tumbled to the ground. 

“Bloody hell.” He cursed under his breath as he righted himself on the ground and pulled a few twigs from his hair. He looked down to his throbbing ankle and rolled his eyes at himself. First week here and he’d already gone and injured himself, really that tree was deceptive in how much it could hold. He should’ve charted his course better but here he was, on the ground with most likely a sprained ankle swelling up by the minute and could only let out a deep sigh at himself.

@princess-ting-ting​