Open Private Medicine Cat's Den 'Cause I will be the last one standing

[Snakepaw]

Snakepaw walked with his right front paw up, barely touching the ground whenever he walked. He had just came to Shadowclan, had barely settled in yet, and he already had to visit the medicine cat's den. He wasn't even sure when or how he had hurt himself. It could have been at any step along the way to Shadowclan. In any way, he still only felt it much later, when he was safe and sound, and his adrenaline crashed down.

He was told to look for one Cicadabuzz. They said it was impossible to miss them. He heard the talk about their... unusual eyes. Black eyes. Freaky eyes. He would never admit it to anyone who asked, but Snakepaw was a bit... scared? Terrified? Afraid? Whichever word chosen would not be enough to measure against his fear.

Still, Snakepaw reached the den. He did notice weird plants all around. He could recognize foxglove seeds: poisonous, dangerous. He shivered. Which kind of cat would have such poisonous plants around? And to which intent? What kind of place was Shadowclan to have such type of plants just laying around? He thought about his twin sister, how she had eaten foxglove, how she was no longer around. He wanted to cry, but instead he breathed heavily and kept walking. Or rather, limping.

No matter how much he wanted to go away, he couldn't. He still had a splinter in his paw and needed help with it. He saw the cat, presumably Cicadabuzz. No eyes were visible yet, but he braced himself to what they must look like.

"Excuse me..." he barely whispered, trying not to let his voice tremble, not wanting to show his fear. "I'm Snake... are you Cicadabuzz?" he said, only a smidge louder than before. He was breathing quickly now, his heart beating like a beast running.

OOC: Privy with @cicadabuzz

 

[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 28 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit ; mentor to magpiepaw
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

Cicadabuzz lifts their head from where they are sorting through a cluster of herbs, their black eyes settling on the young apprentice. They take him in—the lifted paw, the hesitance in his stance, the fear he tries so desperately to mask. Fear of them, perhaps. It is nothing new. They don't answer immediately. Instead, they turn their attention back to the herbs, calmly pressing a few leaves flat before speaking. Their voice is quiet, yet steady, a contrast to Snakepaw's trembling whisper. "I am." A simple confirmation. No wasted words. They rise with unhurried grace, stepping toward him without hesitation. His breathing quickens. They notice. They notice everything—the way his ears flick, the slight tremor in his limbs, the way his eyes dart, as if expecting something monstrous. But Cicadabuzz does not acknowledge it, does not call attention to his fear. That would serve no purpose. Instead, they simply gesture with a flick of their tail toward the center of the den.

"Sit." Not unkind, not warm either. A directive, firm but without force. They turn away, already moving toward their stores, trusting he will obey. If he does not, that is his decision. They do not waste energy convincing others to accept help. "Splinter?" they ask without looking at him, though they already know the answer. They had seen the way he moved. There is no point to using too many herbs on something so small, so unlikely to birth infection. They collect a few poppy seeds only. A pause. Then, finally, their dark gaze flicks back to him, assessing. "It will not take long." Another simple truth. No reassurances. No softness. Just fact. And yet, beneath the eerie calm, beneath the detached efficiency, there is something else. Not warmth, but understanding. A quiet patience. The kind that says, You may be afraid. You may tremble. But the world does not stop for fear.

 

[Snakepaw]

Snakepaw takes in the eyes, braces himself to be horrified, yet... he is not. They are black, and that was it. They reminded him of bug eyes. They reminded him of the bugs he used to chase around in his former home. And, well, he was expecting something more scary. They were black eyes alright, they were even a bit freaky, but they were almost... cool? Yes, they were kind of cool. The mystery was also scarier than whatever reality that could be made present.

He heard their directive and firm words, so unlike his careful and trembling ones. And he obeyed. He had the feeling Cicadabuzz would not take so kindly to not being obeyed. Well, that could, of course, still be his fear talking, but he wasn't up to learning how correct or not he was at the moment.

His fear had subsided with meeting Cicada's eyes, but there was still some fear there. Not Cicada's specific fault, but everything was so new to him, he was still so new to everything clan-related. And the adults! Adults that weren't his parents: they were kind of scary still for him.

He sat down, now letting his curiosity take center stage. He looked to Cicada, attentive to what they were doing. "Yeah, it's-" his voice gave away a bit, so he coughed up, pretending it never happened. "It's a splinter," he continued.

He watched Cicada pick up seeds. At first, he was not sure what they were. He could recognize it as something different from the foxglove ones. Which was a relief in itself. The smell came to him, and he thought that they could be poppy seeds. Cicada talked, and Snakepaw nodded. Quick was good. Quick meant it was easy to fix. Quick also meant he could leave soon.

"Are those poppy seeds?" he asked before he could help himself. He gasped, unsure if he could or should be asking questions. He felt a bit of the fear coming back up, but he squashed it down with anger. He was done with fear. At least, that's what he thought to himself, but he could feel deep down that it wouldn't take much out of Cicadabuzz for the fear to come back up again

 

[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 28 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit ; mentor to magpiepaw
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

Cicadabuzz notices the shift—the way Snakepaw braces for horror and instead finds something else. They are used to the fear, used to the way others avert their gaze or whisper about their eyes when they think Cicadabuzz cannot hear. But this one... he looks. He sees. And he does not flinch. Interesting. They say nothing of it, of course. Instead, they settle beside him, movements slow and deliberate as they prepare to remove the splinter. Snakepaw's obedience is noted, expected. He is still afraid, yes, but fear is a tool. It keeps the foolish from making mistakes.

At the question, Cicadabuzz's tail flicks. Their black eyes remain on their work, but there is no annoyance in their expression. Only patience. "Yes," they confirm. "For pain, if needed." Their voice remains even, but there is the slightest pause before they continue. "You know herbs?" A simple inquiry, but not idle curiosity. Their paw moves with practiced precision, tilting Snakepaw's injured limb ever so slightly, their touch impersonal but not rough. A brief glance upward, searching his expression, measuring his tension. "Hold still." A warning, but a soft one. Cicadabuzz does not waste time. The splinter is small, barely a nuisance, but Snakepaw is young, uncertain, still raw from change. A small wound can feel like more when the world itself is unfamiliar.

With one swift, steady movement of their teeth, they extract the splinter. The moment passes as quickly as a breath. "It is done." They set the offending bit of wood aside. They glance at the shape, the size, then glance at Snakepaw. "No poppy. You will manage." A simple fact, not a dismissal—he does not need it, and so he will not have it. They finally meet his gaze again, studying him in the quiet way they study everything. He is still afraid, but curiosity flickers beneath it, pushing back against the shadows of his hesitation.

"Ask your questions." A statement, not an invitation. Fear serves its purpose, but knowledge tempers it. And Cicadabuzz, for all their detachment, understands this well.

 

[Snakepaw]

Snake nodded along. He knew some herbs, not many. He knew mostly poisons, but from time to time he would identify correctly one or other herb. "Dad liked herbs too, he taught me some..." Snake offered, his voice assuming a sadder tone. He missed his dad a bit too much still. If he was even alive, Snake felt like they wouldn't meet again so soon, or ever again. Cicadabuzz, in some odd way, reminded Snake a bit of his dad: quiet, strict, never warm, but not unkind either. However, he was not that ready yet to be found of Cicadabuzz, even if he was no longer that afraid of them.

"That was quick..." Snake managed, a bit surprised, as Cicada took the splinter from his paw. Taking out the splinter was less painful than his walk there with the splinter still in his paw. He could still feel a dull ache where the splinter poked him, but he felt it would pass soon. It was in no way painful enough to complain about. He didn't need the poppy seeds, Cicada was correct.

"Thank you...?" he said unsure. It felt correct to thank someone who helped him. At least that's what his mother used to teach him. However, he had the feeling that Cicada wouldn't care either way. Just like his dad: a job was a job. He didn't need a thank you, as long as the cat wasn't rude, he would receive help for the good of the colony.

He listened attentively to Cicada, and nodded at the permission to ask questions. "Uh, why do you have poisonous plants here? I saw the foxglove, I know it," he said matter-of-factly, not in an accusatory way, just curious, wanting to understand. He felt Cicada deserved the benefit of the doubt before any accusations. After all, they helped Snake and he was thankful for it. Snake was many things, some of them bad, but in no way ungrateful.

 

[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 28 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit ; mentor to magpiepaw
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

Cicadabuzz does not acknowledge the gratitude. Thanks or no thanks, their duty remains unchanged, the work just as precise, just as necessary. They shift their attention fully to Snake now, their gaze steady and unreadable, as if weighing something unseen. "There are many uses for poison," they say finally, their voice measured, calm—less a warning and more a simple statement of fact. "A sickness, left unchecked, can spread like fire through a body, consuming it from the inside out. In the same way, disease can creep through a colony, taking one cat after another. Not every illness can be cured. Not every wound can heal." Their tail flicks idly, sending a dried petal drifting to the ground. Their words are not cruel, but there is no comfort in them either. They move then, slow and deliberate, stepping toward their stores with the fluid grace of a cat accustomed to long hours of careful work. Their paw brushes against a bundle of dried leaves, their gaze lingering on their neatly arranged supplies before they continue.

"There are times when the body becomes a battlefield, where pain is not fleeting, but constant. When suffering stretches on without end." Their voice remains steady, but there is a weight to it, something deeper beneath the surface, though it is impossible to tell whether it is personal experience or simply the knowledge of someone who has seen too much. "And there are times when death is not an enemy to be fought. It is a choice. Sometimes, the only choice." They glance at Snake now, their expression unreadable, though their gaze lingers long enough for the words to settle. "Foxglove. Nightshade. Deathberry." The names roll off their tongue, each one spoken with the same detachment as if listing harmless herbs rather than plants known for their deadly properties. "To some, these are only dangers—things to be avoided, feared. But to a healer, they are tools. As necessary as poppy seeds or marigold." They turn back to their stores, brushing past the hanging herbs with quiet purpose.

"A medicine cat must prepare for every possibility, even the ones others would rather not think about. Life, death, suffering, mercy—these are all part of the same duty. To ignore one in favor of the other would be a failure." Their tail flicks again, dismissive. "They may be dangerous, yes. But necessary."

 

[Snakepaw]

Snake listened attentively, curious. He didn't like the answer, not one bit. However, it made sense, didn't it? He had seen his dad do similar. To kill a cat for them not to suffer. But he did it with his own paws, never with poison. Poisonous plants were destroyed whenever his dad saw it.

Cicada's way seemed... Kinder, somehow. It seemed less brutal. Less cruel. However, he could hear his dads voice saying it was cowardly, an easy out. Snake wasn't sure of what to think, but he appreciated Cicada's openness, Cicada's answers and, more than that, Cicada's help. It was enough for him.

"I will not take more of your time," he decided. Cicada sure had enough on their paws to not need idle conversation with an apprentice. He thought for a moment more and added: "Thank you." Even if Cicada didnt need his thanks, it felt correct to thank them anyway.