private STARRY NIGHTS AND SUNNY DAYS — BAD NEWS

[RAVENSONG]

His return from the Moonstone is an event swept away by the breeze. Ravensong does not often speak to others about what happened there and he is often too tired to even think about giving any warrior a debrief. However, his aching paws lead him straight to the leader's den. His heart squeezes and beats faster—a primordial reminder that his species is both prey and predator. For this moment, he feels like prey.

"Cicadastar, I need to speak with you." He says as he sits at the entrance to the den, casting a lanky, long-eared shadow over the mouth of the leader's nest. He waits for a confirmation, and then an invitation, and only then do his paws press further. He blinks—fortunate that Smokethroat is here as well. Eventually the deputy would need to hear this as well.

"Forgive my promptness, but this is serious." He knew it was the moment the SkyClan medicine cat began acting uncharacteristically. Something was coming and he did not think he was prepared for it. "There is a cat in SkyClan with a sickness that Dawnglare cannot cure. From what we were told of it, it resembles greencough and puts its victim into delirium." He pauses and lets the news fall onto their ears like hail. It is not good news, and Ravensong struggles to find anything to soothe it.

"If it is a condition kin to greencough, I expect it to be just as contagious. I will reorient my searches toward gathering herbs for fever and cough." He had been gathering marigold, counting down the days until they would be torn apart again by WindClan and ThunderClan but there appeared a sixth foe. Ravensong fell quiet and waited for either of the two to speak.

@Smokethroat ; @CICADASTAR

☾₊ ⊹ темная ночь — dark is the night

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  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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[CICADASTAR]

when movement sounds outside his nest, cicadastar’s tall ear twitches askew — a brief flit of icy eyes towards the maw of his den where stood his medicine cat. i need to speak with you, ravensong speaks, and he could only assume it was to do with his mate, his litter. they writhe are smokethroat’s stomach in the quiet of their willow den and he lifts instinctively, moves to make room for the tom while formal apologies fall from accented tongue, but.. something is wrong. there is no pause, no hesitation to be found in their medicine cat’s clipped tones. the dark - furred feline was cordial at best of times, bit his tongue in a way less so than beesong had ; a steady respect thrums in his chest despite the slit - eyed stare the leader suddenly settles him with. there is a cat in skyclan with a sickness that dawnglare cannot cure, rumbles he, swift and ever to the point. fur like melting dusk flashes behind his eye, lit alabaster up the middle ; pride settles in each breath of him, each strut, each scorned bellow, ” he.. cannot..? “ he repeats, incredulously, ears finally snapping back as if processing at last.

dawnglare, chin tipped high and eyes ever narrowed, skulking fox of a thing.. had admitted defeat? sure enough to pass it along, to tell the clans of his failure — it bristles the fur along his shoulders, casting a brief glance towards the newborns sleeping sound at their father’s belly. i will orient my search towards gathering herbs for fever and cough, ravensong says, and the leader closes his eyes against the sudden stress beginning to pound taut in his temples, ” snakeblink will be informed to prioritize your herb patrols, but take with you who you need when needed. with hope, the river will prevent its spread. “ and their stocks.. did it really matter, if there was nothing to be done? his teeth grit, ” you say it’s incurable, is this skyclanner.. still with us? “ how fatal? how fast?

COLD & CRUEL LIKE WINDS ON THE SEA  ╱ INFORMATION ✟

• i.
  
• ★ ⋆ CICADASTAR −−−− FOUNDING LEADER OF RIVERCLAN. HOMOSEXUAL, MATED TO SMOKETHROAT. FIFTY MOONS, FATHER TO STARLIGHTKIT, CICADAKIT && BEEKIT. PENNED BY ANTLERS −−−−− ⁺₊✧
  
  
  he / him. tall, elegantly curled smoke tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt blue eyes. his structure sings a feral sort of hymnal, presenting an almost dangerous sort of beauty veiling what monstrosities lie beneath the ivory of his skull. jutting jawline and a squared chin, sunken cheeks drawing a shadow beneath high, sharp cheekbones with tall, angular ears settling high atop the flatter slope of his cranium. he is beautiful ; lucifer in the eyes of an envious god. for all his looks, his expression is lax, void — corpse - eyed and hollow until spoken to, sparking the undead to life. he is tall, lean, cut - glass pretty ; he smiles with too - many teeth, blackened frostbite pulling back his maw to bear canines setn beneath curling whiskers, pantomime skeletal. a predatory gracefulness from the lines that press the image of exhaustion beneath ice water hues to the slow, sure gait in which he walks, nameless strength poorly concealed within the hard lines of his physique. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unnaturally tall amongst his peers, always holding himself with a tragic sort of grace ; poised, prim, and uncannily aware of how he appears.
  
  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── smells like wet moss and meadowland thunderstorms.
  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── notoriously paranoid and closed off, cicadastar will tend to lie, assume, and jump to conclusions whenever it suits him. any 'suspicious' ic actions he witnesses or hears about will have a strong effect, and will have ic consequences! if you're unsure of an interactions outcome, please feel free to send a dm!
  
  no character opinions represent my own.​
  
  
• " speech "​
  
  
  

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[SMOKESTAR]

His head raises to the sound of pawsteps, a stillness in Ravensong's frame as he steps forward into the den and he can already tell what is to come will not be favorable news long before the medicine cat informs them of its urgency and direness. A sickness, is breathed, and Smokethroat holds his own breath in response to the remark. SkyClan's medicine cat was unable to figure out how to fix it, it is similar to greencough and his lone orange eye widens marginally in response to that; greencough could spread violently if left to do so, like a great infectious plague breaking down cats as it rippled through the clan and brought death and misery alike. He thinks of the unborn kits and how weak, frail they would be to such a thing, and it causes an almost involuntary shiver to course down his back.
Dawnglare was an odd tom but with Beesong's passing he was the oldest of the clan's healers and the most experienced as well; that even he was unable to stop it was a testament to its cruel tenacity. Cicadastar speaks and he recalls the patrols Snakeblink was to assign and he hopes the tabby considers how to arrange them with a more critical eye than he usually has. If he uses them to play matchmaker and cause further gossip then Smokethroat was liable to skin him alive for it, but at the very least Ravensong could pull his own cats for patrol.
His ears fall flat, the leader muses that the river will prevent it from spreading and he wants to ask if it could carry in the wind-could they pick it up at the gathering or during patrols, but he holds his tongue because the stress has already begun to prickle its way under his skin and make him itch with a fevor.
Is this SkyClanner still with us?
If this was recent then surely it would not have killed so swiftly? Even Greencough takes weeks to claim a cat...
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