private toe the line

[dovethroat.]

Ravensong had acted all of the sudden so strangely, so unlike what Dovethroat had primed himself to expect from the medicine cat. He very nearly wanted to roll his eyes at the thought of the title; if that was to be taken as any indication of the animosity that had grown between the pair. The prospect of him having some status, some position, inspired disdain within him. The idea that their seething emotions pointed toward the other was anything resembling a secret had long since evaporated; even if Dovethroat and Ravensong were not as aware of how well known it was around the clan as they perhaps should be. Their last interaction had proved that.

Well, at least, Dovethroat was beginning to hope that Ravensong was unaware, too. Though, with the drastic shift in how he had acted in that one moment, Dovethroat was beginning to feel the hints of hot-faced shame that seemed to suggest an entirely different dynamic was at play. A dynamic that left him, alone, as the unaware and humiliated (or worse—humilating) one.

"Wh-What's—what's g-going on? Why d-did you tell me t-to come here?" Dovethroat grumbles, shaking out his shoulders awkwardly. He looked haggard, even though he really did not have very much to be haggard over. It had been a thoroughly physically undemanding endeavor getting here. Really, he was just riled up.

@RAVENSONG

[⋆]​

​

 

[RAVENSONG]

"I wanted to apologize."

Ravensong said bluntly, his forwardness in direct contrast to Dovethroat's half-hearted grumbling. He sat down firmly against the ground and swept his feathery tail over his paws.

For too long they had bickered back and forth. For too long Ravensong had ached of the friendship they once had. And for a moment as he raised his gaze to look into Dovethroat's hazel eyes, he found that the world stopped for just a moment. There was no yellowcough and there was no crippling sense of pressure against his shoulder blades.

Do you feel the same? He wondered. Like this... it's peaceful.

"Is that surprising to you?"

☾₊ ⊹ 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.]

The reply is as sudden as it is direct; Dovethroat finds himself struggling to not instinctively recoil at Ravensong's words. That did not mean he still did not visibly balk at the words, his head jerking back a bit as if he had just been bopped in the face. A few moments of silence passed, as if Dovethroat was expecting the next few words out of his mouth to be something along the lines of just kidding! But they were not. In fact, they were quite the opposite; a reaffirming of just how serious he was in this.

At first staring past Ravensong, Dovethroat's gaze was caught by the medicine cat's and they found themselves staring at each other for a beat longer than would be considered typical. And then a second past that.

Feeling the world silence itself, Dovethroat opened his mouth slightly ajar. "...Uh." He practically choked out, feeling like he sounded very stupid. "F-For... for which p-part?" That was a question that was half-earnest, but also half-prying.

"...K-Kind of, yes." Dovethroat paused. "...Yeah. Yes."

[⋆]​

​

 

[RAVENSONG]

For which part? To Ravensong they all blended into one, every bitter action against Dovethroat had been the result of the previous bitter action. And for once, confronted with that, he could not even place where it started.

"For betraying your trust." He breathed, remembering starry nights and words never spoken to anyone else. The night it was as close to perfect as it could be before the inevitable announcement. "And everything that followed. But that is the root... and I am digging it out for you." It was an offering, a symbol of peace insofar as much as dove symbolized peace in a world they never would know.

Was it selfish, he wondered, to wish for companionship during this terrible time where the days merged into one long one, and he was forced to look death in the face. He envies Dawnglare, Starlingheart, and Wolfsong with someone to curl up to. Even Berryheart is not alone, alongside Lichenpaw. Ravensong has nobody that close to him.

He used to, but he lost him. The feeling he felt toward Dovethroat was different from what he felt for Fernpaw, Ratpaw, or any other cat he was friendly towards. He was afraid to look too deeper, to accidentally pierce his heart in the searching, but the apology would at least end the cold war between them.

☾₊ ⊹ 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.]

Though Dovethroat was known, certainly among people he was less close to (which was to say every person in the camp who was not named Ravensong), he was more than capable of holding a grudge; of gripping a handful of the sand of resentment for so long that it had slipped through fingers long before one even considered reopening their palm.

An extension of an olive branch was the last thing that Dovethroat expected: for all of his idealism and politeness, he was quite the pessimist. He thought, for sure, there was no way Ravensong would ever level with him in the way that he currently was. That was why Dovethroat looked so stunned, like he had just been told a fish had started flying.

"I—" he sputtered, like a kettle just before it got too hot. He hardly knows what to say, and it is certain that his brain is shutting down. In times of difficulty, he turns to it—he is much more naturally a soul governed by the heart. He is emotional, and sentimental, and romantic. The cold reasoning he could turn to was a defensive mechanism, and he knew that it was. But this had fried that connection, and Dovethroat found himself unable to speak.

So all he could say was what he felt. "Um, I... I, ah—" he cleared his throat, feeling it be awkwardly dry. "...I—...f-forgive, um. I f-forgive you." Saying it feels like entering an alternate universe. It comes so much easier than he thought it would be.

"...And I—I o-overreacted. I—I g—I'm—I'm s-sorry. I'm sorry f-for that." Dovethroat took a few moments of mumbling before his voice built to something that sounded less pitiful.

[⋆]​

​