give all my things to all my friends (gone)

[dovethroat.]

Once full, a spot in the medicine den is now eerily empty. Dovethroat had spent the last moon recovering from the ailments he seemed to have caught as he journeyed on with his comrades in pursuit of lungwort. It is unclear what it was, but it seemed it was not fatal, not dangerous. It was not as if he had caught greencough himself—how would he? He had spent his delayed return route practically covered in the stuff; as much as he could have brought. It would have been a greater miracle than the lungwort itself if he had fallen down with the very plague. All it—whatever it was—had made him was tired and withdrawn. He spent most of the day sleeping, only going off for what work was expected of him. He talked little, and he did little. It seemed like the sickness, though ultimately benign, had permanently impacted him. His mindset, his soul—something.

And as life returned to normal for so many, it must have proven to be too much. Maybe it was done of his own volition, maybe it was an urge that drew him out of camp at night only to be snatched up by some greater creature. Dovethroat had come to terms with the fact now that such creatures were just about everyone, not just the wolves or the foxes. Every one of his clanmates. Not in the same, malicious sense, but in one way or another. It was unclear what it was. The night the gathering at Fourtrees occurred, something happened.

Whatever had caused it, it was done. A space in the den that had been carved out for him now looked dingy and dry. All that remained was a lone, ruffled-looking feather, as if begging for someone to take and return it to its owner. As for Dovethroat, there is not a trace. Only the faintest scent, for those most familiar with it.

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sorry for the poor post quality. i don't have the heart to have him die from his sickness, but i don't want to have him fade away into npc territory and i don't have the spark there anymore. this isn't necessarily permanent in any case, but i have also not decided what has happened to him and it won't be clear to anyone, nobody saw him, etc. feel free to have your character guess what happened. maybe one day he'll be back

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[Moonbeam]

Since she had moved into the medicine den with Ravensong, Dovethroat had been a permanent resident there. She didn't quite know for sure what it was that connected Ravensong and Dovethroat, but even Moonpaw knew something had been there, the first cat the black tom asking for having been the fawn tabby and so she hadn't asked any questions. She knew he had some type of ailment, that he was tired all the time and that made sense - he'd come back home from the journey so late behind the others - and so she had taken care of whatever was needed of her, changing nest materials or bringing food when Ravensong didn't do it himself. She always knew not to touch the feather though, and always made sure to be careful. It was a special feather, one that made it from the clans to the mountains and back and so she dared not touch it.

Coming back from the gathering, Moonpaw was tired. She was ready to crawl into her nest and sleep, unused to being up so late through the night and traveling so far. She'd done it once before but her excitement at the time had helped her to not almost fall asleep on her feet, but now as she walked into the medicine den once more she realized something was off. Usual filled nest empty her eyes flicked around in the slight dark of the den before she promptly turned around, head moving to scan the camp before ears flicked back and once and she found herself turning around once more, heading towards the usually filled nest with a frown on her maw, eyes locking onto the feather before she looked away and walked out into camp once more.

"Has anyone seen Dovethroat?" She'd tiredly croak out, eyes scanning the faces of her clanmates as the fear of him just being gone thumped in her ears. She wasn't going to just assume the worst if she could help it, but the scent waning so much and that feather. She couldn't help but think of the worst.

I WISH PLANT LIFE ꕥ WOULD GROW ALL AROUND ME

• I loved having you around and I'm going to miss Dove so much AA

• 

• MOONPAW formerly Ratpaw || NPC x NPC || sister to Rowanpaw || apprentice to Ravensong.
  -- She/Her || 8 moons old, ages every 17th
  -- smaller than average, small rounded ears. SH white masking cinnamon torbie with orange eyes.
  -- soft-spoken, often found humming, tries to comfort others by smiling

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[ROOKFANG]

THE HERMIT ─── When such tragic events intertwine side by side, locking arms with one another, it made smaller situations begin to fade. Voices became muffled and eventually belonged to echoes within valleys or crooked smiles that once laced the lips of companions were now etched only within his memories. With the journey that had led the brave volunteers into an unknown world full of unspoken dangers, Rookfang understood that some wounds were only beneath the skin, not above to be displayed. Fears. Anxieties. Traumas. They were all there if one dared to pull the veil away and expose the rotting souls of suffering clanmates. With Dovethroat, he was unsure of, they had hardly seen one another. Rookfang was an elusive figure himself, slipping in and out of shadows with eyes hanging low to the ground as if that was where he would be finding any more of his sanity. He knew the other tom tended to stick by the medicine den, and they had briefly been in the same area when the dark sable warrior had been recovering from the injuries that had been placed by the jaws of a fox. But after sticking to such an area filled with silence and stillness, Rookfang tended to dodge that area, avoiding it as if sickness was still brimming at the edges of the den.

His half-lidded eyes were locked onto the clearing of the camp, awaiting the return of the others silently while his jagged tail twitched behind him, irritated by the fact that his recent Gathering had been cut short by Windclan's childish behavior and the ghostly burning sensation of his cheek. If he ever saw that pathetic excuse of a cat, his claws and fangs would be happy to shred him. However, his stormy imagination was sliced abruptly when his hazy blue eyes snapped to the ivory figure of Moonpaw, the youth's face laced with concern and worry. Immediately, he rose from his stiff sitting posture, spiked fur beginning to rise with alertness as the next words made the warmth of his blood suddenly be sliced by ice. Has anyone seen Dovethroat? The warm-toned male wasn't there? Perplexed frustration was switched on as he headed towards Moonpaw, halting in front of her. There had been no commotion. No sudden attack from the ink-like shadows and with the colder weather, he knew no clan was currently in their strongest moment to be causing any sort of...kidnappings. He had been here, how could he have missed anything?

"I haven't seen him. Do you have any idea where else he would be at, any specific spot he tends to go to?" He inquired, tone gently slow in an attempt to soothe the confounded medicine cat apprentice. His nose twitched by the den, seeking some sort of trace that would weave itself to their missing comrade despite his heightened sense of smell, it was as if only his ghost had been there and not the physical embodiment of him. Where could he have gone? Why would he leave? The answer had been swept away alongside the dead leaves and Dovethroat's scent.​

 

[lichenstar]

⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ​

That question... it is like wires wrapped around her throat.

"You can't be serious," she meows, breathless in her reply. Disbelief clings to her and though Rookfang suggests he could just be out... could be going somewhere for a moment of quiet, the RiverClan deputy practically shakes. Not again, repeats like a panicked mantra in her head, turning on her heels before she'd even had the chance to greet her mate after a long, exhausting night. "Why would he leave in the middle of the night," she barks, hardly giving anyone the time to contemplate where when the why seemed far more compelling. No one was even supposed to be leaving alone- why had the guards at the front of camp not said anything, stopped him, accompanied him?

Incompetent...

"We can't be missing two entire warriors in the middle of leaf-bare, this is ridiculous," and though her complaints sound selfish, they are inherently fearful. Useful paws...and not just any strange feline prone to wanderlust, it was Dovethroat. Their last conversation had been terse, unfriendly, a pointed jab she knew would sting to remind him what he was capable of losing. He had been the only one to stop to help ThunderClan and now what good was that?

Had he gone there instead? Was that her fault?

Howlingstar had made a point to thank him but would she be half as considerate as to keep an eye out for dusty fur? She had no trust for them... the over-confident, self-righteous neighbors they were (not unalike WindClan really)... "How long has he been gone?"



-- GGRAAAAAAA Dovethroat qwqqqq i hope to see him again in teh future

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WELL IF YOU WANT MY BLOOD I'LL MAKE SO MUCH BLOOD

THAT YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING DROWN​

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[shellpaw]

she gets to stay up this moon, just a bit. the moon had long since risen in the sky, casting its eerie glow about the snow - laden camp ; the big thunderclan cats had been at the gathering for some time now, and as he child eagerly awaited their arrival home, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like going herself. maybe it’s for this reason that she doesn’t see dovethroat. or maybe he simply slipped off somewhere, nosed his way through a slit in the gorse - patched clan barriers and set off into the milky moonlight. when the warriors finally file in through the gorse tunnel, shellkit is quick to thin paws, feather weight not making so much as an indention in the hard layer of crisp ice underfoot. her tail is bottlebrush and ramrod straight as she calls to hazecloud, a they’re back, they’re back that gets fainter as she toddles further and further from the nursery bramble.

but there is something wrong, and gone wrong quickly. moonpaw were already in, going about their evenings, drooping and heavy - eyed with sleep. shellkit stumbles on her way towards the pointed deputy and while her maw splits on a wide, thorn - teeth yawn, she’d never admit she felt the same ; it is almost enough to distract her from the vague fear scent beginning to emanate from gathering clanmates. she slows down to a steady pitter - pat, wide eyes flitting to each gathered big cat, gauging their reactions. moonpaw was sleepy. rookfang, unbothered. lichentail seemed irritated, voice pulled taut like flesh before it’s pried from brittle prey bones. gone, missing, she says, and the lilac ribboned kit breathes a puff of smoke into the frigid air, ” maybe he’s with oddfish.. “ the girl murmurs, still not quite understanding the weight of missing.

if he’s missing, he can be found — wasn’t that right? she blinks, working her little mind as if to help ; she pauses. her eyes light up, paws beginning to knead - beat against the icy snow, ” ah.. ravensong will know? “ it’s said like a question, but she beams anyway. ravensong was always with dovethroat. if anyone knew, it’d be him!

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𓇼 𝙎𝙊 𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙎𝙊 𝘾𝙊𝙇𝘿

• i. ILL MISS YOU MIDDY !! i’m sad i never got an interact with shell before he went but i will be eagerly awaiting ur return….. i hope to see you back so soon
  
  
• 
  
  
• 
  
  SHELLKIT 𓆉 SHE / HER, KITTEN OF RIVERCLAN. KINDLING xx UNKNOWN, NIECE TO SMOKESTAR. 3 MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. PENNED BY ANTLERS.
  delicate lilac - striped molly with sugarplum eyes she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of shell - touched cream, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore. feather breath and elderdown fur conceals a body worn fragile by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with baby fat in others. her face is short - muzzled, framed half mast by eyes coined warm, sugared amber.
  
  currently exhibiting symptoms of whitecough. this includes a running nose, wheezing, sluggishness, and labored breathing. please keep contagion in mind.
  
  

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[RAVENSONG]

He was gone. Ravensong knew it immediately. The sounds of his Clanmates clamoring around him rang in Ravensong's ears as he stood wearily staring at the empty nest. For two long moons he had waited for his arrival from the journey. That last moment they shared before he collapsed in his den had been one of the most important moments of his life--and he was almost blasphemous enough to place it above his own medicine cat ceremony. His devotion for the fawn tabby ran deep, but he had never realized how deep until the ground was pulled up from underneath his paws.

He's shell-shocked, standing still, barely able to comprehend his heart breaking into several thousand pieces at once. It's almost... peaceful. He thinks he is crying, it feels that way. He thinks he is yelling at his Clanmates to go away, but there is no noise coming from his lips.

Ravensong is silent.

☾₊ ⊹ 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"

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