It's better not to say | Rookfang

[Snakeblink]

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

All of Snakeblink’s clanmates are ranked in his mind, one long list of names and faces; at the top are those in urgent need of something, be it help or surveillance; at the bottom are the low priorities, those who have things well-managed at the immediate moment (or who are likely to tear Snakeblink’s ears off his head if he approaches them again so soon). This ranking, ever-shifting as events unfold, makes his rounds easier. He would not want to miss a good opportunity to fix a long-standing issue just before a given clanmate’s current troubles slipped his mind for a moment.

The one glaring fault in this system is that Snakeblink is neither omniscient nor gifted with foresight, and events often unfold so unpredictably as to render his ranking entirely obsolete within moments.

Such is what happened with Rookfang. The somber tom has been looking rough for a while now; a mix of relationship troubles and fatigue, from what little Snakeblink could gather, and he’s been meaning to approach him about it for just as long. It’s only that it’s hard to find an opportunity: the dark pelt of the other cat seems perpetually in the process of slipping out of his sight, on some duty or other. They’ve all been… very busy, lately.

And then, while Snakeblink wasn’t looking, here Rookfang goes: adopting another sibling, getting injured, and generally jumping straight up to the top few clanmates Snakeblink is most concerned over. Stars, if any of them could catch a break…

The wounds (mercenary as it sounds) do make it easier to track down Rookfang. Snakeblink slithers into the medicine den, slipping through the shadows — he’s unsure how well Ravensong would take him bothering his patients — until he’s reached the dark shape of Rookfang, smelling sharply of blood and herbs still.

”Hello, Rookfang. ” he greets quietly. He gives the tom a once-over then, not waiting for an answer in kind, continues: ”I meant to come and ask you how you are doing, but I can see for myself that the answer to that is ‘not well’.” Though frankly, Rookfang has been looking pretty bad for a while now. ”Instead, please allow me to ask: is there anything I can do to help?”

As he’s found, this question often saves him (and his clanmates) a lot of grief. It’s harder to misinterpret their needs when he asks directly. And if Rookfang doesn’t answer, well… he will have to do some educated guessing, but at least he will have tried.​

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

ooc. information.

• @ROOKFANG
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 46 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

​

​

 

[ROOKFANG]

THE HERMIT ───Questions. Concerns. It was unfamiliar territory to Rookfang, one that he purposely did not trek to. It felt invasive to him if it was deeper than surface questions that had become monotonous but reliable. He kept his issues and worries buried deep within his skin and fur, away from the naked eye. There was a certified comfort that he would not burden anyone and with all the unfolding events, the warrior wanted nothing but to focus on problems that he could do something about. This was his mentality until it came to a halt with the wretched visit of his mother that led to...where he was now, in pain with wounds that had decided to latch on beneath the concoction of herbs that Ravensong had placed upon him. He had never managed to get himself so battered up, Rookfang had been trained under the watchful eye of his mentor who specialized in battles and fights. Everyone had a different set of skills that united Riverclan together to become a functioning group of peculiar felines. It didn't help that one eye might have the risk of having even worse vision than he had now.

His mind was floating solemnly among the thick clouds he could not see as he was tucked away in the medicine den, his jagged pelt slowly rising and falling as he shifted uncomfortably on the nest he was placed on. He didn't enjoy being cooped up, his new habit of sleeping among trees near the warrior den was beginning to become the default. The dark rings under deep sunset and blue eyes seemed more visible as he appeared to be trying to start a fire on the ground with the intense stare he held latched on his facial features. His mother. Valekit. Velvetpaw. Relationships were fickle and a delicacy that he was uncomfortable with holding. Upon seeing his mother, the waves of memories crashed in and the foam circled his dreams, reminding him of the very memories that he had tried so hard to keep away. With the injuries that he had received from the ruthless natural enemy known as foxes (he despised them thoroughly), the male had slept a lot more than he was used to. Resting was healing, was what was told to him, yet why did it feel like his whole body now ached rather than just the area around the wounds? He allowed a low quiet sigh to drift out from his lips as he licked some tufts of his chest to comfort his scrambling mentality. It was slipping, the mask was breaking, and Rookfang knew there wasn't much longer until-

Then appeared the voice of one of the lead warriors. Snakeblink. The fanged male halted his leisure motions, drained eyes locking to the figure of the slender tom. He was not close to the other, perhaps it was due to the fact they were quite different. Snakeblink was an insightful warrior who appeared to be curious about every rumor or whisper that bubbled up from the camp while Rookfang did his best to weave around him. When Rookfang had heard of the rumors of the "relationship" that Hazecloud and him had, it deepened his dislike for such gossip. He knew she was with Lichentail, the two now reunited and that was all that Rookfang cared for. He was quick to detach due to always feeling some sense of dishonesty from her, that he was not always going to be the one and if she confused concern for restrictions then he would rather break away from such a fickle perspective. He just hoped no one felt that he had any sense of resentment for them, which would mean there was care--which to Rookfang was not worth his time now with Velvetpaw and Valekit under his supervision.

The dark earthy brown tom listened to Snakeblink, his face remaining neutral until hearing the concern. Huh. The growing cynical side of being used by the warrior became conflicted with the question that came from...care? If that was what he could put it under but Rookfang decided that within his weakened state, all he craved was slightly restricted space and company. Company...when did he suddenly crave such a thing? "There's not much but I would like some fresh air, at least out of here. I can't say I'm not surprised you bothered to come see me." He shifted awkwardly in his laid position, curling backward to sit in a hunched sitting pose, for now, awaiting to see if Snakeblink would not mind leading him out. His wounds weren't too harsh for there to be any further openings, and with how long he's been resting, his paws itched for movement.​

 

[Snakeblink]

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

Rookfang’s bicolored eyes are — arresting. Intense in a way that makes Snakeblink’s shoulders draw tight in instinctive anxiety: it’s like the other is staring right through him at all the gristle and sinews coursing underneath his skin, the very bones of him. It’s unnerving. Is this what his clanmates feel like when he’s the one staring? Like a breath fanning on their spine?

But there’s a weariness there, a fatigue in the dusky depth of those eyes — and he watches it soften, ever so slightly, in real time, as whatever inner workings grinding away within Rookfang’s mind register the question. It’s rare that his words make others less wary of him: it’s usually quite the opposite, really.

”Fresh air… that I can do.” A quick glance around tells Snakeblink all he needs to know about Ravensong’s surveillance of this particular patient of his, or rather lack thereof. His wounds must not be grave enough to warrant a closer eye kept on him to make sure he remains nest-bound. That or Rookfang cleverly hid his escape artistry from the medicine cat until the time was right, in which case… well. He will swallow that fish when he catches it.

He jerks forward a little when Rookfang sits up, the pained curve of his spine making him fear for a second that the other won’t be able to make it to his paws without help, but he restrains himself before actually putting himself in the dark warrior’s space. ”Can you make it out on your own?” He asks, not unkindly, though his lingering tone would easily be read as skepticism. He does offer his shoulder if the other wishes to lean on it. ”I would not like to bring you back to Ravensong worse off than I found you.”

Whether Rookfang decides to make use of his help or not, Snakeblink leads their exit at a slow, careful pace. The brisk air outside feels like another, clearer world after even so short a time within the confines of the medicine den. He likes the smell of herbs well enough, but the weight of plague still lingers, in ghosts and memories within the shadows of Ravensong’s lair.

I can't say I'm not surprised you bothered to come see me.

”I worry. Of course I would come to see you,” he says, honest but clearly distracted as he glances around. ”Would you prefer to sit or can you still walk? There is a lovely patch of sunlight over there…”

Drifting off, he shakes himself as Leaf-fall wind heavy with the smell of dry, clean decay ruffles his short pelt. The cold is still a bit of a novelty, and one he knows he will quickly tire of as Leaf-bare steals even the memory of warmth from his poorly-covered bones.

”Though usually I am quicker to it. I apologize that it took me so long that you would be surprised by my visit — though you should not be. You must know I enjoy being all up in others’ business — soon you will be wishing I had never come at all.” He smirks at that last bit, a quick quirk of his whiskers as he glances off to the side at the injured warrior. ”I hope you had other visitors to fill the time?”
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——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 46 ☾, 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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