camp CANDLE OF A BLACK DAWN — YELLOWCOUGH

[RAVENSONG]

It's been nearly a half moon since the journeying cats disembarked on their trip. He is selfish and he believes nobody misses them more than he does. Dovethroat's scent is still caught in his nose. He can still feel his fur against his own. It feels real until he wakes up and realizes the camp is a little more empty than usual. That is when he feels a new weight pressed to his shoulders. Day in and day out, one more vigil for another apprentice—why couldn't you have taken someone older, less innocent?

And today, finally, it just snaps.

He could not feel himself deteriorating from the inside. Yellowcough is always in his nose—how can he know if it exists outside himself or within. And perhaps that is the most dangerous thing, that he has almost become undead among the dying. He is not sure what keeps him going—is it the lungwort? StarClan? RiverClan? Some sort of virtue he was not aware he possessed? Dovethroat?

"They're back!"

Ravensong's raspy meow calls out in the stillness of the camp. The sun is falling, its dying orange rays casting only the faintest of light against his pelt dark enough to swallow anything up. He is standing at the entrance of the medicine cat den, fur ruffled and standing straight.

"They've come back, with lungwort, for everyone." Ravensong blinks and rheumy tears pool at the corner of his eyes. His skin burns underneath his fur. "We're saved! I saw them in my dreams, they're crossing the bridge just now...!"

There is no such sight; only the crowing voice of a sick cat.

☾₊ ⊹ темная ночь — dark is the night

•  
• 
  RAVENSONG of RIVERCLAN
  — LH BLACK POLYDACTYL MALE (CARRYING CINNAMON, DILUTE) a tall, slender creature with pitch-black feathery fur, large ears, and a sharply angled skull held up in an aloof manner. smells of dried herb, speaks with a low and rumbly accent and walks with an elegant slinking gait.
  
  — born in twolegplace and orphaned at a young age, he joined riverclan at its inception and began training as a drypaw warrior known for a bitter temperment until beesong made him his medicine cat apprentice. after his mentor's untimely death, he had been named ravensong at the moonstone, young heart revitalized with anger and guilt. he is a somber and thorough medicine cat that guards every word spoken in the confines of his den.
  
  — secretly loves "the stars but not so much what inhabits them"
  — openly suffers from chronic migraines
  — single, but "it's complicated"

​

 

[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

He has become rather attuned to Ravensong’s voice, lately — a natural consequence of constantly pricking his ears, waiting for the next announcement, the next misfortune or prescription of care to mitigate the spread of the infection. So when he hears that raspy voice call out, jubilant, through the camp, Snakeblink immediately perks up. His spine straightens, head swiveling like a lizard put on alert, tip of his tail twitching. Disbelieving joy rises in his throat.

Back already? So soon? It must be a miracle.

But the thought stutters and dies as his eyes find the herald of this impossibly good news. Ravensong looks exhausted. His damp eyes are fever-bright, perhaps from sheer relief, but— is he swaying on his paws? Has he been wearing himself out so thoroughly? Snakeblink slithers to his side almost before thinking, almost offering his shoulder before he stops a step away, unsure.

Unsure that Ravensong would want, or need, the support. Unsure that he should give it to begin with. Ravensong barely lets anyone into the medicine den nowadays, cleaning himself thoroughly before joining the healthy and the living, and that caution makes him hesitant to approach now.

”That is great news,” he utters slowly, frowning — doubtful. There has been too much sickness in his life, a cloud of plague too dark over their heads this moon, and he does not — cannot — trust in relief so quickly. ”You look like you are about to keel over. Please, sit— what did you see?”​

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 45 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

​

​

 

[minnowpaw.]

After a series of minor kittenhood accidents (ultimately resulting in a slightly kinked tail and a scar on one of her hind feet), Minnowpaw was very used to the timbre of Ravensong's voice. Today, however, it seemed off. Raspy. Weak. Disoriented. And though she was confident that the medicine cat was annoyed by her existence, she felt drawn to the scene. The apprentice could claim no knowledge of lands that lay beyond the borders of RiverClan, but she was sure that it would take longer than just a half moon to return to the group with herbs.

Seeing her sister's mentor hovering nearby drew Minnowpaw closer still, frazzled whiskers twitching with uncertainty. Ravensong would know if he was sick, right? He could judge his own symptoms. But his rheumy eyes and weak stature seemed to suggest otherwise. "Maybe... maybe you should lie down again," she suggested, casting her worried gaze on Snakeblink. He would know what to do, right?​

✦ ★ ✦​

 

[salmonshade]

They're back! Comes a saviors voice, a call that rouses Salmon from where she grooms herself. So soon, too, after they left; surely their medicine cat wouldn't be wrong, no, not if he saw it in a dream. Starclan themselves would not lie to them, give them false hope. She trains her gaze on him, prying, curious.

He's standing strong, but something is wrong. Something is... Delirium-glassed eyes, tears pool at the corners. Something... She watches Minnow and Snakeblink approach, closer than Salmonshade would ever dare right now. Their medicine cat deserves comfort, Salmon would drop everything to if he so needed it, but something causes alarms to go off in her head. He looks... so much alike to Prairiesun, to the ragged, still form of Flutterpaw. He isn't sick. She doesn't believe it herself.

"He's not-" her fur bristles and in the dying light ignites a fire of fear in her gaze, carefully groomed fur rising along her back until she looks more like a cat in a fight than a cat who should be happy at the news. It's not right. This isn't right. None of this is right. "Snakeblink-" dismayed she looks to him but words catch in her throat, she has to physically swallow her anxiety. "He doesn't look well. Look, look," but she has no authority to tell her friend to step back, doesn't tell anyone else to. She just stares.

It's a logical correlation, right? The medicine cat working with their sickest becoming sick himself, she has not been this fearful since... She wracks her brain. Since she was a kit, she thinks. It's not yellowcough, she tries to convince herself. It's not. It's just a regular sickness. He isn't sick. Right? Right. Ravensong wasn't sick, just tired and overworked. Not sick, just tired.

₊˚.༄ info

• 
  -> salmon ,, salmonshade
  -> cis female ,, she/her ,, 31 months
  -> warrior of riverclan ,, former marsh grouper
  -> fluffy & dainty chocolate tortie smoke with white, blue eyes
  -> "speech, ff91a4" ,, thoughts
  -> lesbian ,, single
  -> smells like warm flowers & freshly cut grass
  -> chibi by pin
  

​

 

[willowroot]

( ☾ ) she spends most of her time in camp nowadays- cicadastar is strict about queens' safety, something she is both thankful and resentful of. due to her break from warrior duties, willowroot has taken to aiding ravensong and the elders when she can. be it sorting things, making nests, anything the medic and elders need, she will volunteer for. she never goes inside the medicine den, never touches any contaminated items- it feels relatively safe. the queen is crouched outside the nursery, manipulating clumps of moss with her paws into a soft nest when the medicine cat bursts out of his den, crowing about the return of the journey-makers. surprise colors her features before she stands, eyes wide and head whipping around to scan for the tabby pelt of mosspaw, the flaming fur of fernpaw. it seems to early, too soon for the group to return- the mountains seem impossibly far away. no one appears, and she turns back to the medicine cat, confusion bordering on worry.

the dark tom stands outside his den, eyes foggy, body scrawny and disheveled. snakeblink hurries over and willowroot starts towards him, a warning halfway out her maw before she snaps it closed. "snakeblink, he-" but salmonshade has already spoken her worries aloud. "i think he's sick. love, you should step away a bit," she suggests, voice brittle with worry. "i can fetch cicadastar." she wants to give other orders, tell them to guide the medic back to his den, let him rest. but she's not a lead warrior anymore. so she turns, tail twitching with anxiety to scan the camp for her leader who would heal the clan if their healer is ill? what other clan would offer their medicine cat when everyone is suffering from yellowcough?

@CICADASTAR ​

 

[Moonbeam]

Yellowcough was to Ratpaw - like most cats within the clan - something she was deathly afraid of. Too many had died already, and it was so horrible that they had to send cats away to try and find a cure - this lungwort - that none of the clans seemed to have a steady supply of. She didn't know how different plants worked - could only assume they were similar to flowers with how they were supposed to grow - but the fact that the cats had to go so far in order to get the supply they needed worried the white-furred feline, and she constantly found herself tip-toeing around camp to make sure that she wasn't the next on the horrible illnesses list. It seemed as though despite all of Ravensong's tiptoeing he had been chosen this time, and for a moment Ratpaw froze.

She stayed back much like her own mentor did, too afraid to move forward in case she too caught whatever sickness it was that Ravensong could be spreading now, and with Willowroot already fetching Cicadastar the urge to turn and run was already causing her toes to itch and it took so much strength for the young girl to not tuck tail and run at that moment. So much strength that she didn't even know she had. "M-maybe you should make some room in your den for the lungwort while they're coming back? You could lay down and organize... they might still be a little bit they must be tired from the other clan cats with them." She cast a glance over towards Snakeblink, not wanting to overstep but hoping he understood what she was doing - Ravensong was not well, he needed rest and medicine, medicine that no cat other than himself knew.

ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ I thought that love would stay a mystery

• 
  ⋆ ratkit - ratpaw - rat???
  ⋆ female - she/her - 4 moons
  ⋆ homosexual - too young for relationship
  ⋆ apprentice of riverclan
  ⋆ attack - speech - thought
  ⋆ penned by tikki

​

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[RAVENSONG]

Snakeblink enters his hazy field of vision first. Ravensong steps forward—at least, he believes he does, but in fact he had remained rooted to his position—to greet him. His paws burn against the soil, he cannot recall ever feeling this warm. It is almost enough to jumpstart his imagination, to tear apart the fever that plagued his body and to bring it outside of himself to face a shadow of a cat made out of fire.

He blinks and it is the tabby lead warrior once again. His words swim in Ravensong's ears, but for some miraculous reason, his rump hits the ground without thought. "They were crossing the bridge..." He muttered. "The two leg bridge."

Ravensong glances at Minnowpaw and Salmonshade, familiar and yet unfamiliar. His lips curl back in a half frown. They are sitting there like ducks and quacking foolishly about things they didn't know. Some of the words are translated in his feverish mind. Some of them are not, and it is evident in his speech. "Well?" He snapped. "Go get together a patrol to greet them!"

The fur along his back raises and calms at Willowroot's presence. "Yes, fetch Cicadastar." His feathery tail, messed with twigs and leaves, sweeps across the ground and then lashes. "He will gather a patrol." Fire burns in his eyes and he attempts to stagger to a standing position once more until Ratpaw's voice pips up among the small, distanced crowd. The black cat's narrow head swings over to his color opposite, a hard glare in his eyes until it abruptly softens and he laughs with a raspy croak.

"Yes, I will need... help making adequate stores. Yes... I could do that..." He muttered, but he remained seated still.

☾₊ ⊹ темная ночь — dark is the night

•  
• 
  RAVENSONG of RIVERCLAN
  — LH BLACK POLYDACTYL MALE (CARRYING CINNAMON, DILUTE) a tall, slender creature with pitch-black feathery fur, large ears, and a sharply angled skull held up in an aloof manner. smells of dried herb, speaks with a low and rumbly accent and walks with an elegant slinking gait.
  
  — born in twolegplace and orphaned at a young age, he joined riverclan at its inception and began training as a drypaw warrior known for a bitter temperment until beesong made him his medicine cat apprentice. after his mentor's untimely death, he had been named ravensong at the moonstone, young heart revitalized with anger and guilt. he is a somber and thorough medicine cat that guards every word spoken in the confines of his den.
  
  — secretly loves "the stars but not so much what inhabits them"
  — openly suffers from chronic migraines
  — single, but "it's complicated"

​

 

[lichenstar]

⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆

---

He flits about the camp like a bird with broken wings, fluttering loudly and drawing attention from watchful eyes. Those eyes seeking vulnerability (and there is plenty to find in the feathery dark fur huddled and raving) and they hunt it quickly, appearing in droves to investigate what truth could be found in those mumblings and demands. Their brow furrows, eyes tracing the fever in his own with a knowing weight settling in their chest.

He insists... He insists just the same that their salvation is here and while Lichentail wishes sorely it might be the truth, the skepticism in all her clan-mates' eyes show their quiet agreement.

"Ravensong," the pointed cat murmurs, not quite as fearful of getting sick a second time so soon after having some of that ever-more desired cure before it was all gone. "You said you need help making room," they prompt him, casting a wary gaze towards Snakeblink as Willowroot hums a small warning to step away. "Snakeblink, we can trust you to let Cicadastar know what's going on? To send that patrol..."

Ratpaw is eager to provide a distraction for the muddled mind of their medicine cat, which the lead is more than grateful for. "I can help, I know you've been missing my snoring in your den anyways, hmm?" Offering the apprentice a small smile, they hope at the very least to stifle some of her fears, brave as she is being despite the threat they can all smell heavy on Ravensong's pelt.

He is not healthy and whole... he is somewhere far from here, where he is needed most. Pining for the return of familiar faces, sitting on that bridge with hopeful, baited breath.​

 

[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

Of course Ravensong’s outburst attracts attention. Snakeblink’s fur bristles under the scrutiny of his clanmates, unused as he is to their intense focus, the unspoken what should we do? Right, he’s in charge. Kind of.

Both Salmonshade and Willowroot are open with their concern, noting Ravensong’s unwell state. Snakeblink doesn’t budge, although their tense voices have his ears pinning back in sympathetic anxiety. A low desire thrum behind his breastbone, an incessant reminder: you have to help. And that requires getting Ravensong back inside the medicine den, where he can rest and isolate from the healthy warriors they have left. Should he push the younger cat towards his den? It wouldn’t be hard, seeing his state. He tries to stand again and Snakeblink jerks forward, ready to catch his weight if he were to fall.

Thankfully Ratpaw pipes up with her suggestion that Ravensong goes back to organize his stores and the medicine cat laughs hoarsely, stiff spine relaxing. That was quick-thinking, especially for one so young. Seeing Ravensong less likely to keel over he relaxes, too, throwing the apprentice an appreciative glance — her clever words and cautious distance from the sick cat suggest a sharp apprentice, and he makes a note to keep an eye on her. His eyes run over Minnowpaw as well, nodding with more confidence than he feels in an attempt at reassuring her.

”I will fetch Cicadastar,” he agrees. ”Lichentail, will you help Ravensong back to the medicine den? He could use all the help he can get… organizing his stores.” And he’s not sure the black cat could walk a straight line right now.

He hopes his eyes convey what he doesn’t voice: that he appreciates their assistance, the easy teamwork. He has faith the cure they received will grant them a moment of grace from the miasma — the rest of them cannot claim the same.

”Willowroot, will you help clear the space? Let’s not make more of a scene.” He trusts her maternal instincts and implacable will to settle the anxious mind of both apprentices, and to keep others from approaching Ravensong too closely until he’s back in isolation. ”I will be quick.”
​

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• fetching @CICADASTAR !
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 45 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

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