funny to see you here

[dovethroat.]

On his way rushing back into camp, Ravensong had technically said something to him. However, after what Lichentail had told him, his blood had been pumping so fast in between his ears that he had not been able to make out even a syllable; perhaps not even a semblance of a sound of what anyone was saying. Even the birds, the rustling of trees—it sounded like the deafening echoes that he had been subjected to in that wretched cave, or like the cries he had heard when one of their own had been paralyzed by a dog. His legs moved on their own accord, and when he came face to face with Ravensong, he had shockingly little reaction.

Ravensong froze, seeming as if he had not been expecting him to ever come back. For the tiny moment that Dovethroat stopped moving as well, it made him shatter. Like he had fallen into a million pieces that would never come back together.

However, his instinct followed through and he nudged into Ravensong with as much force as would be safe to use in his strong body, and practically dragged him back into the medicine den. The moment that the two were sufficiently alone, he turned to Ravensong with a wild look in his eyes that betrayed how determined and resolute he had been in bringing him back over here.

"A-Are you alright?" He panted loudly and borderline obnoxiously, obviously exhausted. "I—th-they said—they s-said you—that you almost—" it was clear that he was avoiding a particular word, but it was not as if Ravensong would not know. "Are you a-a-alright?" He asked again with an almost ferocious identity—if he could be, he would be shaking Ravensong by the shoulders at the moment.

@RAVENSONG

[⋆]​

​

 

[RAVENSONG]

It seemed Dovethroat had gotten stronger in the time they had spent apart. Perhaps the mountain does something to the physique of a normal warrior. Ravensong was not wasting much time in trying to theorize about it, however. He took the steps back readily, feeling his tail brush against the ground roughly. He nearly tripped over it, stumbling over his paws as he tried to keep Dovethroat in his sight without flinching. The result was a forced backwards walk until his heels hit stone and he winced.

The look in Dovethroat's eyes surprised him, but they weren't enough to jumpstart the shock that froze his heart and movements. Ravensong raised a paw, hanging back on his haunches to a point where he was almost sitting but not quite.

"Died?" He finished the word for him. It was not new news for any RiverClan cat that stayed behind—they had been forced to watch their medicine cat suffer, drag his paws, and attempt to go about his life as if he weren't close to death's door. If Dovethroat had returned with the others, he would have found Ravensong in a worse spot. But in this moment, although his coat was dull and his eyes exhausted, he looked much better than a week before.

"Did you even... think of me?" Ravensong asked, heart aching as he recalled his fever dreams and every moment he spent outside delirium was wishing Dovethroat were back. He's facing him face-to-face. He can't see the feather tucked in the thick fur near his tail.

☾₊ ⊹ 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"

​

 

[dovethroat.]

Dovethroat nearly balks at the word, looking like he was not even remotely expecting Ravensong to say it outright—even though, logically, that is perhaps the most unintelligent thing he could have thought at the time. There was no confusion about it; so Lichentail had not been lying, after all. It was true. "Y—Yeah," he says hoarsely, his voice feeling like it does not fit in his throat. He shuffles his feet awkwardly for a few moments. But it's obvious he is not sick. Dovethroat is not yet aware that he had been.

The next words from Ravensong seem to shock him even more. "Of c-course!" He nearly shouts, as if he has forgotten how to maintain indoor volume levels after his time on the journey. "I—I th-thought of you e-every day, I—I d-didn't, I kept—" he spins around so fast that he nearly makes himself lose his own balance as he fishes out the black feather, still every bit as pristine (okay, well, almost as pristine—one could probably tell that it had been mussed up and that Dovethroat had smoothed it back into proper alignment a few times) as the night when Ravensong had gave it to you.

"I—I p-promised myself... I w-would bring it b-back to you." He laughs awkwardly, feeling hot in the face for reasons he cannot explain. "N-Not—not in like—not in l-like an 'I-don't-want-it' w-way, but, uh," Dovethroat hurdles over his own words, falling over each successive one. "I—I th-thought it'd be, like, you know, a, uh, a g-good—a gesture—symbolic—I—uh, w-we—" he glances around, finding a spot that seemed wide-open and out-of-the-way. He scurries over to it, placing it down and then looking at it with an awkward amount of pride in his gaze. There is an almost euphoric feeling about being around Ravensong again that is making him a bit delirious.

He coughs, but obviously because he has swallowed spit. "L—I—Look, w-we, uh, we c-can sh-share it now," he smiles meekly, looking every bit like a teenage boy who had just asked someone to prom.

[⋆]​

​

 

[RAVENSONG]

Dovethroat's jitters startle Ravensong as he steps backward to keep himself from being hit as Dovethroat whirls around. When the raven feather is revealed, Ravensong's eyes soften. He had not forgotten the artifact and he had not doubted that Dovethroat would ruin it—even if he was a traitor. At the very least, Ravensong thought, if Dovethroat was angry at him or had a change of heart, he would return it. He might return it in one piece or in shreds, but Ravensong had always believed it would come back to him.

And it was back in one piece.

There was really no reason for Dovethroat to continue wearing it, as the journey was over. And the hackles along Ravensong's spine lay flat as he watched Dovethroat clumsily clamber for a place to put it. It rested now alongside Ravensong's herb stock. It stood out so starkly that Ravensong's heart ached to see it among the healing plants. He was aware of how deep his not-so-hidden adoration for the tom ran. He had once described it as powerful enough to break every vow he'd ever took. The feather held much more power than any of those herbs—it held free will.

They can share it now. Ravensong's ear twitches. His dreams are mostly faded, but he remembers what he had said then. They were a pair, a double.

"Dovethroat." Ravensong speaks lowly. "I almost died because I caught yellowcough." He lets the statement sit before continuing. "And I thought and I worried about many things while I lay there dying. Some were good worries, in the eyes of the Clan. But I... I never felt guilty for realizing that most of my worries were about you. That I would never see you again."

He wants to know how badly the ThunderClan apprentice was injured to have to make Dovethroat lag behind days after. He wants to know everything, but it is not the time.

"You're exhausted, though."

☾₊ ⊹ 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"

​

 

[dovethroat.]

Dovethroat had meant for his rhetoric of having planned to give the feather back to Ravensong to impart a meaning of I always meant to come back, not in any sense the sort where he was denying the thought and care that Ravensong had put forward in order to give him the artefact. That was why he had kept it as nice-looking as he could have possibly managed—the amount of time he had spent making sure it was still in his fur when they were in those pitch-black caves was probably enough to snap his neck quite cleanly.

"I—I s-stayed—I stayed behind because, uh, there—the dogs—there were dogs, I d-don't know what you got told, but th-there were dogs—and a ThunderClanner, uh—" he begins to launch into a heated explanation, wanting to make himself as clear as possible. What Lichentail has told him has instilled him with an uncontrollable amount of anxiety, and it's beginning to be unclear when he last breathed. He only manages a few more words, though, before Ravensong interrupts him.

The news is probably what was the most predictable explanation for Ravensong almost died. It was not going to be the most common that the doctor in a plague had been burned at the stake, or drowned in a puddle or something. His jaw sets with a quality that seemed almost bolted shut, making it feel like he cannot speak. The rest of Ravensong's soliloquy goes listened to with a great deal of reverence.

It takes a real long time before he begins to speak. "...I, uh, I am—I, uh," Dovethroat clears his throat. "I... I th-thought of y-you, too. I s-spent every night, e-every time... I l-looked into a river—I j-just thought about s-seeing you again," he reiterates. He is only now realizing that he is sitting directly on top of Ravensong's nest. He stumbles a little bit. "I'm j-just, uh—" everything begins to sound slurred. It seems suddenly more clear how dull his fur looks, how shot his eyes look.

His behind falls onto the nest, his eyes fluttering shut. "Y—...yeah," is all he manages before he basically collapses onto the spot.

[⋆]​

​

 

[RAVENSONG]

When it comes down to it, Ravensong thought he ought not to be surprised. Dovethroat was gentle-hearted and kind (if one was kind enough back to him, he supposed). A bleeding heart might easily bleed for a broken ThunderClan cat if he spent enough time like that in the wilderness among the other Clans. For a warrior, that was betrayal, but for Ravensong maybe it was something else. He believed the conviction in Dovethroat's tone, although overwhelmed.

"I missed you." Ravensong says simply, blinking down at him. Ravensong is exhausted too, but the fawn tabby appears more so. He cannot imagine how he has managed to hold himself up thus far now. Ravensong does not realize Dovethroat is tethering over his nest until it is too late.

But maybe that was necessary, he thinks, watching the exhaustion slump from Dovethroat's form. Maybe it was right. Ravensong does not want him to leave that place. Maybe they can stay here together, forever. If he speaks, or dares to ask what they are now, it might break that trance. That perfect mystery is all he has to cling to.

"You're sick now, for what anyone else cares to ask." He's not sure if Dovethroat can hear him, but Ravensong settles into what is left of his nest to lay down—Dovethroat is larger than when they first grew close—and he curls up, resting his chin on his tawny fur. Cicadastar Is dead and Smokethroat is journeying to the Highstones. And Ravensong is curled up with Dovethroat in the same nest.

☾₊ ⊹ 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"

​