The Sentinels Call me anytime you see the lightning

arcturus flattened an ear as wind rippled past his scruff, raking down his spine in icy claws. he looked above; the heavens were impossibly dark and blustery, with deeply scowling clouds and their white-flares of snakish tendrils snarling in deep booms. to arcturus, it did not look like the battle of the gods -- it looked like the belly of some primordial beast.

evil spirits or no, the nakedness of the sky during this time was different than that seen on the spire. on the mountain unless one was at the summit, ones periphery could often be limited. how many times had he thought he was scraping the throat of the world, closer to the clouds than any eagle? it was difficult to articulate that wild feeling of singleness with the storm.

"it's different, but the same." he offered vaguely, his gaze tracing the jumping line of a jolt of pinkish lightning. "very windy, but i dont feel as vulnerable there as i do now." being out in the open like this made arcturus feel naked. "so, i hope we'll be safe from the earthquakes, rockslides, and evil spirits."