[Raven: Morning-after] Who: Raven What: Reveal(ish), narrative, news(ish) Where: The woods and Cisco's RV When: The morning after Warnings/Rating: None.
She was no longer ordinary. Not at all, and not in the slightest. She was right back to where she was before the night and its bottled feelings. She supposed there was no way around it - she hadn't actually expected it to stick. She hadn't been stuck at ordinary for a very long time.
The robe had been worn "home", the rest of her damp-limp clothes (thanks to the moisture pooled on the tiles around the showers) carried in her arms while her feet were shoved into the too-large boots. It wasn't ordinary to walk through the woods in only a fluffy white robe and boots, but she liked the robe. It wasn't that cold out anymore that she'd freeze, and she didn't run into anyone on the way. She thought about the man as she walked - the writer. She found herself worrying about him, the exhaustion and the sweat, the obvious sickness. Something felt familiar about those particular ailments, but in her damaged memory, she couldn't find the correct answer. She was hungry by the time she made her way back to the RV, but sleep was far more important, and she found herself curling up on the bed in back, curled small under the weight of the robe.
Itching and shivers along her spine brought her again to waking, the world already looking different around her when she opened her eyes - a little flatter, a little sharper. She gave her feathers a ruffle and extracted herself from the terrycloth that she'd made into her blanket. And that's when the cuffs of the robe caught her attention. Like this, she sensed the world differently, and she could smell the sweat she'd mopped from the writer's brow. Sharp and feral and new, like paper and ink but also like moonbright nights and iron. Wolf. And then she knew how she could check up on the writer to make certain he was alright. There were only so many wolves in and around Repose, and flying around town had shown her where they lived. The scent of this one was unfamiliar, but if he was new... the others would know.
Out the window and into the sky, and she circled town to check on each of them. She'd never known a pack to stay so separate as Repose's seemed to be. There was the woman - the writer obviously wasn't her, and something about the situation... she trusted her instincts and instead she circled above the place where the alpha lived. When she caught an updraft through her feathers, it was tainted with that same sweat and sickness. This was the place, then.
She glided down, an ever-tightening spiral, and perched herself on a low-hanging branch of a nearby tree. She ruffled herself again to settle, gave a harsh call followed by a trilling burble, and then relaxed and waited. Eventually there would be an answer to her worried concerns.