Private Camp DO YOU THINK YOU CAN TEACH ME? ] magpiekit

[cicadabuzz]

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

Cicadabuzz moves like a whisper through the undergrowth, paws pressing gently into the earth without a sound. The morning air is thick with the scent of damp moss and the tang of the marsh, but their attention is fixed on a small figure sitting alone near the edge of camp. Magpiekit. They watch him for a moment, their expression unreadable, though their black eyes flicker with something thoughtful. Kits do not often sit so quietly when left to their own devices. They are creatures of movement, of sharp voices and bright energy. Magpiekit is not always like that. Cicadabuzz has noticed this. They notice many things. With the same quiet grace, they step forward, rustling the ferns just enough to announce their presence. "Magpiekit," they say, voice low and measured, carrying an odd weight despite its softness. They settle down near him, their tail curling neatly around their paws. There is no rush in their posture, no expectation. They are simply here.

For a moment, they do not speak again. Cicadabuzz is not a cat to waste words, nor are they one to coddle. They watch Magpiekit with the same patience they give a seed sprouting in the earth, as if waiting to see how he will unfold before them. "I have been thinking," they say finally, breaking the quiet with words as deliberate as pawsteps across brittle leaves. "About the work I do. The work of healing." Their gaze flicks to the sky for a brief moment, considering, before settling back on the kit. "It is not a task for most. It is not for those who seek only ease or glory. It is for those who can listen, who can learn, who can understand when to act and when to wait." They tilt their head slightly, watching him for any shift in his expression. "You are different from the others," they state, without judgment, only certainty. "And I would ask you to be my apprentice."

The words linger between them, unhurried, allowing space for them to settle like leaves on still water. Cicadabuzz does not ask lightly, nor do they expect an immediate answer. They know the weight of this choice, the path it would carve through Magpiekit's future. He would never be a warrior. He would walk a path apart from the others, one that few would understand, one that required him to let go of what might have been. Cicadabuzz knows this weight because they carry it themselves. "I would teach you the names of the herbs, the meaning of every scent that drifts through the forest," they continue, voice even, unhurried. "I would teach you how to see the signs that others overlook, how to hear the forest when it speaks. You would learn the pulse of the world beneath your paws and the ways in which it can both harm and heal." They study Magpiekit with the same quiet intensity as before, their tail flicking once against the dirt. "But you must understand," they say, their tone sharpening ever so slightly, "this is not a path you choose only to abandon when it no longer suits you. It is a promise. A duty. A life."

The air between them is still. Cicada watches, waiting. They do not offer false comforts, nor do they soften the reality of what they ask.

@Magpiekit

 

[Magpiekit]

He'll learn your face by heart

BUT YOU'LL BE IN BLACK & WHITE IN HIS EYES

He enjoyed playing like any other kit but sometimes he wanted to sit in the quiet and think or stare at something, just a moment to himself to let his thoughts tumble around his head without any outside noises. Sometimes he would stop mid-chase to go wander off without a word, his whims not restricted entirely to engaging and getting into mischief but often chasing anything that catches his eye. Today its nothing but his own paws and thoughts. Tomorrow it could be anything.

His name is spoken and he glances up, already recognizing the voice and he offers a slow blink in greeting as the autumnal colored healer takes a seat before beginning to speak in a leveled tone, their words easy to follow and straight forward. His first thought is essentially 'I'm only three moons though...', an apprentice was six moons usually, he was only half that and a small tiny part of him was still holding onto the idea of maybe one day going back to ThunderClan. The ache in his chest from missing his mother was still there, but it had dulled in recent days and he wondered if it would leave entirely or if he would forever carry it in his life here. If that was the case then if he stayed, it was to be a permanent hollow, a reminder of what was lost.

This path offered intrigued him in a way nothing else in his short little life had yet, no amount of interesting talks or strange trinkets had held his attention the way listening the Cicadabuzz explain their herbs had; to be allowed to learn more as his primary duty, to spend his moons growing in both mind and body like the plants they would collect. Magpiekit may have not fully grasped the importance the way it was spoken, but he did understand it, he knew this was an important job; he had seen Serpentberry and Rowanpaw working diligently, preparing for things that had yet to happen - he'd seen the meticulous way the cinnamon feline organized an stocked their stores, had heard whispers of Fleapaw's destruction that left them furiously bristling in a rare display of cold anger. That kind of outrage did not come from simply being upset over some plants, it came from a knowing of the importance and meaning behind each. The kit understood, in the way kits did, that this was something significant but additionally in his own acutely aware focus he grasped something else in the conversation that was not so blatantly said outside being alluded to.

You are different. He was. He walked in a broken manner, his thoughts were often tangled and focused on things most didn't bat an eye towards, he liked strange things, he spoke in a way he knew was off putting but he didn't understand how to fix it or why it was or why he should fix it because this was just him. But nestled in the blunt and calm remark amidst the others he found a compliment. That his being different was not a hindrance but preferential, that his awkward and unsettling nature was preferred over any other. His whiskers quivered and he found himself smiling, sharp and tiny white teeth in neat little rows; to be trusted and picked to do something he liked doing already: learning. That was much better than being a normal apprentice, he had been quietly dreading that time somewhat given the active nature of it - knowing his unsteady limbs might not be able to keep pace with his peers. The permanence of it was the only thing giving him pause, because he knew deep down if he said yes he would have to dedicate to ShadowClan the way Cicadabuzz did, the way Serpentberry and Rowanpaw did for ThunderClan. It meant never going back to the forest he was born in outside visits here and there. There was also the weight of it, he had only seen this heaviness in how the medicine cat's carried themselves, but had not witnessed the sources himself. Cats being hurt, cats being sick, cats dying. It should make him hesitate, part of him knows it will be scary...

"Yes." The kit mewled out in a calm tone that did not betray the brief moment of inner turmoil he'd overcome, "I'd like that. I want to learn."

In the flick of a feather, he flies to your side

MAGPIEKIT

— kitten of shadowclan
— He/They
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
— Solid black w/low white & blue-violet eyes.
— Has 'wobbly cat' syndrome.
#9272ee

 

[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 watches him closely, the way his expression shifts, the way his whiskers twitch with some internal calculation only he fully understands. They are patient as the silence stretches, as the weight of their offer settles onto his small shoulders. He is young—too young, perhaps, by traditional standards—but Cicadabuzz does not waste time on conventions when instinct guides them otherwise. And instinct tells them that Magpiekit is listening, not just to their words, but to what lies beneath them. Then, finally—

"Yes."

A simple answer. A decisive one. Cicadabuzz blinks slowly, considering the weight of that single word. It is not given lightly, even from a kit so young. Perhaps he does not fully grasp all that it entails, the burdens he will one day carry, the sacrifices he will make, but few do at first. The only thing that matters now is that he wants to learn. That is enough. Cicadabuzz exhales softly, a slow release of breath through their nose, and they incline their head just slightly in acknowledgment. There is no celebration, no warm display of joy, only quiet understanding. The slightest twitch in the corner of their muzzle, perhaps. "Then you will," they say, voice steady as stone. "From this moment forward, you are my apprentice."

They do not tell him this will be easy. They do not tell him he has made the right choice—because there is no such thing. There is only the path he has taken, and the steps he will now walk alongside them. They rise to their paws in a fluid motion, glancing toward the trees beyond the camp. A moment of silence passes before they speak again. "Come," they say, tone unhurried, but leaving no room for argument. "You should begin to understand the land you will serve." There is no ceremony to it, no grand announcement. Cicadabuzz does not see the need. The moment Magpiekit spoke his answer, the bond was made. It does not require the approval of others. The earth beneath their paws does not wait for ceremony—it only continues. And so will they. They turn, expecting him to follow, their tail flicking in silent direction. They will start with the forest, with the scents and textures of bark and moss, the way the air shifts when rain is coming, the hidden language of the earth. These are things no herb store can teach. These are things he must learn to feel.

A kit, Cicadabuzz thinks, is not so different from a sprouting seed. Magpiekit has chosen to root himself here. It will take time before he grows into what he is meant to be. But they do not doubt that he will.