private NO LIGHT - lichentail

[RAVENSONG]

He thinks he has been handling it well. No cat has approached him specifically to ask about his feelings on the matter, but Ravensong was no stranger to keeping his emotions bottled up. But two moons has been too long and he has not been getting better. His eyes droop with lack of sleep, and he drags himself about out of necessity. The medicine cat is hardly seen out of camp anymore. He cannot remember the last time he stumbled across another Clan border patrol. He had started to trust Moonpaw more with coming back with the correct herbs after taking some warriors with her.

He finds that he does enjoy his work, but there is a gaping hole left in his heart, one that sucked any positivity he could have gleamed from his work. With a sad glance toward the nursery, he decides he cannot visit his close, near family member, since she must be busy with her kits. So he finds himself seeking out the scent of Lichentail, wandering uncharacteristically aimlessly in the camp as he searches for the blue-tinged feline.

@lichentail

☾₊ ⊹ 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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[lichenstar]

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

The air moves in rampant gusts through the reed, shaking them in haunting skeletal song. They rattle as if they embody the lost in gentle reminder of their presence... they are not just StarClan, they dwell in the river's babbling, murmur hellos with spring-time birdsong.

There are few reprieves where she swears she can full the sensation of a brush of fur against her- it is just a buffeting wind that drags at her scruffy fur but... it's nice to pretend it is more than that. It may be her friends in a silver-dappled afterlife saying hello... it may be her son tugging at her feet the same way his litter-mates do.

A shadowy-feathered, lanky presence lingers ever closer with heavy lids (he is so tired.. she knows it) and the deputy cannot help but shoulder the load where she can. To offer a smile that doesn't really reach her eyes, the same as she'd done for Hazecloud. "Ravensong," his name said with such practiced cheer you would almost believe it genuine... almost.

But the medicine cat is not the only one weighted by his shortcomings... though she has moons more practice to hide it with.

"Need something from me?"

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CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS

FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY​

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[RAVENSONG]

He does need something. He knows Lichentail will not be able to provide it, and he winces at the guilt of trying to make her take on more than what she can handle. Who is he to impose on others his heartaches? He is meant to be a medicine cat, steeled and without fierce attachments, so that has what the barring of kits has told him. He looks into Lichentail eyes and remembers how Smokestar had torn up his own mate for the Clan. Ravensong does not think he could ever make that choice.

"Yes, I'm hurting." He admits, drawing closer to the deputy and curling his tail weakly over his bony paws. "Since Dovethroat went missing, I haven't been myself. I can't get over it... but at the same time.... I don't want to get over it." He whispers. He does not feel jealousy when he looks at other pairs, just a dull throb of what could have been. The uncertainty is what wrecks him most.

He swallows thickly. "I don't know what to do. I miss him."

☾₊ ⊹ 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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[lichenstar]

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

Oh....

If her heart had any room left to break, it might've fractured one more time on behalf of him. Gingerly... carefully. as if he might crumble into a pile of the sand they sat upon, the deputy leans over to press her shoulder against him, to offer the tiniest of physical affections. Rookfang had all but jumped out of his skin the last time she'd tried this... but Snakeblink's soft purring in the middle of the night had given her reason to believe maybe... more of her friends needed that kind of reassurance. That gentleness.

"Ravensong," she breathes his name so softly it could be mistaken for the wind... and before she has the chance to regret it or overthink it, her tongue swipes over the back of his overgrown ear. "I'm so sorry.... I wish I had answers for you. The 'not knowing' is the worst part," she answers in slow, thoughtful words.

How'd she felt... when Hazecloud had been on the journey. Ravensong had suffered that same torture, though blind to his fever so much he had practically imagined Dovethroat's company those months it had taken him to return. What would she do now... should ashy fur disappear without a trace... with only a decorated stone left behind in her nest in farewell?

"Everyone... might ask you to move on," she starts again, agonizing over the familiarity as it applies to Snowflakekit, "But I don't think you have to. In your memory... in your care... he exists with us still."

After silence... a hesitant question, "You... haven't seen him...? In StarClan...?" Would being in StarClan have been a relief, so that the night-furred tom might at least reunite with him in dreams, rather than not at all?

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CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS

FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY​

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