“Pilot Echo Dekval Rath,
This letter is to inform you of your transfer to the Ryun Ravens effective immediately. You are to report to Nevermore on...”
His eyes stopped before he finished the entire letter and focused on a pair of words in particular. They didn’t even follow the path of the black feather drifting to the floor.
The Ryun Ravens.
Dekval was both excited and disbelieving, the two emotions warring with one another until he wasn’t sure exactly how to feel. While it was exhilarating that he was thought competent enough to be a part of a squad, he couldn’t quite believe it was this squad.
Rumors abounded about the Ryun Ravens.
Their headquarters, Nevermore, was claimed to be a nightmare borne of the unholy matrimony between ancient gothic and edgelord. The squad itself seemed to be a study in chaos and irresponsibility.
Were the rumors spun about them true? Dekval didn’t know. And he knew better than to form opinions before he’d even been there and seen it and met his squadmates, because, whether he liked it or not, this was where he was going to be until it was decided he would be transferred or he got killed. He would have to make the most of it, no matter how bad it seemed.
And the rumors made it seem pretty bad.
There was no structure. There was no leadership. The Ravens’ Commander had absconded into whatever abyss existed that Pilots could abscond into, leaving the squad in the hands of those beneath him. According to the information he had been able to glean, Dekval knew that his superiors had held together the captainless ship as well as they could, but things had fallen into disarray. What was he about to walk into? A ship without direction was a ship that was easily destroyed. But would they really have assigned him to a failing squad? If so, it was an awful joke. If not then...
Then things were changing, shifting as much as certain other things were staying the same. And he was one of the changes. Would he be accepted? Would he even be welcome?
There was the glaring fact that he knew right off the bat - he would be the newest face on the squad. The freshest one could get without actually being fresh. And he would be the one they would trust the least. The one no one actually knew.
As if getting the trust of his squadmates wasn’t the most daunting prospect in his entire life, he would have to work hard to prove himself to the veterans of the squad that he was just as capable as they. That he wasn’t some brat that had put in a few good years of service and had impressed someone enough - or irritated someone enough - to nominate him for a position in the Ravens. He was, at the very least, enthusiastic about his work and he believed he had the skills to back up that enthusiasm. But enthusiasm had only taken him so far in his work and had rarely impressed anyone and no one ever commented on his skills beyond signing off on his debriefings and giving him satisfactory marks for his psych evals. Therefore, he doubted his enthusiasm would impress those who were about to become his superiors. Deklav chewed on his lower lip for a minute, the sharp pain of picking at the sensitive skin a perfect match in harmony for the roiling emotions that were coursing through him. Well, at the very least, his enthusiasm might serve hide his nervousness, and he could keep lying to himself that the Ravens couldn’t smell fear. He’d be a fool if he wasn’t afraid. But he wasn’t afraid of them.
He was afraid of failing.
Of not being good enough.
Of not measuring up to their expectations.
Of not being... Raven enough.
Dekval tasted the sharp iron tang of blood and realized he’d bitten off a small section of his skin. He dabbed at the small wound with his tongue, then pressed his finger against it, his eyes scanning the letter again, this time reading it from start to finish, as slowly as he dared so he was certain that he hadn’t missed a single detail. And still his mind whirled with uncertainty and doubt.
But how could he not try?
Sure, he might fail.
Sure, he might not be good enough.
Sure, he might not measure up to their expectations.
But the least he could do was give it his best. They couldn’t fault him for doing that, right? Even if he was reassigned the next day, at least he’d know he’d tried. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and all that, right?
Dekval blew out a sigh and pulled his finger away from his lip to test the raw skin with his tongue. A sharp pinch ran through his lip, but he didn’t taste any more blood. He folded up the letter and held it tight in his fist, then crouched and picked up the feather, studying it for a long minute.
It was a raven’s feather, glossy and black.
For it to have been placed in his letter, specifically, there was only explanation.
Someone expected him to be there.
He rose, still staring at the feather. Then he looked at the letter crushed in his fist.
Things might be changing, and things might be staying the same, but the only thing that Dekval knew for certain was that he was going to be there, in Nevermore, at the appointed time. He would present himself, allow them to see who he was, and...
And whatever came after that would come.
Dekval raised the raven feather a little higher and smiled.
Quoth the raven...
